I'm back

Hell yes.

Support the troops!

They want to take away a soldier's access to girlie mags? Really?

Oh, fuck you.

The goggles! They do nothing!

They say that there are things that once seen, can never be unseen, horrors so repugnant on a cosmic scale that they defy any and all rational description.

They are right.

So very, very right.

A hearty thank you to Warren Ellis for the links. And by thank you, I mean fuck you. Fuck you right in the brain-hole.

It Stings Slightly

Have you ever stumbled across something -- likely on the internet, but possibly in real life -- that so disturbed or disgusted you that it made you feel less human, as if part of your soul were whittled away?

When you work in the adult film industry for enough time, you come across things that will have that effect on you from time to time, but of course the more you see, the less things get to you. I used think that the last part of my soul died the day that I was required to enter "nasal cumshot¹" into a database as a keyword search term and film descriptor. Since then, things have made me blink twice or wince a bit -- virtual unicorn rape-and-impregnation machines, Mythbusters slashfic and attendant artwork, the everpresent specter of granny porn -- but until very recently nothing had given me that wrenching feeling deep down inside wherein I realized too late that somehow, against all odds, I actually managed to retain a little bit of humanity that was even now being torn from me like the wings from a screaming butterfly.

But that all changed a couple of days ago, when I first laid eyes upon Fuck my Gut Butt. Yes, that's right, Fuck my Gut Butt.

Now I know what you're thinking, because it's what I was thinking: "What the hell is a gut butt?" Well, if someone is sufficiently obese then their bellybutton must necessarily be buried deep, hidden between and beneath rolls and folds of warm, enticing belly fat and... and...

And that, ladies and gentlemen, is how Mikey Mongol learned that he still had a bit of soul left and lost it, all in a split-second of horrible psyche-searing epiphany.

¹HOW is that even remotely sexy? It's like... semen waterboarding. Not hot, people! Not hot!

I Vote Clown

Fark caught it before I did, but it's a question apt enough for me to repost: Jenna Jameson or Undead Clown?

Another One Bites The, Uh...

By now I'm sure you've heard that yet another Republican politician with an anti-gay voting record got caught in yet another extremely salacious gay sex scandal (complete with cross-dressing, porn shop hookups, &c. &c.). Here is the police report in PDF form.

What struck me: "Richard [the Republican politico] and ---- [his trick] ordered two bi-sexual pornography movies" on the hotel TV.

Dare we hope that one of them might have been The Bi Apple?

She Goes Down Like A (News) Anchor

A couple of folks have sent me this quiz, which tests one's ability to distinguish between pornstars and Fox News anchors. I don't know if it's very challenging to the population at large, but I found it really easy -- 10/10 in under 2 minutes.

2257 Rules Unconstitutional!

Holy crap! It was a split decision, but even the dissenting judge thinks that the regs are unconsitutional -- just not irredeemably so.

Wow. I didn't see this coming, at least not so soon.

A View From The Outside

Here's a fascinating Slate essay by jurist Tim Wu on the current state of US obscenity law. It's involved and detailed, but one of the points which I glean from it is that Wu believes that the current administration's crackdown on porn production has no legs. I don't know if I believe that, though I hope it's true, but agree or not, it's still a great read.

Of course, not ten minutes after I post that link, a news story about these scumbags getting hit with interstate transportation of obscene materials charges crosses my RSS feed. Wu's point still holds -- I just thought it was an odd coincidence.

Food for Porn

Food for Porn is a canned food drive run by a shop that sells porn. It trades, as you might expect, a canned good for a porn flick, and it's an awesome idea.

Also...

I'm going to venture a predicion: That Bree Olson girl is going to go far. She and Sasha Grey are the most exciting new performers of the last year or so.

It's The Little Things That Bother Me

Let us consider the title Backdoor to Buttsville for a moment. Now, even if we ignore the illogic of there being a back door for an entire town, there's still this to chew on: If you're going to Buttsville, doesn't it logically follow that you will be taking the back door? Considering that, isn't the title awfully redundant? I mean, nobody talks about taking the front door to Pussy City, or the mouth-door to Blowjobton-on-the-Moor, do they?

This is why porn companies need to hire professional copyeditors.

Are you listening, porn companies?

Erotica Contest!

A quick note: I'm co-judging a (written) erotica contest over at Shay's. The details and specs are all over there, so take a look! There's a prize package and everything! Exclamation point!

Division of Labour

As most of you, the teeming throngs* of my readers, already know, I also blog every now and then over at The Sex Carnival, and sometimes I have trouble figuring out what should go here and what should go there, and whether I should crosspost. Is that shameless self-promotion? If so, is there anything wrong with that? And what do readers here want to see vs. readers there?

Anyway, I wrote a little something about a South American sex-based reality television show that probably takes things a step beyond what it ought over there, but some of you may want to read about it. The article itself is SFW, but the banner ads on that site tend not to be, so caveat lector.

* Where a throng roughly equals a dozen.

Two Items Gleaned From The NY Post

1) It's a very slow news day.

2) Every day, Jenna Jameson moves closer and closer to resembling a poorly-crafted inflatable sex doll of version of herself.

But Would Fabio Pose For The Cover?

Oh man. While justly lionized for his defining work, the famous Life of Johnson, some of Boswell's earlier writing was strictly third-rate romance novel stuff. A first-person account of his tryst with an actress, written in a letter to a university chum:

I came softly into the room, and in a sweet delirium slipped into bed and was immediately clasped in her snowy arms and pressed to her milk-white busom. ... In a moment I felt myself animated with the strongest powers of love, and, from my dearest creature's kindness, had a most luscious feast. Proud of my godlike vigor, I soon resumed the noble game. ... Sobriety had preserved me from effeminacy and weakness, and my bounding blood beat quickly and high alarms. A more voluptuous night I never enjoyed. Five times was I fairly lost in supreme rapture. Louisa was madly fond of me; she declared I was a prodigy, and asked me if this was not extraordinary in human nature.

It seems our young Bozzie was rather full of himself, hm? Of course, it sounds like by the morning, Louise was a little full of him as well. *rimshot*

But wait, there's more. After coming down with (yet another) case of the clap after this little tryst, his breakup letter with dear Louise was just as remarkable. Here's just a taste:

I have been very bad, but I scorn to upbraid you. I think it below me. If you are not rendered callous by a long course of disguised wickedness, I should think the consideration of your deceit and baseness, your corruption of both body and mind, would be a very severe punishment. Call not that a misfortune which is a consequence of your own unworthiness.

Damn. Just... damn.

Both quotes are from Boswell's London Journal, 1762-1763 (New York: McGraw-Hill, 1950).

Plus Ca Change...

I toyed with her. She wondered at my size, and said if I ever took a girl's maidenhead, I would make her squeak.

The pillow talk, it never changes.

From Boswell's London Journal, 1762-1763 (New York: McGraw-Hill, 1950). Yes, that Boswell.

Apropos of nothing...

... this might be the dirtiest thing I've ever seen*.

* Except for that granny gangbang movie. Some things should just not be.

He Said, She Said

Well, I was going to post about the new 2257 regs that came out last week, but I think that my post over at Viv's linked to an article which did as decent a job as I could have, and has input by an actual lawyer, so instead I'm going to fan the flames of Porn Valley gossip instead.

Back on Friday, ill-loved porno yenta Luke Ford posted a letter that he had purportedly received from Bessi, formerly ultra-filthy* pornstar Bisexual Britni. In it, she described a life of oppression and abuse at the hands of her ex-, Dennis. It's an upsetting, tragically plausible tale.

But.

About a year ago, a West Coast friend of mine mentioned that he had been propositioned by a woman on a popular internet classifieds site in response to a picture of himself that he had posted. After assuaging my initial disbelief**, he told me that woman in question had mentioned that she was a pornstar, in an open relationship. He gave me the name that she had given him and after a little bit of digging, I confirmed to him that a woman with that name was better known in the porn world as, you guessed it, Bisexual Britni.

Now if Bessi-formerly-Britni is to be believed, she "never even SAW [her] emails", which would mean that it was probably abuser Dennis propositioning my friend and pretending to be Britni. I find that... creepy. But even if you accept Dennis arranging seedy anonymous hookups between Britni and strange men posting mask-wearing pictures of themselves on sleazy hookup sites, my friend also reports that he spoke to Britni on the phone, and she sounded distinctly female. In his own words:

My thought is that either A: Dennis does a much better job imitating a woman that you'd believe or B: she's exaggerating a bit. Mind you, I'd never take away from the horror of an abusive relationship, but ... at least a year ago she was more free to talk than [her letter to Luke] would lead you to believe.

Of course, thanks to the anonymizing power of the internet, any of all of this could be complete bupkus. The woman that emailed Luke might not be Britni. The person that emailed and spoke to my friend might not have been Britni***. Bessi-formerly-Britni could be lying. My friend could be lying. I could be lying. But hell, isn't that what internet gossip is all about?

* And I don't use that descriptor lightly.
** "A woman!?"
*** Though she did have the last name that Britni used, which may not prove anything, but definitely adds a soupcon of veracity to the tale.

Vote Zombie Reagan!

Monday evening, I had the privilege of attending a reading and QA session by Audacia Ray as she swung through town on her book tour. Also in attendance were Meg, recently of the late, lamented Tales of a Teacher (and Slut), and Antonio Rodickuez, one of the stars of The Bi Apple. It was nice to catch up with Antonio, who I hadn't seen since the shoot, and Meg and I and we had a lovely discussion about blogging our personal lives, and why she did it, but doesn't anymore, and I don't do it at all.

The reading itself was held in a bookstore that started out as a communist council, but has since shifted to an leftist-anarchist collective shop. Leftist propaganda and radical pamphlets abounded. I was, to steal a turn of phrase, a pilgrim in an unholy land*. That morning I was this close to wearing my Reagan T-shirt just to piss off the management (or whatever you call the people that run a socialist-anarchist collective), but eventually better sense got hold of me and I decided not to.

Sometimes I hate my better sense. It can be such a coward.

* No, I'm not a Republican. Yes, it's complicated.