The Honorable Cock of Ron Jeremy

I often wonder how someone who had time-traveled here from, say, 1960 would react when he first heard the words, uttered these days in reverential tones, "President Reagan." Of all the words capable of crossing his lips, I imagine the first five would be: Are you fucking kidding me? Likewise, someone who came here from 20 years ago might burst out laughing at the words "Governor Jesse Ventura" and "Governor Schwarzenegger." Today I heard the words "Senator Al Franken, " and even though I was aware of his campaign and subsequent court battle over the recount--even the fact that he was likely to win the appeal--I still can't believe it's not a joke. Once upon a time, in a land that doesn't exist anymore, the holders of political office were lifelong politicians, or at least they came from the military. They weren't actors, professional wrestlers or comedians. While to many this new trend towards "anything goes" electability is bizarre at best and deeply disturbing at worst, I am fucking stoked! Why? Do you really have to guess?

Today, I--Ron Jeremy's cock--announce my candidacy for the office of U.S. Representative in the 33rd District of California. The current representative is The Honorable Diane Watson, but that ho' is going down faster than Tori Welles on a dick made of frozen yogurt. There is no longer any reason why a porn star's cock can't hold elected office. Naturally, you're wondering which party I belong to. Repubican? Democrotch? Indepenisdent? I'm a big dick...of course I'm Republican! Besides, someone has to put Nancy Pelosi's mouth to better use. What do I stand for? Oh, let's see. How about Change?

Being a politician is not all that different from being a porn star. I read lines that were written for me, I take money from shady people, and squirt my seed on willing women. Let's face it--I know more about acts of congress than anyone in Washington, and I've spent even more time in an oval office with bush than another famous Dick.

So Diane Watson, here's one giant slab of man meat who means it when he says "I'm coming for you." My cumpaign has begun.

On Golden Ponzi

The world knows about Ron’s brilliant abilities in the bedroom, but few are aware that he is somewhat of a financial wunderkind. How else could a guy with only porn, some mainstream cameos, and a hot sauce line to his name be living such a comfortable life? Answer: great investments over the years.

Me—I have not been so lucky. After being left a sizable trust fund by Ron’s grandfather’s dick, Hyatt P. Niss, I made a series of terrible investments over the years. In 1978, I sunk a ton of money into Dontcum Industries. They had just been awarded FDA approval on Controldaseed, a medication used to prevent premature ejaculation. Apparently, it was supposed to intercept some key neurons just before the “point of no return”, and trick the user into thinking he was making love to a squirrel. It was almost immediately recalled after 10 users in Boston test group contracted rabies.

But the worst of all possible investments came just a few years ago. Yes, readers, I was a victim of Bernard Madoff’s unconscionable swindling. I lost everything, and like many of his victims, I hope the man rots in hell. I can’t say I wasn’t warned. Ron was certain that Maddof’s returns were too good to be true. And after almost getting caught in similar trouble (well—not that similar. Ron was once the victim of a Fonzie scheme, but never received justice because the perpetrator couldn't admit he was wra-wra-wrong), Ron’s bullshit detector was on high alert.

But I didn’t listen. Bernie “made off” with all my money.

Thankfully, justice was served yesterday. The scumbag got 150 years. And there’s a silver lining to all of this, which I hope pleases my fellow victims: I’m friends with a lot of dicks who are currently serving time and they have all promised to make a sizable investment in Bernie’s anus.

In the meantime, I’m back to square one. I may not have any money, but every day I look in the mirror and think: “Just look at ya. You’re still young, you’ve got your health, you’re fucking gigantic, you just starred in a feature film, you belong to a great guy, and tonight you’re sampling twins.”

There’s nobody richer.

To Live and Die in LA

Fred Travalena just died. I know the guy was a professional imitator, but Jeez! Did he really think the headlines would follow him?

Still, being a celebrity, I can't help but take in the daily coverage of Michael Jackson's premature and tragic death without wondering (as Fred must have) how my own death will be covered by the media (Fred would be in for a rude awakening if he ever woke up again). Obviously when Ron dies, I die; but I could be functionally dead long before Ron kicks, as happens to many old men and prostate cancer victims. Will TMZ get the scoop, having paid off someone at Ron's urologist's office? Will fans begin collecting around Ginger Lynn's mouth so as to feel nearer to me?

I want all that and more. Hell, I had as much influence on contemporary pornography as MJ had on contemporary music. We were both big when we were young. I've performed as much as he has, and while I may not be able to moon walk, I doubt he was able to stay hard for hours and hours, at least in the presence of someone over 9. He made one Thriller. I made over 2000.

Don't get me wrong--I don't object to the rabid adulation he's received since dying. He was a major talent and pop icon. But I'm a major talent and pipe icon, and I'm just arguing for my due when it's my turn. What will be my third-legacy? For one thing, I hope that, like MJ's body of work, "One-Eyed Monster" shoots to the #1 spot on Amazon and Itunes in the days following my death. I have to admit, I've been very disappointed in sales of the DVD. I really thought this movie would take off--even while acknowledging it's not for all tastes. But I'm not bitter. I believe in moving on. Michael Jackson, on the other hand, was famously against maturity; he wanted to flit around and stay young like Peter Pan. But take it from Peter Pan Am--flying is meaningless unless you actually go somewhere. Case in point, in 45 minutes I'm going inside a vagina. To my knowledge, Michael's been there only once, and it was a one-way trip.

Michael and I have given a lot of pleasure to a lot of people We're two of a kind: the rock star and the cock star...the most important member of the Jackson 5 and most important member of Ron Jeremy....the prodigy and the prodigious...he was planning a comeback next month and I was planning to cum on someone's back next Friday.

Except for this: Billie Jean was not his lover, but the odds are pretty good she was mine.

RIP

They say you always remember where you were when really famous people die. I’m not sure that will be the case with Michael Jackson. That’s because I was inside Sunny Lane’s snatch, and I’ve been there hundreds of times. Ron was filming a scene for the upcoming “Night at the Museum: Fuck My Ass”, when a PA blurted out that the King of Pop was dead. Out of respect, Ron pulled out, but the timing of that action made it look like I was doing a spit take. I wasn’t of course, and those weren’t tears streaming down Sunny’s face.

But yeah, I’m sad today. For all his troubles, both financial and social, we lost an entertainment giant. So as a tribute, I dug up a song of his to which I rewrote lyrics. In the mid-80’s, I was hired by junior high schools around the country to promote abstinence to young boys, and I decided the best way to reach them was through contemporary music.

I know you boys are having feelings down there.
It’s always changing sizes and it’s growing hair.
So take it from a dick who has been ‘bout everywhere
And beat it, just beat it.

And now your face is getting covered with zits.
And girls in your class are getting bigger tits.
You wanna stick it in, just to see if it fits,
So beat it, but you wanna be bad

Just beat it, beat it, beat it, beat it
Guys, you really must concede it.
Now’s not the time to be getting laid.
Just wait ‘til college—pussy in spades.
Just beat it, beat it
Just beat it, beat it
Just beat it, beat it
Just beat it, beat it


So long, Michael.

Game On!

The Game Show Network recently re-ran my 1981 appearance on "The $20,000 Pyramid." Having polished off Betty White and her partner, I moved with my partner Jane into the Winner's Circle.

Dick Clark: Okay, you know the drill. Correctly guessing all six categories in 60 seconds wins you $20,000. Jane, you've chosen to receive, Ron's dick will give

(Betty White calls out from her seat).

Betty: She's in good company!

Dick Clark: 60 seconds on the clock. Ready? Go!



Me: Apes…
Jane: Animals, Things In A Zoo
Me: Apes….My Balls
Jane: Big…
Me: Gilda Radner
Jane: Hairy Things!
Dick Clark: Right! Next!

Me: Butter, Crisco
Jane: Things You Cook With
Me: Baby Oil, Vaseline
Jane: Lubes!
Dick Clark: Good! Next!

Me: A wristwatch….Dudley Moore’s Cock
Jane: Things You Find In Susan Anton’s Ass!
Dick Clark: Halfway there! Next.

Me: Guys want me…
Jane: What Kate Jackson would say, what sports cars would say
Me: I feel good, I make them cum
Jane: What Charo…
Me: Paul Lynde gives me all the time.
Jane: What a blowjob would say!
Dick Clark: Running out of time!



Me: Oh boy, uh, Ang Ez
Jane: Vietnam?
Me: Ah--Eh--Aleh-I-Pah
Jane: Things In the Koran?

The buzzer sounds. The audience lets out a collective “Awww.” Dick Clark walks over.

Dick Clark: Let Me Try… Gah Baz Amaca
Jane: How God Bless America sounds if you sing while giving head?

The audience applauds.

Dick Clark: I guess it helps to have experience. That’s all the time we have, folks! Goodbye.

Don't Cry For Me Governor Sanford

You can say that it’s “to serve the public trust”, or “to make a difference in this world”, but let’s face it: the real reason men get into politics is…(drum roll)….FUCKING! They want to get laid. And let me tell you, there’s more shtupping going on in Washington these days than in the entire adult series “Ginger Lynn’s Gang Bang Follies”, and I’m including “Gang Bang Follies 16”, where Ginger makes love to the entire population of Guam.

Of all the sex taking place in the capital, the majority of is extramarital. Why? Because they get away with it. Governor Mark Sanford is admitting his affair and stepping down for only one reason: because he got caught. I guess I’d be lying if I didn’t take a certain delight in the fact that he’s a Republican, that sanctimonious group of cum-swappers who held Clinton to the fire for getting some sweet Jewish head. The hypocrisy is simply too easy to point out. But make no mistake: there are hundreds of other extramarital affairs happening as I write this. Some will get caught, others won’t.

I’d like to make one other point: guys often attribute their indiscretions to “the power of the pussy”, or will excuse their behavior by saying they were simply “thinking with their dick.”

It’s all bullshit. Yes, I think. If there’s one thing I hope this blog has proved, it’s that I have an active mind, full of a myriad of thoughts. But in the end, I have never entered an orifice without Ron’s intention to do so. By the same token, a pussy does not have power, at least in the sense that it can force you to penetrate it. Jenna Haze’s pussy is powerful, but that’s because it can lock around me like a fleshy vice in a perverted shop class.

Governor Sanford did not think with his dick. I know this for two reasons: the first is that I actually met his dick once at the Washington Correspondents dinner. It was very humble and polite, and was more interested in talking sports than pussy. The second reason is simply a summation of my blog today: the man is an egomaniacal, power-loving politician.

No Governor, this was all you. You, sir, chose to tango with your Argentinian friend, not your dick. Now face the cocksequences.

When I'm In There, Your Ass Is Half Full

Being Ron Jeremy's dick has advantages, of course. I've been fucked and sucked more than even the most wildly promiscuous gay man--and by women who, more often than not, populate the fantasies of just about every straight man alive. Big-titted babes of every stripe and size; (if you know the tune, sing along...) white chicks, black chicks, chicks with golden locks; thin chicks, fat chicks, even chicks with chicken pox. The chicks guys love to eeeaat! So to complain about my life might come across as a tad ungrateful.

But it's my part and I'll cry if I want to.

I lost out for the role of the penis in the new HBO series "Hung," which debuts next week. It's called "Hung" for god's sake. And I didn't get the part! The director said he loved my audition (I'm well known in casting circles for my mono log), but that I was simply too recognized as Ron Jeremy's cock. Now I know how Sherman Hemsley felt when he went up for the part of Forrest Gump. The roles that gave us so much success came with a price. Don't get me wrong, I loved starring in "One-Eyed Monster." I really stretched, both as an actor and as a dick. But HBO, man! A regular gig on a network that isn't shy about showing a guy's cock in the service of story! It's not tv, it's HB Oh, fuck, that is one magnificent piece of pipe! This would have been my Tony Soprano.

Post Script

I just read that Ed McMahon died. Very sad. Not about him, per se; he lived a long life with fame and success. But it made me think about Ron. Like Ed, Ron is basically my goofy sidekick, who would have quietly faded into Hollywood obscurity if not for his long association with me. Like Ed, Ron has spent a career announcing me to millions. They both had their reality shows--Ed with "Star Search," and Ron "The Surreal Life." Ah, shit, now I feel really stupid for complaining about being tethered to RJ. He's not holding me back. He's a part of me. A big part. Though Ron's pupik (nice fella, we both hang out a lot) might beg to differ, Ron and I are the biggest parts of each other. Eh, Thomas Jane can have his "Hung." When he can fuck for ten hours straight, toggling between pussy, mouth and ass and making thirty women cum in the bargain, then let's talk. To you, Ed! You're back with your old partner, so may you sit happily on his heavenly couch, laughing at his jokes for all eternity. Allow me the honor of announcing to Heaven, "Heeeeeeere's Ed!"