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Dane, could you please forward this to Skurt for me:

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I SEE YOU TOOK DOWN YOUR AVATAR PIC OF YOUR UGLY PIG ASS SINCE I POINTED OUT WHAT A FUCKIN VISUAL EYE-SORE YOU WERE, YOU MORBIDLY OBESE DOUCHEBAG.

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Yeah...ummm....that was a picture of Ansel Adams. He was a photographer, maybe your alleged kommewnitee kowledidge education exposed you to him? Maybe not. It's funny to hear you talk about how porn is the be-all and end-all of your life. Just wait for the day when even six "little blue home run heaters" won't get you hard enough to do a scene, and you instantly lose your cred as the self-proclaimed savior of porn. Like most self-absorbed douchebags, you refuse to admit that porn even existed before you, and you probably think it will die when you retire. It's OK...you're Caligula...he had delusions of grandeur, too.

At the end of the day, folks, Kurt is nothing but an act. Granted, an assiduously-rehearsed one. But there are just too many holes in the story to make it believable. Why does he walk around proclaiming he is God's gift to L.A. "culture" when he lives behind an assumed identity? Example: have you seen his thrombosis when his "real" name comes out? It's like he's being dragged back into his own prior life, the 33 years of pre-porn that must harbor some ghostly secrets. Maybe it's the failed musical career, maybe it's something darker, like one too many nights out on Sunset Blvd.

So Curt, in parting, don't forget that I contacted you to see what made you tick. I didn't flame you, and even when you dropped your first self-immolation, I gave you free pitches to swing at. Unfortunately for you, you're only smart enough to hang yourself, not anyone else.

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