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April 2000 Columns
xmag.com : April 2000 : Girl Trouble

Girl Trouble - a cmonthly column by Rex Breathes : No-Sex Cults

The sexy country crooner, Shania Twain, has joined a "no-sex cult," no less than the National Enquirer has reported. They said it. I believe it. And that settles it. Shania's half (baked) brother, Darryl (living in abject poverty in Winnipeg, Canada), is the principal source for this piece, published last month. According to Darryl (who doesn't even own a car!), Shania's husband, Mutt (Lang, famous music producer), is to blame for "her bizarre new life." Sounds like she married a dog with fleas.

Shania's Sant Mat cult practices a strict vegan-yoga-abstinence regime with confessional Catholic undertures; they must fess-up to all violations of the cult's rules in writing to their guru. Actually, this regimen doesn't sound all that different from my own life lately, except the written confessional part is shared with you, my guru, dear reader. The other glaring difference is, unlike Shania, I don't own a 500 acre Swiss Chalet on which to practice my vegan, yoga, abstinence program.

It may seem "shocking" to the Enquirer, but I've been in relationships that seemed like a bizarre no-sex cult. So it sounds to me like a good way for Shania to get out of having any sex whatsoever with Mutt--who looks likes like a cross between Jerry Springer and maligned and fined Atlanta Braves pitcher John Rocker. This cult thing looks like the perfect Hollyweird cover story for a bad marriage. After all, why would you give up the goodies unless you weren't getting any in the first place?

Nice arrangement. You're married but you don't do it because your guru tells you so. And then, well, if you mess around with anyone else, you have to tell on yourself to your guru. And what's he gonna do? Kick you out when your six figure "tithings" are keeping him in Rolls Royces and roasted pig? I don't think so.

I wonder what brilliant publicist came up with this scam? Mega star marriages managed by a publicist for appearance sake have been going on for as long as cameras have been clicking. Michael Jackson and Lisa Marie Presley. Clint Eastwood and Sandra Locke. Nicolas Cage and Patricia Arquette--who get together only for the time it takes to dip down to the awards shows together.

Don't get me wrong. I have nothing against a vegan-yoga-abstinence from alcohol, drugs and sex regime (does watching pornos for a living count as sex?). Which may seem surprising in my position writing for

Adult Entertainment magazines. A dissolute lifestyle would seem to follow. Or, so people think.

'...IÕve been in relationships that seemed like a bizarre no-sex cult.'

Which is why I'm contemplating starting my own vegan-yoga-abstinence cult for people like me--working on the inside and the fringes of the sex industry. Like Shania Twain's cult, my followers would have to keep a detailed diary of every time they fall off the no-alcohol-drugs-meat-or-fellatio wagon. And submit their confessions to me, for my (hungry) eyes only. Of course, I'll have to wear a turban, dye my goatee white and come up with some guru sounding name, like, Bhagwan Rexor Beatoff Relief. I've already got the beleaguered Bhagwan bags under the eyes--from all the sexless pain in the world. So you can see how this whole guru/cult thing is all about turning perceived negatives into positives--the essence of good politics and 12 step programs. Tithings from members will be expected, say, 10% of your rack money, honey. Then we'll have to name the cult, Noh Saltimbocca For Ewe (pronounced 'you,' a female sheep, you dummy [Like those ones in last month's Fantasy Video ad. Ewww! --Web Editor]) and build a chalet in Wilsonville, Or. Maybe just takeover the dormant Dammasch state mental hospital. Our slogan: "Abstinence makes the heart-on grow stronger."

Needless-to-say, all cult members who fall off the abstinence wagon would have to take their proper penance. I'd subcontract local dominatrixes to administer punishment to the men, while I handled the female "slippers" personally. Actually, there would be one exception to the no-sex rule: they could have sex with me--their beloved guru who restored them all to meatless, martini-less, methamphetamine-less, menage-a-trois-less sanity. Granted, the Noh Saltimbocca For Ewe cult would permit, hell, encourage smoking, gambling, dirty movies and internet porn. We could even start a website: "sex starved sex workers must relieve themselves now! @nonookieforu.com." As an organized religion, the cult wouldn't have to pay any taxes on the membership fees. And every surfer who joined up could feel good about their credit card contributing to such a worthy cause: getting strippers and doormen and drivers and escorts off the crack, cock and cunt.

And finally, I could have my picture in the National Enquirer for abstaining from alcohol, drugs, meat and pussy. Get the long lost recognition I deserve as burned-out porn stars flock to my Wilsonville abstinence chalet for rice and tofu and black belt blackjack tournaments.

You can join me on this "Lost Highway." I call out to you, my potential flock--gagging on meat and fellatio, who have had enough, who want to serve a higher purpose (while making money off the lower)--to bring me your pain. And let us walk together toward the dawning of a new light with our heads held high in absentia from hamburgers, Hefeweizen and heterosexual relationships (sorry, no gays or lesbians allowed; bi-women encouraged). Bhagwan Rexor Beatoff Relief is waiting to ease (and please) your not-so-gentle suffering.


Girl Trouble

Dec. 99

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Oct. 99
Aug. 99

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