Farewell Thee Brave Soldier: RIP Macho Man
Category Archives: Current Events
In Memorium: John Leslie
RIP — Alex Chilton
RIP Erica Boyer
RIP Jay Reatard
Jay Reatard was the greatest fucked up pervert whacko kid genius to hit the scene since 1973 (or so). You’ve probably never heard of him. He screamed songs like “Blood is Sweet but Semen is Sweeter” and “Oh How The Little Boy’s Blood Looks Good On Your Face” — and they found him dead in Memphis last night.
I shot this before Jay’s in-store show at the Hollywood Amoeba, August 18 2009. I thought, for an in-store, he’d just tip-toe through a few numbers. After all, it’s just an in-store.
Dumb me.
Jay ripped through his set with a vengeance. At one point, the Amoeba staff had had enough, and I’m just not sure what it was precisely that sent them over the edge: after he smashed up some of the records on their display, or when he tossing cans of beer all over the place, or when he called Amoeba “The Walmart of record stores.”
I’m sure it was the Walmart remark.
Jay Reatard became Jay Reatard (pronounced ree-tahrd, just like our mentally-challenged pals) after catching The Oblivians open for Rocket From The Crypt; he laid down a four track in his bedroom, sent it out to Goner Records, had it accepted, and dropped out of high school. He wasn’t even old enough to drive — at least legally.
I checked out his myspace and noted his new headline: “new band, new day…watch out”. He’d been at odds with his band for a while, and, if I’m not mistaken, they’d left him. But I’m not sure.
I’m sure his last record — Watch Me Fall — landed at #13 in Spin Magazine’s Best Albums Of The Year…whatever that’s worth. I think it made Jay proud.
Here’s the Jay Reatard official site; if you poke around, you’ll find some gems…like a killer cover of Nirvana’s Frances Farmer Will Have Her Revenge On Seattle as well as a song Jay and his (then) girlfriend cooked up one one over a some sushi, some drinks and a chocolate soufflé — In Heaven (Lady In The Radiator Song).
I thought it appropriate.
I only spoke with him once, and it was after the in-store. He hung out with fans in a far corner at Amoeba for at least an hour. Jay was drunk and kind and talkative and totally unaffected by the attention he was starting to receive.
I had an idea for a photograph, and Jay knew my business; when I asked him, he looked at me kinda funny. “Whacha got in mind?”
“I want to shoot you being roasted over a fire by a bunch of the alt-porn girls…Scarlett Pain, Joanna Angel…that kind of a crew. And I want to dress them up in Girl Scout outfits and set it all in the back of my ghetto warehouse studio, right in front of the garage door.”
“Roasted over a fire like a hog?” Jay asked.
I said, “Yes sir.”
He smiled and gave me his e-mail address, and we agreed we’d try and set it up the next time he was in town.
A month or so later, after I heard Jay had descended into The Heroin World, I was worried. Common Knowledge knew he was out of control, but I didn’t think he had taken it that far. And I didn’t give a shit about my picture anymore. I just reminded myself, I’m a worrier…and Jay will make it out OK. It’s gonna be difficult…but Jay will make it.
I wish I was right.
R.I.P. Aunt Peg
A Hooker in Las Vegas
Who knows.
Who really cares.
Well, that’s kinda harsh. Some of you care. I care cause one of my Porno Pals — Eric Swiss, AKA “Swiss Balls” — won best actor for his role in Not Married With Children. Some more of my Porno Pals won, too:
Best Double Penetration Sex Scene
Bobbi Starr & Dana DeArmond’s Insatiable Voyage
Best New Web Starlet
Lexi Belle
MILF/Cougar Performer of the Year
Julia Ann
What’s better than learning some of my pals won awards? A phone call.
A Stunt Cock I hire just called to tell me he was walking the strip right after the award show when a super hot Vegas hooker hit him up. You know how to tell if they’re hookers, right? If not, next time you’re in Vegas, and you see a single woman walking down the strip or wandering around the casino, just make eye contact with her and smile. If she maintains eye contact with you, and then stops and says anything at all, she’s working.
Always remember this, and don’t fool yourself. You’re not all that. Just cause she’s making small talk doesn’t mean you’re Brad Pitt; it means her pussy is for sale.
But all pussy costs something, right?
Anyway, my buddy struck up a conversation and eventually asked her, “How much do you charge?”
“It starts at $500 for a hand job.”
My buddy was totally blown away, and he got kinda pissed. “$500 dollars! For a hand job! Holy crap! No hand job is worth that kind of money!”
She then told him, “Do you see that Denny’s on the corner?”
“Yes.”
“Do you see the Denny’s about a block further down?”
“Yes.”
“And beyond that, do you see that third Denny’s?”
“Yes.”
“Well,” she said, smiling, “I own those. And I own them because I give a hand job that’s worth $500.”
I couldn’t believe my ears. This dude gets work a lot, so why the fuck would he pay $500 for a handie?
“What the hell, Billy! You only live once. So I gave it a try.”
You realize most of the male talent in this biz are sex addicts? So what. I’m pretty sure 90% of the dudes walking the face of the Earth are, too. Anyway, they went back to his room at The Venetian. Twenty minutes later he told me he was sitting on the bed, realizing that he has just experienced the hand job of a lifetime, worth every bit of the five hundred he paid. He was so amazed, he asked, “I suppose a blow job is $1,000?”
“$1,500.”
“I wouldn’t pay that for a blow job!”
She said, “step over here to the window, big boy. Do you see that casino just across the street? I own that casino outright. And I own it because I give a blow job that’s worth every cent of $1,500.”
My buddy, still sitting there in total disbelief over the hand job, said, “Sign me up, but let’s go down and gamble a bit and then come up and go for round two.”
They go down and play craps and he hits the casino for the cost of the BJ — and some more. And three hours after the mind-blowing hand job, he is sitting on the bed more amazed than before. He can scarcely believe it. Top BJ of his life — and he’s been a stunt cock for almost 6 years. In fact, it’s better than any porno BJ he’s ever gotten, so you know what’s coming next: “How much for some pussy?”
The hooker said, “Come over here to the window, I want to show you something. Do you see how the whole city of Las Vegas…laid out before us? All those beautiful lights, gambling palaces, and shows?
My buddy readies himself for the number. He knows it’s gonna be big, so huge he just wanted to know so he could laugh about it later…but he never expected what was about to come out of her mouth.
“If I had a pussy, I’d own it all.”
…and no, Jackie Daniels has nothing to do with this tale. I just like the picture a whole bunch. This isn’t original material, either. But I liked it even more than the picture of Jackie Daniels, so much so I tweaked the original joke a bit and passed it off as my own. So don’t go hatin’, yo.
Karl Rove Divorced — Again.
Rant n’ Roll.
So today I wake up and take care of my addictions: first, caffeine & sugar, and then the news.
Karl Rove, Senior Advisor and Deputy Chief of Staff to former President GWBush II, has just sealed his second divorce. If you don’t know him, or kinda know him, let me enlighten you: Mr. Rove was Barn Boss over at the Office of Political Affairs, the Office of Public Liaison, and the White House Office of Strategic Initiatives during what could be called the most conservative administration in modern history; in addition, he was a former Republican political consultant and strategist, as well as part of a vast team that, to this day, is The Defender of Family Values and Everything Good & Right.
You gotta hand it to him on one thing, though…he got all the above without a college diploma. “I lack at this point one math class, which I can take by exam, and my foreign language requirement,” he once said. Sounds familiar, huh? It kinda makes sense, though, that someone like Bush Jr would hire a dude without an degree to head up a political team — even at the state level. Political Science degrees are kinda like History degrees are kinda like Justice Studies degrees…which is to say almost every one of my Flunky Jock Pals “earned” one.
Including me.
I hate the right wingers. It’s not cause they’d like to riddle my kind with a sub-machine gun, it’s cause my biggest revenue source wants me terminated. It’s cause they fight for family values after multiple divorces. It’s cause they hate fags but cruise the airport’s men’s room after a long flight. It’s cause they preach monogamy, but use your money to fly to exotic places to bang their mistresses. It’s cause they’re stupid enough to believe abstinence programs in high school work. They’re Name Callers and War Mongers and love to frighten everyone. They want to crucify drug addicts — right after they score. They criticize without following up with solutions. They’re the first to pass judgment and the first to cite Jesus.
And then there’s the Democrats.
Whew.
Let me catch my breath. In the meantime, check out my very favorite poet and one of my very favorite poems.
Every time I hear another Stupid Conservative Hypocrite suffering from Diarrhea of The Mouth, I think of this:
Charles Bukowski
there is enough treachery, hatred violence absurdity in the average
human being to supply any given army on any given day
and the best at murder are those who preach against it
and the best at hate are those who preach love
and the best at war finally are those who preach peace
those who preach god, need god
those who preach peace do not have peace
those who preach peace do not have love
beware the preachers
beware the knowers
beware those who are always reading books
beware those who either detest poverty
or are proud of it
beware those quick to praise
for they need praise in return
beware those who are quick to censor
they are afraid of what they do not know
beware those who seek constant crowds for
they are nothing alone
beware the average man the average woman
beware their love, their love is average
seeks average
but there is genius in their hatred
there is enough genius in their hatred to kill you
to kill anybody
not wanting solitude
not understanding solitude
they will attempt to destroy anything
that differs from their own
not being able to create art
they will not understand art
they will consider their failure as creators
only as a failure of the world
not being able to love fully
they will believe your love incomplete
and then they will hate you
and their hatred will be perfect
like a shining diamond
like a knife
like a mountain
like a tiger
like hemlock
their finest art
My Very Favorite Things This Past Year.
As ’09 closes, I look back at another year that passed like a lightning bolt and look forward to 2010…which, to me, is The Future.
We’re living in The Future…or about to.
The world according to I am Legend is just two years away; Rollerball is eight years away, and Blade Runner is just one past that; Soylent Green is set in 2022; and the Terminators are set to walk to Earth in less than 20 years from now.
How about that?
Why am I even mentioning this?
Anyways, here’s some of my very favorite things of 2009:
Wilco at The Wiltern, June 22, 2009: Sure, I’m gay for Wilco — everyone knows that — so anything I say about the band, you’re gonna dismiss as “Billy’s just gay for Wilco”. I’ve been to a lot of shows in my day, and this band is at its peak as far as playing live is concerned. They do things at an instinctual level I’ve never really seen any other band do. Six dudes play as one. There’s not been many shows I’ve ever seen that compare to this one, either. And I don’t give a fuck what you think: Nels Cline is the greatest living American guitarist…and Tweedy’s a lyrical genius. Speaking of, let’s toss in Tweedy’s 12/27 solo show in Phoenix…since I just left it a hour or so ago. He even played an Uncle Tupelo song!
Black Mass: Apocalyptic Religion and the Death of Utopia by John Gray: If you think the Mayans have the End-of-the-World-2012 biz cornered, just know there’s been all sorts of whack jobs predicting our demise since Jesus walked the Earth. You already know every single one of them’s been wrong, too. Wildly wrong. This book isn’t really about that…just kinda. But be warned: when you sit down to read it, make sure it’s in a quiet place and you have your thinking cap securely fastened.
Violet Monroe: The thing I like most about Violet is she doesn’t look like a Porno Princess. She doesn’t act like one, either…most of the time, anyway. Besides, she turned me on to The Raveonettes.
Disc #4 from Big Star’s Keep An Eye on The Sky: Don’t get me wrong — the outtakes, demos, the weird and rare tracks that make up discs 1 – 3 are great, too…but it’s the fourth disc that seals this deal. In January of ’73 Archie Bell & The Drells played Lafayette’s Music Room in Memphis, TN. Opening for them that night was Big Star. No one gave a shit about Big Star (duh…no one really did for another twenty years), so it’s dead silent as they played; since this was a recorded with a mic from the audience and everyone was as lazy as a church mouse, the audio is great. It’s almost like no one was there to watch what has become (arguably) one of the most influential bands of all time play their opening set. In fact, no one was — they were all there to see Archie do “Tighten Up”, which means they missed Alex Chilton and his crew rip through “Back of a Car”, “The Ballad of El Goodo”, “Thirteen”, “O My Soul” and a whole bunch of other great songs.
Mister POV: It took that silly sonofabitch three years to give me enough content to launch his site, but now that it’s out there, I don’t think there’s a better POV site in the whole wide world. Sure, I’m biased…I own 1/2 of it. But still, between Bree Olson, Jackie Daniels, Natalie Norton, Abbey Brooks, Ginger Lee, Ashley Fires, and Barbie Cummings (among others) I don’t think anyone would argue this chubby mofo (and his pervy “pals”) are the luckiest guys in the world.
An Evening with R. Crumb: At the end of October at UCLA’s Royce Hall, a somewhat reclusive Crumb sat down with Françoise Mouly for about an hour and talked about his life (in general) and his Book of Genesis specifically. In the end, I couldn’t decide what I liked better: the whack jobs in the crowd or the whacky Crumb.
Up In The Air: I saw it right after Thanksgiving, and I still haven’t been able to shake it. While I’m talking movies, let’s toss in The Hangover and Inglourious Basterds.
The Raveonettes: Sune Rose Wagner and Sharin Foo kinda remind me of Jim and William Reid and The Jesus and Mary Chain…only I like the Raveonettes more. Way more. They’re Danes, too! How about that?! I mean would someone please name any band hailing from Denmark that’s worth a shit?! Uh huh…I knew you couldn’t. From their site: “Their music is characterized by close two-part vocal harmonies inspired by The Everly Brothers coupled with hard-edged electric guitar overlaid with liberal doses of noise”.
Should condoms be required on porn sets?
Judge David Yaffe on Tuesday rejected a petition from the AIDS Healthcare Foundation that contended county health officials hadn’t done enough to prevent sexually transmitted diseases in the porn industry, according to the Los Angeles Times.
The group sued the county in July after data showed there were more than 3,700 STD cases over the past five years reported by a clinic that serves porn actors.
In denying the foundation’s request, Yaffe said the county has broad discretion in how it oversees public health. The group plans to appeal the decision.
—————————-
As of this writing, 65% of the readers at MSNBC (where I found the article) who read this agreed with the judge; almost 30% wanna see a glove on that Johnson.
If you’re asking me, I think condoms are a great idea to ensure we’re all safe, healthy, and happy.
And If you’re asking me, Jackie Daniels is the hottest piece of ass to roll into Porn Valley since…since…since…