Friday, August 7, 2009

Military Hardware

ISLAMABAD, Pakistan — Baitullah Mehsud, the main leader of Pakistan’s fearsome Taliban militia, was killed Wednesday in a C.I.A.missile strike, two Taliban fighters said Friday, but a spokesman for Pakistan’s military, Maj. Gen. Athar Abbas, said he could not confirm reports of Mr. Mehsud’s death.

I think it's clear by now that I'm a cock-of-all-trades. And having been deep throated thousands of times, I've got a Spidey sense about the likelihood that certain conservative agents will "out" me like they did Valerie Plame. So I will do it myself.

For years I've been working with the CIA and the Pentagon in the global fight against terrorism. It's not exactly "by day it's the dick of a porn star, by night it's a weapon" (especially since many in the porn biz have described me as a weapon). It's not that regular a gig. Ron gets a call from an anonymous government liason with a time and a place. He jerks me off so that I'm temporarily disoriented when he detaches me and hands me over to two pretty operatives, who suck me back to life when we arrive at our destination.

I suppose there's a bit of "Emission Impossible" to it, as I'm given photos of target(s) and placed on a drone. Next thing I know I'm launched into the hot desert night. As a dick that's had to find targets in the dark for 40 years, I've got an internal guidance system to rival anything at Norad. Let's face it, I'm a heat seeker; I know where the bullseye is. So what you probably won't read in the stories about this or that eliminated Al Quaeda leader is that he was entered through one of his orifices.

How do I survive the impact and resulting spray of blood and viscera? Well, anyone's who's gotten head from Kathy Griffin can answer that. I'm not looking for any medals; it's enough to know I'm supporting the effort to take out some bad actors, as they say. I like to apply that term more loosely, so you better watch your step, Keanu. You terrorize us enough to be in play.

Wednesday, August 5, 2009

Spurning Japanese

I’m only an actor in “One-Eyed Monster”, but occasionally I overhear news from my director about how the movie is selling. And today, he got some particularly odd feedback from his foreign sales agent.

While the movie was initially considered to be a perfect fit for Japan, it seems they have a serious problem with penises on screen, so the Asian market in general has been tough to crack.

Now, I’m an educated cock, and I like to think I’ve got a good head on my shaft. So before I stoop to a more incendiary reaction, I’m really trying to understand: why does Japan have a problem with penises on screen? A country that adores films about a 50-foot lizard has difficulty with a 10-inch snake? The nation that gave us Geisha girls and Ben-Wah Balls is suddenly Puritanical? (Okay, I confess, I don’t know for sure that they invented Ben-Wah Balls, but it sounds very close to something on the menu at Nobu, so who knows.)

And then like Ike to Tina, it hit me: Japan likes small things! But for Godzilla, this is the country that compacts everything into the tiniest form and shape they’re able to. Watches, phones, computer parts, cars---it’s all about economy of size.

I’ll even go so far as to say that it’s not penises on screen they have a problem with—it’s MY penis on screen. It’s just too friggin’ big. The last thing they want is their hard-working Japanese male work force attending this movie, then going home to commit hari-kari because they realize they will never measure up. All the technological know-how in the world won’t give them the size and power of me.

I guess I can accept this, and I will. But I’m angry. And the only reason I’m not officially boycotting everything Japanese is because I love sushi too much.

I love “One-Eyed Monster”, but not enough to sacrifice the crab roll at Nozawa.

Tuesday, August 4, 2009

Profile This

It should come as no surprise that Obama's candidacy and subsequent election have forced this nation to reflect on its history of racism. And when I say history, that includes events from as recent as two weeks ago, when Henry Louis Gates, the Harvard professor and one of the most distinguished intellectuals in the country, was profiled and arrested in his own home by a white Cambridge police officer. Whether the cop is a racist or not, the national story has poured gasoline on a fire that's been burning since the first slave ship arrived on these shores.

What is never, ever considered in all these reflections and discussions is that there is one industry that can truly claim to be "post-racial," and that's porn. It's not the color of your dick that matters, it's the size and the stamina. Now that said, let me concede that the CHARACTERS and SCENARIOS in pornos have at times been, and to a lesser extent still are, racially stereotypical. When I first started out in the business, I met an old white cock who used to play in those racist one-reelers in the 20's. In his most notorious one ("Well Hung--From A Tree") he had to wear black shoe polish. Regrettably, black characters may always carry with them an element of sexual threat. Granted, that can make for some hot bad-girl cocksucking. But the actresses whose mouths entertain us, they only see one color, and that's the color of cum. In any other industry, it's commonly believed that black guys have the biggest dicks. And maybe that's true. But in my world, we're all equal. I've been in some dynamite chocolate pussy in my time, because Ron simply loves to fuck hot women. It's only because America still has on the shit-stained Puritan underwear it came in that pornography is feared, judged and derided (until, that is, those people find themselves alone in a hotel room with a half hour to kill). But in its embrace of evolving technology and, yes, a color blind world of fucking and sucking, the porn business is a model of enlightened civilization. You can have your beer at the White House. I'll take a cold drink of quim any day of the week.