Porn for Everyone

So, you may be wondering, what did we do all day?

First, Sarcastro duct taped my mirror back on.  Is there anything he can’t do?  Thank you, Mr. Smartypants.

Then we–Manny and I–went to eat.  Then we went to Target.  And then we went to the Hustler store.  That was fun, in its own way, but then!!!!  We’re getting ready to check out and probably between fifty and a hundred folks show up all wearing blue and some with blue blindfolds on and they line up on both sides of Church street.  There were young kids there and a lot of teenagers and some folks were reading from their Bibles and there was a guy with a camera who was filming the front of the store and who filmed us. 

So, I was on the phone with the Professor giving her the play by play of the ridiculousness from our end.

And Manny was all hollering things at them.

It was awesome!

Wow! Why are all these songs three minutes long?

Yesterday I got to hear Nolan Porterfield talk about the history of recording devices.  He was talking about how someone was all excited about their new mode of inquiry.  They were going to set out to discover why all old songs were three minutes long or less.

No great reason, just that that’s how much recording time you had.

So, then, he turns to this question–“Why does all our American music have its roots in the South?”

Is it because of the unique mixture of religion and culture, with a dash of “too hot to do anything else?”

Or is it because the South was just far enough away from New York City and Washington DC to seem exotic but close enough that you could easily get there by train?

I’ll give you three guesses which Nolan Porterfield is leaning towards.

Speaking of country music, it seems some of you read the fantastic Living in Stereo*.  It’s not limited to just country music, but the latest post is about the rules for writing about country that Cheryl Cline came up with.  My favorite?

3.  Deplore it’s imagined shortcomings when compared to Black music. (Example: the blues is life-affirming; country is fatalistic.) BE SURE to mention that country-rock is the domain of disaffected middle-class white boys.

I see this pretty frequently and I always wonder if the author has any experience with the blues other that The Blues Brothers.  Not that there’s anything wrong with The Blues Brothers, I’m just saying.



*Hi, David!  Please don’t narc me out to the Man.

Help Me, Faithful Readers!

The Butcher’s friend is here.  Let’s call him Manny.  So, Manny is here.  The Butcher doesn’t have a day off until Tuesday.  What do I do with him all weekend?

Sure, there’s that.  But this is the kind of dude who calls condoms “beef sleeves” and I’m sorry.  I just can’t fuck a guy who thinks there’s something funny about referring to anything as a “beef sleeve.”  It’s just a hang-up I have.  It gives me the heebie jeebies.

Though, he does have great big hands and nice, thick round fingers…

Ha, anyway.  Last night I took them to Sportsmen’s Grill.  I was thinking about taking him to Jack Daniels, but I spent all my extra money at Sportsmen’s Grill last night.

He tried to get up at 6:00 this morning when Bart did and I had to beg him to just go back to bed.  Luckily, he was still pretty drunk so he concurred.

But folks!  Help!  What can we do?

Also, if any of you within driving distance have duct tape and taping skills, I could use some help.  On a totally unrelated matter, I swear.

Porn for Women

Peg got me thinking in that other thread about what kinds of titles I’d have in my catalog if I had a porn empire actually devoted to things women find erotic.

In my soft-core line for straight women, I’d have the following:

1.  Men doing ordinary things while naked

2.  Men peeing their names in the snow

3.  Men in uniforms grinning like they want to be up to no good with you

4.  Half-naked construction workers.  Hell, this could be the soft-core porn for moms.  You know they have those construction DVDs for kids, where it’s all big trucks and big cranes just driving around being trucks and cranes and the kids love them?  We’ll just stick some hot construction workers in there for Mom.  No need to thank me.

5.  Audio books of Sean Connery reading poetry.  Shoot, or audio books of me reading poetry, as a way to move my straight audience into my bisexual audience and sell them twice as much stuff.

Marvel at my genius!