Their World of LoveExcerpted from The Book of ZinesInspired
in part by Ivan Stang's classic "High Weirdness by Mail,"
Dan Kelly launched his first zine in 1991 with the help of friends
Kathy Moseley and Darrin Sullivan. Their latest creation is Chum, which has detailed the history
of cinema sluts, how to be a film snob and the essential elements
of cocktail culture. Hunk lover Leslie Stella contributed this
selection for Issue 3. "If I could be a girl," says
Dan, "I would want to be Lesliebut with a Gucci wardrobe
and a tony red sportscar." I recently had the indistinct
pleasure of interviewing two of the world's most adored men:
Yanni, Greek musical stylist, and Fabio, Italian subject of photos
and illustration and fake butter spokesman. Please enjoy them,
as I have. LS: What is the difference between Yanni and Fabio? Fabio: It is obvious, is it
not? My hair is kissed by the sun, streaked with gold, the same
color of the beach near my villa in Italy. It is this same beach
where I would crawl out of the waves on my belly to come get
you. Yanni: My tresses are black
as midnight, the same color as the night sky over the Acropolis
when I played my wonderful concert and made my mother cry. F:
Also, I am a very masculine man. I like to wear the chest-revealing
shirts. My chest-or my breasts, as I like to call them-is a very
big chest. I lift the weights to increase the size. A woman likes
to see that I can carry her over the beach, or over some rocks
if they are in the way. Y: I give the ladies strength
through my music to carry themselves. LS: Do you feel that your audiences cross over at all?
Do you have the same fans? Y: Me, I would say no. A person
must love sweet music first in order to love me, even though
my wavy hair and large mustache are tempting. A fan of Fabio
is primarily interested in his breasts. F: That is typical, coming
from a Greek. The women may love my body, my hair, my strength
and smell. But they love most that I am able to bring out their
most womanly qualities. My fans are not interested in silly electronic
orchestras. They want the reality of a man enfolding his powerful
arms around their tender bodies. LS: What was the most important event in your career? F: My fragrance contract.
You have seen the pictures in the magazines, no doubt. I am naked
and am crawling out of the Mediterranean on my belly to come
get you. Y:
Again, I refer back to my concert at the Acropolis. I wept during
one particularly moving piece of mine. Also to know that my mother
say weeping in the audience next to my lady love Linda Evans,
this made me feel so special inside. LS: How do you respond to the accusation people have made
about your work being fluffy and shallow? Y: What people? Who is saying
this? F: I am sure I do not know
what you mean. I am Fabio, I pose for romantic book covers, I
am in the magazines, I give pleasure. No one has complained. LS: Why just one name? Y: My last name is too hard
for the ladies to pronounce. Let them know that I will always
be their Yanni. No more, no less. F: It is more romantic, no?
"Fabio" It just sound more sexual. You do not say,
"Mr. Tiger" or "Sir Lion of the Forest."
You just say "tiger" or lion." Growling like a
savage animal-"tiger!" "Fabio!" LS: Is there any love on the horizon for Fabio? F: Only one woman for me?
Look at me! Fabio is made for pleasure-giving. I want to enjoy
many women, and to let them enjoy me. But when a woman is with
me, for that short time she is my woman. She feels the specialness,
the pleasure, of me and my woman pleasure-giving, my special
sensualness and...uh...our sensual pleasure-making. Y: I give Linda Evans plenty
of pleasure. LS: Do you see any plans for a collaboration between Yanni
and Fabio? Perhaps a Fabio workout video set to Yanni's music? Y: I am afraid I do not see
this happening. Yanni's ladies would feel sick at the sight of
Fabio's vulgar twitching set to my beautiful music. F: I must agree. Fabio's women
could not bear the offense of watching my strongness be encompassed
by Yanni's girlish piano tinklings. LS: Thank you both.
Pick up a copy of Leslie Stella's novel, Fat Bald Jeff. return
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