Scramble Porn In 5 Easy Steps!

Are you like me, friend? Did your adolescence frustratingly end before broadband and effortless access to porn? Did you spend an embarrassing amount of your formative years watching Scramble Porn? I bet you're glad those days are over. But, do you find yourself, strangely enough, missing them?

I do.

If you do too, then you're in luck, friend. I've stumbled onto a simple way replicate that Scramble Porn Look right on your laptop. In a few short steps it'll be like you're 13 again.

1. I use VLC media player 1.0.1. If you have a way of doing this on other players, please feel free to share your method in the comments. First, open your video. For the sake of pornstalgia, I have selected a scene from Hard Evidence starring Jeanna Fine.

2. Click TOOLS. Then EFFECTS AND FILTERS

3. Click the VIDEO EFFECTS tab, then the IMAGE MODIFICATION tab.

4. You will see on the bottom a choice of check boxes. Checking WAVES will reproduce that squiggle we love so much. You could get a more authentic squiggle by checking WATER EFFECTS. This, however, decreases the contrast once the color's inverted, so this option is for the truly masochistic. Additionally, checking NOISE will add static, but again this will increase the squint factor. Whatever works for you. My eyes are bad as it is so I just choose WAVES.


5. And finally, the coup de grâce. Click on the COLOR FUN tab and then INVERT COLORS box. and voila! Scramble Porn.


Now you're ready to go. If you truly want to recreate that experience from oh so long ago, you could simulate your mother knocking on your door (the anxiety makes it work that much more).

Nothing beats a inverse cum shot!

Porn Star Haiku: Amber Peach

She's a bit fat, and
no beauty. But she sure has
one meaty pussy.

(paraphrasing Wheelster, clearly a connoisseur of womenfolks).
(for the record, I disagree. I think Ms. Peach is quite lovely).
(her pussy is pretty meaty though).

Porn Star Haiku: Jaylynn Sinns

Even beneath the sheets,
Even at night, smiles like yours
Will light rooms and hearts.

I Love Love Love Fatty D

I used to room with the coolest chick. We lived in a one story bungalow at the edge of Berkeley and all was awesome. She used to keep the bathroom stocked with issues of Vice she stole from work. It was in one such magazine a few years ago where I first encountered April Flores (AKA Fatty D).

There was a review of The Voluptuous Life. "Who is this beauty on the cover?" Love at first sight. Smitten on the can. A week later, Rose was able to steal a copy from work. We watched together straight away even though we weren't intimate and we had only known each other a few weeks. Our shared love of April Flores was the first of many bonding experiences. She also shared my disappointment at not seeing Ms. Flores in hardcore action.

It was a lovely day when I found out about Waist Watchers 4. I had long since moved back to the East Coast but I was on the phone with Rose within minutes of finding out about Fatty D's first Boy/Girl. Why a 35 year-old lesbian has as much interest in seeing a bbw do some dude as I do, I'll never know, but God bless that woman. We were unable to watch it together, but she sent me a copy (snagged from work, of course), with her remarks on a Post-It note. And I was happy for a while.

But you know me. When it comes to porn, I am never satisfied. Just one scene won't do. I waited impatiently for the next.

So I'm laying here with my laptop on my lap. I'm taking a break from my nearly done paper and listening to April's appearance on "The Sheena Metal Experience". Clicking around on the internets while I listen, I find that she's done another boy/girl, interracial at that!

I have quite a few issues with IR, but watch it anyway because I'm a conflicted bastard. But a big pro for me is identification. I identify with the dude onscreen. As a brown fellow myself, seeing a fellow brown fellow have sex makes it easier to see myself as him. Anything that makes it easier to see myself having sex with Fatty D, in particular, makes me happy.

Just now on the show, Fatty mentioned that very scene in passing. Now she just said how she won't be doing another Boy/Girl for a while. Oh well. Hopefully I'll stay happy with this (but you know I won't).

As soon as I'm done writing this post, I'll be on the phone with Rose. I'm in no rush; I won't be pulling my pud for a few months. But it's good to have a (most likely stolen) copy of Belladonna's Dark Meat 3 with Rose's notes waiting for me when I go back to being a deviant.

The Sasha Grey Experience

I took forever to watch the movie. Then I put off writing about it for forever more days. Here it is, way after everyone else, my review of The Girlfriend Experience.

What can I say that hasn't been said by someone more articulate six months ago? The Girlfriend Experience is a stunning movie, even more so when you take into account the tiny budget, and the lightening-quick speed it progressed from conception to release. The cinematography is gorgeous. The mise en scène is perfect. Soderbergh shoots Sasha beautifully, perhaps better than any porn director (I know that's a "no shit" statement, but it's something that struck me immediately). I was expecting something akin to Bubble, another low-budget Soderbergh movie shot on digital with no name actors. The Girlfriend Experience exceeded those expectations.

I could go on about the substance of the thing, about how TGE is about the intersection of Beauty, Commerce, the question of Identity, and the very human need for Intimacy, but it isn't a review per se I set out to write.

This is supposed to be my first impression of Sasha Grey. It's kind of impossible to have a pulse these days and not have heard her name, or see her picture naked more likely than not engaged in some sort of gangbang activity, or hear how much smarter she is than the rest of us. Somehow I was able to get all that and not have sat through a porn movie with her in it. Bizarre!

I've condensed my impression into thoughts (not all about Sasha Grey):

1) Who has eyebrows like that? Like, really!

2)They should rename the movie When Will Sasha Grey Smile? I kept going "Almost, almost. Yes! No! She was just getting something out of her teeth. Maybe next time."

3) Dude looks like Casey Affleck!

4) Imagine where this could have gone if it had ten times the budget and Natalie Portman playing Chelsea...and Casey Affleck!

5) Sasha Grey is actually not a bad actress. I mean, she's a bit wooden and emotionless, but I think that's the role.

6) I'm so in love with Christina Nadeau, the girl who plays Chelsea's friend. I would so date her. Much more so than Sasha Grey.

7) This movie is like American Psycho Lite. A chunk of the dialogue is Chelsea mechanically listing high end consumer items. Yep, like American Psycho with none of the gore, and oddly enough, less of the sex.

8) Another girl I would date over Sasha is Meriam Benezra, who's onscreen literally for three seconds as a street musician. Three seconds is all I need to launch into fantasy. We'd spend our days busking for change on the F train platform, our evenings crashing open bars and gallery openings (free wine), our nights in each other's arms engaged in conversation much more riveting than anything you could get out of Sasha Grey.

After it was all over, after I got my first prolonged dose of Ms. Grey, I checked out Anal Acrobats 3 and watched her pop croquet balls out of her ass. She seemed so much more at ease, as if she was genuinely enjoying herself.
Ah, the strange future we've made for ourselves!

Oh, Chasey. Oh, the Humanity!

She was billed The Most Beautiful Woman in Porn. I was 13 and in love.

Fast-forward fifteen years and the once smitten boy finds the remains of Chasey Lain at Porn Star Update. My heart is broken. Is it awful that I'd rather found she died?

The good news is that I've seen worse (admittedly no one I've lost fluid over), and rehab is always an option even for the hopelessly cracked-out. Whitney is making a come back. Maybe Chasey will in a year or two. There's a lively Milf/Cougar market waiting for her. I'm pulling for you, Chasey. You can come back from this:

Where The Hell Is Oruba Stone?

"Why haven't you been updating," asks the chorus comprising all twenty of my readers.

I suppose I owe you all a reply.

My answer is twofold:

1) The Great Depression 2.0 has done the impossible and sent me scurrying to grad school. The program I'm in is extremely intensive. Loads of reading. Loads of writing. Very little time for anything else. I've only begun to tweet again.

2) Early into my new endeavor, I knew that I was going to need all my mental and physical fortitude. So I decided it best I do something I haven't done in ten years and give up masturbation. At least till exams are over. Surprisingly, it's not as hard as I thought it'd be, but literally overnight, critiquing porn became virtually impossible.

But I miss blogging. I can't stay away too long. And if nothing else, maintaining Neckties gives me enough pretext to leave pithy comments over at Alison Hart's delightfully insightful blog.

So here they are. Resolutions.

1) I'm getting back to updating when I can. Updates won't be as regular as before, and will be more likely to be Porn Star Haikus than long treatises on pornified culture, but I certainly will spend more of my rare free time putting something up.

2) What makes this interesting is to be doing all this while refraining from self love. This occurred to me yesterday when as luck would have it a copy of My Big Plump Wedding came into my possession. I fought the urge to review it knowing that had I not, I'd be fighting a relapse (it was a struggle just getting the link). After some thought, I figure the constant, tortured tension would give updates that edge you only see in love notes from good Catholic girls. Why not? Fuck it.

This might be an absolutely great idea or an incredibly dumb one.

It's good to be back. Thank you for your continued readership, all twenty of you,

Oruba.

Sweet Melanie Malone

I hesitate to label this woman Ugly Girl Porn. I think she's rather prety in her own way. I wouldn't mind walking through the mall with her. But the Ugly Girl Porn designation didn't originate with me. I only mirror the sentiments of girlfriends past and present who have waded through my embarrassingly large porn collection commenting on the girls they see there. Perhaps it's the longish face or the extra bit of gumline length. You could make up your own minds. Whatever you decide, behold Melanie Malone.

Ms. Malone is among the surprisingly abundant amount of beauties I've discovered at Spunkmouth a few years ago. Everything about her drew me in: the flaming red latex fireman getup she peeled off; her inviting and genuine smile; her unnaturally spherical fake boobs (my formative years being in the 90's, I considered normal things my forefathers never did); I even liked the Rachel-esque stiffness of her hair as well as the highlights.

Unfortunately Melanie's stay in the industry was regretably short. Her output is few and hard to find. I have to make do with the Spunkmouth scene which invariably brings me joy.

Which brings me to the point of this post: Melanie Malone, you make me happy. If by some strange quirk of fate you are reading this, I would like to thank you.

The Katie Morgan Influence

So it has happened. I have become acquainted with an actress's mainstream film work before finding that she's done porn. Actually this already happened with Echo Valley in Harold and Kumar Escape from Guantanamo Bay we're going to ignore that.

I watched Zack and Miri Make a Porno in the not too long ago and was enraptured by the bubbly personality of Stacey, the not-too-bright character played by Ms. Morgan. As soon as the credits rolled I got her name and went to the internets. I found that not only is she an actual porn starlet (with a Star Trek parody to boot) but I'd passed over her scene with Naughty Office numerous times. Within the hour I scored a compilation.

I'll give Ms. Morgan the benefit of the doubt and grant that she's a good enough actress whose actual personality is different from that of the character she plays onscreen. But I like to think there is something of her in Stacey, something nevertheless that now has attracted me to a girl who I had previously considered as having a Dime-A-Dozen porn look.

And this brings me back to Sasha Gray. I have previously written, wondering which to watch first: Ms. Gray's porn work or her mainstream debut. Katie Morgan has helped me make my choice.

Be sure to check out my review of The Girlfriend Experience when I get around to watching it.

Porn Star Haiku: Alix Lakehurst

You, Me, and a weekend

In Ocean View with ten bucks
of Chuck Shaw red.

LOL!

From the always hilarious XKCD.

Concerning Whitney Wonders' Asshole

I came across this picture yesterday while searching for images of Whitney Wonders. I'm left with no choice but to respond:

To the Photographer: I've never been a fan of that airbrushed look that graces so many magazines, porn or otherwise. I mean, why present an impossible ideal and make women nation-wide even more neurotic and insecure about their self-image than they already are? I say keep the freckles, blemishes, and lines. As far as porn pics go, I never fret over the sight of the occasion razor burn, but have some professional pride, man. If you insist on showing Whitney Wonder's asshole at least have the decency to shop out the hemorrhoid. I don't care how weird people's fetishes are, no one wants to see that. If I wanted a face full of piles I would've followed the lucrative career path to proctology. C'mon, dude.

To Ms. Wonder: I am aware that Naughty America or any of the other production companies you've worked for probably don't provide health insurance coverage (to which I would recommend joining a freelancer's union or perhaps looking into an arrangement like the strippers of San Francisco, but all that is a discussion for another day). Besides, hemorrhoid removal is probably considered cosmetic or elective surgery anyway. Still, the way I see it: if you can afford $6000 for unrealistically ginormous boobage, you can pony up the cash to get the hemorrhoids lasered off your otherwise lovely asshole. If nothing else, consider it an investment into your career. My guess is that the Hemorrhoid Lovers' niche is too small to pay the bills. I've entertained the notion that you were completely oblivious to your little friend's presence back there till just now. Please direct your anger at the photographer. Hopefully, the embarrassment at the situation will prompt you into action.

Kthanxbye,

Oruba

Working Blue

I'll admit it. No else has; I can't be the only one. For a brief period of time I was confusing Raven Black with Whitney Wonder. How could you not? Two sexy porn starlets with similar builds and hair color, it was bound to happen. I love them both so it was never an ordeal if I was expecting one and got the other. The milk was never sour or spilt. Stroke sessions were always fulfilling.

I did learn after a week or two to differentiate them, but for ever after the two were linked in my mind. Watching one perform would inevitably bring up thoughts of the other. It's not at all uncommon for me to watch a Whitney Wonders scene right after a Raven Black one and vice versa.

But a change has come and Raven Black has gone and dyed her hair. Knowing my tendency to be oblivious to everything, this is probably news to no one. She's probably been working blue for quite a few months if not more. Never mind that--I'd like to go on the record and say that her new hair color drives me absolutely wild. Her newer scenes have all but consumed me these past few days.

The part of me that loves absurdity, lulz, and unnecessary drama wants Whitney Wonders to follow suit with an identical dye job. Then, ensuing tension that can only be relieved with either an on camera catfight or a blue on blue girl/girl.

Someone really needs to make that a reality.

Great Cum Lines #1

Something I love to no end is to hear witty banter on film. Even better if the actors are naked. Even better than that if it follows the money shot. My favorite such line I heard in a flick I saw in high school.

It involved a couple fucking outdoors. After he shoots his load he delivers a line with the dry cool wit of an action star: Best suntan lotion money can buy.

Why haven't anyone compiled a list of gems like this? I'm gonna start.

The first one comes from a Naughty Office episode from a few years back featuring the ever hard-working Jackie Moore.

Jackie Moore: Your fucking cum tastes so good.

Nameless Porn Stud: I've been eating a lot of candy.

I Hate IR #2

From: Black Cock Addiction

Starring: Kayla Marie

What Transpires: A convincingly addled, perhaps too convincingly addled, Kayla Marie approaches two black men. She asks the incredulous pair to sell her some crack. She doesn't have any money but she offers a cheeseburger. The two take her back to their place and fuck the shit out of her. That'll show her to assume they're crack dealers.

Sigh.

So Many Lanes

Ever given yourself a porn star name? You know how it goes: your first name comes from your childhood pet's name, your last is the street you grew up on. Mine comes out to Bucky Willow. This development has kept me out of porn as I have no desire to be a bottom in gay porn.

I often wonder how porn stars come up with their names. Wouldn't surprise me if some of them use the above protocol. I'm sure an overwhelming majority choose from a pool of stereotypical porn star/ stripper names (e.g., Amber, Britney, Nikki, Angel, Heather, Brandy, Chloe, etc). Of course you have your Sasha Greys and their obscure references. Who knew you could make sex flicks with Sascha Konietzko and Dorian Gray's monikers?

What about last names? There are the obvious references to sex (your Coxes and whatnot). There are certain last names that are abundant in porn for reasons I have yet to find out. Cody Lane, Sunny Lane, Vanessa Lane, Morgan Layne, etc. Why are there all these Lanes in porn? Is it their IRL surnames? Is there some sex reference I'm just not seeing? Is there some proto-sex goddess to whom all these women are alluding? Do all these signs point to Chasey Lain? Lois Lane? Does anyone know?

Porn Star Haiku: Naomi Russell

Lordosis never

looked so good. Your ass and you

make me lose my cool.

Choosing My First Impressions

After writing yesterday's post, I reflected about the unique position I'm in.

I have neither seen Sasha Grey in a porn nor a mainstream flick.

First impressions are everything, right? Whatever movie I watch first will, whether I like it or not, influence how I perceive her.

I am in the position to pick the road I follow though I won't necessarily know the outcome.

Should my first impression of Sasha Grey be her lead role in a film by the same Academy Award^® winning director who gave me Schizopolis?

Or should I watch her take on fifteen dudes and a hook first?

Ambassador jumpsuit landmine!!!!!!!

My Utterly Uninformed Thoughts on Sasha Grey

Skydweller, who may or may not be affiliated with the Disney Corporation, writes:


"man could you please write about porn star Sasha Grey? I wanna know more about her."


Skydweller, if you just surfed in here, you probably wouldn't know this but this blog is a reflection on porn as filtered through my personal experience. And I'll be frank, perhaps too frank: I've never masturbated to Sasha Grey.

And in truth I couldn't give you a good reason why. Her videos are easy to come by. She is an exceptional beauty. I have always been partial to brunettes. She seems accessible which, strange to say, is a factor in who I watch. I think with porn like in other areas of my life I have the tendency to stay off the well beaten path. I'm more likely to following my own whims than do something because it's hot. And Sasha Grey is en fuego.

I'm not mad at her for it. More power to her. But for whatever reason, perhaps my current infatuation with redheads, I'm not feeling her right now. Someday I'll get around to indulging in her movies. When that happens, you'll be the first to know.

That said, I hate to let people down. I figure as much as I surf the internets for porn, surely I must know something that may be of use to you. Here is what I been able to gleam from my travels:

Her Wikipedia page is perhaps the most in-depth I've seen for any porn star except Ron Jeremy. What hasn't she done? She's in both Porn and Mainstream films. She's modeled for American Apparel, the company I love to hate. She's put out industrial records. And Much More.

She's a busy Renaissance woman, it seems. Quite an accomplished lady at her age. But from what I've been reading, she has a few detractors. People who say her intelligence, if not her whole persona is an affectation.

Like I said, I not terribly familiar with her, but at this point I'm not inclined to disagree. Take, for instance her constant allusions to Existentialism and French New Wave.

From personal experience, 9 out of 10 people who name drop Existentialism into a conversation are in-fucking-sufferably smug assholes who don't what they're talking about. I'm not afraid to say that I might fall into this category.

And as much I love Godard, Truffaut, and all them cats, most people who say they like French New Wave -- unless that person is a bearded professor or European -- are really trying to impress you. It's code for look at how cool, hip, and savvy I am! It's in the same vein as telling people how much you can bench press. Again, this might be a self indictment.

All said though, regardless of whether she's "authentic" or even likable, based on my light research and my gut, my feeling is that in the years to come she'll subvert our idea of what porn stars are or should be. And if there's anything I'm for, it's good old fashioned subversion.

Oh, and apparently she's beefing with Howard Stern, but I don't think that will go anywhere.

On Porno Art

I watch a lot of porn. Duh, right?

As such, after while, I, being the special guy that I am, notice patterns, fixtures, recurrences. Things like the pervasive potted plant in the corner or the inexplicably ubiquitous folding room partition in the background. Things like black guys keeping their shoes on (I haven't figured that one out yet).

What I notice most is the abundance of art in porn movies. You see it everywhere, and all kinds: good, bad...mostly bad. If the scene isn't outside, in a motel room, or on a fabricated set, you'll probably see something hanging on the wall.

Several questions arise:

1. Have there been any recognizable pieces featured? I'm not talking about The Nightwatch, certainly, but something from a hot artist from the last 5-10 years or so.

2. Does having your art pop up in a sex flick increase or lower its value? I'm guessing if early deaths and bizarre lifestyles are a career-maker, porn appearance can't be that detrimental.

3. Somewhat, related to the first question. The houses a lot of these movies are shot in pretty much look interchangeable. Has anyone seen a painting and gone, "Oh, that's _________'s place"?

4. Am I the only one who notices shit like this?

5. Why?

I guess the most logical (and least fun) explanation is that many non-motel room, non-fake set sex flicks are shot in pretty swanky digs in and around Porn Valley. A surefire way for the arriviste to gain respectability is through collecting art. I'm assuming, of course, Old Money don't let their houses out for porn shoots, but I could be wrong.

A collage construct from a random sampling of my collection:

I am a geek for documentaries and books about the lives of various works of art. I like knowing how it got from A to B, what happens from the time it's created and the time it gets to its present home. If the story begins with an impoverished, unappreciated artist who sells his prized painting to make rent, and then proceeds to how it was hidden from the Nazis by Resistance members in a dank cave for four years, and ends with the painting now a national treasure hung in the Louvre, then you've got my attention the whole time (no mean feat).

Thinking of Porno Art I let my mind wander.

What if there were an artist. He isn't a hot new thing but he is talented. He isn't known in the big art circles, but he does fairly well in Southern California. His work isn't selling for more than $1000, but he's moves quite a few paintings out of his studio. Maybe he has friends in the porn industry, or maybe it's a fluke of fate, but many of his paintings end up in homes in San Fernando Valley.

Suppose he dies at a young age before his career could take off. Maybe his death is especially tragic or unusual, maybe a renown art critic stumbles across one of his pieces by accident (I'm thinking at a garage sale he almost didn't go to). Could be anything that does it, but soon after his death his profile starts picking up.

Five, ten years go by and this guy becomes hot. Paintings that originally sold for $500 now go for $20,000 easy. Many find that by selling that painting from behind the couch they once thought worthless, they could finance several movies, or buy a new car. His works start moving out of Porn Valley and find their way into the hands of prominent dealers and private collectors all across the US, Japan, Russia, Europe.

Another ten years go buy and this guy's paintings start to appear in museums. Women are shocked to learn, when liquidating their husband's assets for the divorce proceedings, that the ugly painting that's been hiding in storage for all these years in now worth $800,000.

Seventy-five years go by and the artist is a major figure in Western Art. His paintings are in the Met, and the National Gallery, and the Guggenheim. The latest auction offering was a frenzied affair with his most celebrated piece going for $1.2 billion (not that outrageous if you consider inflation). Unknown in his own time, the artist is now considered a pioneer and creator of his own Movement.

And in the classroom of an art school, a professor is starting a three day lecture on this man's life and work. He's giving the Life of a Masterpiece Spiel for a painting that is now priceless.

And it goes something like this: "...was featured in Tinker with My Stinker 2 and Interracial Hole Stretchers 4..."

The DoppelGanger and Celebreality

I try. I really do. I try so hard to distance myself from Reality TV but -- some of you have seen this coming -- I find myself watching the newest season of Charm School. Granted, I'm still watching in the same 5 minutes chunks I afford to all of VH1's Celebreality lineup, but my tolerance is slowly, and sadly, building.

I've written about my not-at-all-difficult quests to find the pornwork of my favorite females of Celebreality. I've also written about Celebreality stars I want to see do porn.

And what do you know: two minutes into Charm School Ithought I struck gold again. Brittanya, who, along with being conspicuously absent from the cast listing on the show's website, and seemed to have evaded my notice during Rock Bus of Love, looked like one of my favorite regulars from Naughty America.

Or at least I thought. But bit of googling turned up the fact that Audrey Bitoni and Brittanya O'Campo are two different people. Had not one of them been heavily tattooed, I would have had much more trouble making that asertation. They look remarkably similar.

There is actually a porn star on the show, Brittaney Starr, but I've never been into her.

An Open Letter To Jeanna Fine

Dear Ms. Fine,

Allow me to start off by saying that I have been a fan of yours for a great many years now, nearly half of my life. Your onscreen exploits made an indelible imprint on me during my formative years. I doubt I will ever forget the effortlessly waton sexuality that you exuded. For that I want to thank you for making my adolescence what it was.

The reason for the letter is to implore you, beg you, to return to porn once more. I know I can't be the only person who's been waiting for you to come back. I sincerely believe that your return will stoke the pornstalgic flames of many men my age as well as enflame the hearts and passions of a new generation of youth.

The time is ripe; it has been for a few years now. The new swell of Milf and Cougar porn has brought many of the legends of yesteryear back to the forefront of our nation's pornographic consciousness. Your background reveals that you are Milf Compliant. Even without kids, you would fit quite naturally as an uberCougar, a role you seemed destined to play since the the early 90's.

If retirement is too sweet a deal to leave behind, please consider a limited run at the top reality sites. Or perhaps a season as Naughty America's Milf/Cougar-In-Residence?

I can't convey how much your return, however brief, would mean to young men (and maybe some women too) around the country. You would be doing us all a great honor even thinking about it.

With what I assume to be love and what I know to be the most sincere admiration,

You everlong fan,

Oruba Stone

Porn Star Haiku: Andi Anderson

My heart is yours. Your

Plump lips, I wish on mine. Your

Fat ass, on my face.

Woodsmen and Cougars

Like most men, I once habored a desire to be a porn stud. I have since disabused myself of the notion for the usual reasons:

• I cling to an utterly unrealistic hope of running for Congress someday. A porn past might be a wee bit detrimental.
• The real fact that my mother is still alive and knows how to use Google.
• The equally real possibility that my future children will be just as net savvy and porn hungry as their old man and will be able to recognize a 20-something version of their father if not by looks then by his birthmarks, piercings and tattoos.
• Everything will be on HD soon; there can be no denying it's you.

It's a hard life anyway. You get paid shit. You can't pick your partners; a dude with a Yes or No List is laughable. You have to be able to cum on command. If there's another guy in the scene you will inevitably touch dicks. And that's nothing because unless you're a superstar, if you want to make money in the business you definitely will have to go "gay for pay."

Still the thought comes into my head, though I'll never act on it. Sometimes, when I'm with someone I love, or more likely someone I just met but feel tenderly for regardless, and I find I have trouble achieving orgasm due to too much alcohol and anxiety, I like to pretend I'm on a set, under many bright lights with two cameras pointed at me and I'm fucking a girl who's body of work I admire but franky just met two hours earlier. I image that the directer has given me the green light to blow my load.

It almost always works. I don't know if that speaks profoundly about me or the times we live in. Probably both.

This I hope should serve as a springboard for the two things on my mind today: Today's woodsmen -- who are, let's face it, my age or younger -- and Milf/Cougar porn bringing past legends back into the spotlight.

The way I see it, unless these guys are all-out gay, they share a porn past with me. They probably spent their adolescence sneaking copies of Cherie, Club, Penthouse, High Society; watching scrambled porn; sending away for copies of the Adam & Eve catalog. I imagine that a 25 year old porn stud, like me has spent a considerable amount of his formative years beating off to Rayveness, Janine, Debi Diamond, Kylie Ireland, Jill Kelley, Teri Weigel, Julia Ann to name a few. I imagine that boy growing up and ten years later finding himself on a porno set about to actually bed down one of his early fantasies. How unreal would that be? Would it be akin to being called up to the majors with your first at bat facing Roger Clemens (Yes, I compared sex with a porn star to baseball)? Or would the routine of doing this regularly set in and it be just another job?

I wonder if there have been any starstuck moments. Maybe a geeked out dude fumbling for a pen and pad to get Nina Hartley's autograph. Does he brag about it to his friends afterwards?

What the Fuck, Jordan Lee?

This is craziness! That's all I can say.

My previous post brought Jordan Lee back to mind. Although I was a frequent visitor of Porn Star Uncensored back in the nineties, it seemed like I was into everyone except the site's namesake.

My curiosity piqued I figure I do some light research, at least refresh my memory as to what she looked like.

What Google turned up was an old article from the Dallas Observer about the insane multiples lives of Jordan Lee.

If nine pages is too much to read, let me summarize.

1. Jordan Lee takes her kid and leaves her husband for a drug fueled stay in New York with her paramour, a pimp named Martin Fish.

2. Her husband finds documents indicating that Jordan also known as Samantha Kastler, was actually born Gloria Grimes and has been lying about her identity, age, other hubands, the list goes on...

3. Prior to her porn career, Jordan, along with Kastler, and a man named Len Baxley were all Dallas police officers who specialized on DWI's. The three of them were all indicted for fraud.

4. Baxley proclaims his innocence. He says that Jordan, who later turns states evidence against Baxley and Kastler, set him up.

5. When told of her penchent for identity theft by Kastler, Baxely resolves to hunt Jordan down.

6. Lulz!!!

I put this dizzying article behind me. I'm still in pornstalgic mode, so I figure I do a search for Madelyn Night, a woman I was very much in love with in my youth.

I get this Luke Ford post saying that she may or may not be dead. According to her cousin Madelyn Night died during childbirth in February of 2008. But Pamela Peaks claimed to have seen her escorting in New York in May 2008.

Its a pickle, Oruba, but what does this have to do with anything?

It gets good, trust me:

The cousin claims that the ex-husband and his girlfriend (Martin Fish and Jordan Lee) stole Madelyn Night’s identity and setup an illegal escorting company in her name and even hired porn star look a likes to pose as porn star escorts, including a girl who could have been Jenna Jameson’s twin sister.

The cousin also claims that Martin Fish and his girlfriend Jordan Lee took the identity theft a step further and filed a federal trademark for Madelyn Night and continued to use it and profit from this fraud for years

And this is where I stop reading because I know my head will explode if I go on. Shit like this doesn't happen in real life. My brain refuses to accept this isn't fiction.

Someone really really needs to write a book.

Debi Diamond Is Back!

Debi Diamond is following me on Twitter. In the back of my mind I think all the porn stars a'tweetin' are really bots or the president of their fan clubs or the intern from their publicist's office. But, just to make my life more magical than it is, I suspend my disbelief. There's something exhiliarating about peeping into the quotidian goings-ons of their lives. Something comforting in knowing that porn starlets can be just as boring as you.

Most of Ms. Diamond's tweets seem to be semi-coherent articulations of a barely controllable sexual urge. This makes me think bot simply because it's so very different from your more typical porn starlet tweets which run the gamut of: boarding flights, deboarding flights, doing laundry, cleaning out the basement, going to the salon, etc. Her other tweets sound like haiku-like exclamations into the maelstrom of the Twitterverse from a person with an intense lust for life. This makes me think person, and an interesting one at that.

I can assume that Debi is tweeting because of her return to the adult film industry. She started making movies again after an absence of over a decade. Once again, thank God for Milf/Cougar porn.

It's been years since I've thought of Debi Diamond. I'm going to date myself and say that I have memories of surreptiously checking out her pictures on Jordan Lee's now defunct website, praying that the librarian wouldn't come around before the Slow-As-Chinese-Torture dial up modem finished downloading.

Needless to say Ms. Diamond's return has triggered pornstalgia. And quicker than you could say "I love the future," I had a copy of her recent scene.

Let me say that Dirty Rotten Motherfuckers 3 is a veritable Who's Who of women I used to jerk off to when I was 15:

Tabitha Stevens - I had no idea what this woman looked like in unscrambled form

Shayla LaVeaux - I just got used to not thinking of her when I see Shyla Stylez's name.

And five minutes into her scene I remember why I used to be uncomfortable watching her fuck: All that slapping, spitting, forcing, and screaming. You have that sinking feeling that you're witnessing rape. But she's so into it you suspend your disbelief and tell yourself that it's pretend; she'll walk away unscathed when the cameras turn off, collect her paycheck, and go off to do some twitter-worthy things like look for new flatware at Crate and Barrel. And you suspend long enough to get through the stroke session. And for the most part you leave it behind you and get on with your day, but deep inside you feel an intense pity for her and you question what you did.

I remember -- many years ago, around the time when it was a considered good day to have downloaded 20 porn pics -- reading an article in Rolling Stone about the then burgeoning porn industry. The article featured Seymore Butts and Nina Hartley, but it was Debi Diamond who I remember most vividly. The reporter was there to witness one of her scenes, a particularly brutal one, where her necklace is ripped off of her neck, pearls scattering everywhere. When it was over Debi tells the reporter in what I alternatingly remember as an either nonchalent or sorrowful tone that she was given that necklace by her dead grandmother.

Ah, Pathos.

Is Our Collective Lack Of Pubes Symptomatic?

About two years ago, back when I was a young and carefree 26, I met a woman who after a pleasurable date, was nice enough to invite me in for coffee.

An hour later, in the sanctity of her room she disrobed.

And what stared me right in the face was what we in the business (the business of watching entirely too much porn), like to call Seventies Bush.

It startled me in that up to that point, after being sexual active for nearly ten years, I had never seen a female au naturale, outside of, of course, seventies porn. And I've been with girls who like to think of themselves as hippies.

The truth is that the overwhelming majority of the crotches I encounter are bald. The rest are groomed like topiary, mostly runways, diamonds, and triangles. Yes, I did know a girl with a heart.

And as much as I would like to lie, these weren't strippers and porn stars. I stopped dating “party chicks” when I was 20 so they don't account for huge percentage of bald pussies. These are for the most part librarians, baristas, grad students, and an folk musician from Iran. For the most part women, who if you undressed with your eyes you would not expect to turn up with bald pussies.

Miss Beaver, I will call her, was the exception that made me question what I had taken for granted. Just how long have women been taking Southern grooming so seriously?

This recollection brought to mind a Naomi Wolf article where she claims that the ubiquity of porn today has made it so that ordinary women have to compete with the porn standard to get men's attention.

Were women this concerned about pubic grooming 10-15 years ago? Anecdotal Evidence: I'd never heard of a Brazilian wax till about 7 years ago.

If it's the disappearance of pubic hair now, what will be the next manifestation of women's keeping up with the Porns?

When will be the next time I encounter free range pussy?

Can Art Be Porn?

The short answer is perhaps.

In 17th century Spain, the Inquisition held sway. Sexuality was tightly controlled and the depiction of nude women was forbidden. But like in every era, power and money will gain you leniency if not license. It became common for men of influence, royals and courtiers, to have paintings of nudes in their inner bedroom chambers. And for men like Philip IV of Spain, nudes by such revered artists as Rubens and Titian served a utilitarian purpose rather than a metaphysical or aesthetic one.


Did you think of that couple who watch Adam & Eve erotica together to spice things up in the bedroom? Me too, although the paintings could have been used to rub one out every now and again.

Today they hang in the National Gallery, the Liechtenstein Museum, the Met, museums all over the world. They're held up as artifacts of our rich human heritage but really their raison d'etre was to help some nobleman get his rocks off. Granted, they were created by men who were thought of as artists by just about everyone, but one wonders if these works exist solely because of 1635's shortage of cameras and sleazy guys in track suits who take naked pictures of comely yet naive Barcelonan girls.

For the BBW Fans

I Love Love Love Anna

This is Anna Vocino. She plays the lovely, but long-suffering Anna on VH1's pee-yr-pants funny Free Radio. I don't particularly want to see her in porn. I just want to see more of her. She makes me feel all tingly inside. Just thought I should share.

Oruba Reveals What's Behind The Green Door

I never figured myself as one who'd take the untimely death of a pretty righteous woman as an opportunity to watch 70's porn. The journey of life is about finding new things about yourself.

The reason for my interest in Behind the Green Door is that I knew nothing about it. My ignorance had been bugging me for a week before I finally succumbed to my curiosity. Why didn't I know about one of the two main movies behind the Golden Age of Porn?

I'm well aware of Deep Throat despite never having seen it. The movie about the woman who's clitoris is in the back of her throat? Who doesn't know the premise behind that movie? That's a name that brought down a president. But what is behind the Green Door?

It took a week because I had to overcome my unease with watching a dead woman have sex, but I'm glad I gave in. Quite a pleasurable experience I must say.

What is behind the Green Door? A fantasy world constructed to sate your carnal appetite. If I may apply the bullshitting skills I acquired in Film Studies 101, I would say that the Mitchell Brothers, obvious students of Hitchcock, use the color green to the same effect as Hitchcock, to symbolize desire. The door of course is a portal from the Real World to the World of the Watched. Behind the Green Door, like Hitchcock's own Rear Window is commentary, meta-commentary even, equating movie viewing with voyeurism.

All bullshitting aside, I was surprised at the overall production. It seemed not far from a low budget, non-sex movie of the period. I think Linda Lovelace was onto something believing that pornography would merge with mainstream movies. More on that later.

I patiently waited almost 20 minutes for the sexing to start and watched everything straight through. This is a rarity. I skip through porn. Under normal circumstances it would've taken 15 minutes to watch all of Behind the Green Door. The difference was the way the sex was staged. Porn has settled into a formula long ago. Foreplay (if any), Oral, Position 1, Position 2, Position 3, Cum Shot. The End. This was different. Organic. As if what we are watching is the process, the actual lovemaking, rather than the outcome.

Maybe this will make me take back my previous statement. Maybe porn can be art. There's a theory of art, conceived by R.G. Collingwood that states art is process focused. His thinking is that if you're outcome focused, what you're making is classified as a craft. Like making a table, or a basket, or a poster advertising something or other. You could make the case that contemporary porn for the most part is like cabinent making. Art is a process by which the artist attempts to make real an intangible idea, feeling, or impulse. The physical outcome is never in his head, only the Platonic Form he is trying to represent. I don't completely buy Mr. Collingwood's theory, but Behind the Green Door does fit quite nicely into this description.

A few particular things I like:

• The first Boy/Girl doesn't end with a cumshot, but with her orgasm. That's mind blowing! That would be pioneering shit even if it happened today, nearly forty years later.
• The cumshots that are shown last seven minutes and given an avant garde feel.
• That has to be the classiest gangbang I've ever seen. Guys in tights with the crotches cut out; Trapezes; A Greek chorus of sucking, licking, caressing women in the periphery dressed in black; a beautiful woman in the center of it all who sincerely looks like she's enjoying herself and not in pain or in some cracked out frenzy, or reliving some heart wrenching childhood experience.

As I watched Behind the Green Door I marvel how different it is from today's porn. I wonder what happened. How did we get to where we are? Was it Reagan pushing it underground? Was it the advent of VHS and the camcorder? Was it the subsequent decline in production values and the capitalistic need to push out a mass produced product?

I couldn't help thinking of Brave New World. The people of that world go to what are called "feelies," porn movies shown in theatres where all the attendees feel the sensations of the actors onscreen. The stories behind the "feelies" are abysmal. It's the communal aspect of the feelies that got me thinking. Many people saw Behind the Green Door in the theatres. With other people. Packed houses, I am told. I think at that point we reached a juncture in human history and went one way instead of the other. Perhaps there's a split in the space-time continuum, and an alternate universe exists where Linda Lovelace's prophecy did come true. Where Porn and Mainstream movies did merge. Where porn theatres weren't only populated with perverts and cruisers. Maybe AIDS doesn't exist in this world. Maybe women are our complete equals there. Maybe Jerry Falwell choked on a sandwhich when he was 12. Maybe it was Ronald Reagan who was snitched on to HUAC and blacklisted from Hollywood, running for governer California an insane pipe dream for him much less president. Maybe the people of that world look back at Behind the Green Door as the harbinger of a Golden Age.

I do have one gripe, not a huge one. Why does the first black dude I see look like a Zulu warrior? Well at least Marilyn didn't tell him to fuck her with that nigger dick.

Sigh

Porn Star Haiku: Shannon Kelly

Good Things do come in
Small packages, with red hair,
And enormous boobs.

Dreaming of Leighlani Red

I had a weird dream about Leighlani Red last night.

We were in the middle of a scene. I went in for a kiss. She hesitated. I asked her if anything was wrong.

Then the lights and the cameras disappeared. The crew faded from view. It seemed like the world around us darkened. It was just the two of us sharing an intimate moment on an oft cummed-on couch.

She said in a tender yet professional tone that she would rather not. She just doesn't like kissing the men she films with.

But you've given me the girlfriend treatment before, I said.

Yes, because I like you and I enjoy kissing you but not in this setting. Besides you're a nice guy; I know you'll respect my wishes.

I did. I completely understood.

The rest of the room returned from the Netherworld: the lights, the cameras, the wiring snaking the floor, the derivative Abstract Expressionist painting above the couch, the crew, the directer watching the monitor, the other performers waiting on the wings, the table with the Wet Naps.

We went back to fucking like nothing happened. Minutes later I pulled out and blew a load that went splat against her pretty, pockmarked face, thinking maybe after this is over I'll ask her out.

Weird, huh?

The Post-Modern Condition Becomes Easier to Define

Found a word on Urban Dictionary that could have only come into being in the last decade:

PORNXIETY	11 up, 1 down
	The brief but intense bout of anxiety and nausea one experiences when one finds someone remarkably similar looking to one's ex/ current girlfriend and believe it is her for the briefest of seconds while viewing pornography. It is followed by an odd, shameful sense of disappointment. "My ex looked so much like Alyssa Milano that when I first saw Embrace of the Vampire I had a Pornxiety attack."

I wonder how long before it makes it into a paper based, legit dictionary.

Pornxiety isn't a condition I personally suffer from but I am afflicted with a related ailment: Pornstalgia.

False Impressions and Defending the Dead

I told myself I wasn't going to write about Marilyn Chambers. I didn't really know her. I've never seen any of her sex flicks and I vaguely remember seeing her in some Skinamax movie when I was 13, but I could never be sure who were in those many crappy movies I saw at two in the morning. Maybe.

Either way, I felt being that she was a generation or two before my time, anything I would've written would lack that familiar personal connection of someone who actually dug her and got off on her. You'll find better coverage here and here.

What am I doing now, you ask?

I was at the post office. The line was unbearably long. There's only one person at the window so it's moving at a snail pace. I've got no patience and like a schmuck I forgot to bring a book. Luckily there's a copy of the local paper sitting on a nearby counter. Read through the police blotter. Then flipped to an article about Marilyn.

I got to tell you, I was highly annoyed while reading it. Halfway through I was set to rush home and bang out a scathing critique on this, my soapbox for all things porn. I reread the article while firing up the laptop. And what do you know? It read like a completely different piece. Looks like being wet (it's been raining something heavy) and peeved about waiting in line affected the way I perceived the article. Once I was dry, warm, and not in a state of perpetual waiting, all the flip remarks and snide comments disappeared. Gone too was the amateur feel to the article (although it still is far from winning a Pulitzer) and the condescending tone.

The only thing left to complain about is this double whammy of a backhand compliment:

"Given her sexual proclivities, amazingly she never got HIV or AIDS, although even she could not avoid the curse of excessive carbohydrates."

What the fuck is that? Check it out for yourself here.

Ectasy and Agony: Upon Viewing Candy Monroe

Do you like tattooed girls doing porn? Of course you do. You're like me. Suicide Girls was like a present from God for our patience. After a while, like me, just seeing them naked wasn't enough. You needed hardcore action. And Joanna Angel and the girls over at Burning Angel became the new gift from the skies. But soon that wasn't enough. They don't put out videos fast enough for you. You indulge yourself upon the new scene then it's a waiting game for the next one. And there are other sites and other movies but you still can't get enough. Are you like me, friend? Do you feel Candy Monroe is God's punishment for asking for too much?

Have you seen Ms. Monroe? She's everything I could want in a tattooed lady. She's cute as button. The hair, the clothes the tattoos are all bright, over the top affairs. And I didn't know this till a few years ago, but apparently throat tattoos drive me wild. Then everything goes downhill from there because this absolutely delicious specimen of a woman does exclusively IR. And not just any IR. She's into Cuckold
Porn. And it's worse than that. In fact it'll turn your stomach.

I've addressed my problems with IR elsewhere. What worries me about Ms. Monroe is that she is obviously following in Spring Thomas' footsteps. I have yet to hear her drop the N-Bomb during sex, but she still nevertheless puts me in awkward positions as a black man. Case in point, just yesterday I was about near the end of one of her scenes when I realized she was wearing a Confederate Army cap, complete with the rebel flag. What am I to do, stop out of indignation? I hate IR.

Cuckold porn sometimes make me uneasy. If it's something like Please Bang My Wife or XXX Proposal where the guy either just watches or joins in for a BJ from his wife, I don't have problem with it. But if the husband's on the couch masturbating, it's a bit distracting and uncomfortable. And if the guy is an obvious twink like the dudes Candy has on, shit, it's downright disturbing. To top it off, she'll humiliate the dude before the scene. Make him wear her clothing and stuff. So basically you're watching a video where there are quite a few shots of a twink in bra and panties masturbating. That is interjected into what is ostensibly straight porn.

But it gets worse. I told you it gets worse. If you've seen a Candy Monroe video before you know exactly what I'm talking about. And no doubt you're as traumatized as I am. For the uninitiated, consider yourselves lucky. I wish I had someone tell me about the shit that was about to go down. Listen closely and prepare accordingly. After the money shot, Candy calls the twink over and makes him LICK IT OFF HER. The first time I saw that, I had to keep my lunch down so I don't throw up all over my computer. Had I still been going when that happened I would've been ruined for life.

The general subject of the cumshot I've written about as well, so I won't rehash it here. But the whole scene had me thinking about just why I found that disgusting. I mean, at this stage of the game I've seen women do unimaginable things with cum. I see cumshots routinely, as a matter of course, just about every single day. Faces, breasts, butt, back, belly, feet. Seen it? Hell I've done it myself numerous times. I've seen girls drink cum out of spoons, coffee mugs, beer bongs, and champagne flutes; out of the mouths, assholes, and pussies of other girls. I've seen girls dip their faces into bowls filled with cum. I've seen dudes line up 100 guys deep and cum on a girls face one after another. I have even seen a girl roll up a twenty and snort a line of cum like it was cocaine. But not a single one of those filled me with nearly as much revulsion as seeing a man do it.

I know I've been inculcated to believe that cumming in woman's face is a normal part of lovemaking, but seeing it done to a guy seems so inherently wrong. If you think you're up to watching that then by all means. But if you're like me, just hit the pause button before it's too late.

Dammit Dammit Dammit!

LOL!

Use Of 'N-Word' May End Porn Star's Career

Italian Porn Disagrees With Me and I With It

A word about Italian porn. I had a random memory the other day and it still fills me horror and disgust. Truly, truly Ugly Girl Porn. In a bad way.

I was in Italy a few years ago and picked up a local skin mag because this is how I connect with the international community. Mistake.

The girls, oh the girls. How can I explain the girls? The only way I would ever have sex with any of the women in this particular magazine is if I was already infected with every STD known to man, didn't have any feeling in my penis or most of my body for that matter, and I was guaranteed to have no recollection of what went down right after it was all over.

Skank is not a word I throw around lightly. These girls were beyond skank. I mean very bottom of the an old scum-coated barrel. Every woman in this magazine looked like they were straight out of the 80's: big hair, cheap chunky jewelry, Vanessa Del Rio pumps. That entire section from the bellybutton down to the knees looked to be under attack from some rare strain of jungle rash. Ragged pussy lips abound. Almost everyone looked like they needed a penicillin shot or twelve.

The worst part is that I'm already in a bathroom with my pants around my ankles when I make this discovery. I can't be bother with getting back up and looking for a new magazine, so I make an effort to find at least one acceptable girl. With some effort I find her. Boy-Girl scene. Semi-attractive. Looks relatively clean. Promising. I manage to get a decent stroke going.

I'm flipping through the pages and something doesn't look right. I count. One. Two. That can't be right. I count again. One. Two. Yup. There are two sets of testicles. And there's another penis right there. I didn't know this was a DP. Where's the other guy?

Oh...Dear...God!

Never again. No Italian porn. I even swore off Rocco Siffredi videos just to be on the safe side.

I've asked around and many of my friends have had the same experience.

There's something to be said when the most attractive woman in your magazine is a man. And who mixes tranny and straight porn anyway?