erotic city


"Nothing but the Naked Truth"
March 2002

Jump to calendar xmag.com : March 2002 : Erotic City

Here I am again, back in that foul, twisted frame of mind that another deadline has created. This is Issue #4 since Erotic City got a bad attitude, and judging from the "feedback" I received from all of you, let's just keep it simple by saying... you're starting to scare me.
I've interacted with several intimate strangers that have actually quoted some of my insane rants verbatim. I was absolutely stunned when a hot little sexbomb asked me if I was the eyes above Erotic City, and upon confirmation, she informed me that she wanted me for my mind. I don't know, man; the pressure is getting as thick as a Wild Orchid stripper's ass. I'm now expected to continue this "good-natured satirical abuse" month after month. I have already gained a reputation as a backstabber who "pretends to be your friend so he can expose your weak side and share your most horrible and embarrassing moments with 30,000 people right here in Erotic City." This quote strangely enough came from a recent Exotic covergirl, of whom I have never spoken poorly (in print, anyway). But this particular covergirl knows who she is. Actually, a lot of my friends know who she is, as in...carnal knowledge. Maybe she was trash-talkin' me because I'm the only one in this particular circle that HASN'T tried to fuck her. But to call it 'trying' would be incorrect; I should just say I'm the only one who hasn't fucked her, because all those who tried were successful. (Just remember, honey, people love to talk trash, and even more so, they love to gossip. Especially if they can gossip to someone like Spooky who loves to pour that gasoline on the fire. And for the record, I never use names. The guilty and their associates alone are aware of the names and faces behind the dirt.
To tell you the truth, I never thought half of this shit would make it to print. But before the editorial master-race figurehead known as Jim Goad took over the reins, no one was really paying attention to my mundane little column. Goad's prime time, I'm late night. So I snuck some shit in here and there, and now you guys are eating this shit up, aren't you? You just can't wait to see what those crazy fucks at Exotic are going to say and do next. Rest assured--we're
just getting started, my perverse
little friends.

Our latest offering of obscenity is smeared across these 96 pages like a bad outbreak of genital warts. So indulge yourself in this monthly disease that we all love to call Exotic Magazine.

The Jim Goad Experience--Lesbians, Kiddie Porn, & Extortion
First off, I just want to remind all of you...this is all Goad's fault, man! A lesbian friend of mine smacked me last
week because she thought I was responsible for last month's much-adored "What's with all the Lesbians?" feature. And I can't tell you how many compliments I received on the porn-by-children article, not to mention its lovely inset visuals. OK, maybe they weren't compliments. Apparently, someone out there is trying to exploit our editorial content in all
it's questionably disturbing glory in an attempt to scare our faithful advertisers right off of our filthy little pages. Kind of funny when you think about it. The porn-by-children feature was not about child porn, but in fact children who direct and produce pornography. Also known as a FUCKIN' PARODY!!! Same goes for most of our content these days. But then there were the goddamned lesbians! Now personally, I've never had any problems with lesbians. I mean, they keep to themselves, and as I see it, this means that there are that many less women out there that could potentially fuck with my life. BUT BI-SEXUALS?!!! THAT'S A WHOLE DIFFERENT STORY ALTOGETHER! Leave it to a woman to be so indecisive that she can't even figure out if she wants the hard stiff one or the carpet-lickin' casserole. Maybe it's not indecision; maybe it's greed. Bisexuals are the ultimate control freaks. They want it all, man...your best friend, your girlfriend, your boyfriend, his sister, and most importantly, they want whomever you want.
What's with the bisexuals? Perhaps it's our entire fault. I mean, it's the ultimate fantasy to get it on with two hot babes at the same time, right? You're rollin' around on the sheets with your head buried in her crotch while her little sister is servicing your plumbing. Sounds great, and yeah, sure, I've been down this road before and lived to tell the tale. But these little trios are ultimately cursed. Either you're gonna fuck one of 'em better than the one you were supposed to be focused on, or they might just decide they'd rather slurp on the pink taco than having your hairy nutsack bouncin' on their chin. Now, myself and Mr. Goad are part of a minority here at the office that find it unnecessary to assemble multiple (female) partners to bust our nut. And since last month's issue was released, I've noticed a newfound sense of hostility and aggression amongst this proud band of snatch soldiers. You can't even talk to a girl at Dante's anymore without having to outdazzle, outmaneuver and all but wrestle a potential score from these predatory bisexuals. And to make matters worse, depending on their mood, tomorrow night they're gonna want to fuck you. They'll steal your date one night and then blow you the next day to apologize. You go out for a drink to celebrate making up, you fall in love with a new stripper you've been looking for all your life, and then your little bi friend steps in, and it's all over.

So there, now hopefully you can hate me now, too. I'm buckin' for prime-time after all, and the Goadster had taught me the importance of pissing off entire cultural masses, rather than picking on some pathetic strip club that needs an English enema. Actually, Jim Goad taught me another valuable lesson as well: Never, leave naked pictures of yourself on your computer. I had noticed some strange smirks spread across the faces of not only Goad, but others in the office as well. Eventually, amid a drunken pool game, one of my associates informed me that they had discovered my bare uncensored essentials while "innocently" examining the contents of my hard drive. (OK, it wasn't 'hard'--I was relaxed.) Now, these gentlemen did not consider the talent involved in capturing the proper angle in attempting to take a self-portrait of this nature. You try holding a camera with your feet. for crissakes! But all other details aside, my privacy had been violated, and I was pissed!!! Not only pissed that my co-workers had seen my unit, but that they might possess hard (yet semi-flaccid) evidence that could be used to exploit my body's sacred temple! We can only wait to see on this, one I suppose. Hopefully, Goad will find a new religious group to crucify or some white-trash controversy to embrace. Just keep your weapons of written destruction away from my cock, goddammit!

 

Strip Clubs That Suck
 
Did that get your attention? Drum roll, please, what account can I cost Exotic magazine this month? How long can we keep it up, without leaving any
permanent scars? To be honest, the new Exotic is a strange controversial type of lie-detector. Stay with me on this, gang. Is the sex industry a haven for crap like censorship or politically correct mindless masturbation? Well, it seems some
people here in P-Town have definitely put themselves up on a pedestal and said, goddamn it, those bastards at Exotic have just gone too far this time. Aside from the usual reader outrage, a group of, "lobbyists" has rallied around all things moral in pursuit of curing the disease of Exotic magazine.
That's right, there's a few new places where you won't find Exotic anymore. And this is where I get to name some names. The first, and most entertaining member of the "BAN EXOTIC" task force is a club I have wanted to trash for a LONG, LONG time now. As a matter of fact, it wasn't all that long ago that I actually did wreak a little havoc on their patio. But that broken flowerpot was soon forgotten; something tells me these words will not be. This is a club that should be one of the Top 10. Unfortunately, the only Top 10 lists they've seen over the past couple of years usually involve the police or the OLCC. But I gotta give this place props for one particular point of merit--this would have to be the absolute #1 selection if you're looking to fuck an alcoholic stripper. I remember one charming tale of a stripper who nearly beat her boytoy of the month to death with his own crutch after he backhanded her. God, drunk chicks get me hot. And this place is loaded with 'em. Research here at SpookyCentral indicates that alcohol levels of intake and individual tolerance are of no concern at this Toxic Paradise. Hell, everyone's drunk here--the customers, the bartenders, the waitresses, and most importantly, the DANCERS!!! It's actually quite an interesting approach--keep the bimbos well-watered, and all the horniest, most opportunistic predators will hang out and drink, buy table dances in obscure dark corners from drunk strippers perched spread-eagle over some mullet-wearing (with a 10/90 ratio --pub.) crack dealer's nose. And they'll drink some more. They'll get another table dance. Maybe this time with that nastier girl that was sticking her nipple in his mouth while the bouncers were sleeping. Last call comes eventually, so this merry clan of whiskey-weary rejects rushes to the bar, guzzles their poison, and make their desperate attempts to couple with that hot babe who was finger-bangin' her ass in that last table dance. Your odds of eventual success tend to be more favorable if you perform this destructive ritual on a regular basis. And if you're still not scoring, you can always attempt more pathetic and desperate methods of seduction through the use of cash or other party favors.
Now I haven't mentioned the name of this Roc'n little slice of Portland Strip Club history. But after getting screwed over by these dumbasses one too many times, it was actually a pleasure to learn that our scary new format led to our ejection from this Southeast shithole. I'll miss you guys. I'm not saying I never had any fun there. That would be a lie. But I'm sure my liver will last an extra year or so if I stay away from this place. As a matter of fact, it will be just what the Doc'ster ordered. And we'll see 'em in court for the money they still owe us.
(Note: there are a ton of people that work at this club that I have cared a great deal for over the years; most of them have wised up and moved on to greener pastures, but a few dedicated souls remain. You guys know where to find me. I'll be watchin' my back.)
As an added note, something tells me this section is gonna have more available options in the near future. Exotic is not looking to antagonize or abuse our consumers. We are here for one thing, and one thing only...to ENTERTAIN!!!! And as if that isn't enough, this is free entertainment paid for by our advertisers. We wish to thank our core group of advertisers and appreciate your open minds and bold sense of reckless adventure you display by hoppin' aboard with us. As the magazine continues to expand, we consistently find ourselves oversold. So I
suppose it's not really so bad to let a customer slip through the cracks, and on occasion it's even necessary to hose them into the gutter and wash them away completely. Exotic's circulation and distribution are at an all-time high, and even though we might offend certain individuals that might take us entirely too seriously, for every one reader that refuses to ever "buy" our magazine again, there are three more that just picked it up for the first time because they heard we have some intensely funny and twisted editorial, and more of what you look for in an adult publication--HOT NAKED BABES! ROCK N' ROLL! SEX! SEX! AND MORE SEX!!! (What...you were expecting guns and swimsuits?) Oh, and to all of you that will never read Exotic again: Hey, it's good to know you finally started reading at all, and by the way, we're like a drug, baby...you can't escape, we've got ya hooked. No matter how much you might say you hate us, you won't be able to stay away. You'll rush to flip through every goddamned issue if for no other reason, but to find a new collection of topics about which to bitch.

 

 


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