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"Callum, you're such a gossipy boy. Best of luck, Coach Warner", his gym teacher had written in his senior yearbook. Asked what the Z. stood for for recently, he laughed and said it was his father's little joke - it doesn't stand for anything, but Dad thought it made his name sound funny and would get attention. And so it did. It was certainly better than a boy named "Sue". Like the S in Harry S. Truman does. it adds gravitas, hopefully. Or it makes people laugh when the name is called from an attendance sheet on the first day of typing class. The name Callum Z. Blabber stuck and determined his personality and his career, or so he likes to think. Blabbing pays the bills. Or at least gets him a stipend and a free trailer in Aluminum City. And he meets men - all kinds of men, and they talk to him freely. He came to the job as a last resort, answering to an add in a copy of One magazine, "All-Male Resort Needs Typist", after he had been fired for being caught in town carving a glory hole in the men's room of a local department store next to the newspaper office where he was working, when he had had a rough day covering a flower show where he had been turned down trying to proposition a local florist because he smelled of bourbon and smoke. "I don't care if you're hung like a grandfather clock weight. I don't like rummies or smokers." Fair enough. Callum thought the guy had a nice ass, but a bit too-too la-tee-da, and smelled of cheap perfume - "Evening in Paris" to be precise, which he recognized as something his mother had worn. "Old Spice" would have been the only choice, in his book, even for a bottom. In his interview with Nic the Senior Manager of Loveless Motel, after being satisfied with his credentials, Nic asked if he had a boyfriend, and removing the cigarette from his mouth, Callum said that he had; He still carries the picture of the man which was a private joke between them, of Jimmy eating a banana when he came home from work for a quick midweek outing at the lake outside of town. Jimmy was a very agile circus side show contortionist who was gone half of the year, who died during a break at home in a freak accident when he tripped over Callum's typewriter which had been left on the floor of the basement rumpus room. He'd come down to turn off the TV which was announcing the end of the broadcast day, playing the national anthem, followed by the sound of the mono-tonal test pattern siren blaring up through the air vent in the bedroom which was so loud he came dashing down the stairs, annoyed, into the dimly lit room, cursing, tripped, knocked over a bottle of bourbon, and hit his head on the hard corner of the portable TV before he could even turn it off. Callum was passed out on the couch and slept through the entire ordeal, barely enduring the shock of discovery when he groggily came too as the first blast of strong sunlight shot through the little garden level basement window, and once accustomed to the light, Jimmy's limp body appeared in terrible, detailed focus. "Son of a bitch," Nic said, commiserating, his eyes downcast, his head bobbing from side to side as if he were witnessing some invisible tennis match on the floor between his widely spread legs, then lifting his head and smiling warmly at Callum blurted out "You're hired! - do you want a trailer?" All men come to Loveless single. "Fraternization and fucking with staff and guests is fine, but no lovey-dovey crap," Nic maintains. "Leave that for the guests." "Yes, I'll take the job, and the trailer, and please call me Cal." Cal's a bit more careful these days - he's laid off the sauce but can't kick the coffin nails. He fits right in with most of the staff in that respect - half his waking hours are spent with a lung dart between his lips and he's even discovered the joy of the candy cigarettes at Hit and Split, which he uses as breath mints, right before any interview. And he'll stop and nothing, and go absolutely anywhere, to get a good story to inform and remind guests, new and returning, about Loveless Motel. He's eager to hear and tell about the stories that come out of now-open Nutbush Campground.

Seen here relaxing in his Aluminum City quarters at Loveless Motel, Harry Biggerstaff takes solace amidst his antique porcelain collection and vents his frustration to us. "I feel like I'm in a very loose hole up to my nuts, and no way am I gonna get what I want", says he, "about this damned jock strap theft - where is the guy? I'm supposed to be this magical new Hotel Dick, and I'm coming up with bupkis! People don't steal jocks and sell them on the same property and then just walk away! Who is this guy?!" He's done many interviews; poked his business where some might say it didn't belong, and prodded what he thought were all the right spots, and just before he thought he might just hit it and be done, he had to pull out and try another lead. He'd gone cold. His new friend, Luke Atma Peterson, even assisted, and equally frustrated to a point of going down one bottomless hole after another, suggested Harry just lay lay off for a while and go have some fun while getting to know the Loveless property - so that's what he's doing. Anticipating Spring, we're finding him in the great outdoors, enjoying nature, seeking harmony with woodland creatures. Even so, he says he can still smell a ripe jock at 10 paces and he will get his man.

Hard has he might try, he's distracted: being staff writer/publicist chronicling the antics of our lodgers at Loveless Motel can be tough, especially when he's temporarily displaced from his room because his traveling buddy decided to have an all day orgy and he has a deadline. The punters want their tall tales and dirty gossip, and it's already fucking Wednesday. But what's he doing typing? He should have stayed for the fun, and chalked it up to "research".

Nic - the Senior Operations Manager Taylor from Dallas - Junior Manager Rock Blockhead - Construction Projects and Property Manager Harry Biggerstaff - House Detective Biff Wellington – Head Chef at Birdwhistle’s Tearoom Psycho Randy - Desk clerk on the day shift Dr. John Long - retained seasonally as a medical doctor Officer Dick - inhouse security and law enforcement professional Sheriff Buck N. McBuff - custodian of The Hoosegow Uncle Joe - Intern training facilitator and chief disciplinarian Jack Leyendecker - Intern recruiter and summer talent scout Luke Atma Peterson - Intramural Sports Coach Stretch N. Spreadam - yoga instructor Billy Swallows - Manager of Suit Up Dante' DeWitt - Assistant manager of Suit Up Hardly N. Uphatal - Suit Up salesman Will U. Bonus - Manager of Hard Tack General Store Mr. Dick Gee - contracted operator of Hair and Now Salon "Snap" Wadmacher - roving photographer Frank - model for hire at Shutter Bug Camera Shop Paul - the blind piano player at Tickler's Lounge Buster - Room service waiter Roger - Jack of all trades Dick Blunt - tobacconist at Blunt Smoke Shop and Lottery Tickets Martin Cox - pool boy, aka pulp novel writer Hardy Rider

Stake your claim early any Sunday to get the best spot and most exposure for the Tea Dance at Loveless Motel. This model, supplied by Shutter Bug Camera Shop (located off the lobby) asked the photographer "What is an "L" spot?" and was told "None of your fucking business - just do your job."