When I have a rough day in the writing mines - and today was rough, thanks - I thank God that I can unwind, go through my files, and post yet another porno story from the olden days. This one stars Damien Michaels, whom I admittedly met only once in my entire life, on the set of a Bukkake - can’t remember who the target was - in fall 2005. A dangerous and distressing shoot it was, yielding zilch for my never-to-be-finished documentary, aside from this bizarre and enticing mini-interview, post-game, with one D. Michaels.

I suppose if you’ve been following the narrative trajectory over here, then you’ll realize that I have a soft spot in my heart for male porno studs who never make it out of the minors. They are famous to no one. They star in literally thousands of movies as bravely anonymous meatsticks. The camera never rightly pans up to their face but for a sick and perverted cutaway shot during softcores as the fake pop arrives and they awkwardly goat it up, the carrier of a false orgasm. These men? My heroes.

And Damien Michaels has a wonderful Bronx accent, doesn’t he? Four years ago I interviewed him, acknowledged the greatness of his Bronxness, and never thought any better of it. But this fall, I happened to put two and two together - and I thought to myself, Jesus Christ, is Damien Michaels the same dude whose audio clip I’ve been listening to off and on for like ten years and playing for my friends because it is so supremely awesome and so supremely campy and so supremely 80’s PORNO??

It could be, friends. It could be.

So why don’t you just sit back and listen closely to this semi-Anonymous 1980’s or 90’s Cheesed-Out Audio Clip that features a finely spun Thespian style line delivery on the count of two big-boobed/heavy-penised individuals and tell me - is it Him??

Interview with Frank Zappa. My goddamn hero.

Just another porno story from Venus, former Penthouse Pet. Here she explains how she got in the business.

I’m a huge Ashley Blue fan, and if you know me at all, then you’ve probably heard me go on at length about her. But I have never talked about Alec Knight. I have never even thought about him much. But he is an interesting case.

Alec Knight - 37 years old, according to AVN’s website - is a porn dude who doesn’t really seem to fit the moldy mold. Sure, he’s got a big honker, but then, he wouldn’t be able to compete in the game without one.

Alec is white, a gentle sort of porn beast, pleasant to be around and basically a witty son of a bitch. He lacks the Brandon Iron pathology, the Luciano beast-inside, and the Mark Wood creepiness. Basically Alec Knight seems like one of the guys you were friends with in high school and used to go off to lunch with. To get a chicken sandwich. If Knight were played by some actor in a Hollywood movie, it would be Seth Rogen.

Does that make him boring? Not in my book. Knight’s vanilla, yes, but in an industry filled with so many peppermint-jalapeño-gravy-boat caramel scoops of orange sherbet, we need some straight up regulars thrown in there.

Hmm. Not knocking Knight, but I certainly would never want to watch him fuck. I used to go to a lot of Jim Powers shoots, and Jim would constantly hire dudes who you really never wanted to see naked: Otto Bauer, Alex Sanders, Nick East, Trent Tesoro, Johnny Thrust, Jenner and so on. Basically every B to C-List level white guy you could think of. A-List white guys usually get smart and try to own their own content after a while - after all, if people can actually stand to watch you fuck, then you might as well just get ten grand together, hire yourself, and make a killing doing it.

But that begs the question - is anyone really making a killing in porn anymore? I am so disconnected from real life porn these days - I don’t keep in touch with Jim Powers, I’ve lost track of Khan Tusion, Wanker’s dead, Ashley doesn’t really keep in touch anymore - that I can hardly tell. I hear the rumors: porn is down 40 percent. But my only real friend from the biz is Billy Watson, and I don’t even know if he’d give me a straight answer on the finances of the situation. If he would, then maybe I’d ask him - hey, man, in this economic collapse, how is porn holding up? I mean, really. And don’t cut any corners. Give me the straight dope, man.

The numbers on porn are really hard to run, because everybody lies. Why would they tell the truth, anyway?

I don’t know why, I just love this.

I can’t believe I haven’t put anything up about Lucky yet!

If I had to pick a favorite performer from my time shooting, then it would be Lucky. It just would. Fair or not. Wesley had the charisma and Pumper the body of death and Brandon Iron’s the most fascinatin’ and Belladonna was the Supastar . . . but Lucky was like my friend. I have no idea where the connection came from since we came from about the most different backgrounds that you could think of, me from a ruralized suburb in North Carolina and Lucky from the hard streets of Chicago, where he became a gang member at a very young age . . . but we were joined at the heart in this weird way and he led me on some porno adventures, to Captain Bob’s house where I saw real live tweakers in jean shorts and to Venice to look up some old school heads who wouldn’t let me keep my shoes on in their apartment, cramped and dingy as it was, it was a spiritual zone. Lucky, who would wear a suit to set about half the time, for some ungodly reason, looking like a 7th Day Adventist preacher, had a mother who was a Wiccan priestess. Yes. She was. Lucky had a grandmother who was a porn aficionado. She enjoyed watching herself some porn, yes she did, thank you very much. When Lucky went to a set he was under instructions to bring back all the free porn he could handle, for Grandma, don’t you see.

This video was taken on the very first day that I met him, in the summer of 2002. He was going on about his girlfriend Kiss, whom I believe he eventually married. For a time.

On August 20th, the LA Times broke a story about the AIDS Healthcare Foundation, who announced plans to sue 16 major adult film companies for violation of workplace-safety laws.

(from the article:) The foundation sued Los Angeles County last month alleging that public health officials had failed to prevent the spread of sexually transmitted diseases and to enforce laws requiring employers to protect workers against exposure to bodily fluids. The suit was filed after the disclosure that an adult-film performer had tested positive for HIV.

Essentially, the lawsuit is about condoms — and whether the companies in the suit are legally required to allow performers the right to use them while performing in adult films.

Here is Julian St. Jox, a veteran porn performer, weighing in on the issue soon after his colleague Darren James came up positive in January of 2004. Jox himself had been forced to take two months off of performing due to having been “on the list” of performers who had taken part in on-camera sex with female actors who in turn had slept with James (before his exposure to the virus had become known to himself and others).

Jox’s statements are not unpredictable - he advocates for each performer’s right to choose to use condoms during their on-camera scenes - but what’s notable is his clear affection and appreciation for the adult industry as a whole. He truly enjoys the work,  friends, and money he’s made in porn - it’s just that he’d rather not put his health on the line to continue to pursue his living.

“It’s all lube to me.” - Sanders

MISSY MONROE: THE VITALS (courtesy of the Internet Adult Film Database)

AKA Missy Monique, Missy Marie

BORN August 22, 1984, Las Vegas, NV

STAR SIGN Leo

YEARS ACTIVE 2003-2009 (Started around 19 years old)

HAIR Blond

MEASUREMENTS 34DD-27-37

HEIGHT 5′5″

WEIGHT 134 lbs (varies according to water weight gain)

TATS “Missy” on right asscheek; strawberry plant on left ankle; pink bird on left shoulder blade (late 2004)

NON-EAR PIERCINGS None

DATES WITH SAM BENJAMIN I’m glad you asked. There were two occasions that stand out in my mind, and the first one occurred about one week after the day I met her on the set of Jim Powers’ “White Trash Whore” and videotaped her talking about squirting: the power of female ejaculate. She gave me her phone number and said for me to call her and I called her happily but the thing was she was living at Slain Wayne’s house at the time, a famous editor in the adult film industry, so when I called her she said she wasn’t sure she was allowed to have guests, and what should she do? I said hmm sounds like Slain’s in love with you (it happened from time to time), let me talk to Slain and I’ll call you back. I was friends with Slain in those days and even had his number on my little grey metallic cell phone, a simple model that certainly would be laughed at today. So I called him up and he said Hey man! It’s been so long! And I said hey, hey. And we talked about Cal Arts for a while because he had gone there and I was going there now. And he said guess what, I’m working on my indie movie! He was always working on some indie movie. I said that’s great. He was definitely a talented editor. Crazy, all over the place. But what I’d really like to do I said is visit Missy. Would that be okay with you? There was like this silent power struggle going on between us, in between the friendship part. And he said of course why shouldn’t it be? And I pounced all over that. I said, terrific. Be right over. So I drove into the boring depths of the Van Nuysian Valley and found their little cardboard house and nothing really happened with Missy Monroe and me.

The second time we hung out it was a lot worse. She called me up - out of the blue! - and said, hey hon, do you want to come over? I have a new house and do you want to come over? I said that sounds terrific and followed a horrible path of winding expressway at least one hour until I came into her expensive gated apartment complex and when I got there I saw she had a cable box disconnected and a DVD player disconnected and a TV disconnected and there were swirling wires all over the place. And she made a face like a little girl and said Can you help me? And I was not bad with wires at the time and in fact enjoyed a challenge, so I got behind her very big TV and got in there and got to work connecting everything. Wire here wire there. Wire filched into the back of a tubeTv, no flatscreens in late ‘04, that was for sure, plugs crapping into the wall. And finally it was all connected and all we had to do was program her remote control and set up her speakers. She drank a beer watching me do it, she was lounging on a couch in her sweats looking cute and stuff and smoking a bong.

We had a working TV over here. So I came over to the couch for my reward. But there was no kiss or anything like it. I got a little huffy, but she passed me a beer and that was okay. We went out on the balcony and watched the traffic for a while. I was then invited into her bedroom to check out her porn collection. She had every tape she’d ever been in. She gave me one tape which I still have, from Red Light District. I believe it’s called Cum Dumpsters. It’s signed across the front, it says “Love you babe. Missy Monroe”. We drank some more beers and sat on her couch watching this DVD of Reggae on the River. Michael Franti of Spearhead was tearing it up. We watched for at least an hour and a half. We smoked some pot too. Then Missy said, well, I guess I’m gonna go to bed. And I said, do you have anything else to watch? Because I didn’t want to make the drive back just yet. I had been driving around fucked up a little too much lately and it was starting to scare me. She gave me this look like what are you talking about? I said I’m a little drunk. She said you had one beer. I said so you’re just going to put me out? She said I’m going to bed! And I was like go to bed then! Can I just sit on your fucking couch for an hour to sober up? and she was like how the fuck could you be drunk, I don’t get it, and no, I can’t let you stay out here and I said FUCK YOU and she shouted FUCK YOU BACK and I pointed my finger at her and I said Fuck you Missy, silent and soft and mean. All I remember was her hard eyes black and staring at me.