working class hombres

I'm proud of the fact that I work with my hands as much as with my mind. I'm a blue-collar guy, much like the bloke you see pictured on the left. I'll caution you it isn't me you are looking at, just some feller I found pleasing to the eye. That's me in the photo to the lower right]
     I'm pro-labor, support workers' unions and tradesmens' [okay, lemme be politically correct - tradespeople's] guilds and organizations
     I take offense that the pencil necks who run the world scam others with fancy-assed mental footwork designed to con the rest of us out of what is rightfully our due. Corporate giants stealing health benefits from laboring workers while fattening their own pension plans are no different than common thieves. Maybe they are worse, given how many more are harmed by their actions.
     Point being is that you can expect to find some out-front populist rants here about the rampant social injustices heaped upon working people by the powerful.
     But one other component behind the views expressed on this site, and likely the one that brought a number of my readers here, is that it's written by a working-class guy who has a greater fondness for the company of his buddies than for the ladies, and that's both at the bar as well as in the sack. In case you are still dense to that, this means I'm gay. Always have and always will be I expect.
     My aesthetic taste in men runs along the group what I was raised with. No penny-loafered suit is likely to make it to my bed any time soon [not that it would be outside my to entertain such a scumbag in by tool shed or in a manure trough or a pig sty - where the ungrateful scum more properly belongs -- with proper apologies to the pigs, of course].
     What I'm getting at here, is, well, a whole lot of stuff to be certain. Blue collar men ain't stupid, we see though the scams that the dogs at the top of the heap dish out. As for the sex stuff, well, this blue collar guy likes a heap of good clean fun dirty time. Those who can figure out that maze of contradictions can write me. That me, BTW, is the character on the right side of this page.
     What you see is what you get. No so simple, unvarnished, unpolished and sometimes raw. Egalitarian, fair-minded, probably too macho for the metrosexual straight guy to be comfortable with. But that's alright.
     One final note; for those tassel loafered boys eager to sniff at my dirty laundry hamper - go fantasize among your own kind. If you are sex-slumming, then don't come 'round. Buy the Carhartt's and Sears work boots if you like, but if your headed my way 'cause you hear us working stiffs are, well, stiffer, you'll have to prove you want to know me and my buddies after you've shot your wad. I'm going to want to know that you really care about ordinary people, and not just about the "scene" in the sex bar back room.