of Decadence Remembered
Jacob the Goldfish's Final Chapter)
exactly do you begin a story like this? Actually it all started
about nine years ago when a man named Frank discovered a way
to make a living off of an addiction to strippers and called
it Exotic magazine. This story doesn't necessarily end
in "happily ever after"...in fact, it hasn't ended at all. But
another year's passing was celebrated last month at Stars
Cabaret when all the twisted and brilliant minds behind
this magazine came together for a night of bonding among the
invited all of you to share in this moment, and to those of
you who witnessed this event, all I can say is...YOU CAN'T PROVE
A THING. For those of you who missed it, I'll give you a quick
announced our Covergirl of the Year--Isis. The masses
have spoken, and this goddess will be gracing our cover again
we launched into the third episode of our serialized sitcom,
Jacob the Goldfish. This column has all but adopted this
poor deceased fish as a bit of a mascot over the past two months.
So it was only natural that a humorous gesture be made to our
host Rick Callous regarding his murdered pet. I arrived at the
party with a handsome goldfish to award Rick with and was shocked
to discover that Rick had purchased the exact same gift for
me as well. We both intended this as closure to the story of
Jacob the Goldfish. Early in the evening, after almost ashing
a cigarette in one of the fishbowls, a chilling thought occurred
to me that Jacob II and Jacob III might not make it though the
night. I had no idea it would be at the hands, or should I say
throats, of two Exotic staff members. The first
fish was swallowed without warning by our no-nonsense
general manager Bryan Bybee for no apparent reason and
without any provocation on the fish's part. The second was proudly
swallowed on stage by our mild-mannered production manager Bobby
Baldwin. Alcohol does wondrous things. Our attempts at trying
to correct a horrible wrongdoing by Rick was unfortunately turned
into a vulgar display of cruelty by two of our own. Or maybe
it was just hunger...maybe next year you should put some meat
on that "free buffet" there, Rick. The pasta just wasn't quite
month I asked Rick how many more fish had to die before this
story would reach its conclusion. And now two more have fallen,
so it's time for me to let this one go. Jacob will always live
on in my heart...and in the
bowels of my associates.
for the Porn Afterlife
an angry, bitter man trapped inside an industry full of people
that you hate!!!"
a direct quotation from one of my favorite advertisers expressing
his feelings on what kind of a person my job here at Exotic
has turned me into over the past four years. This was
brought about as we were discussing my tongue-in-cheek account
of several violent lingerie models in last month's Erotic
City. (Most of what I say here is the truth, people--maybe
it's the truth you don't necessarily want to hear, but we're
all adults here, aren't we?
Can we take a joke, even if we're sometimes the punchline?)
this individual shared this statement with me, I pondered
the potential possibility that perhaps he was right. Now...I
definitely don't hate all of you, but I'm afraid that there
are actually quite a lot of individuals involved in this industry
I don't love. "Hate" is such a strong and powerful word. Maybe
I'm a little angry, possibly a little bitter...but trapped?
Well, our much feared and sarcastically respected boss here
at Exotic (Not Frank, he escaped this afternoon to
be pepper-sprayed during the downtown Bush riots.) insisted
I finish this column tonight instead of in the morning. At
one point I was forbidden to even leave for dinner. I won
that battle but returned to close out the night shift. Now
well-fed, and currently handcuffed to my keyboard, I'm gonna
give you whatever I can so that I will be allowed to go home
and get some rest. So I'm not trapped I suppose...I believe
the more accurate terminology would be "imprisoned by porn."
I mentioned my "retirement." Some of you even voiced concern
about the possibility. Here's the story this month, kiddies.
Consider this as an engagement ring. Just like a wedding,
we're gonna set a date. There will be a big party and all
my closest friends (all two of 'em, seeing as how I hate everyone
out there) will be invited. And then the honeymoon begins.
The date...sometime next summer. In case you have no idea
what the fuck I'm talking about, this means I intend to break
the chains and bust out of the porn penitentiary where I've
been shackled in for the past seven years.
Anal Sex in
So I'm sitting there getting
a table dance, the stripper bends over, gets down on her
hands and knees and sticks her finger near her ass. She
looks over her shoulder and growls, "So, do you like it
in the ass?" What else can you really say as your eyes crawl
all over her perfect ass but, "Ohhhh, yeaaaaaah!"
Then a momentary lapse of
reason grabs me by the testicles and makes me aware of the
dangerous ground I may have just stepped into, and in a
rather nervous, somewhat distressed tone, I amend my response
to the question with, "Uhhhh, you do mean YOUR ass, don't
you? 'Cause if we're talking about my ass, then you're gonna
have to buy me a serious dinner, and a lot of drinks before
we can even talk about it."
She smiles and assures me
that she is referring to her own ass. After I sigh in relief,
she throws some more fuel on the fire when she informs me
that it has been three and a half weeks since she has been
sexually serviced, and that she is so fucking horny she's
gonna have to bang the hell out of herself as soon as she
what any red-blooded American male would do and offer to
buy her a drink. As we shared our first round together,
I decide to help this girl out and offer to assist her in
relieving her need to be banged. A couple of hundred dollars
in table dances and cocktails later, I'm walking into this
babe's apartment thinking how lucky I am to have stumbled
into a hard-and-fast sure-thing situation. She immediately
takes me by the hand and leads me to the bedroom, where
her attractive roommate awaits us. She pushes me on the
bed next to her roommate and strips her own clothes off
in the blink of an eye. Once again, the only thing that
pops out of my mouth is "Ohhhh, yeaaaaaah!"
like a great night, doesn't it? Try again--after disrobing,
she put on a swimsuit and informed me we would be taking
a dip in the hot tub. Five hours later, I still never saw
that hot tub. What I did see was a photo album of her and
her ex-boyfriend of seven years she had just split up with
three and a half weeks ago. This is also the only man this
sex-kitten has ever had sex with. Not such a sure thing
anymore, now is it?
things can go to hell on you, friends. In fact, with the
women I have consorted with in this industry, they seem
to go horribly wrong about 90% of the time. Even a "seasoned
professional" such as myself can still be turned into a
"trick." I'm still a man, and once in a while, the fantasies
and illusions of this industry can even blind me. Maybe
it was her opening line about taking it in the ass. What
is it with guys and the obsession with anal sex? This can
turn on you as well, my horny little butt-pirates. I'll
probably never forget this line that was whispered in my
ear during a round of very stimulating sex with an old friend.
She innocently started playing with my ass and purred, "I
wish we were at my house so I could do you with my strap-on."
My sphincter clenched like a bear trap at the mere thought
of it. I thanked god, or whoever it is that keeps my ass
virgin, that we had
chosen to go to my house that night.
Goes to Hell
Contrary to rumor, Jim Goad's
Twats Wit' Tats competition has yet to drive Ink-n-Pink
out of business. Ink-N-Pink will not go quietly into the
night. Any parties interested in taking Ink-N-Pink all the
way to the grave may contact me at (503) 936-0878.
Sex Industry Under Siege
only one good thing about rules, my friends, and that
is the forbidden rush of adrenaline you enjoy when you
break them. Unfortunately, City Hall, in cooperation with
Oregon's answer to the Third Reich, the OLCC, is slapping
rules and regulations on us faster than a premature ejaculation.
there was the ordinance defining what an exotic entertainer
could and could not do while performing. Originally, forbidden
practices were described as follows: simulated sex shows,
masturbation, simulated masturbation, and toy shows. So
the original interpretation of what they were trying to
take away from us only seemed to affect lingerie models.
But they were only getting started. Soon after, Stars
Cabaret was fined when an entertainer was accused of repeatedly
spanking her ass in a masochistic manner, and in so doing
was labeled as performing a simulated sex show. Now, I've
seen plenty of girls slapping their asses on many stages.
And in my experience, I never really got the impression
that these ass-smacking babes were attempting to convince
their audience of anything but the fact that we are supposed
to be paying attention to them. There's nothing like the
sound of a hard smack on a perfect ass. The OLCC has now
created a fear factor within many clubs that are choosing
to currently enforce policies such as no ass-smacking,
no nipple-tweaking, and no fondling of any kind of the
sacred pink taco.
the newest ordinance taking a stab at the PDXXX sex industry
will forbid exotic entertainers under the age of 21 to
work in any clubs serving alcohol as of January 1st, 2003.
This law will affect about 10% of the exotic entertainers
in our fair city and 100% of all of you. 10% may seem
like a small amount, but when that 10% is targeting the
ripest, primest cuts of meat on the butcher block, that's
about 10% too much, isn't it? Looking at this realistically,
I have to admit that I might have a bit of acceptance
to their intentions in regulating underage girls to be
swallowed into an industry that often tends to consume
innocence and youth like a midnight snack. But this is
a country based on our freedom of expression, or at least
it used to be.
every girl this pending law might save, it will drive
ten more into far more dire and possibly dangerous circumstances.
Consider the underage dancers that are currently employed
in the sex industry. Many of them have already given up
years of their valuable youth as a dancer in our not-so-fair
city. But come January 1st, it's all over for them, regardless
of the clientele they have developed and the friends they
have made, or the money on which they have come to depend.
The things that the OLCC thinks they might be saving them
from have already affected these ladies. Arguments claim
that these women will be exposed to alcohol, drugs, and
undesirable surroundings when they are at a very impressionable
age. Very true, possibly, but then what is to stop these
girls from taking on other positions within this industry
such as a lingerie model, juice-bar dancer, or perhaps
as an outcall escort? If these ladies choose to thrust
their nubile young bodies into this industry, this current
attempt at regulating what they do with their lives is
merely a detour for them.
you have anything valuable to contribute to this topic,
feel free to pass it on to City Hall or the OLCC. Coming
across like a pissed-off pedophile won't help the cause
a bit, so consider your argument first. We're not just
fighting for lap dances from schoolgirls here, Portland.
With each ordinance, law, or new hair up Vera Katz's ass,
we are losing more and more of the freedom that makes
this country what it is. Take the power back.