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xmag.com : December 2002: The Jack Shack

I heard a crowd of demonstrators screaming outside my office in San Francisco as white girl Gina Regency in BOOTYLICIOUS GET WHITEY from JM Productions displayed tenacity above and beyond the call of duty. Engorging a huge black cock, Gina appeared frustrated she couldn't quite take the inner-city torpedo all the way down. Her lips remained inviting as the gang-banger tore her up in GET WHITEY while the people down in the street yelled GET BUSH!

Witnessing 40,000 antiwar demonstrators parading down Market Street while watching porn provided excitement and depression. The sea of people engaged in political action was rather refreshing after zoning out on some previous sport in the anal cavity, but at the same time I became aware that porn and the antiwar movement are both devoid of imagination.

The devoted fans of porn and the peace gang dipped in righteous enlightenment find their respective outlets for aggression deeply satisfying. For the rest of us, porn and the antiwar movement are formulaic, predictable, and boring.

I suppose it makes sense to get jumped-up on the antiwar bandwagon before the war starts in order to stop it, except the only thing that can stop it is the possibility some of the generals and close buddies of Saddam Hussein start thinking, "Do I really want to hang on with this lunatic?" and put a bullet in his brain. If Saddam's polluted palace doesn't collapse from within, chances are he's gonna get invaded.

And who could have a more deserving rectum about to get buttfucked by Imperial America's missiles than the murderous thug Saddam? Not that I welcome the war, but I'm not inclined to object.

I slipped in Jerome Tanner's
A WHORE WITH NO NAME from Legend, hit the mute button,and watched random acts of fellatio while across the street scurrilous speeches blasted forth over the heads of the demonstrators in Civic Center Plaza. "Bush is the terrorist and we need a regime change at home"... "Impeach Bush."... "We are witnessing a wholesale assault on the Bill of Rights."... "The criminal partnership between the United States and Israel is nothing more than genocide against the Palestinians."... "Ariel Sharon is committed to the Final Solution."

Then I read the copy on the WHORE WITH NO NAME tape box: Imagine a place where the woman are obedient, quiet, and hungry for cock. A magical place where women don't nag, complain, or ruin your day with mindless chatter. Where is this place? Welcome to the future, gentlemen. The need for women has been eradicated... replaced by sexy, big-titted, programmable human hybrid clones. The female species finds itself on the brink of extinction. Men now control the pussy resource. The chains have been broken.

The mind's dark recesses can easily overcome any sense of reason when you get worked up in a lather over powerful forces you cannot control. For their fans, the Palestinian suicide bomber and the platinum-blonde robot meekly
loitering outside the 7-Eleven are equally groovy.

But I wouldn't say they are morally equivalent. The suicide bomber is chained to a set of absolutist beliefs that guarantee pussy in paradise. That was made clear when it turned out some of the homicidal avengers who flew into the

Twin Towers and the Pentagon visited strip bars in Vegas and Florida the night before their madness as a prelude to an eternal fuckfest with seventy-two virgins in Paradise.

While fanatical nerds like this pose a real threat, Jerome Tanner's fantasy of men controlling the pussy through cloning is wish-fulfillment on the part of some guys who remain chained to the retrograde vision of women as receptacles for their horny dicks. The only threat these guys pose is running out of money to buy porn flicks. Happily, even though the economy has faltered, the porn biz is still going gang-bang-busters. And if you really want to live in a society where women have been on the brink of extinction for centuries, buy a ticket to the Middle East.

Gauge, Holly Hollywood and a host of other stripped and shiny bods blasted away in a flurry of cream pies in MONEY SHOTS from Adam & Eve; Alexas Malone in NEW GIRLS from Evil Empire choked on dude's heavy jizz biz strokes while on her knees with her hands tied behind her back; and Ron Kovic, the veteran whose legs got blown off in Vietnam, said the policies of the president and congress "brought on 9/11."

Note to Ron: We were both crazy enough to join the Marine Corps and ended up in the Da Nang shithole. I got out without a scratch, and you got life in a wheelchair. But a Viet Cong nailed you, not Richard Nixon. Bush was not responsible for 9/11; Islamic fascists in hijacked jets were.

I know there are many sincere and principled people like Ron Kovic who are opposed to a possible shitstorm in Iraq, but the overall tone of the antiwar movement reeks of glee that America got what it deserved on 9/11 and now Bush is using this as an excuse for furthering the nation's imperialistic ambitions and making democracy safe for the smooth flow of oil out of Baghdad, USA. But Christopher Hitchens, the best writer on the left who is now disgusted with the left, was on target when he said the antiwar crowd "truly believes that John Ashcroft is a greater menace than Osama bin Laden."

The peacemongers shout "power to the people" ad nauseam, yet they are at odds with the majority of the American people who won't lose any sleep if we go to war. They've gone berserk with apocalyptic visions of the Imperialist Plastic Beast bent on conquest and extermination. Listening to those speeches I was reminded of William Burroughs's hallucinatory remark that "Plato's Republic is a blueprint for a death camp."

I'd say a scene in ASS WORSHIPER 3 from Evil Empire pretty well summed up the antiwar march in San Francisco: Ryan Conner bouncing her butt on a dildo glued to a toilet seat.

 

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