Now THAT'S How You Get A Job

Hollywood is a strange place. Only here would I--Ron Jeremy's Dick--have to actually audition for the part of Ron Jeremy's Dick. I remember when I got the breakdown of "One-Eyed Monster" ("Middle-aged penis of porn legend Ron Jeremy; needs to be same length and girth, menacing, SAG only") I thought to myself, I'm PERFECT for this. I AM this.

But they still made me audition. Don't believe it? Check this out, then. The actual audition footage.

One Giant Leap for Ronkind

The summer of 1969 was historic. But not because of the full-scale Vietnam protests, Woodstock, or the fact that a man stepped foot on the moon. No—something WAY more monumental happened that balmy summer in New York.

Ron Jeremy lost his virginity.

Without question, the number one question I get asked all the time: what was that like for me?

I remember it like it was yesterday. It was a Tuesday and, as usual, I had fallen asleep to the sounds of “My Three Sons” (the whistling got me every time). Ron was nestled safely in the arms of his girlfriend, Mindy Friedman, and I was nestled safely under his sweaty boxers. I was at peace. Suddenly, without warning, I was awakened by that awful “zipping” sound, and a harsh burst of light exploded into my eye. I was awake, alright, and feeling a head rush like no other.

Oh sure, I’d had this strange head rush before—many times, in fact. But it usually happened more gradually, and always after being lovingly cradled in Ron’s greasy hand.

This was uniquely different.

Before I could collect my bearings, I was headed at full speed towards a dark patch of hair. What is this, I thought? I’m going to crash into someone’s head. Why would Ron inflict this kind of pain on us both? Why would Ron---

MPHHHHGHGGGHGHG!

I’m somewhere I’ve never been. It’s completely dark, but I can make out bits of glistening skin and some weird tubes. I’m suffocating. I can’t breathe. Where am I?

NGGGHAHHH!

I’m out. I’m free. I can breathe. What the hell was th---

MPHHHHGHGHHHHHH!

Goddammnit I’m in again. What the fuck is he doing? I’m feeling sick. I’m really feeling nauseous. Oh my god I’m gonna be sick!

And as if Ron knew, he freed me one last time, and I instantly threw up all over Cindy’s abdomen.

It seemed like the longest night of my life, but in truth, the whole experience lasted about a minute.

I'm A Little Bit Country

Understanding full well that my acting days are nearing their end, I’ve begun to explore my other passion: music. What may surprise you, though, is that I’m a Country fan, always have been. So I’d like to share with y’all (yeah, I’ve got the lingo down) a song I just wrote last week. Let me know what you think!

In Africa there’s hysteria
People runnin’ round with Malaria
Now Mexico is making headlines too
And causin’ folks a scare.

Darlin’ I hope that this isn’t wrong.
Talkin’ bout these illnesses in my love song.
I wrote it down just to say to you
That I really care.

CHORUS:

Oh you can give me e-ver-y disease
A fella can acquire above the knees.
And I ain’t worried ‘bout the Swine Flu.
I’m just scared over losing you.


Syphilis and herpes don’t mean a thing
If I can fit your finger with a diamond ring.
Give me Gonorrhea ‘till the cows come home
As long as I’m with you.

Honey I would never get rid ‘a ya
Even if I caught me some Chlamydia
My genital warts have inspired this tome
As well as puss-like goo

CHORUS:

Oh you can give me e-ver-y disease
A fella can acquire above the knees.
So I ain’t worried ‘bout the Swine Flu
I’m just scared over losing you.

Yeah, I ain’t worried ‘bout the Swine Flu
I’m just scared over losing you.


©2009 Ron Jeremy’s Dick

Big, Hard and Single

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The Miracle Jerker

For the life of me, I can't understand how a dead Finnish composer is going to handle the swine flu problem in this country. I heard Ron practicing that line before doing his act in Wichita the other day. At least I think that's what he said--it's difficult to tell from within the confines of his pants.

That became a major problem when I went into acting because, thanks to learning English through jeans, with everything sounding muffled, I had a terrible speech impediment. Casting agents thought I was deaf. I suppose it could have been worse; most people's dicks spend the day inside pants and underpants. Because of Ron's career, I was often free of the shackles of clothes. But because of Ron's career, I had scant time to take in the air, as I was usually in a dark wet hole. And except for one of those holes, you can't hear shit in there! I'm not sure where I'm going with this, but I like to think of myself as the Helen Keller of giant cocks. My world was often quiet and dark. In Ron's youth I was a wild thing, almost feral. Working in hardcore gave me discipline, but it didn't give me anything in the way of communication skills or mastery over my instrument, to use an acting class expression. And unlike Helen, I didn't have Annie Sullivan guiding me out of the darkness. Best I had was Penny Sullivan, who guided me into her darkness, but who reached me with her kegels (this whole "One-Eyed Monster" experience has given me renewed appreciation for kegels, which you'll understand when you see the movie). She taught me something akin to Morse code while I was in her--a series of patterned contractions that I came to decipher during Ron's thrusting. Achieve that, Keller! Where's MY stamp?? Anyway, when women say that Ron's dick speaks to them, that's my coded throbs they're talking about. How I learned to type is another story.

Ron then said something to the effect of "There's no evidence to suggest your governor can manage a flu epidemic, since she clearly hasn't been able to do that for the epidemic of reactionary Red State bullshit thinking in this state." No mistaking what I heard then: crickets. Stick to fuck films, Ronny!