Category Archives: random raves

random raves, stories from porno land (some amusing, some not)

Blacks On Blondes

October 9, 2005 Billy Watson Leave a comment

I think this week I’ll write a whole lot about the time I spent working for Blacks on Blondes at Dogfart’s secret mansion.

So let’s start with The Band:

Billy Watson (that’s me!) -rhythm guitar for the Blacks on Blondes shoots, lead gutiar for Glory Hole.

S.S. – backing vocals, lead guitar for Blacks On Blondes.

Justin Timberlake Feels Your Pain – percussion for Blacks On Blondes.

Dogfart – lead vocals and rhythm guitar for Blacks on Blondes and Glory Hole.

I joined the band late. Our scehdule went something like this: we’d start shooing at 11 am and wrap around 2 or 3 – depending on how late the talent showed. 4pm was the second shoot of the day, and we’d wrap for dinner. After dinner, we might knock out a GloryHole or three. Sometimes our day didn’t end till 11 at night.

We had a lock on just about all the Black male talent in Porno Land, and over the 6 months or so this all went down, we shot just about any girl who would do a brother.

Check out Judy Star. Our tune went like this: Judy is hitchhiking, and she’s desperate for a ride. It’s cold, and she’s tired, and guess who pulls up? A carload of black dudes! In typical porno style, Judy accepts the ride – on one condition: she does them all in a secluded area up the road a ways. They give her a lift, drop her off, do her, and call it a day…all for your perverted fun.

That was a morning shoot. Then, there was an afternoon shoot. Then we’d sprinkle some Gloryholes in there. Then, if we were up for it, friends would drop by and we’d party a whole bunch.

It was drugs and sex and rock and roll, man. Which is to say – for a while anyway – it was a glorious time.

S.S. snapped this pic of me and Judy before the scene I just told you about. I kinda like it…it’s arty in a subtle way, which kinda represents him.

All of a sudden, one day S.S. decides he’s done. He’d had enough. Since I was late to the party, I was still having fun, so it was kinda hard to figure out why he was hauling ass. Looking back at it now, it all made sense.

But I’m getting ahead of myself.

The Collector

September 30, 2005 Billy Watson 1 Comment

vintage adult ad

I’m a collector, which is to say I collect things.

In 1975 I was just a kid and went bonkers for beer cans. I’d walk miles from my home in Calumet City, Illinois, just to score a Big Cat Malt Liquor (I once scored a tall boy Big Cat in mint condition in an alley behind a White Hen Pantry!), or an old Candian Ace can…and my god! – if I found a flat top, or even (gasp!) a cone top, I had to run home just to clean my underpants…and then show off my can to the kids in the neighborhood.

Then, for a while – from like 1978 to 1987 – I was a jock…and lost my soul.

When I came to, it was books…specifically, anything I could find by Charles Bukowski. First, it was all the books with paintings by him. That’s right, his publisher would issue limited edition books with real paintings and silkscreen prints done by Buk. After that, I had to have all his poetry chapbooks published in the 60’s, and those fuckers were expensive back then. After that, all his little mag appearences sparked my interest…but nothing after 1970 (or so).

After I consumed Bukowski, I went nuts on all the Beats – Jack Kerouac, Allen Ginsberg, and, of course, William S. Burroughs. And of course, I had to buy every first edition, signed first edition, and limited edition thing I could afford. From the Beats I had to collect anything that was considered counterculture literature – Paul Bowles, ANY little mag from the 50’s and 60’s, anything drug related (LSD literature was close to my heart), Ken Kesey, Hunter S. Thompson…the list goes on and on. Then I just bought any book I could afford, if I had to have it.

Collectors know what I’m talking about. And it doesn’t matter what you collect, really…there’s some sort of fucked up psychotic thing happening in your head when you’re dumpster diving for beer cans, or spending your entire life scouring thrift stores for tiki mugs, or figuring ways to fuck over people who are bidding on whatever it is you’re bidding on at eBay.

I sold my Bukowski collection a long time ago. Since then, all the books I sold are worth even more, and that’s OK. It comes with the territory. Now I go out of my way for records…jazz records, mostly…hell, any records…and books (now it’s paperback sleaze and juvenile deliquency titles)…and vintage porn.

Vintage porn is so fucking cool. Old girlie mags like Adam, and Knight, and Cavalier, and the nudist camp mags, and, when I’m really lucky, I’ll come across glossy pics from the 50’s that you could buy out of the back ads from all those girlie mags I collect…I’m really on the lookout now for 8mm stag films from the 50’s, too. They pop up on eBay, but scoring shit on eBay doesn’t really count, does it?

So, if your grandpa died, and he was a pervy old dude and kept his shit in perfect condition – like most collectors do – call me, ok? I’ll pat ya on the back and say how sorry I am cause you’re all bummed that grandpa died, and then, if I can use it, I’ll offer you cash for the lot.

And I promise not to cherry pick.