Photographer Janette Beckman and curator Julie Grahame have organized a one-time fundraiser for the ACLU that showcases images of musicians who have recorded protest songs or are known for their activism. Forty-three photographers have donated images of 50 artists, from John Lennon to Nina Simone to Bad Bunny, and 100% of the profits will go towards the ACLU and their efforts to protect equality, freedom and rights. In addition to the images there is a playlist of songs for the fundraiser.Bob Marley, who performed at Crystal Palace Bowl in 1980, is known for songs such as Get Up, Stand Up, War, Redemption Song and Concrete Jungle that advocate for social issues, human rights and resistance. Photograph: David Corio
(I posted a few here; go see the whole piece with all the photos. It’s motivating! A.)
Bruce Springsteen, New York, 2017
Songs such as American Skin (41 Shots), The Ghost of Tom Joad and Born in the USA highlight systemic injustice, racism and the struggles of working-class people and immigrantsPhotograph: Danny Clinch, Transparent Clinch Gallery
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Doechii, New York, 2025
She is known for songs like Anxiety that advocate for mental health awareness and has used awards show speeches to speak out against government overreach and oppression. Photograph: Sacha Lecca
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Nina Simone, London, 1968
One of Simone’s most prominent songs, Mississippi Goddam, was a direct response to systemic racial inequality in the US exemplified in the handling of the 1963 16th Street Baptist Church bombing and Medgar Evers’s murder. The song became an anthem for the civil rights movement. Photograph: Michael Putland
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Dolly Parton, Tennessee, 2003
Her songs, including A Woman’s Right and Coat of Many Colors, have addressed social issues, and she has been outspoken and financially generous as a philanthropist. Photograph: Clay Patrick McBride
I’m a little late on this because yesterday I opened up the James Garfield Miracle and so I’ve been giving out free stuffed animals to people who need them. It’s a weird, long story but basically an ancient taxidermied boar inspired a holiday giveaway for kids by strangers to strangers 16 years ago and we just kept doing it each year. It’s on the blog right now if you need help or want to help. Over 275 kids have been sent new plushies in the last 18 hours.
I’m giving out 150 myself and that’s funded by in part by you here in my substack and by the 2026 calendar I made with this years drawings so if you are reading here then you have already helped with this years James Garfield Miracle and I love you. I may not ever get to hug you all in person but I hope you can feel this:
I still have more stuffed animals to give out because people keep beating me to filling the wishlists and HOW AMAZING IS THAT?
There was even a person who once was a recipient as a child years ago and is now filling wishlists for others.
(Below was supposed to be another happy, sniffly image but my computer was apparently uncomfortable with my emotions and offered me this instead and it made me laugh so now you have to see it.)
Aaaanyway, I have to get back to it, but first, the drawing for this week is one I started long ago and just finished because somehow it feels really fitting.
“Together we rise, we soar, we touch the stars. We cannot quit. Together.”
So right now I have a number of non-romance community friends coming up to me and saying stuff like:
“Oh hey sounds like some hockey fic finally made it onto TV, huh?”
“Yo Candy have you heard of the gay hockey romance TV show?”
“How excited are you about the gay hockey smut on TV?”
“Candy why is your entire Tumblr dashboard filled with naked asses?”
To which I say: excuse me, these are not just “naked asses.”
These are triple-platinum certified, AAA grade dumptrucks. Can dumptruck butts even be certified platinum, Sisqo hit notwithstanding?
Fuck you, they can now. These asses can do anything. These asses can fly you to the fucking moon. These asses were sculpted by the hand of God, after which God cut their own hand off because it had achieved perfection, so why sculpt anything else ever. Connor Storrie’s ass in particular is a mesmerizingly perfect hemisphere. He could never sneak into an enemy base because he is dummy thicc and the thunderclap of those asscheeks would absolutely alert the guards for miles around. Do you understand what I’m saying?
A | BN | K | ABBut the thing is, you need to watch the show — I can’t believe I’m saying this after what I’ve just said above — not for the asses, but because the actors are a delight to watch. It’s not that they’re beautiful, or at least, not only because of that.
It’s because they inhabit their characters to a degree that is frankly eerie.
Like: the way Connor Storrie holds his body as Ilya Rozanov in every scene. Man doesn’t stand like an American, though he very much is. (Storrie is a Texan. A Texan.) And what does “doesn’t stand like an American” even mean? Look, I can’t fuckin’ explain it, OK, but white American dudes tend to hold themselves A Way, and he doesn’t do it. It’s like porn (which this show delivers on, by the way). I just know it when I see it.
That’s not even going into Storrie’s near-impeccable Russian (which he apparently acquired over three weeks), or the things he’s able to do with his eyes, or the curl of an upper lip, or a flick of his eyebrow.
What, you think there wouldn’t be gifs? Come on now.
And then there’s Hudson Williams as Shane Hollander. Shane, the lawful good muppet to Ilya’s chaos gremlin freak. Williams nails every microexpression, especially in the scenes in which he’s texting Ilya: vulnerability, frustration, reluctant amusement, endearment—they all flicker across his face. He’s stiff and awkward, which you might initially mistake for bad acting, except no, that’s Shane: Shane is an awkward motherfucker! Shane Hollander has zero grace until you strap skates on him, or until he’s confronted by Ilya Rozanov’s dick.
Sure, sure, my friends say. Watch it for the acting. That’s what you say. That’s not what you’re reblogging on Tumblr, you thirsty bitch.
I mean, yeah. I’m mostly posting gifsets of dumptruck butts because I need everyone I know to watch this show, and while I honestly find this image of Ilya giving Shane the once-over when they first meet theee actual hottest thing, who the fuck cares about that who hasn’t seen the show already?
It’s pretty hot
That’s not going to grab people’s attention. Oh, look at this attractive white dude giving someone the ole bedroom eyes. Boh-ring. NEXT.
Ilya Rozanov, naked and glistening with water, jorkin’ it in the locker room showers while maintaining hideously uncomfortable eye contact with Shane? That’s an attention-grabber. And I’ve sold three different people into watching this show because of it.
Speaking for all of us…
So anyway, I’ve had to talk to several friends about this show, and about why I, a person who has worked hard all their life to achieve the perfect body (potato-shaped) care about sports romance, and I’ve come up with this Heated Rivalry explainer of sorts. Maybe you’ll find this helpful as you navigate conversations with other people in your life who are like, hey, I hear you like smut! What do you think of that smutty hockey show? Or, like, if you haven’t checked out either the book or the show, and somehow have avoided learning anything about either of them, maybe this will finally push you over the edge? In fact, I hope it does. Consider this me kicking you down a well lined with bare chests and fake team logos of dubious quality and screaming This! Is! Heated Rivalry!
What the hell is Heated Rivalry?
It’s not a fic, it’s a hockey romance novel by Rachel Reid. The two main characters are Ilya Rozanov, Russian hockey wunderkind, and Shane Hollander, Canadian hockey wunderkind. (And yeah, Shane bears a physical resemblance to Sid Crosby, and Ilya being Russian and playing for a rival team immediately raises the spectre of Alexander Ovechkin, but as far as I know, this isn’t scrubbed Sid/Ovi fic, even if, uh, the inspiration seems pretty clear.)
Shane and Ilya meet rookie year, find each other infuriating yet irresistible, rapidly hook up, and then continue to hook up over many, many years, only to slowly, excruciatingly, fall in love. It’s somehow both slow-burn and bangs immediately. You know U-Haul lesbians? These guys are the exact opposite. (Move-away gays? I’ll have to workshop that more.)
Anyway. The book is mostly sex scenes by volume, and not a single one is repetitive or wasted, because it’s how the character and relationship development happen.
It’s now a TV show, adapted by Jacob Tierney. That’s the same guy who brought you Letterkenny and Shoresy, neither of which I’ve watched, but which I’ve been aware of for years now because people whose tastes I trust have watched them and loved them and told me I should watch them. Sorry, guys, it took the power of gay hockey idiots to drag me into the Tierney-verse. I’m here now, and I love it!
The thing you need to know about this show is: it leans in. It fully commits to the bit. Look, I know I keep talking about how this show is worth watching above and beyond the sex and the beefcake, but the fact of the matter is, you can’t extricate the show from the sex and the beefcake, because it’s a show. About hockey players. Who fall in love because they fuck. A lot. Over many years. So yes, I’m going to talk about the sex.
OK! (snip-I can’t copy-paste their whole post; go read it, it’s great!)
Enjoy it anyway; it isn’t as if we aren’t going to eat again until next Thanksgiving! I hope not, anyway; if that’s true, be sure to let us know, seriously. Meanwhile, have a smile with music.
Scottie's Playtime 