Frank Rich Can Suck Me

I’ve said from the beginning that I’d be completely straight with my readers. Still, a lot of people were skeptical about Tuesday’s blog, in which I described my 1988 theatrical flop, “Phallus”. So I dug up this old review. By and large, the critical response was favorable, but sadly, the one paper that has the power to make or break a show, well, broke our show.


New York Times Theater Review

“PHALLUS” IS COMPLETELY LIMP

By Frank Rich
Theater Critic

Broadway is currently home to the sorriest spectacle I’ve seen since “I’m Short, Black and My Folks Ripped Me Off”, the one-man show from actor Gary Coleman which polluted the Great White Way last year. But don’t unpack your bags just yet, because I’ve a feeling this abominable musical, which opened last night at the Winter Garden Theater, has already overstayed its welcome.

At 4 ½ hours long (with no intermission), “Phallus”, the brainchild of, and starring Ron Jeremy’s dick, is tedium incarnate. Set in London during the 1870’s, the story introduces us to Anne (Judith Light), the daughter of a wealthy shipping magnate who’s been betrothed against her will to William (John Forsythe). Problem is, she’s really in love with the mysterious and rarely seen caretaker of her manor, Dick (Ron Jeremy’s dick).

In the opening number, “I Don’t Want To Marry, I Just Want Dick”, Anne’s intentions are made painfully obvious. One wonders even more painfully why 4 hour and 20 minutes more were needed to spin this ridiculous yarn. Ms. Light’s voice is serviceable enough here, and indeed some of the lyrics show the promise of artistic merit:

"I feel as though I’m drowning in quicksand/No one can fill me like that Dick can."

At the two-hour mark, we are finally introduced to Dick, though Carl Bressler’s moody lighting works overtime to obscure the towering skin-covered behemoth. Dick’s heartfelt plea to Anne in what was obviously meant to be the show’s breakout ballad, “Let Me Rise To The Occasion” is sung with confidence by Mr. Ron Jeremy’s dick, but the music is less than memorable. In fact, of the 46 songs, only one, “You Can Count and Sit on Me”, has bounce and style.

You’ll hear a lot of folks oooing and ahhing over the show’s one special effect, an enormous helicopter which descends from the ceiling. But it is no sooner drowned out during the unfortunate climax when our hero is gruesomely decapitated. I’m not giving anything away here, since the musical is based on the beloved children’s book, “Anne And The Giant Cock.”

Do yourself a favor. As you find yourself at the theater, go two buildings down to the Helen Hayes Theater instead and see “Out To Lunch”, the new musical told from the perspective of coma-ridden Sunny Von Bulow. I guarantee you it shows infinitely more signs of life.


“Phallus” A New Musical. Starring Ron Jeremy’s dick, Judith Light, John Forsythe, Jeff Blumenkrantz, Marietta DiPrima, and Nunzio Galippo. Music and Lyrics by Stephen Schwartz. Book by Ron Jeremy’s dick. Produced by James Ivory and Ismail Merchant. Directed by Fran Soeder.

Headline News

I don't particularly like it when a black comedian's routine is almost exclusively about the differences between black people and white people. Yes, it's fertile comic ground. Or was. But after Pryor and Murphy that subject is played out. But so many black comedians still take it on. Maybe they think it's expected of them? All by way of saying--I've avoided holding forth on the recent news about HIV in the porn world because it's expected of me to weigh in for obvious reasons. I realize that expounding on the moral hypocrisies and self-righteous "gotcha" hysteria among people who aren't in the business has not really been mined by many--or any--porn star cocks, but still, I generally like to focus on pussy. Yeah yeah, that's expected of me too. I'm the Chris Rock of blogging cocks.

Oh, fine.

One single case of HIV is discovered and it's headline news? Friend, it's only headline news if Lynne Russell has HIV (a reference for followers of hot CNN anchor history. Ah, how many times did RJ fantasize about her pussy while drilling even the most delectable porn star? That woman maintained the expression of someone who was gettin' it in the ass whether she was gettin' it in the ass or reporting about Bosnia or both). One single case! There are HIV cases diagnosed every day! Thousands diagnosed with cancer from smoking, thousands diagnosed with liver disease from drinking or diabetes from obesity! Every fucking day! But news of those illnesses only gets reported as a statistic. One single case of HIV, and all because it's in someone who works in pornos. Not even a porn star! And why? Because everyone needs to judge us. Everyone needs to cluck their tongues and shake their heads in disapproval. Preventable? Sure. But so is lung cancer from smoking, liver disease from drinking and diabetes from obesity. And yes, we do judge those people, but we don't write an article about it.

Look, I'm all for safe sex among civilians. But while RJ may disagree with me, I think wearing a rubber in a porno is no different than having Angelina Jolie wear a catcher's mask all through a movie. We want to see her face. She has a pretty one. We want to see it. If we can't, then the part might as well be played by Martha Plympton. If appearing in a movie without a catcher's mask came with the risk of a terrible infection--which only happens if you're in a scene with Tom Sizemore--then I imagine many actors would get out of the business. But not all of them. Some would realize that the product is what it is and that to compromise its quality for the protection of the talent is to create an inferior product. And watching a condom slide in and out of Jenna J's mouth is simply inferior.

You know, since I mentioned her, I haven't stopped thinking about Lynn Russell. She looked like a young Joan Crawford, but with Lynne you had the sense that she could use her taste for the nasty in very pleasurable ways. It was like watching the news delivered by a $50,000/night hooker. I toast you, Lynne! You put the head in Headline News. Had it been you who reported the HIV story, I've no doubt a barely perceptible smile would have adorned your face, a smile that suggested you were imagining the size of the cock that put the virus into that actress. You never dressed like a slut, which seems to be de rigeur among local LA news shows. No, your sex was in your eyes. You could fuck someone just by looking at them. And on CNN, you looked at all of us. Or was it just me?

Forbidden Broadway

I get a lot of inquiries about “Phallus!”, the musical I wrote and starred in back in 1988. Told as a "Beauty and the Beast"-type fable, it was a critical darling but a box office flop, closing after a sold-out dress rehearsal. Here’s the well-known song “My Love, My Heart”, when my character, Dick, finally comes out of the shadows to reveal himself to his true love, Anne.


ANNE

My heart cannot contain this feeling that I feel.
I need to see you now, to know that you are real.
A love like ours is like no other that I know.
Reveal yourself and let your inhibitions go.

My love. My heart. My Dick.


DICK

Oh Anne I fear that when you see me you will leave.
And if it happens that’s a loss I cannot grieve.
A love like ours is like a rainbow in the sky.
So many colors, so much beauty, I could die.

My love. My heart. My Anne.


ANNE

Come out now from the darkness.
And show yourself to me.

DICK

I’m vulnerable and stark, miss.
Prepare your eyes to see!


Dick finally reveals himself to Anne.


ANNE

Good Christ, sir, you’re enormous.
A ten-inch tower of love.

DICK

A quarter of an inch less
But ten when I’m with glove.

ANNE/DICK

I’m sure that you’re the one for me.
And I’m the one for you.

DICK

Your eyes.
Your laugh.

ANNE

Your balls
Your shaft.


DICK

You penetrate my soul.

ANNE

And you my hoo-hoo hole.


DICK

Yes, you’re the one for me, miss.

ANNE

I want no other penis.


ANNE/DICK

My love. My heart. My all!

iFun

Imagine the hottest, wettest ride into Cristy Canyon fur trap while Samantha Fox is tonguing your asshole. That's how excited I am to pick up my new iphone on Friday. Ron still uses his Nokia piece of shit, and maybe it's because I'm just a giant worm, but I'm all about Apple. These days, budding entrepreneurs aren't racking their brains for the next big dot com business; they're inventing apps for the iphone. Here are a few of my ideas:

Cock-a-doodle
Full-length pictures of celebrities appear and you can draw a big dick between their legs. This week's featured star--Chastity Bono.

Blow By Blow
Find out who is sucking me at any given moment of the day. If I'm not getting blown, you see a little hand, pussy or ass icon.
If I'm not getting any action at all, you watch an episode of "Green Acres."

SYTYCF
Upload a video of yourself fucking. At the end of the day, a panel consisting of me, Ron and Jim Belushi offer critiques of the best three submissions and then viewers can text votes for their favorite. If you don't make the final three, your video gets riffed on by the MST3K guys and posted to the main page on PBSkids.org.

Measure Up
Slap your big buddy against the glass and see where you land. The interface is a simple ruler. If you need more than one screen (and I hope for your sake you do), hitting the "whew" button adds the new inches to the total from the first screen. A photo of Jenna Jamison in suck posture is superimposed over the ruler to help you find your potential. If you need it, Dustin Diamond also available.

Mahzel Love
Learn your Jewish pornstar name. Example: Frank Hanna turns into "Kosher Frank Hanucock"

Alpha Mail

Hi RJ’S D—

Do you participate in any sports?


S. Kest, Renton WA



Hi S,

Well, as you know, I’m quite fond of baseball and have begun training to reach my ultimate goal of hitting one over the fence. But what I’m not proud to report is my involvement in a series of cock fights back in the mid-eighties. Yes—traditionally “cock fighting” is that sport where roosters fight each other to the death. This, unfortunately, was as literal as you can think. Ron was working hard in those days, but a couple of shady producers left him dry for a few months. To make some quick cash, he entered me in a series of fights. There wasn’t any cock I couldn’t destroy within minutes in the ring. Until July 17, 1986 when I was put up against Charlie Sheen’s dick. Jesus that thing had strength and stamina. I had a feeling this would be the case. We traveled in the same circles, banged the same porn stars.
So I knew I’d met my match—albeit one that was still a couple inches shorter. I’ll spare you the details, except to say we both ended up in the ER, forever changing the life of an unfortunately fresh new resident.



Dear Ron’s Monster,

Have you ever been in love?

G. Earls, Walled Lake, MI


Hello G,

I have to admit that when I read your letter, the wind was temporarily taken out of me. Your question brought me back swiftly to 1991 when, yes, I fell deeply in love. Her name was Loretta, and I think about her to this day with a combination of gratitude and pain.

She wasn’t a porn star. She was simply a fan, who’d contacted Ron on the occasion of her 21st birthday, wanting to lose her virginity to the most famous porn star in the world. Now Ronnie doesn’t normally k’noodle with the fan base, but she was quite pretty and, even more to Ron’s liking, exceptionally funny.

So Ron took her out for a nice meal, then returned to his place to pop some champagne and her cherry.

MY GOD—WHAT IS THIS FEELING I’M NOT USED TO?!!! Her walls hugged me so tight, clinging to me with such intensity. A warm embrace like a mother hugging her crying baby. Now I’ve been in more caves than I can count, but this was so different. I could feel my surroundings! Extraordinary.

Ron slept the whole next morning away like it was no big deal. But I was smitten. I snuck outside for a walk, returning at the base of Ron’s window holding a boombox over my head. Yes—I was inspired by “Say Anything.” I wasn’t able to find that Peter Gabriel track, but I lucked out with the even more appropriate Weird Al Yankovic song, “In Your Thighs”.

Goodnight Loretta, wherever you are.

The System

This was my bible when I was studying to act in porn. The author, of course is the legendary teacher, Constantin Penislavsky. Here's a chapter.

A Sex Actor Prepares

Chapter 1: The First Test

Our first lesson with the Director, Cockovich, began quite unexpectedly, when the great phallus entered the hall and announced that we would commence rehearsal for a sex film that very afternoon. I turned to Fyodork and saw that he, too shared my exhilaration, and there was much discussion among the others--Cuntya, a bushy hole of some meekness and Vulvanova, whose stout lips suggested a life spent spoiled by powders and oils. What would we perform? A tragedy? A comedy? What great characters would we play? I was tempted by the figure of Othello's dick but secretly hoped it would be Henry VIII".

I was suddenly overcome with a desire to act. My glans, shaft, base--everything pulsed with the surge of blood. I grew tall and substantial, and I felt full with milk. The Director, alarmed by my condition, looked at me reproachfully.

"This is unacceptable! Control is everything, and you debase our art with such amateurish antics. To arouse a desire is easy. To save it for the proper moment is difficult, but such is absolutely required of a sex actor!"

I deflated with shame and resolved to achieve a discipline worthy of his respect. I have much to learn, which is perhaps my first lesson after all.

Appropriate Response

Turns out the letter I reprinted yesterday was a copy, and the original was actually sent to Johnson & Johnson. Following is their response.


September 23, 1953

Dear Mrs. Hyatt,

Thank you so much for your letter! Your comments and helpful suggestions are what continue to make us a better company, and they are truly appreciated. As you know, we are dedicated to serving the public trust, and it is our highest priority to provide healing and comfort, while maintaining a product line that is both safe and affordable. So again, thank you very much. Now, to your specific matter at hand.

Your son has a huge fucking cock. There’s just no other way to put it. Mrs. Hyatt—it’s a big honking, Jesus-loving baby cock. Do you not see this? I’m the president of consumer affairs here at Johnson and Johnson, and I only have one more inch on your 4 month old. Do you not see how demeaning your letter was? I told my wife about it and she’s filing for divorce.

But I digress. That’s not really your problem, is it?

We could spend 20 years in product development trying to create a diaper that would accommodate your son, and probably never achieve results. So yes, cloth is probably the answer for now.

In the meantime, my suggestion is to embrace this circumstance. My team here at J&J has discussed this (for hours already—it’s hard to get work done) and we think your son has a bright future ahead of him. Some of us believe he’s headed straight to the Supreme Court. Others think he could have a future in medicine.

And while it’s definitely the most challenging career, we also believe that if he worked hard enough, he might find success in the adult film industry.

Regardless, please accept our heartiest congratulations, and if you wouldn’t mind, we’d love to see a photo of your baby! Preferably one without the diaper (so we can try to figure out if there’s a diaper that might work for him, of course.)

Yours truly,

Reginald Clybourn
President of Consumer Affairs
Johnson & Johnson