The majority of my summers as a lad were spent at the YMCA day camp. They wisely took us on all kinds of fun field trips, but Fridays were always for roller skating.

Finally there was something I could kick ass with – I was the best skater in the entire camp, counselors included. I could back skate and chose to often to show off to anyone looking. That got me in hot water with the wheeled referees monitoring the floor. Nobody was allowed to back skate unless it was an official “back skate.”

The problem with that rule was no one else could back skate. That was, until JoyceLynn came into the picture. She could skate better than any of us and somehow managed to get an official back skate. She and I would have the entire floor and two songs all to ourselves. Too bad there was never a roller skating team in high school; that would have made a big difference to my student status on campus. Well, maybe…

Get a load of my “skating” shirt when I was all of eight-years-old. And how about those ears, huh?

My visit to Cleveland went by in a flash. One of Ma H’s cousins had his one year anniversary party a year late. They were obviously supposed to have it the year before, but his wife had this little breast cancer thing so it was postponed till the last weekend of July. She is healthy and thank God, the cancer is in remission. Ma H, being the extreme giver and super party planner, put the shindig together and made it a blast, can you tell?

I was investigating some dressers downstairs and came across some photo albums. Ma has taken hundreds of pictures dating back to where she and my dad first started to hook up so you can imagine the enormous trip I had down memory lane. I took about 20 pictures of myself dating from when I was two-years-old to my high school graduation picture. Under threat of grievous bodily harm I had many of them scanned for use here on Hazzard Ahead. Just a little something to look forward to here in the final weeks of summer!

This past weekend I had the pleasure of visiting the island of Catalina with a buddy of mine. His father has a great condo there and a decent sized boat. This excursion reminded me of my many trips from Boston to P’town; a beautiful sunny day going somewhere to spend time on the water in a beautiful and charming setting with nothing to do.

We arrived in just enough time to hop on a golf cart, which I later learned is the primary source of transportation in Catalina. Lunch was found at a place called Lua Larry’s that sits only steps from the port. I imagine it has all types wandering about getting lit and sunburned. I had two of my most guilty pleasures, cheese sticks and beer, while meeting the parents and little sister.

The throng of tourists cruising mindlessly through the shell shops, candy stores and clothing spots was soon left behind when we made our way to the condo on the side of a hill. It sits at the top of one of two really nice, serious developments on the island. Catalina is mostly a nature preserve and no further growth is permitted there. I was so glad to hear that a place still existed that was admired so much for its beauty that not even money could pave it over. The view from the condo was reminiscent of something one might see in “Traveler” covering Greece or Spain; huge squares of Spanish tile atop grand white structures that exude a timeless, confident beauty.

Our first activity was snorkeling. This was my first time, but it was a secret I kept from the marine family. The idea of putting my mouth below water and drawing air through a tube was a bit of a mind fuck and I had a hard time adjusting. I got it, but by then I was nervously breathing very hard and trying almost as hard to settle my breath and calm down enough to enjoy the aquatic scenery. All I could do was hear my heart pounding and suddenly the air flow stopped and I panicked. It reminded me of the several times I choked on water as a boy while swimming and terrified, tried very hard to catch my breath. One time left me so scared that for months I had severe difficulty swallowing food and water. I swam back to shore where I confessed my secret and told them of the faulty equipment. After a cursory inspection his father determined that it was because I had dipped my head down too far, which engaged a safety feature to keep water from entering the tube and drowning me; the equipment was not faulty, it was me.

After dinner let up, the bets were placed on how long the two of us were going to last in the boat. The last time I slept on a boat was about 20 years ago and this would be his first time ever. We boarded the small dinghy to take us from the dock to the boat, it was only then he confessed to me that this was his first time operating such a machine. It was a great weekend for secrets and firsts. Without warning I had visions of “Open Water” going through my head. Thankfully it was not a vision and we arrived dry as a bone and experienced the best sleep of our lives.

The next day turned out to be the highlight. We took the boat to find a secluded beach for lunch and during our search we found ourselves surrounded by a pod of dolphins 200 strong. They played with us for a while jumping alongside the boat and chattering excitedly. It was SO unbelievable to watch them glide effortlessly through the water as if they hadn’t a care in the world. At that moment I just wanted to jump in the water and play with them, but I was too busy operating the camera. Besides, they were clearly going places and could not spare the time. Still it was so great for me that they joined us for a bit to wish us well. Dolphins really do have it all!

Our dear friend, The Frog, was very gracious to take time out of his schedule to translate the article that appeared in this month’s “sex” issue of PREF magazine in France. In case you find yourself asking, “Is this a direct translation?” I have been assured that it is and I know that it must have been a challenge for The Frog to avoid editing. Enjoy and I sweetly anticipate your comments!

by Clarisse Mérigeot

From screen to song, the smooth bad boy goes “deeper into you”.

Is pornography an art? No doubt Catherine Breillat, whom in our last issue did we interview, would have her word to say. I can see from her pockets her hands flying, wind in her hair, and waving, waving… [Frog's note: please don't blame the translation. This is exactly how she wrote it and yes, it reads just as bizarre in French. As for those wondering, Catherine Breillat is the french director of "intellectual cinematographic reflections on sex" like 'Anatomie de l'Enfer' whom I defy anyone to sit through without throwing something at the screen, but that's just me. BTW, the views and opinions expressed inside those brackets are mine only and not meant to represent the views and opinions of Hazzardahead.com, its webmaster, main subject or anyone affiliated with the oh-so-hot company - Frog]

Doing a profile on X-rated actor Johnny Hazzard is a bit like a game one soon gets a taste for. Since this is our “sex” issue, how could we not invite him? Should I expect endless fights to keep his phone number private? “The secret you keep is your slave, the one you reveal becomes your master” my mother taught me when I was a child.

“What do you think of our magazine, do you know it? What reputation does it have in the States?” “You know, I’m not really a big consumer of cultural goods: I don’t even own a TV!” “But PREF has the greatest reputation in American photography circles.”

In the U.S. version of Queer As Folk, Emmett who becomes a star of virtual masturbation, picks “Fetch Dixon” as a pseudonym. Gay pornography has its own codes: top, bottom… To each practice its superstitions, to each practice its lucky charms. I would have liked to share them with you here, but will Johnny Hazzard be up to it? The nickname comes from Chi Chi La Rue, a close and famous friend. “Hazzard, luck, bad luck… [He] has a list of things [he'd like] to do in his life and by joining the pornographic cause, [he] could mentally check one of them.” X-rated cinema is about mixing pleasure with business: why not have fun making a dollar or two?” “[He was] bound for the entertainment industry, anyway.”

“You know, this is the best interview I’ve ever had so far. To provide you with intelligent answers will take some time: I wish so much to give each of your questions the answer it deserves. You really used you head here… I can tell and I appreciate it.” Used my head, right… How to approach Johnny Hazzard? What to say and, on second thought, not do to him? “Being gay has no impact on my life. I consider homosexuality a minor part of my character. I never was a militant and, frankly, whenever I do charity it’s mostly on behalf of animal protection.”

Johnny Hazzard is of average height but Johnny Hazzard is of more than average beauty… His penis is as big as it looks, he’s “happy to confirm”; and he truly is American, not French, by Jove! You thought so when you first got in touch with him but where on earth did you get the idea? One should never believe a media lie: one should never believe the Internet.

The great thing about porn – aside from stirring up libidinous urges – is that men use it as a ruler for penisian holster. [I'm aware there is no such word as "penisian" in the English language, but then there is no such word as the original text's "penien" in French either except maybe in Catherine Breillat's diary - Frog.] When you analyze gay cinema, the upside of it is that women have nothing to do with it. Women, they piss us off with their demands and clamors. Far from questions of gender representation and its new and regular demands, [French feminist group] les Chiennes de Garde (”Watch Bitches”) shut up. “I get always asked the same questions and I’m really tired of that. I wish I could have a ready-made set of answers. I wish I could lie sometimes.” “Luckily, sometimes I get solicitations from a publication in your league!”

“J’attends l’amour” : “I’m waiting for love,” etc. As for his most beautiful and most painful love stories, Hazzard takes a chance at telling us the platitude of his life. “Porn stars tend to love other porn stars. Personally I believe that any relationship involving my job will never stand a chance to work out. I love anyone who is neither titillated nor intimidated, that’s my secret. As for those who say there’s nothing in the world like making love to a porn star, they must have a celebrity obsession bordering on the unhealthy! For when it comes to sex, a truck driver that you meet at a bus stop will stand a better chance to make you come your brains off.”

“To say that only men are into porn is total nonsense: I get many letters from lesbians and my blog overflows with straight women who are avid followers of my career. The X-rated entertainment industry is not that far from the mainstream one, after all: sex in itself isn’t enough to arouse you; you need scenery, atmosphere…” One will be hard pressed not to fall in the usual cliché of questions like “Why did you decide to become a porn star?” or “What childhood trauma is at the core of your lifestyle choice?” For it’s hard to imagine getting rammed through all orifices for the mere pleasure of earning money .

“To men, I’m like a challenge. It goes with the job.”

“Let me tell you something: you must learn to top before even pretending to be a good bottom.” “My sexuality off screen is the same than on screen… There’s nothing a muscled hairy-chested male with salt-and-pepper hair couldn’t make me try at least once. Not one position.” “I get hit on a lot, that’s part of the game: men, I’m like a challenge to each one of them. Trouble is most of them are not even aware how heavy-handed they can act sometimes. I try to deal with it by reminding myself it comes with the territory!”

Few are the actors who will take their mum on a set. Johnny Hazzard is one of them; he has luck and he has support… “My childhood made me who I am today: an eccentric and colored man. I’d probably still be waiting tables at my French bar in Boston, L’Aquitaine, if I hadn’t been discovered.” In any case, “protect yourself, at any cost.”: “I don’t need to see friends dropping like flies to think about protection.”

With time, the more lucrative activities are not enough for satisfaction. “Some time ago, my webmaster posted on You Tube a video of me dancing to a Sherrie Lea [sic] track penned by James Collin. James saw it and immediately offered me to sing one of his compositions!” After all it worked for [ex-pornstar and now singer] Clara Morgane, thanks to her new notoriety courtesy of priceless [talk show host] Cauet. Porn stars aren’t more stupid than others, they’re just worse at certain things they were not destined for… For in all honesty, the aforesaid track won’t make the most played songs of the Millennium. “Deeper Into You, [in French] “plus profond dans toi“, betrays here a less-than-evident and more-than-inappropriate subtlety [I don't get it in French either so don't ask - Fr.] and when you think about it, Clara Morgane may not have any voice but at least enough good sense to get proper advice. Too busy jumping everything that moves, and faced with such a novel opportunity, Hazzard may have lacked the necessary restraint. [...but at least has enough good sense to get lyrics that don't start with "O baby I'm sexee girl/O baby I'm nastee girl" or end with "Hin, hin what you wanna?" - Fr.] “People are usually surprised to see that I’m only a five foot six. I’m not the one they think I am.” Since Johnny Hazzard has opened up to us the gates of the kingdom that is his intimacy, let’s leave him a chance to express himself: why linger on the one stumble in his journey? He’s handsome, he delivers, he’s hot and he gives to animals: let us be charitable in turn.