I’ve been making time to practice photography. There’s times I’m super gung-ho about it, and other times I think it’s just a waste of time. These days everyone’s a photographer; yet, making pictures is a great creative outlet, cause I’ve got a very short attention span, and the time it takes me to toss a mask on a Porno Princess, have her do something silly, snap it, fix it in post then print it out, takes almost all the energy I’ve got left after a day of making smut.

I’ve tried to smoke three different times in my life, the first during the 8th grade. We discovered an empty pool in the backyard of a neighborhood house that was up for sale, and after hopping the fence and attempting to skate it, someone pulled out a pack of Marlboro Reds. Who’s the coolest in the pool? Not Billy Watson. A few years later, I returned to Chicago (where I grew up) to visit two of my very earliest childhood friends, Peter and Pino (say Pee-no). A reunion of sorts. Peter became my best friend in kindergarten, and we remained pals til my family picked up and moved to Arizona five years later. Peter and Pino were brothers, and their dad had figured out a way to escape the Iron Curtain to come to America and put himself through med school. He was an anesthesiologist. By now we were sophomores in high school, and since I’d seen them last, Peter and Pino got rich. Super rich. And both smoked like they were on fire. Minutes into our happy reunion, Pino was shoving a cig in my face and lighting it. Who’s the coolest at the reunion? Not Billy Watson. Then, a few years later, I drove out to Los Angeles to watch the Summer Games. Me and Biff, my very best pal in high school. Oh, the summer of 1984! Zen Arcade, The Los Angeles Olympics, Double Nickels on the Dime, no one would even imagine Michael Jackson was a gay pedophile, Meat Puppets II, and Djarum cloves. Who’s the coolest in the summer of ’84? Not me.

I’ve never really paid attention to Nada Surf, but their new record — The Stars Are Indifferent to Astronomy — is kinda fun. Matthew Sweet-y (when he was good) with lots of catchy hooks and smart lyrics. You may wanna take some time out of your busy day and check it. Same with M83’s Hurry Up We’re Dreaming, Matt Pryor’s May Day, and anything on Portland, Oregon’s Mississippi Records label. Anything.

Porn Girls, by nature, are narcissists. Which isn’t to say all Porn Girls are egomaniacal, but almost every one I’ve ever met is. They love their own image, and will capture it at all costs, whenever they can. No matter how (un)flattering the image will be. And when they’re not taking pictures of themselves, they’re spewing (mostly inane) information about themselves (or what they’re thinking) on Twitter…with the sole purpose of gaining more attention (and self-worth) via the number of people following them.

The thing that drives me nuts the most as a pornographer? The Wait. Waiting for Porno Princess to show. Waiting for her to get out of the bathroom. Waiting for make-up. Waiting for the end of the cigarette. Waiting for Stunt Cock to show. Waiting til they’re done with their blunt. Waiting for Stunt Cock to get wood. Waiting for Stunt Cock to pop.

The Wait.

— — —
New Years Rulin’s
— — —
1. Work more and better.
2. Work by a schedule.
3. Wash teeth if any.
4. Shave.
5. Take bath.
6. Eat good. Fruits – vegetables – milk.
7. Drink very scant if any.
8. Write a song a day.
9. Wear clean clothes. Look good.
10. Shine Shoes.
11. Change socks.
12. Change bed clothes often.
13. Read lots good books [sic].
14. Listen to radio a lot.
15. Learn people better.
16. Keep Rancho clean.
17. Don’t get lonesome.
18. Stay glad.
19. Keep hoping machine running.
20. Dream good.
21. Bank all extra money.
22. Save dough.
23. Have company but don’t waste time.
24. Send Mary and kids money.
25. Play and sing good.
26. Dance better.
27. Help win war – beat fascism.
28. Love mama.
29. Love papa.
30. Love Pete.
31. Love everybody.
32. Make up your mind.
33. Wake up and fight.

Bass Drum of Death: In February of ’93 I was stuck in a shitty job at a brokerage firm in Dallas, Texas. I was The Human Resource Dude, which meant I recruited new brokers into the firm and taught them how to pass the Series 7 exam (the SEC’s test to see if you’re fit to peddle stocks and bonds) as well as getting on the phone to peddle penny stocks myself. Honesty made me a terrible penny stockbroker, and our firm was in a whole bunch of trouble, so instead of jumping to the new, equally-shitty firm, I opted out of that world. Which is a fancy way to say I quit. I had no idea where I’d end up, or what job I’d have (a few months later I was selling Nissans and enduring the darkest days of my working days). Anyway, a lot of times when you’re in that kind of phase in your life, it’s always a great time to hit the road. So, without telling a soul, I jumped into my jeep and drove to Memphis to tour Graceland. Then I headed south, to Oxford, Mississippi, to walk through William Faulkner’s home and witness his writing room…the one in which The Fable is outlined on the wall. I also discovered Square Books. I stayed at a great Bed-and-Breakfast I can no longer name, but I can tell you the lady who ran the joint knew I was a “Yankee” the second I asked for cheese grits with my scrambled eggs and sausage. “How could you tell?” I asked. She just smiled. How would I know almost 20 years later my very favorite band of 2011 would hail from that great, little town?

The Hedgehog: Did I ever tell you why I can’t watch any James Bond movie? Cause there’s nothing to fear. You know he’ll NEVER die…no matter what nifty shit the enemy pulls. Which is why ya gotta love French cinema, mostly cause they have no problem killing off their main characters. So when I went into The Hedgehog, I was quite certain Paloma was going to fulfill her chosen path — to kill herself on her 12th birthday. Paloma lives in an upper-middle class apartment in Paris, with her Pill Poppin’ mom, Pain-in-the-Ass older sis, and Big Business Dad. But it’s the Hedgehog who steals this show, and all I’m gonna tell ya is Paloma doesn’t wind up ending it all.

Gravity’s Rainbow: From its Wiki — “Gravity’s Rainbow is a postmodern novel written by Thomas Pynchon and first published on February 28, 1973.” That’s one way to put it. Another is it’s a totally unreadable, 750 page mess that (kinda) centers on the V2 rocket, the first weapon that travelled faster than the speed of sound. Which Pynchon obsessed about. Cause more than once he talks about the rocket hitting you first…and then the typical noise an incoming rocket sounding. Cause it was that typical noise that cause the poor souls of WWII London to scramble for the underground to save their lives…before the V1 hit. Try to imagine it: you’re just trying to survive through the nastiest war the world has ever known, and far off in the distance you hear the incoming, and you haul ass to safety. With the V2 there was no more of that. Oh, and one of the main characters of the book pops a boner whenever the Germans launch a V2. How ’bout that? I’m about 100 pages in — and determined to finish it this time — and so far there’s been a zillion characters tossed my way, but I finally figured out the main character of the book is WWII itself.

Marché aux Puces de la Porte de Vanves: Books, music, and movies. The three things that make my life worth living. Oh, and the fourth thing — flea markets. Sure, the Pasadena one is gigantic (overwhelming) and very great, and the Portobello Road Market in London is where I scored one of my very favorite things (the “Careless Moments” tobacco card set featuring the pin-up girls of 1922), but the Marché aux Puces de la Porte de Vanves is my very favorite flea market…maybe cause it’s in my very favorite city in the world.

Riley Reid: I’m over The Whores. Really, I am. Don’t get me wrong — I don’t hate whores; in fact, I love them! I just don’t want to engage them in anything more than a working relationship. Which is to say I’ll say “hello” to them when they walk in my studio, and I’ll treat them with respect while we’re working, and I’ll say buh-bye to them when they leave. And that’s that. Except maybe Miss Reid, who likes old, useless things more than I do.

Allie James: I swore when I was about to blast out this blog I’d mention only one (potential) future “porn star” (always an interesting term), but here I am mentioning two. Allie James is a barely-legal blonde from a tiny town in Upstate New York who jumped into the Porno Game a few months ago. And she gets it…which usually only happens to a girl after she’s been in this whacky biz for a year or more. (And never, ever to a barely legal). Unless she’s a Speigler Girl, of course.

Fucked Up’s “David Comes to Life“: I walked into Amoeba last spring as they were playing what would become the best record of 2011, “David Comes to Life“. I walked out with the LP tucked under my arm, and when I saw they were slated to play the El Rey, I was all over it. Not just cause of the band, either. I’ll go to any historic theater in LA just to check out the venue itself. (One of the reasons I’m psyched for Wilco’s show at the Los Angeles). By the time Fucked Up came to LA, David Comes to Life had been on my turntable almost non-stop for weeks. The band runs their Swag Table, so in addition to spending $50 on 7” records, I chatted it up with their lead singer, Damian Abraham. He mentioned they were on their way to The Casbah next, and I knew about The Casbah cause it’s a legendary San Diego punk club, so I asked, “Hey, do you mind if I photograph you guys tomorrow night?” He agreed. He’s the nicest dude, as is the band, and I left San Diego the next night with a couple hundred photos. I’d call some of them great, but no one likes a braggart.

The Minion: We’ve had our up & downs, and we drive each other crazy almost all the time, but I couldn’t do what I do without him. Do what? Add to the decay of the moral fiber of our society, one scene at a time.

Sometimes I wonder if I’d be happier doing something else for a living.

I went and saw the new Planet of the Apes flick Saturday night. Afterwards I found myself at Amoeba, where I always tend to gravitate towards whenever I’m in Hollywood. I walked out with another Fucked Up record called “The Chemistry of Common Life”, which I haven’t even gotten a chance to listen to — yet.

Sometimes I wonder if I’m wasting my life making dirty movies.

I finally got my medicinal marijuana card. I went to the Adult Exxpo with The Minion a couple weekends ago, and there was a doctor at the convention giving $60 consultations — a bargain. I filled out some paperwork, and by the time I was done The Doc was ready to see me. He was a nice guy, but he looked just like how you’d imagine. I told him about my anxiety issues, and my shitty, sleepless nights, as well as my issues with Restless Leg Syndrome. I struggled with all this stuff before I started self-medicating a few years ago. Now, I’m legal.

Sometimes I wonder if I have the best job in the world.

Speaking of The Minion, I had lunch with him today at Greenblatt’s. Our pal Johnny Fender joined us. I dined on the knockwurst and beans; The Minion enjoyed a corned beef sandwich and a potato knish; Fender had a bowl of Matzo Ball Soup on my recommendation, as well as 1/2 a sandwich…but I can’t remember what kind of sandwich he ordered. I like eating at Greenblatt’s cause the food is was better than Canter’s, and I almost always have a decent celebrity sighting when I eat there.

Sometimes I wonder if I’ll ever have a relationship doing what I do for a living.

I only wonder about that cause I talked to a Pornographer Pal of mine who just ended his relationship. He makes POV porn and found a girl he liked a whole lot. She was porno, too. He was totally into her — so much so he kinda quit doing scenes, and he moved her into his place. 2 1/2 weeks later he paid her to leave, packed her stuff into boxes, and shipped them back to the mid-west. He’s now on Match.com.

Sometimes I wonder if I have the best job in the world.

Fetishes never made sense to me until I got older. All through my 20’s and 30’s it was all about fucking. Then I got bored with it. Don’t get me wrong — I still like sex, but fetish fun is way more interesting. Sex gets boring. So far, fetishes haven’t.

An Open Letter to Modern Day Pirates by Kayden Kross

You’re not cool. Admittedly this is a weak opening, and more of an understatement than anything, but you’re not. Piracy has never been cool. But there was a time when it was manly, back when men were so dirty that Hollywood still thinks they wore black eyeliner, and scurvy was a very real risk, and there were swords, and missing limbs. There was danger and intrigue. You pirates today have none of these things.

Granted, the world has really cracked down on the likelihood of piracy in real life (RL) ever being a successful venture again, and, let’s face it, no one wants to live in Somalia, but taking your craft to the internet is a new low. You’ve changed the game, see.

When your ancestors stole ships and buried treasure there was a wealth to be gained, and a fair amount of notoriety, and that rebel freedom. They stood for something. And it sucks that these things came at the risk of having your neck snapped in a noose or being marooned somewhere, and if you managed to avoid those things, probably going blind and insane from the late stages of a lifelong case of syphilis, but real life has consequences.

You modern day pirates are pussies, hiding behind your computer screens and outside of jurisdiction, speaking some foreign language, or pretending to, in your mother’s offshore basement that maybe isn’t offshore at all (it’s very piratey of you not to have a known address), wiping grease stains off your unbearded faces with cease and desist letters and probably showering regularly and missing the symbolic irony of how completely out of touch you are with your pirate roots.

And I’d maybe understand it if you were rolling in gold coins and required large suited bodyguards with tiny earpieces to protect your pirate interests, but you’re not, because you’re not even really monetizing it. Pirates never did get the monetization thing down. That’s why they raped and pillaged and kept it simple. Then they waltzed off with tangible goods, and it didn’t matter that they didn’t really invest in much, because when they ran out of goods they could rape and pillage some more. But what are you waltzing off with? Increased broadband usage? Some redirected traffic? This is nothing. You don’t even instill fear.

But you do annoy the fuck out of us content owners left standing with our thumbs up our butts wondering why all of our profits are being siphoned off if they’re not being siphoned into some other account, maybe a nice Swiss one, or maybe into a virtual treasure chest. Maybe Paypal. Something exciting. It’s like you’re taking the gold and throwing it in the ocean. Don’t throw away the fucking gold, man. You’re doing it all wrong. And I have to wonder about your social standing, with all that time you have to throw into keeping your tube sites up for the measly return of a few advertising dollars, if that. Pirates should be fierce.

But my real problem with your habit of throwing the gold all over the place is now the rest of us are standing around with the remaining gold that we worked so hard for and you’ve rendered it worthless. That’s the worst pillaging strategy I’ve ever heard of. And here’s the kicker, pirate — we didn’t actually work that hard for it back in the day. You know some solo sites pulled down six figures? Monthly.

You could have been in on that! But instead you chose to pull an entire industry into a race to the bottom. And what’s your little tubesite bringing in for all that time and effort you’re expending screwing everyone over? But I don’t think you’re dumb and shortsighted. I’m sure you’re a rational pirate making rational decisions, and if that’s the case, then you’re aware that you’re bringing down an entire industry and hurting your own ability to rape and pillage in the future.

And if you continue to engage in this pirate behavior with clear knowledge of the consequences then you are doing this on purpose. So if you’re not dumb and shortsighted, then maybe you’re not a pirate at all. Maybe you really just hate porn. Maybe you’re a moral vigilante using backdoor methods to hollow us out and turning a few bucks in the process is just a perk. That’s smart, if despicable. Cal OSHA’s got nothing on you.

How ’bout the TV in the background of our first babe’s photoshoot? That shit was cutting edge in 1971! And her great tan lines!! Can we bring back tan lines? And PLEASE can we bring back some bush??

How ’bout the big hair & pig tails on our second lovely lass?

Most of the pictures I got a hold of were taken by an old-school smut peddler named Ron Vogel. Check out his IMDB. It starts all the way back in 1960 with “Not Tonight, Henry“, and includes “The Bashful Blonde from Beautiful Bendover”, “Sex Trek II: The Search for Sperm”, “King Tung Is the Egyptian Lover”, and “The Adventures of Tracy Dick: The Case of the Missing Stiff”.

“The Adventures of Tracy Dick: The Case of the Missing Stiff” also starred a 16 year old — successfully passing herself off as an adult at the time — named “Traci Lords“.

I love the history of my business.

Here’s the trailer for Not Tonight, Henry. Take a minute and check it out and try to imagine a time when that sort of thing was “dirty”.

Vogel’s still alive, and, in addition to the movies he was involved with, one of his biggest claims to fame was shooting his daughter for Playboy. This was the same year Dorothy Stratton was a Playmate of the month.

I love the history of my business.

One of the biggest scores in my stack o’ vintage smut was an manila folder containing the photos — and the model release! — from a girl calling herself “Laura”. The best part is her release? It also functions as a Q & A for a potential magazine interview…if the publisher who ended up buying the content needed an interview for his Jerk Rag. It’s dated Sept. 22, 1974, and it’s really amazing how things don’t change — only the girls.

Some memorable quotes from “Laura”: My ambition is to be a model and get into some acting. Since I want modeling to be my career, I want to be the best I can be. I was in the Miss California Figure Model Contest. Some of my pet peeves are when people smirk at you under their breath when they’re upset with you…like when they laugh in your face because you did something they thought was wrong or stupid or something like that. My secret desire is to make love to Robert Redford. And I look for a man that respects a woman for what she is and has understanding with people.

I love the history of my business! Now, if I could only get my hands on some of Irving Klaw’s negatives and releases.

While I was scanning and printing my Olde Tyme Dirty Pictures, I came across a news article stating “66% of Americans Say Porn is Morally Wrong“. This really didn’t surprise me a whole lot, and, of course, the article’s title is a bit misleading. In addition, I’m sure they’re talking about using porn as a masturbation aide — as opposed to shooting it, starring in it, or making a living off it in any way, shape, or form.

If the Gallup Poll asked about actually being part of the pornography business, I’m willing to bet 95% of Americans would say it’s bad.

I wonder what the number would be if they were asked, “Do you feel it’s morally wrong to take nudie pics of your daughter?”

The poll is actually pretty fascinating. It encompasses “the moral acceptability of a series of different actions human beings engage in”. In addition to pornography, the poll covers infidelity, cloning, polygamy, gay relationships, divorce, the death penalty, gambling, and clothes made from the fur of dead animals. Age of the participants and political affiliations are also taken into consideration.

Overall, we really don’t like suicide, cloning humans, and polygamy.

I’m OK with suicide, I’m not OK with cloning humans, and I don’t like polygamy. (I have no problem with poly-amorous relationships).

Overall, we think divorce, gambling, using human stem cells for research, and sex between unmarried men and women is OK.

I don’t like divorce (unless there’s no children involved, or you do it after your kids turn 18), I love love love stem cell research, and I think sex between unmarried folks is super groovy.

Democrats think out-of-wedlock births, doctor-assisted suicide, and abortion is OK.

I don’t like out-of-wedlock births, I like doctor-assisted suicide, and while I hate abortion, I think a women has an absolute, God-given right to own her reproductive rights.

Republicans have no issues with fucking over the lower and middle classes, exploiting workers, sending our soldiers into meaningless wars, white-collar crime, sending American jobs to third-world shit holes in order to increase profitability, voting to change tax codes in order not to pay their fair share, and/or altering the Democratic Process in order to ensure their candidate wins a Presidential election.

OK — the Gallup folks didn’t say that — I did. And I stand by it.

Older people (over 35) think porn, gay relationships, premarital sex, and out-of-wedlock births are bad.

I’m over 35 and I love the first three things; I already told you how I feel about out-of-wedlock births.

Younger people (under 35) think medical testing on animals and the death penalty are bad.

I believe in medical testing on animals and the death penalty, but only under certain circumstances…circumstances I’m not even sure I can define at this moment. Well, wait. If DNA evidence proves the murderer is a murderer beyond a reasonable doubt, and it was a pre-meditated, yucky murder…then kill the Mofo. And if we have to put an animal down in order to figure out how to save a human life, sorry…the poor critter has got to go.

Finally, by a whopping 91% to 7% percentage margin, married men and women having an affair was considered “morally wrong”.

Yet, from what I can tell, almost all married couples can’t remain monogamous.

Funny how that works.