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#591966 - 05/22/13 01:44 PM Re: The Pornarium [Re: drained]
RenfieldGyps Offline
Porn Jesus

Registered: 12/28/05
Posts: 4726
Loc: The City That Never Sleeps, Tr...
I find Stoya absolutely gorgeous...with no makeup, she is a perfect looking gal <3

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#592054 - 05/22/13 09:26 PM Re: The Pornarium [Re: drained]
Jerkules Offline
Porn Jesus

Registered: 07/15/09
Posts: 12542
Loc: 3 feet high and rising
Tru dat! I'd let Stoya pick 3 of my toes, to keep as souvenirs, if she would let me get some O-ring time.
_________________________
Thinking of cracked-out and/or tweaking whores getting their throats and asses brutalized for the next hit makes me hard. --Rear Admiral

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#592106 - 05/23/13 03:49 PM Re: The Pornarium [Re: drained]
drained Offline
Porn Jesus

Registered: 02/12/08
Posts: 4580

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#592107 - 05/23/13 04:19 PM Re: The Pornarium [Re: drained]
Uomo Grassissimo!! Offline
Porn Jesus

Registered: 04/14/06
Posts: 14755
Loc: Busy downloading [LEGALLY!]
Oddly ... if you quote PD's post and cut and paste the address, you get a different clip ... about Jodi Taylor and STD or something ... instead of the Assterpiece Theatre or whatever that's showing on my browser.
_________________________
Amo i Gemelli!! wink

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#592171 - 05/24/13 03:58 PM Re: The Pornarium [Re: drained]
drained Offline
Porn Jesus

Registered: 02/12/08
Posts: 4580

Jerky once thought it'd only be a matter of time until Gene Ross tried to pass off something not so fresh - from two weeks ago, but well - as something birthed through the exclusivity of him posting it and for all Onlinia to behold as breaking news.

[optional soundtrack]



________________________________________________________________________

Here's What AHF's Mark McGrath Has Said on Measure B
________________________________________________________________________

Measure B proponent, Mark McGrath, talks workplace safety, public health

October 28, 2012

By: Robert Herriman

Measure B advocates say performers in the Adult Film Industry deserve the same protections and enforcements from workplace hazards as employees in other industries.

Should porn actors be mandated to wear condoms while performing in adult films?

This is a question Los Angeles County voters will be confronted with when they enter the voting booth Nov. 6.

Mark McGrath, MPH, AIDS Healthcare Foundation (AHF) consultant and one of the five citizen proponents of Measure B spoke to the Infectious Disease Examiner Oct. 27 about the ballot initiative, Los Angeles Porn Actors Required to Wear Condoms Act, Measure B.

Robert Herriman- The editorial board of the Long Beach Press-Telegram, who opposes the initiative, wrote "The porn industry claims to have a relatively safe record: It says nobody has contracted HIV on a porn movie set in the United States since 2004.” In addition, the editorial board of the San Gabriel Valley Tribune who also opposes Measure B, wrote, "Everybody wants to protect health. The question is whether the adult-film industry is a big enough threat to warrant?” So I ask, why push Measure B? Is there really a threat to the public health from the adult entertainment industry?

Mark McGrath- Measure B is the result of a long history of inadequate workplace protection within this industry. This is a legal industry and we feel with legality comes responsibility; ultimately this boils down to a question of corporate citizenship. The hazardous exposures performs face on the job are well document and reported by labs and clinics to the county department of public health (as required by state law). Therefore, we have a very good understanding of the overall disease burden performers carry and how this compares to the population at-large.

When compared to the general community the cumulative incidence for gonorrhea and chlamydia is as high as 64 and 34 times respectively. When compared to sexually active adults between 18 and 24 (a group that traditionally shows high disease burden), the gonorrhea and chlamydia rates for performers are 8.5 and 16 times higher. Note these rates demonstrate orders of magnitude that are unacceptable from a public health perspective. Condoms are not only cost-effective but the single most effective way to prevent these infections. Los Angeles residents should care because performers do not simply live in a bubble (i.e. they can be considered core-transmitters and reservoirs). Additionally since this industry fails to provide even a modicum of benefits, the taxpayer ends up covering cost of treatment and long term medical costs.

RH- I spoke to James Lee, communications director for “No on Measure B” recently and he states that the studies proponents of Measure B site are statistically flawed. He said, “For example, it looks at all reported infections from the industry, but doesn’t differentiate from those wanting to work for the first time, but are turned away because of infections, vs. reported infections from everyday performers. The distinction is important because the testing protocol stops people from even entering into the profession if they tested positive. The only source of industry data is what the industry publicly reports to the County so AHF has misinterpreted that data in order to bolster its claims.” How do you respond to this claim?

MM- Data on performer morbidity has been published by Los Angeles County health officials in peer review literature. It is a matter of public record and available to anyone with an internet connection. The fact of the matter is that not only is there epidemic levels of infection within the perform community; rates of re-infection within a single year are also unacceptably high. On average 1 in 4 performers will be re-infected with an STD in a single year. For women the rate is even higher: 27 percent will be re-infected within a single year. At a time when our frontline antibiotics for treatment are failing, is the industry’s current model acceptable or sustainable?

Opponents to measure B are simply making ridiculous claims that fail to hold up to scrutiny. The truth of the matter is that young men and women are being made sick for the sake of unrestricted profit. As mentioned above, because labs and the clinics attended by performers are required by law to report an infection within days of diagnosis, we know: 1) the size of the performer population; 2) rates of infection; 3) rates of re-infection. Keep in mind this industry has failed to use testing protocols recommended by health officials (proper screening at all anatomical sites and vaginal swabs for women. As a result, morbidity is under diagnosed and likely to greatly exceed the high rates described above. One study at a local clinic found the 2/3 of performers had infections missed by the industry’s current testing “protocols.” Many have active oral or rectal infections they are not even aware of.

RH- Pro-Measure B folks raise the issue of workplace safety in the porn industry. How many performers have contacted local or state officials complaining of the potential hazards of not wearing a condom during an adult film?

MM- I have no numbers on performer complaints to Cal/OSHA and Cal/OSHA does not provide this information. However, the high hazards unit of Cal/OSHA has issued well over 40 serious citations to production companies for health and safety violations. These are a matter of public record and available for viewing at the Cal/OSHA website. Please also see the Cal/OSHA website dedicated to this issue. For example on 3/9/2011, Larry Flint’s company was cited for 3 serous hazards. Since 2004 twenty-five performers are known to have acquired HIV. In the 2010 (Derrick Burts) investigation, only 6 of the 15 people he worked with could be cleared as not having HIV; leaving the status of 9 individuals unknown. Cal/OSHA issued citations for all the production companies located in California that employed Derrick.

RH- The most simple and important question is, why should the general public in Los Angeles County care if porn actors are wearing condoms while making their living?

MM- The general public should care because performers represent fellow citizens. They are our brothers and sisters and are working in a recognized legal industry. As a matter of corporate citizenship it is unacceptable for pornographers to harvest the young people of this Golden State, knowingly expose them to hazardous and unsanitary conditions, fail to provide cost effective protection, fail to pay for testing as required by state law, and reap a financial benefit at the taxpayers’ expense. The public is currently subsidizing the porn industry. As the provider of last resort, county health clinics are picking up the tab for medical treatment. Condoms are for all intents and purposes free.

Thank you Mark for your time and expertise.
________________________________________________________________________

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#592355 - 05/26/13 02:10 PM Re: The Pornarium [Re: drained]
drained Offline
Porn Jesus

Registered: 02/12/08
Posts: 4580











Attachments
7058_mischa-brooks.jpg (572 downloads)
batty.jpg (564 downloads)
Brandon Iron on XPT_Mykonos.jpg (569 downloads)
Hardcore (2001)_8.png (571 downloads)
CwiBKEL.jpg (570 downloads)


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#592452 - 05/27/13 04:12 PM Re: The Pornarium [Re: drained]
drained Offline
Porn Jesus

Registered: 02/12/08
Posts: 4580

The latest episode of The Rob Black Show's utter shit.

A mongoloid on the production side - possibly himself - makes it sound terrible while he talks to Tim Von Swine and the guy isn't audible. One side of a conversation. For hours.

That and at least half an hour of shitty film excerpts.

He might've said it all already anyway.

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#592482 - 05/28/13 08:08 AM Re: The Pornarium [Re: drained]
mallocup Offline
Brandon Iron Alternate ID

Registered: 05/31/04
Posts: 746
if RB's show was downloadable I would listen, but it's not, right?

the couple of times that I have streamed it my wife has ordered me to shut it down. understandably..

now if he was a guest on 'yoshi didn't..'
_________________________
Cassie_Florida Offline
ADT regular

Registered: 09/29/05
Posts: 1
Loc: Fort Lauderdale, Florida
Hi, I am new to xxxpt......

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#592484 - 05/28/13 09:51 AM Re: The Pornarium [Re: drained]
drained Offline
Porn Jesus

Registered: 02/12/08
Posts: 4580
All shows are downloadable.
Links are in his Twitter messages.
The account's Twitter.com/realrobblack.

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#593503 - 06/12/13 01:38 AM Re: The Pornarium [Re: drained]
drained Offline
Porn Jesus

Registered: 02/12/08
Posts: 4580
Rob Black's a retard. And a late moralist.


Yoshi Didn't is bearable.

The cunt host was suicidal enough to be forced to go on heavy psych meds by her therapist unless she wanted to be institutionalised, so she just has to be fit to be a therapist herself and do the pop analysis trash once in a while. Worst host ever.

Yoshi nearly killed the step father or step mother who reportedly killed his step father or step mother. And he edited a lot of tranny porn for Evil Angel while working for them for over ten years. A naive idiot.

In episode 19, the cerebral contestants get visited by Cherry Ferretti, who got drugged and raped by a good friend before leaving porn to recently return for more handcuff play, just different.
This episode is good entertainment.

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#593518 - 06/12/13 09:36 AM Re: The Pornarium [Re: drained]
Jerkules Offline
Porn Jesus

Registered: 07/15/09
Posts: 12542
Loc: 3 feet high and rising
Originally Posted By: PulpeD
Rob Black's a retard.


Yep.
_________________________
Thinking of cracked-out and/or tweaking whores getting their throats and asses brutalized for the next hit makes me hard. --Rear Admiral

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#593759 - 06/16/13 10:22 AM Re: The Pornarium [Re: drained]
drained Offline
Porn Jesus

Registered: 02/12/08
Posts: 4580

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#593760 - 06/16/13 11:33 AM Re: The Pornarium [Re: drained]
drained Offline
Porn Jesus

Registered: 02/12/08
Posts: 4580











Attachments
Rob Black_01.jpg (519 downloads)
Rob Black_02.jpg (520 downloads)
Rob Black_03.jpg (526 downloads)
Rob Black_04.jpg (514 downloads)
Rob Black_05.jpg (515 downloads)


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#593761 - 06/16/13 11:35 AM Re: The Pornarium [Re: drained]
drained Offline
Porn Jesus

Registered: 02/12/08
Posts: 4580











Attachments
Rob Black_06.jpg (507 downloads)
Rob Black_07.jpg (505 downloads)
Rob Black_08.jpg (506 downloads)
Rob Black_09.jpg (510 downloads)
Rob Black_10.jpg (501 downloads)


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#593762 - 06/16/13 11:37 AM Re: The Pornarium [Re: drained]
drained Offline
Porn Jesus

Registered: 02/12/08
Posts: 4580









Attachments
Rob Black_11.jpg (507 downloads)
Rob Black_12.jpg (484 downloads)
Rob Black_13.jpg (495 downloads)
Rob Black_14.jpg (496 downloads)


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#593764 - 06/16/13 11:50 AM Re: The Pornarium [Re: drained]
Jerkules Offline
Porn Jesus

Registered: 07/15/09
Posts: 12542
Loc: 3 feet high and rising
He looks like he is in the running for the lead in the next Bumfights video.

Cancer, AIDS, Crack: Whats yer guess?
_________________________
Thinking of cracked-out and/or tweaking whores getting their throats and asses brutalized for the next hit makes me hard. --Rear Admiral

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#593765 - 06/16/13 12:02 PM Re: The Pornarium [Re: drained]
J.B.
Unregistered


I don't know which is douchier: the rasta flag bowl or the ralph steadman rippoff font on his campaign poster.

What I do know is that the way Pipsqueak's been licking the guy's nuts, we should expect a jealous Rob Longshot to make an appearance soon. And I know we're all looking forward to that. sportswami



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#593766 - 06/16/13 12:14 PM Re: The Pornarium [Re: drained]
drained Offline
Porn Jesus

Registered: 02/12/08
Posts: 4580

The guy just rambles on about how Stagliano'll get prosecuted, the pimpy elite taken out, testing, booking and such centralised and regulated just like other businesses. When he's coherent.

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#593775 - 06/16/13 03:54 PM Re: The Pornarium [Re: drained]
Barry the Pirate Offline
Porn Jesus

Registered: 12/09/08
Posts: 8432
Loc: Great Pacific Northwest
I like Rasta colors. When I make fimo pocket pipes, the Rasta ones sell like North Korean orphans to Chinese Nike factories.

My SO hates them because the Mexican flag is the same colors.

I was thinking he looked skinny as fuck too. Maybe the prison rape left him shattered shell of he formal self.
_________________________
Having killed someone doesn't make you a killer- @KINGROCHE

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#593794 - 06/16/13 08:06 PM Re: The Pornarium [Re: drained]
Jerkules Offline
Porn Jesus

Registered: 07/15/09
Posts: 12542
Loc: 3 feet high and rising
I hope he wasn't an AIDS patients prag in the joint. I hear rumor that Federal is much easier time to do than State or County, though.
_________________________
Thinking of cracked-out and/or tweaking whores getting their throats and asses brutalized for the next hit makes me hard. --Rear Admiral

Top
#593830 - 06/17/13 10:47 AM Re: The Pornarium [Re: drained]
drained Offline
Porn Jesus

Registered: 02/12/08
Posts: 4580
A rather useless ADT account birthed this unwanted offer via e-mail a few months ago:


"Subject: Thank you and a special offer

Hi, Marcus London here.

I check in here on the forum from time to time, and I'm always happy to see what a passionate bunch of fans us 'performers' have...

I want to say thank you.

As an adult film aficionado, your continued support is what allows people like me (I've been in over 400 titles at this point) to put food on the table and feed our families!

And I can't tell you how good it feels to see that the work we do positively affects you as a fan.

So with all of this in mind, I've sent out this message. You see, I'd like to get some feedback from you. (more on that in a little bit..)

As you may know, I've started to take my adult film career in a different direction, using the experience I've gained to help ordinary guys get better at sex.

I've done some private 1 on 1 'sex coaching' for a while now, but recently I decided to reach out and help a greater number of clients by creating cutting-edge sex education video programs. In these programs I help ordinary guys (and girls) improve their sex lives by teaching them the skills I've developed during my career as a top adult film actor.

So why am I randomly writing to tell you about this?

Well, I figured there's a chance you might be interested in learning what I teach.

Since you're clearly comfortable with your sexuality (the first BIG step to being great in bed), I figured that you're also open-minded enough to want to explore the outer limits of your partner's sexual potential.

(No wife or girlfriend required, by the way... what I teach has worked for me and my students during MANY one night stands and casual relationships)

In particular, I have had a LOT of success teaching my students the step-by-step method to give a woman her first squirting orgasm.

(it's pretty simple once I walk you through it, and when a woman experiences one of these explosions for the first time... Wow! She'll want you to do it to her again and again)

Does this sound like something you'd like to learn?

If it is, I'd really like to you to try this technique out for yourself and let me know how it works for you.

My students' success rate with this technique has been extremely high, but I'm always looking to perfect my teaching approach. I feel that getting honest feedback from adult film connoisseurs such as yourself will make these techniques even more effective.

So, if you're at all interested, go here and check out this video that explains more, including a special offer only for adultdvdtalk.com forum members: http://www.2girlsteachsex.com/cmd.php?ad=626067

And be sure to PM or email me with any questions you may have.

Thanks again!

Cheers,

-Marcus"


Marcus London got interviewed by a subscription-based magazine recently and while Gene Ross was identified as a retard before, copying and pasting correctly and giving a working link to the source he copied it from is something for his future endeavours.
Not completely disregarding the introduction by the editor of the magazine, who was pleased enough with the result to make the interview people're supposed to pay money for publically accessible for free is something he can always try sometime. Just like actual links to the exact sites he copies content from to then fuck with its formatting like an idiot.


[source link 1/3]

[source link 2/3]

[source link 3/3]

____________________________________________________________________________

Porn Parody

The Fuck You, Marcus London Issue :: June 5, 2013


Marcus London Ain't Someone U Fuck With
By Leigh Cowart



Editor's Note: Leigh Cowart, NSFWCORP's sex and science editor, spent five days living with porn star Marcus London and his entourage before writing this remarkable profile, which first appeared in Issue Three of NSFWCORP's print edition.

One of the themes of the piece was its subject's eagerness to be accepted as a mainstream performer and director, not just a porn star.

Apparently Mr London should be careful what he wishes for. Shortly after the piece was published, he took to Twitter to voice his displeasure at the piece. He didn't dispute a single fact or quote (and nor could he -- as editor on the piece, I can testify to the pains Leigh took to ensure that Mr London was represented fairly and accurately) . Rather, his initial tweets were limited to the standard whining of a first time interviewee: the author had taken his words (his homophobia, his belief that disabled babies should be killed) out of context. Even his follow-up threat that "i ain't someone u fuck with" was more comical than troubling (Careful readers will note that Marcus London is a porn star. As such, his entire job is to be fucked with.)

From there, though, his posts became more menacing including specific and repeated threats to come to our office in Las Vegas to exact revenge, and comments about how he was trying to find the home address of NSFWCORP staffers.

NSFWCORP is no stranger to threats, and bigger men than Marcus London (5'7") have issued them. That said, it's a running "joke" at NSFWHQ that we spend our lives writing about Chechen bombers, CIA assassins and billionaire industrialists but it'll likely be a disgruntled nobody whose name we misspelled who shows up with a shotgun. Given his enthusiasm for fantasy gun-play, his demonstrable god complex and the fact that he is entirely unused to criticism, Marcus London might just be stupid enough to follow through on his threats. I can't adequately describe how ridiculous it feels to have to contact law enforcement in three states (Nevada, California and North Carolina) and explain that one of my writers is being threatened by a pint-sized cockney in a loin cloth. But such is the rich tapestry of this job.

Security precautions addressed, there remains the question of how to publicly respond to a man who thinks threatening a female writer with physical violence is a good way to bury an unflattering profile. A simple "stick your threats up your arse, you gobby little cunt" is one option, from one Brit to another. But that's somewhat lacking on the "teachable moment" front. A more effective response might be to demonstrate that, if anything, threatening our writers will only cause us to double down on our reporting. So here we go...

Ordinarily NSFWCORP print features do not appear online (except as pdf downloads for print subscribers). On this occasion, however, we've decided to make an exception -- unlocking the entire profile for the world to better get to know the man, the legend, the AVN award winner for best porn parody: Marcus London.

-- PBC


London's Calling

By Leigh Cowart


I’ve been with Marcus London less than ten minutes, and already we're watching porn. On the screen, a fleshy blur of jackhammering and grunting fills a set dressed to recall a Roman costume party. Marcus is a porn star. A short British man, covered in tan, with bulbous muscles that strain the veiny seams of his skin. He has closely cropped hair, translucent white teeth, and the kind of bright blue eyes that don’t require careful lighting to illuminate. Some faded tribal tattoos adorn his biceps, which bulge from what appears to be a woman’s black tank top.

He outlines his special gift as only Marcus London can:

“I can put my hand inside a woman and I can tell. I can feel things. Like car mechanics looking under the hood of a car, I know what does what.”

He has already informed me with professional pride that he recently set— created, then set—the world record for making women ejaculate: five women in thirty seconds. And he claims he can teach any man to make any woman “squirt.” For those without his natural expertise, he has created an educational DVD, and an extraordinary wristwatch.

We'll get back to the watch. At the moment he is cruising through porn tube sites, trying to find the pop-up ad that redirects to his series of instructional videos. A blur of bleached assholes, hypertrophied penises, and small, pink nipples cover the monitor. He can’t find the pop-up.

“I don’t have any respect for porn. Just ’cause I do it, don’t mean that I like it.” It’s daunting, the task of profiling a person. I want to get everything right, see all the angles, watch and learn and dissect and piece back together all the parts that so seamlessly blend together to make one whole person. Marcus London will prove to be a difficult study.

The Beginning

I first met Marcus at the 2013 Adult Entertainment Expo in Las Vegas, a massive convention of porn stars and pervy novelty products. The Expo is the cash-cow prelude to the "Oscars of porn," the Adult Video News (AVN) Awards. Marcus was in Sin City to promote “Spartacus MMXII: The Beginning,” a reimagining of the gladiatorial classic, with hardcore fucking. The movie, which Marcus had written, produced and directed, was a shoo-in for an AVN, but Marcus had far larger ambitions. Marcus was already a star, a two time AVN Award winner with over 384 film appearances to his name and a dozen directorial credits. He acted like a star too.

My assignment was to interview him at the penthouse suite at the Hard Rock Casino and Hotel. Seated in a deeply upholstered chair that dwarfed my frame, I waited for him to arrive. Meanwhile his smothering, schmoozy agent fussed over my shiny red hair and patted my arm every fifteen minutes or so with an update as to Marcus’s estimated time of arrival.

Finally The Star arrived, fresh from the airport, with his pretty blonde wife in tow. He shook my hand, invited me to sit back down, and motioned to his wife to do the same. Before we started, Marcus wanted to make one thing very clear. Even though "Spartacus" was nominated for “Best Porn Parody–Drama,” his masterpiece (based on the STARZ show, not the movie) was not a parody. In fact, Marcus practically flinched at the sound of the “p-word.” His preferred term was “sexually acted epic.” (Later that weekend, when "Spartacus" won, Marcus repeated this assertion from the stage. As if prepared for such an eventuality—and the lawsuits that would follow without a “parody” defense—a curvy blonde woman clamped her hand over his mouth and escorted him off stage). One on one, though, Marcus had free reign to explain what set his movie apart.

According to Marcus, the story of "Spartacus" is more important than porn. There's a story, there's music, there's “tasteful, artistic sex.” The sets were dressed by hand; the costumes were sewn by the cast in his garage turned- sweatshop; the music, carefully chosen, was soaring and essential. The fight scenes were practiced and perfected. The pubic hair was painstakingly groomed or attached with glue. And the overt theatricality of pornographic sex — the moaning and grinding — was toned down as much as possible. Marcus passionately explained his movie, the gap his work was filling, the bridge he was crossing, the new frontier he was exploring. His wife — who co-starred in the movie — sat absolutely silent.

It was shortly after the interview, as I walked back through the Expo hall, that I first encountered the watch. A giant cutout of Marcus loomed over the stand, which was enthusiastically manned by Aaron the engineer. Aaron, the watch's actual inventor, seemed delighted when I bought one. He threw in a second for free, as well as some instructional DVDs, brochures, and two bags of Gushers fruit snacks. Back at NSFWCORP’s downtown Vegas office, I showed the watch to my editor, Paul.

Battling with an eyelash curler in preparation for the AVN Awards Show, I explained the story of Marcus, his silent wife, his desire to break into mainstream cinema and—of course— the watch.

“It doesn’t tell time?” Paul asked.

“No.”

There was no doubt in either of our minds: I was going to be spending a lot more time with Marcus London.




Sunday

It's a little over a month later when I land in LAX for my week-long stay at Marcus' private ranch. The logistics have been troublingly easy to arrange: apparently it's perfectly normal to invite yourself to live with a porn star. In the confines of his home office, the auteur continues to defend “Spartacus.”

“It’s not a porn. I won’t classify it as a porn.”

(It is definitely a porn.)

He takes me through a viewing of the many (nearly identical) trailers he cut. An action sequence features choreographed fights and a well executed wire trick, then abruptly gives way to fucking. There’s really nothing realistic about sex on camera but here the suspension of disbelief is further tested by the jarring switch from battleground to bedroom. Grimy, color-corrected wide shots jump to close-ups of well-primped genitals. Basically, if you want the ball-slapping angles, the sex is going to be porny. Several trailers are softcore-only, crafted to appeal to men who are too scared to break out their gonzo anal- POV porn with their delicate, pearl clutching girlfriends.

“People told me it was the best movie they’d ever seen.” On screen, a gigantic mass of muscle and phallus lumbers toward a panting girl. “Put your cock inside me,” she quips. To further his point, that his movies are better than porn, or rather that they are, “porn that doesn’t feel like porn,” he shows me footage of a movie he shot three years ago. It’s about a woman who loses her husband and keeps having sex dreams, then finally ventures out to a masked swingers party. It features real swingers. It stars his wife, Devon Lee. “And the sex party is realistic. I know; I’ve been to lots of those parties.”

As the movie starts, he explains to me that the flashbacks are in black and white, but the color is real life. On-screen, Devon stirs awake in her bed, pantomiming sad. (“We shot this in one day.”) He skips ahead, pausing for scenes of her talking to a masked woman, dreaming of her dead husband, receiving a mysterious sex-party mask in the mail. The music at this point is a clichéd and pulsing bo-do-do-booow, but once she starts fucking at the sex party, it changes to what sounds like the soundtrack to "Gladiator."

“The music takes away that dirtyfilthy feeling. It helps describe what the character is feeling.”

We are watching another guy fuck Marcus’s wife.

“Imagine 'The Notebook' without music!” (I cannot.)

Marcus is keen to give me a tour of the two-story ranch that he shares with his wife, and porn actors Tommy Gunn and Tony DeSergio. Today, though, the house is being used as a porn set: the crew is preparing to film lesbian porn and are just waiting for their director to appear.

We venture into the bright, cold California afternoon. Out at the workshed, Tony DeSergio is hammering away, building a confessional for the gay porn that is being shot at the house next week. Tony is the taller, leaner, sweeter counterpart to Marcus. He’s the roommate that cooks. He too is a porn veteran, also clad in black workout gear, and also covered in swollen musculature and ropey veins as thick as milkshake straws. As I watch him laying out wood for the frame, I note the tell-tale lawn of uniform stubble that confirms he shaves his arms. Behind us is a shed filled with homemade "Spartacus" props.

Wooden shields with big, round metal nipples in the center, heavy metal swords, a formidable gladiator helmet, and some beautiful leatherwork that they had custom made for the film line the walls of the congested storage room. Marcus knows the story, the work hours, the usage of every item in that shed, and those details and memories flicker across his face each time he finds something new to show me. He’s most proud of the helmet, a hulking and weighty piece of metalwork. There is no way I could wear this thing for any significant length of time. I am impressed.

After my brief tour, we settle on the patio with four Shih Tzus and talk about Marcus for another hour or two, beginning with a description of his ideal film:

“My perfect analogy of my perfect movie is James Bond with sex.” We go over his work history. After starting out working in his father’s pub, Marcus soon progressed to dancing in his skivvies before moving on to fucking ladies on camera for dollars. He speaks with pride about managing London strip clubs with a team of what he describes as “scary mobster goons with guns” as his club security.

Halfway through the conversation, Marcus’ wife calls. He puts her on speakerphone without telling her that he’s in the middle of an interview that is also being recorded. I wait for him to ask me to step away or turn off my recorder, but he doesn’t.

Sounding tired and whiney, Devon asks Marcus if he’s “done anything this weekend,” universal spousal speak for have you done this thing you were not supposed to do? He hasn’t. She queries again. He says he’s sure he hasn’t. He does, however, call her a stupid drunk, but I’m pretty sure it was meant with love. Hard to tell. After the interview, Marcus drives me and Tony to an Italian restaurant for lunch.

When Tony has finished interrogating the cashier on the freshor- frozen status of the food (everything is frozen), the duo discuss the logistics of the confessional they are building. They can’t agree whether or not to use wood paneling or to fake it with fabric. This conversation will recur like a leitmotif for the entirety of my stay.

When the food arrives without silverware and the pizza without plates, feathers are ruffled and Marcus sends me to get plates from the kitchen. The silverware and plates are self-serve by the napkins, straws, and soda machine but, in the interest of keeping things peaceable for now, I get them anyway. Marcus asks what publication I write for and what kind of things I write about. I realize he has invited a total stranger to follow him around for days—and to stay in his house— without even a basic Google search. I give him my job title and mention that I cover infectious diseases when the need arises. Naturally, he wants to talk about Ebola.

“How can a virus hide from people?”

Fortunately, the conversation quickly turns back to gym routines and nutrition. Marcus swears that carbs are not a bad thing, but insists that meat is the enemy. He croons that he has dropped fifteen pounds in a week just by going vegetarian. Without meat, he doesn’t get sleepy after meals! Without meat, he feels more clear-headed! I think he used the term “meat bloat.” Tony does not pipe in during this portion of our talk, instead poking his fork at the once-frozen meatballs that sit thick and uneaten on a sticky nest of spaghetti.

Later that night, director Nica Noelle arrives, after having called the crew to gather at 10 o’clock in the morning. When I enter, she is sitting at the dining room table working on a script. Today’s shoot is for her company, Girl Candy, the feature: "Lesbian Voyeur 2." Also at the table, fully made-up starlets play iPad games and flip through their phones.

Nica is tall, with long ombre hair that falls near her waist in roiling, beachy waves. She’s wearing a dress barely longer than her hair, a short, cream-colored sweater that skims the tops of her thighs, revealing a bare length of leg down to her tan Ugg boots. Her face is framed by prominent, hipster-esque glasses and she asks in a sweet, breathy voice that I not attribute quotes to her that she did not say. I assure her I will not.

Nica has the utmost respect for Marcus. A hard-worker, she emphasizes. A really smart guy. She tells me that she is used to being the smartest person in the room, but when Marcus is around, she defers to his expertise. I want to know where she sees him in five years. Without a moment's pause, she bobs her head, ruffles her hair, and says she hopes he is in mainstream film by then. Because that’s where he’d be happy.

“It’s where he belongs.”

I have to know: What’s the difference in their directorial techniques?

She laughs. “Well, I’m a pornographer. Marcus is something else.”

I spend the rest of the evening on set. Marcus strolls about flirting with the chatty girls, leaving the quiet ones alone. A beautiful pale girl in a silk robe video-chats with her young child at the far end of the table. The stills photographer, Joshua Darling, is dreadfully sick with some sort of disgusting cold so I make him tea (it’s lactation tea, but it’s all I have and it seems to help). Marcus struts about like a laidback rooster in a henhouse, cracking jokes, keeping his dogs quiet, and never letting anyone forget whose house this is.

The only real difference between a porn set and a conventional film set is the frequency with which naked people stroll into the room. Everyone seems happy, healthy, and welladjusted. The banter ranges from Krav Maga to foot care to poking fun at the assistant in charge of check-writing at the end of the night.

At 2 a.m. the cast and crew has slipped into the best kind of delirium. The last two girls to shoot their sex scene, who were, only moments earlier, grim faced and grumpy, return from their night's work with ear-to-ear smiles, strutting back into the kitchen naked and loose with that instantly recognizable post-fuck swagger. The scent of pussy hangs in the air, tinged with the unmistakable flowery smell of vaginal douches. Dirty jokes, loosened tongues, and fatigue fill the house. Someone fishes panties out of the sofa. Tony is padding around the house, collecting things for my bed, while members of the crew give me their business cards and a gentleman tries to explain to me why people are into bondage.

I let Mr. Bondage talk as he shows me—on his cellphone—dozens of pictures of a blonde, buxom woman in various stages of hardcore bondage. He’s showing me a picture of her tied to a wall, and carefully explaining that men who could never dream of fucking her get off on seeing her in such an available state. He does this for many pictures until I tell him that I am well aware of the pros and cons of bondage and am no stranger to being tied up. He offers me a job.

As does the assistant director, who tells me matter of factly that he’d definitely like to watch me having sex. It’s a polite offer with all the interest of a business deal: professional and only as charming as necessary.

As the shoot wraps and people start breaking down the lights and loading out, Marcus steps up behind my chair, pats me on the head, and tells me that my bed is ready. This head-patting business is an arm-breaking offense but I am working and tired and it is just too weird a boundary-blur to deal with. Also, I am still freezing and, like many a reptile, the cold makes me sluggish. I sleep with the covers over my head to conserve warmth and maintain my girlish obscurity. Life as an innocuous blanket lump is good and I don’t do anything weird in Marcus’ living room, like REM-hump the sofa or scream in my sleep about the nanobots in my colon.

Monday

Today Marcus is working on a non-porn “action short” called “Walk the Dog.” It’s the story of two brothers, one of whom gets his gangster boss thrown in jail. Big Boss gets out, calls a meeting, tells Brother One to kill Brother Two. The brothers escape, antics ensue, ending in a montage of nuns wielding machine guns. Brother One realizes it’s all been a daydream, and is still in the car with Big Boss and Brother Two. Brother One shoots Brother Two, who has a metal yo-yo in his breast pocket. Brother Two survives. Walk the Dog is a yo-yo trick that requires two people to perform. Twist!

I’m sitting in the driver’s seat pretending to be Brother Two, who will actually be played by Tommy Gunn. I wonder if there is anything in the script to account for the fact that one of the men has a thick Jersey accent while the other is clearly British.

“Speak!” barks Marcus— demanding that I help him test the audio equipment. For a brief instant I consider yelping like a dog. Tony is outside the car setting up a camera, pointing it in my face and apologizing because he thinks I don’t like cameras. Finally, Tommy Gunn arrives and they are ready to shoot.

The camera malfunctions and Marcus, a perfectionist, is flustered and annoyed. He slings orders and other noise at Tony, who is working one of the two cameras. The screen keeps going black, which Tony of course, would like to keep from happening so that he can get the shot, but Marcus is snippy with him.

Tommy Gunn shifts in his seat, looking bored and not a little put out. He looks over his script, mouthing the clunky, cruel dialogue, waiting for things to settle and cameras to roll. I watch Marcus in his frustration, his halting directorial style, the way he bites and snaps and insults his friends. I know the type, so focused in their pursuit that their attentive, perfectionistic temperaments tip over into aggression. Action trumps civility. The task at hand becomes the only reality, and anything that gets between you and completion is ripe for the cutting block. Even his attempts at humor during the shoot fall flat, mocking Tony for needing to look through the lens with his left eye, dubbing him Tony Weird Eye for whatever eye ailment is making Marcus’ shoot last longer.

The batteries start to die. The light is changing too fast.

Inside the black Honda SUV, Marcus and Tommy are shooting and re-shooting the opening scene. The dialogue plods, delivered back and forth with the awkward beats of a rehearsal. Which it is, mind you; the purpose of this shoot is to get a feel for the short, to do some test editing, to play. So maybe when they shoot it for real it will be better, feel natural, and possibly even be compelling. Right now, though, it looks like two bored dudes playing at action heros by yelling at an invisible prostitute in the back of their car while their bro films it so they can put that shit on YouTube.

Mercifully, the batteries finally give up the ghost.

Marcus and Tony decide to run errands; Tommy Gunn and his gelled, black hair go off to get testosterone injections. At this point, the fellas apologize for being boring, seemingly worried that I’m not going to have enough material, that their life isn’t rock ‘n roll enough.

Twenty minutes later we are having lunch in a Panera Bread. As Marcus eats chicken noodle soup, Tony goes through the various performance-enhancing drugs he’s taken over the years—both for muscles and for penile turgidity. He is making me laugh into my coffee with his visceral descriptions of the Viagra flush, enacting all of the blood rushing to his chest and face. Loudly. Everyone else in the restaurant is trying to pretend they can't hear him. This is California, after all.

Next stop is JoAnn’s Fabric Store to look for something that could serve as a false dividing wall for the gay porn confessional they’re building. Well, that Tony’s building. Marcus still thinks that they should just make a solid wood frame but Tony wants the fabric and Marcus helps him sift through bolts of fabric and piles of factory scraps.

The two men are again dressed in closely matching all-black workout attire. Tony carries a black shoulder bag, which is to say, a purse. I’ve often wondered why more men don’t carry shoulder bags; they are so practical. The woman working the fabric counter eyes them skeptically, watching them scrutinize heavy upholstery fabrics and thick, matte strips of brown, textured pleather. “Doesn’t this look rather Catholic-y to you?” Tony asks, holding up a deep purple-and-gold embroidered swath of fabric. I agree. Marcus is loudly unconvinced that using fabric in place of wood paneling in the confessional divider is a good thing, but I point out that churches are covered in fabric stapled to the walls, so it’d probably be fine.

They buy the brown plasticine couch material and some heavy, patterned cloth to serve as a tapestry in one of the non-confessional scenes. We scour the store for premade crosses, but with no luck. After Jo-Ann’s we go to the gym, where Marcus is in a mood to philosophize.

“Nature doesn’t make fat lions, you know? You never see a fat lion.”

Everyone is staring at me. I’m wearing street clothes and my coat (I’m cold goddammit), watching a pained, flushed man push himself to the limit. Tony is two repetitions in and his chest and face are red as an apple, the muscles of his back rippling menacingly under what appears to be severe sunburn. There is such an instantaneous change in his physiology that I feel some alarm as his already prominent veins bulge and dilate, stretching to accommodate the blood flow surging to and from his heart. Marcus makes a sweeping survey of the people sweating away in the gym and comments on the vast diversity of bodies present. His gaze lingers on a few of the less fit participants and launches into a conversation with himself about junk food.

Knowing approximately three things about the insidiousness of junk food science, I offer my input about the science of keeping people eating while simultaneously keeping their bodies from registering that they are full. I have, however, misjudged where this Marcus Monologue is headed. Because it’s not about the fat people. It’s about the New World Order.

“It’s a government culling program to control the human race. As the Zeitgeist says, the population is classed as the eaters.”

He explains that everything is controlled by a select group of people who are going to act in the best interests of the few with no mind for morality or ethics. He tells me that they control everything, that everything is a united front, that if you challenge it you will be thrown out. If you talk, you’re killed.

I ask him why he’s not dead for speaking out.

He shrugs me off, continuing his recitation of that Peter Joseph movie. I ask him, has he ever been involved in local politics? The politics of even a small group are often so intractable, so messy, so fraught with competing interests. How is it remotely possible for one, small, nefarious organization to carry off a perfectly-executed global conspiracy? “Illuminati.”

As he pulls the weighted bar behind his neck, he tells me through broken grunts that if you just took all of the money out of the world, everything, all power, would be even. We move on to the next machine area where Tony is already, pulling and grunting and red. And, as I notice throughout the entire Zeitgeist rant, very quiet.

Marcus, flushed and sweaty and as chatty as ever, continues explaining himself to me. He’s always been a talkative man, but something about the gym has loosened his tongue to an amazing extent. Maybe it’s because he’s in his element. Maybe it’s all the blood flow. Maybe it’s the rush of being out on display. But whatever it is, he’s fallen into a certain ease with me, relaxed into more expansive posturing and a faster stream of consciousness.

The casual nature of the gym interview. Who knew? It’s almost endearing, talking to someone while they sweat and groan in the name of self-improvement. When focused on a task, people think less about what they are saying and more about what they are doing, leaving space for honest answers and removing the awkward silence that hangs around thoughtful pauses. “I don’t even like anal sex because that’s what gay people do.”

Cue the sound of a thousand cars slamming on their breaks and burning the thick rubber of their tires into choking clouds of smoke. “It’s unnatural. Gay sex is unnatural. Cavemen fucking each other if there aren’t women around? Unnatural.”

I look at him incredulously. “So you don’t like blow jobs either? Because someone sucking your dick, that’s definitely gayer than anal.”

He looks me square in the eye. “Blow jobs? I can take them or leave them.” So I ask: What then, is natural sex? His answer? Sex between a man and a woman for procreation. Under his definition, anal and oral sex is unnatural. I guess masturbation is unnatural? If the only natural sex is sex in the pursuit of a gravid mate, then sex for the sole sake of pleasure is unnatural. This, from someone who makes all of his money as a sex worker! I try to take a moment to wrap my head around the fact that this man who fucks on camera, for pay, is leading me into a discussion of what constitutes natural sex, his living literally predicated on the diversity of sexual preference and the seeking of sexual pleasure.

He is continuing his homophobic rant, trying to justify his stance that homosexuality is unnatural when Tony points out some grey hairs on Marcus’ neck. Marcus explodes, spinning around and yelling at Tony.

“My wife grooms me! That’s what she’s for!”

I’m taken aback at the sudden vitriol over a few stray, faded neck hairs. I haven’t seen this kind of violent reaction from Marcus all weekend and it admittedly makes me a little bit queasy. I consider emailing Paul—who is already quite worried about the journalist he sent to go live at some porn dude’s house for a week . Maybe I could get a hotel for the remainder of my stay.

But before I have the time to process what is happening, Marcus launches back into our conversation about ass stuff. Mired in suspicion, I ask again if he really doesn’t like anal because it’s too gay.

He tells me, vehemently, that he prefers pussy. That’s all he wants. Referring to a woman’s asshole, he says “I don’t even want to see it. Put a plaster on it!” I try to imagine my response to a man telling me to put a Band-Aid on my asshole.

Tony, who has been quiet through all of this finally pipes up between reps. “Actually, I like anal because it’s so personal.” I smile at him, happy to hear him disagree with Marcus while Marcus is on such a tear. (I later found out that Tony used to bottom in gay porn. After hearing Marcus ceaselessly shit talk men who do both straight porn and gay porn, asserting that gay men shouldn’t be allowed to do straight porn, I wonder if Marcus knows about Tony’s gay porn past.) I ask Marcus if he’s ever put anything in his ass. Surely, either out of curiosity or the spell of a compelling woman, at some point in his life, he has poked the prostate.

“No! I’ve never put anything in my ass.” He tells me that I need to make sure that goes in the article. Marcus London has never, ever put anything in his asshole. He confidently tells me, “If there was a straightest man in the world, you just met him.”

I nod.

According to Marcus, if you like something in your butt, you’re gay. Never mind that all men, regardless of sexual orientation have the same basic anatomy; any man who puts so much as the tip of his lady’s finger in his ass at any point in their relationship is actually a closeted gay man and is, then, I guess unnatural. Wait, I guess all ass touching is unnatural and gay. “Marcus, am I gay because I get assfucked?” As I say this I notice that the people around the back machines are giving us some serious glares. Talking about buttplay while pumping one’s lats is a big ol’ gym etiquette nono, apparently. What-ever.

He laughs. “No babe, you’re in the safe zone.”

I’m irritated.

“I have a much more radical way of life than most folks.” He beams at me, enjoying his perceived ability to shock the journalist. I follow him to the water fountain. He gives me a Cheshire Cat grin, telling me that he’s going to tell me something that really pissed off his wife. The “thing” being that he thinks that all babies with any mental or physical defects should be aborted. “I think about how hard it is for us normal people. To know that you are giving birth to something that will suffer…”

I point out that this is a very slippery slope. He mentions autism as an abortable condition. I mention again the slippery slope, but I’m mostly just staring at him while he outlines his plan to make humans happier and less handicapped by killing a lot of babies, retarded people, and the handicapped. To reduce suffering by making sure that the babies born are all in tip-top shape. Marcus doesn’t believe in suffering, or rather, he believes that all suffering should be avoided. I tell him I think suffering builds character, that it of course serves a purpose and to avoid it is like avoiding sadness or nighttime or pooping or your own asshole. I ask him if he’s suffered; he says he hasn’t. Has had a great life and doesn’t understand the need to suffer. That he thinks that those people doomed to suffer should be culled.

By the time we make it back to the car, Marcus is explaining who deserves the experience of life. And let me tell you, it’s not kids without legs.

The conversation shifts. Marcus tells me he would “cut off Axel Braun’s head with a Roman sword if this were Roman times.” (Axel Braun is a very successful porn director who does a lot of porn parodies.)

Sneering at a large van next to us, which he jokes must be full of Mexicans, he reminds Tony not to park next to beat up cars because they’ll scratch up his SUV. “Money keeps the shit away.”

We arrive at the grocery store. I follow Tony and Marcus around like some sort of resigned hound dog, sniffing at their conversation and wagging my tail on cue. Several dirty jokes are made at the expense of produce. They shop like an old married couple, except sweatier and more muscular. I feel bloated and tired and dissociated as I stroll the aisles with the boys. They buy vegan wieners, kombucha, a nice selection of vegetables, almond milk, packages of meat, bananas. Tony offers to buy me an energy drink.

The cashier think Marcus is Australian, and he attempts fake offense, but it doesn’t mask that he is actually, genuinely, pissed off. He lectures the cashier, instructing her on his origin and his lack of Australianness. She tells him it’s because he’s so tan. He asks her if she’s ever even met an Australian. I don’t remember her reply, only the look of irritation on her face. Dude, didn't anyone ever tell you not to fuck with hourly wage workers? It’s draining, spending hours and hours as a professional listener and question-asker for a single individual. Or maybe it’s just this individual. Regardless, it’s been a long day and my patience is wearing thin.

As soon as we get back in the SUV to head home, I ask Marcus if anyone ever thinks that he and Tony are a couple. Oh yes, he tells me, they most definitely do. He thinks it’s because they are in such good shape, are so good looking. I suggest that maybe it’s because they grocery shop together with such familiarity. I mean, no one really does that, outside of freshman roommates and romantic partners. I make sure to add that I think it’s great that he has such a close relationship with such a dear friend.

Marcus tells me he doesn’t mind the company of gay men, especially the “flamers.” Indeed, this is the man who made “Straight Guys for Gay Eyes,” a porn series in which the male performer fucks a lady, but the movie is shot and marketed towards dudes who fuck dudes. Incognito gay men, though, he doesn’t like to hang out with so much. He tells me a story about being left by some girls at a gay bar. He’s telling me that black gay men love him.

He tells me that gay men are certainly more successful that straight men. Oh my god I am so tired.

TUESDAY Tuesday morning finds me standing in the kitchen with the one, the only, Tommy Gunn. He’s making breakfast, and I, already fed and ready to work, am taking the opportunity to talk to the most elusive male in this desert porn compound.

My only encounter with Tommy prior to our breakfast chat has been his rather annoyed line-readings for the action short. Unsure if he is interested in talking to the reporter, I approach with caution, not wanting to spook him. I am richly rewarded.

With over 1,000 porn titles under his belt, veteran performer and Jersey boy Tommy Gunn has seen some shit. Shit that scares him. So much so that he has refurbished his van for the coming apocalypse. That’s right: Tommy Gunn has a zombie-proof van.

A matte black van, fully operational, outfitted with various armaments and with an empty water jug hanging from the back. It’s an $18,000 labor of love, two years in the making, with dark-red velvet upholstery, reinforced openings for weapons and thin ribbons of lights to set the mood. I guess? A shaggin’ wagon for the end of days! And in case any of it was too subtle, “zombie proof” is spray-painted on the side. Imagine my delight when Tommy Gunn, the Tommy Gunn, opened up the floodgates to gift me with a torrent of opinions, ready and willing and excited to lay out his worldview to be recorded for the ages. Here, in the order they were given to me, are Tommy Gunn’s thoughts.

The folks at Monsanto are pigs.

“Pigs!”

We should do away with money because money is meaningless. “No, really. What is money?” We have the technology we have today because an advanced alien civilization came to earth. The Illuminati, the powerful few, got to keep Earth and, in exchange for technology, have conspired to fatten up the rest of the earthlings for slaughter. All technology and entertainment exists to distract the people while they are fattened for slaughter.

We are all nine meals away from total global chaos, mass murder, cannibalism, and a sort of consumer horde zombie apocalypse.

Climate change is a hoax; it is our entire solar system that is heating up.

Tesla was robbed.

There is a project in Alaska that consists of an array of antennas that put out one million watts of electricity that affects the ionosphere that controls the weather. There are eight such weather control stations worldwide. They may or may not be involved in the chem trails that are probably controlling us and definitely testing things on us.

Fluoridated water is a nefarious plan to control the populace. Fluoride is rat poison and research shows that it serves no purpose.

All movies are true because the best place to hide something is in plain sight. Anyone who suspects something and tries to spread the word will be met with the ultimate cultural dismissal: “I saw that in a movie once.” Tommy Gunn doesn’t vote.

He believes the tragedy of Newtown, CT never really happened. It was faked to create an opportunity to disarm the populace. After all, the best way to make a law is because of an event. “I won’t get a stop sign at the top of the hill until someone has an accident.”

It is very suspicious that we haven’t been back to the moon. It is also very suspicious that the moon, in fact, does not spin. This is because there are aliens on the darkside of the moon. After all, if you were going to take over a planet, the dark side of the moon is the perfect base of operations. Tommy Gunn is bored of working in porn and doesn’t want to fuck on camera anymore. “I don’t want to leverage this physical act for money anymore. I want to keep it for someone special.” He’s tired of his career in porn being a “blemish on his record,” a thing that keeps him out of mainstream movies. He wants to be an action hero like Stallone. He says he looks the part. He believes he is ready. He just needs everyone to get over the idea that people can’t do porn and mainstream movies. After all, he is an actor.

And finally, Tommy Gunn is in love with a woman that makes his entire face light up when he talks about her.

Whew.

Exhausted, and a little paranoid, I make plans for an afternoon away from the compound. I’ve been too long in the Santa Clarita hills and need more than a few hours outside of this porn-y, absurdist bubble.

I let Marcus know I’m headed out and I’m not sure when I’ll be back, but I need to know how to work the giant metal gate that sequesters his home from the rest of the barren landscape. He is explaining to me how, if I come back at night, I’ll need to slip between the bars and onto the property so I can punch in the code, when Tony interrupts him.

“You should just tell us when you’re going to be back, Leigh. What you need to do is communicate with us.” I stare at this man I barely know, who is talking to me like I’m his bratty teenage daughter—or worse, his property. He’s not joking. He’s demanding an answer. I turn back to Marcus, who finishes telling me how to get back into the gate if I need to, and promptly get the fuck out of there. The silence inside my rental car is a revelation. I need a break from this surreal buddy comedy. Perhaps we all do. This might be as good a time as any to actually talk about the technology inside the squirt watch. To loosen the screws and peer into the science behind the squirt...




The Watch

The Marcus London G Watch (www.timetosquirt.com) is an "instant feedback device" that teaches the wearer the correct force and speed to use to make a woman ejaculate. That's it. The technique required for female ejaculation is straightforward enough, on paper at least: with your hand in the universal sign language position of “I love you”—also known as the Spiderman web shooter position— you hook your middle and ring fingers up against the g-spot (a spongy cluster of tissue, one to two inches inside, on the front wall of the vagina—feel around, you’ll find it) and move your entire arm (not your fingers, keep those fixed) until you reach the correct speed and force.

What the watch does is track your progress and informs you, through a series of colored lights, when it's —ahem — “time to squirt.” To answer your immediate questions: no, the watch does not tell time. And, yes, it is waterproof. The first time I asked Marcus about how the watch worked, he laughed off the question, telling me how vastly complicated and advanced the technology was. “If you asked Aaron [the engineer] how it worked, you’d be snoozin’ babe, bored to tears within seconds.”

I called Aaron.

Aaron is the engineering mastermind behind the watch and the founder of Orgasmic Research. A biomedical electrical engineer, who contributed 34 parts to the Mars Curiosity Rover that is currently roaming the red planet, Aaron is no pauper when it comes to brains. And, as it turns out, his little squirting watch is a pretty sophisticated piece of sex tech. So how did he go from working on drone technology to female ejaculation?

If you’re asking that question, you probably haven’t known many engineers. As Aaron tells it, when he was in his early twenties, he stumbled upon a way to trigger squirting orgasms in the woman he was fucking at the time. Years went by before he did it again, but one day he’s in the vicinity and remembers that old technique. Squirting success! A lightbulb of engineering curiosity goes off: how does this work?

Down the bunny hole he went, making woman after woman ejaculate, all the while spreading the gospel of his methods to anyone who would listen. Aaron feels, very passionately, that this type of orgasm should be widely understood and available to all women. Throughout our conversation, I cannot help but note his sincerity: this is a man who wants to change the world.

“I taught all my engineering friends, sometimes even going over to their houses and putting my hand alongside their own, right inside their wives, showing them how to trigger the squirting reflex. But I did the math: even if I taught three people a day every day for ten years, that’s only a little more than ten thousand people. And that’s not enough. I could spend my entire life teaching people in person and never reach a population greater than a large metro area.”

Aaron has tested his technique on hundreds and hundreds of women. He once made a woman ejaculate over forty times in a hour as an attention-getting proof-of-concept. (He also wanted me to note that it was definitely overkill and doesn’t recommend subjecting anyone to that unless they explicitly ask you to.) “My goal in life is to be responsible for one billion orgasms,” he says, without even a whiff of machismo. “And you have to have many, many people learning simultaneously if you want to change the world.”

Initially, Aaron spent six years trying to develop a kind of realistic squirting-trainer, similar to the vagina of a Real Doll, except this one would feature sensors and a feedback device to teach inquiring fingers how to do his “I love you” technique. However, he abandoned that idea when he was testing his technique on an actual Real Doll at a sex convention and even he felt uncomfortable finger fucking a fake pussy in public. “People were giving me looks. It felt weird. I knew there had to be a better way.”

And so came the watch. “The idea hit me on a plane, actually. The best way to learn is by doing and with a watch interface I could provide realtime feedback based on the force and speed of the motion.”

So Aaron bought some watches, gutted them, and got to work. The ultimate vehicle for world squirting knowledge is an instructional DVD, featuring the hired face of the product, Marcus London, and a waterproof watch with two sets of indicator lights that blink red upon motion, yellow when the motion is getting close to the necessary force and frequency, and green when it’s, well, when it’s time to squirt. But how the fuck does it work?

So glad you asked!

Inside each waterproof watch is a microprocessor containing an oscillator and a simple accelerometer. The oscillator measures the frequency, that is, how fast you’re moving your hand back and forth. The accelerometer, meantime, measures the force. The type of accelerometer found in the squirt watch is essentially the same as the 9-axis accelerometer in your cellphone that re-orientates the screen based on how you are holding it. Most women will ejaculate at 5 Gs, or five times the force of gravity. Marcus London’s technique clocks in at 9 G’s. And yes, that is a pretty unheard of level of g-spot force and totally unnecessary in the pursuit of the squirt.

The accelerometer and oscillator are the easy parts of the watch. Measurement, after all, is just taking data points. The hard part is the realtime feedback: turning that mess of data into usable feedback. The magic that does that, my little mathletes, is an averaging function called a fast fourier transform.

A fast fourier transform, or FFT as the cool nerds call it, is a handy way to convert a sampled function from its original domain—say, the data from the accelerometer with respect to time—to the frequency domain. Okay, so we have force data in terms of frequency. And we know what force and frequency we need to hit the right motion and force to trigger ejaculation. But how do we make that usable? The neat thing about Aaron’s FFT, the one the microprocessor uses, is that it takes real-time data and averages speed and force simultaneously, spitting out usable data in the form of a gorgeous sine wave, a kind of even, repeating oscillation. This smooths the data, allowing the watch to ignore subtle shifts in speed and force, instead providing broad, usable feedback. For the non-scientists, all you need to know is that all this technology is what makes the lights move from red to yellow to green, as you get closer to achieving your goal.

Truly, Aaron's watch is a labor of love. Unfortunately for him, the instructional materials Marcus has produced to accompany the watch do it no favors. Before I left for my trip, my partner Jerem and I sat down to watch the instructional DVD, which amounted to watching Marcus babble on and on and on about how to make a woman “squirt.”

Even before sliding in the DVD, I'd already watched hours of Marcus London on screen. I still had many hours still to watch. The instructional video was very nearly a bridge too far. The model next to him was blonde, quiet, and submissive. After a ramble about his perfect technique and how we too can learn to have Marcus’ hand on our hand to make our women squirt, he lubed his fingers, smeared the excess on her labia, shoved his fingers inside her, frantically moved his arm like he was being electrocuted, and then triumphantly showed his slick palm to the camera.

The noise his fingers made inside the poor girl were eerily similar to the sound a fist makes in a wet chicken carcass. However, both of the watches LEDs turned green, thusly demonstrating that indeed, it was time to squirt.

“Squirt!”

It was the moment when Marcus likened wearing this watch to literally having his hand on the end of your wrist that I knew I’d never use it.

The watch, as a stand-alone piece of faceless tech, is a fascinating and unique sexual device. As an extension of the Marcus London brand it just looks like an ego-ridden piece of plastic. Instead of telling time, his name is scrawled across the face. From a distance, it does look like the time, but up close? Branding.

Jerem and I stood there watching Marcus ramble about squirting as the new girl—one who had never squirted before—sat on the bed and drooped her eyes in an approximation of seduction. At one point during the preamble, she stood up and started stroking her body, and which point Marcus told her to sit back down. I couldn't tell if she was desperately attention-seeking or just luxuriating in the after-effects of a handful of pharmacology.

After he made her squirt, she asked him if she squirted.

“Did I do it?”

Marcus, undeterred, continued to upsell the ejaculating female orgasm as the greatest thing ever. Even though she didn’t know she’d had one.

Wednesday

I arrive back at Marcus’ house early in the morning, with enough time to shower and pack my things. Today he’s shooting one of his instructional videos for Ultimate Sex God Club, and I’m going along to watch.

The time to leave comes and goes. I sit in my rental car, deep inside a phone conversation, when a knock at the window startles the living fuck out of me. Marcus’s car won’t start, so he’s going to move his things into his other car.

Duly noted. I go back to my phone conversation.

Ten minutes later, another heart attack inducing window-knock. His other car is out of gas. Marcus rather sheepishly asks if I can take him to his shoot. I pop the trunk and tell him to load in.

There is a noticeable dynamic shift, from passenger to driver, apparent in his voice and posture. Or maybe Marcus has just finally gotten used to me and is more himself. Or maybe he’s preoccupied with car trouble and the day’s work ahead of him and doesn’t have time to be “on” for the journalist. Or maybe he just needs a fucking cup of coffee.

I need a fucking cup of coffee.

After stopping for coffee, we arrive at the gated home that’s been rented for today’s fuckery, a towering and angular grey building with a distinct cubist influence. We enter the large glass doors, climb the entryway staircase and take a sharp left into what’s been converted into the green room.

The green room features low, ottoman-style geometric seating, a pool table, a stripper pole, and several paintings of oddly proportioned women in various states of undress. There is one that’s just an enormous pair of lips, between which a long, shapeless leg is stretching, her foot dangling and clad in a toddler-size stiletto. I set my coffee in the empty bookshelf, squat on one of the strange low chairs, and turn my attention to the girls opposite the room while Marcus unzips his suitcases and begins discussing wardrobe decisions with the director.

Marcus nudges me and points to the underwear in his bag. “I’m wearing Tommy’s underwear today!”

Sure enough, there are two pairs of Tommy Gunn brand underwear, ready to be donned in the pursuit of commerce and squirting. I sincerely hope that if I ever have an underwear line featuring my name that I have friends so dedicated they will proudly wear my branding. That’s love.

The girls on set today are Nikki Seven and Carmen Calloway. Nikki has been in the industry for a bit, but Carmen is a brand-new baby porn star. She’s only been shooting for a couple of weeks and, at the time of this shoot, none of her scenes had been released yet. The dynamic between the girls is quite mentor-mentee, with the more experienced and markedly less enthusiastic Nikki teaching peppy little Carmen how to do the pre-scene douche and properly baby-wipe her vulva after she finishes working.

Carmen is pale and thin with long brown hair and is watching the cosmetic transformation of her peer with huge blue-green eyes. She has a ribcage tattoo and a pronounced dimple in her chin. She chirps rather than talks, in girly, animated fashion. Nikki, who’s currently receiving her daily allowance of eyeliner and flesh-toned pancake, has long bleached blonde hair, minimal body fat, and the necessary alt-girl accoutrement: a collection of piercings, gauged ears, and several large tattoos, one of which, on her wrist, she keeps hiding from the camera. She photographs nicely but in person her angles are very severe, bones and tendons grinding underneath her deeply tanned skin.

“Don’t get tattoos for two years. Don’t get boobs for two years. Only do that stuff after you’ve shot with everyone, then they’ll want to shoot you again.” Carmen says she never wants boobs, that she’s happy with her small ones. Nikki laughs. “Everybody says that. And everybody gets boobs.”

The conversation turns to their abortions and history of abusive boyfriends. The makeup artist, a short, thick Latina in her late thirties, is gossiping along with them, fawning over their war stories and agreeing that men are universally awful.

I leave the green room and venture out to find Marcus, who’s talking to the director. Said director immediately pulls me aside and tells me to please keep him out of the story; he’s the best kept secret in porn and he’d like to keep it that way.

The men are discussing today’s shoot and, like the rest of Marcus’s colleagues, Mystery Director has nothing but great things to say about him. Best work ethic in the business, legendary stamina, flawless technique, expert at reading body language, consistent, and dependable.

“He should be booked daily, absolutely.”

Marcus, who’s standing right there while the director gives him a winning blurb, gives a good-natured grin. “Go on…”

Director laughs. Marcus laughs. They have a good rapport and for the first time I feel like I’m getting a glimpse of that all-star worker everyone claims Marcus to be. He’s polite to everyone on set. He’s nice to the girls. He’s ultra professional. He’s thoughtful, helpful, and frankly, a bit charming. I make note of this and decide to explore the house.

The house looks like it was decorated during the 1980s, under the influence of a suitcase full of coke and staggering delusion. There is a fireplace in every room, and each one looks like a pile of broken glass. There is a foot-long lighter next to each one, shaped like a giant match. When in use, the gas flames lick the broken glass.

Every room is decorated with marble and brightly colored plastic that I believe is meant to look like brightly colored glass. There are towers of colored plastic shapes taller than I am. Small colored plastic cubes and pyramids and curved pieces are stacked atop each other. Like rejected designs for award statues, they litter the shelving and glass tables and marble. The living room features twostory floor-to-ceiling windows. The master bath has a bottle of Hugo that has to hold at least three litres.

The pool features intricate tilework and a multi-tiered fountain, the perimeter of this cocaine oasis is cluttered with objets d’art: a giant pair of lips, a silver mannequin, art deco lawn furniture and an outdoor bed whose curtains flutter in the breeze. I meet back up with Marcus.

Out of nowhere, he tells me that his wife wants him to stop doing this, gesturing towards the green room. That she wants him to be monogamous.I wasn’t really for that kind of divulgence. Marcus hasn’t exactly been the most vulnerable subject this week. “Are you sure that’s something you want to do? Could you do that?” “Absolutely,” Marcus nods emphatically. “I love her. I love her more than anything. I was a fool and didn’t realize what I had and now I can’t imagine life without her.” Marcus and Devon used to be swingers. Their relationship had been such that they were free to fuck other people for pleasure, together or separately. From what he tells me, he abused that privilege, even going so far as to leave his wife alone during the middle of dinner in a nice restaurant because he got a booty call.

He winces when he says that. We both do.

Trust began to fray. He began to lie about his activities. And Devon began going home frequently to see her family. Except she wasn’t going home to see her family; she was flying home to see the professional football player she’d fallen for. He was building her a house. She was going to leave Marcus. Marcus looks pained, worried.

“I learned my lesson, but I learned it late.” He tells me she’s coming home. That he’s quitting porn for her. Adopting monogamy for her. They are going to start a family, he tells me, sounding wistful. “I just look around me and she’s the only one I want. I can’t imagine starting over without her. I just don’t want to start over.” The crows feet around his blue eyes crinkle and for the first time, he looks his given age of forty-five.

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#593837 - 06/17/13 03:49 PM Re: The Pornarium [Re: drained]
drained Offline
Porn Jesus

Registered: 02/12/08
Posts: 4580

We proceed to the set. Today he’s shooting for a sex education company. Part of the shoot is a pre-sex interview in which he sits down with the girls and describes the how and why of the techniques he’s going to be demonstrating. The first video, which will feature Nikki, is about orgasmic order; that is, the different types of orgasms a woman can have and the order in which to provide them so that she can experience maximum pleasure. The second video, ejaculation control with Carmen, is a series of positioning tips and distraction measures to help men keep from prematurely blowing their load.

Watching the interviews, Marcus is selling pussy tricks right into the camera with the emphatic urgency of a preacher. “The squirting orgasm is like the missing link of orgasms. It’s so powerful, it’s addictive.”

As he describes his sex tips, the veteran Nikki slouches next to him, listening, providing commentary and covering a tattoo she wishes she didn’t have. Carmen, on the other hand, is sitting ramrod straight, feigning intense listening and doing a pretty spot-on impersonation of a Good Morning TV host while eyefucking the camera. And eyefucking the crew. And eyefucking me.

The audio guy on the floor next to me is reading Twitter while making sure that no one has a fucked up mic. Nikki asks if sticking peeps in her vagina for an Easter photo shoot would be a bad idea; I mention that it sounds like a great way to get a yeast infection and she should be careful not to leave melted peep in her lady parts. She thanks me.

In between interviews, Nikki, who’s not wearing underwear, flings her legs up over her head and asks if her vagina is showing. The new girl giggles and the crew chuckles. Marcus leans over and sniffs her crotch like a dog, getting a long nose-full before rubbing her folds with his fingers and murmuring with approval. She smirks at him. He throws her a practiced, lecherous snarl. I realize that this is the first time I’ve seen Marcus act remotely sexual since I’ve met him. The interviews wrapped, we head up to the bedroom for the sex shoots.

During the lull between talking on camera and fucking on camera, I learn that Carmen uses the phrase “right meow” and is very excited to be in porn, that Nikki has her EMT certification and wants to do mainstream movies, and that Marcus is very good at making each girl feel comfortable and ready to work. That’s not a euphemism, by the way. Marcus took time with each girl to talk to her, get a feel for what she liked, who she was, to outline the scene, and get acquainted. Before each shoot, he'd kiss his scene partner on the bed while the cameras set up, a short prequel of sorts to figure out the girl’s style and loosen the tension. Just before Nikki’s scene, “orgasmic order,” she prances through the room with the baby wipes and reminds Carmen to always wipe her butt crack.

Marcus is already on the bed, pre-tearing the corner of the condom and popping open the cap on the lube. Sure enough, he’s wearing his Tommy Gunn skivvies.

The scene starts. As part of the instructional nature of the series, Marcus narrates everything. Everything. He tells the viewer exactly what he’s doing the entire time he’s on camera.

Hats off to you, dude. Not many people can live-narrate eating pussy. For the first few minutes of the scene, Nikki is just flopped on the bed, skinny legs akimbo, eyes closed, motionless. From my angle, she looks asleep. Marcus is grunting and sucking and talking between her legs, coming up for air and a description of what his mouth and tongue are doing during the “head shaking technique.” Nikki stirs.

After the first few minutes of stillness, she warms up fast and hard. Her breathing changes, coming in shorter and shallow. Her long, bony toes curl into the duvet and she’s gripping the sheets. Marcus is still talking, narrating the build-up to her first clitoral orgasm of the shoot. The muscles of her thighs start to quiver, and Marcus, simultaneously mouthfucking her and talking, announces he’s going to send her over the edge. Which of course, he does.

What follows is an absurd chain of orgasms. Off come his Tommy Gunn panties with a level of finesse that is decidedly non-civilian. He’s putting on the condom. He’s tossing her about the bed. He’s making her come over and over with his succinctly narrated, relentless chain of techniques and suggestions. His butt is incredibly tan and spherical, like a basketball split in half and glued on. He fucks like a robot, precise and fast, changing angle and pace and rhythm like a deviant symphony conductor. Do it this way and then this way and then this way and then this way and then this way from here to eternity forever and ever amen. She’s come several times and I’m still not used to the constant narration. Carmen is beside me, covering her mouth, which is comically agape with what appears to be shock and glee.

Nikki is limp and writhing on the bed, her only job to be receptive to Marcus’s work. Marcus is panting, focused, talking and explaining and sweating and moaning and talking and pounding and oh my god I finally get it. In that instant, I understand Marcus London.

He props her up on her knees, her trembling, thin body slick with sweat, her blonde hair extensions stuck to her harshly angled face. In his final moment, he curls his hand into her, fingers hooked inside her, pressing into the g-spot behind her clitoris, and with furious precision, Marcus makes her ejaculate for the very first time.

“CUT!”

He towels off, but not before making Nikki squirt once more for good measure.

“I’ve had my vagina my entire life and I had no idea it could do that!” Carmen, who’s excited like a kid on Christmas morning, is squealing.

“Did you see how many times she came?!”

When Marcus returns from washing up, he sits across from me on a giant ottoman and with a sly grin, asks me what I think. I should also note that he’s sitting on a towel because Marcus and his erection are stone cold naked.

“Honestly? The narration was fucking crazy. The entire time! You talked the entire time! Do you ever screw up and forget to talk?” “Once, I think, with Allie Haze. I just looked down and woooah kind of lost my train of thought. But really, it’s quite easy. Not sure that just anyone could do it but babe, I’ve been doing this a long time.”

Marcus is loose, relaxed. Jesus, does he look happy? He looks happy! I haven’t seen Marcus in this state since my arrival. He’s jovial, professional, completely at home with the mundane reality of selling sex for profit.

Seeing him now, shoulders extricated from his ears, naked and sweaty and smiling, the pieces of his personality begin to fall into place. His utter cockiness, his intense desire to be taken seriously, his distaste for porn, his difficulties with his wife, his unapologetic and constant stream of opinions, his wildly successful work in the adult industry, it all finally gels into this tan, muscle-bound man sitting before me, chatting up his next scene partner.

Marcus asks to see what Carmen looks like and when she obliges him, spreading her legs in an overconfident manner that belies her nerves, he purrs with delight.

“Oooh, lips! I love lips.”

Carmen bats her long, false eyelashes and tells Marcus that she likes it rough. He nods.

Marcus, with his practically unlimited access to fertile, young mates, essentially has off-thecharts reproductive success. If I was observing some male bats and one of them was constantly fucking lady bats, day in and day out, I would make a note like “Hmm, something about Bat-2395’s phenotype or behavior has done amazing things for his apparent reproductive success rates; advise continued observation and paternity testing for colony.”

Sure, this is a loose argument because of course, of course, population biology is a vastly complicated and nuanced field. But the basic underlying point remains: Marcus London successfully beds lots and lots of women, which gives him a significant biological advantage as compared to the reproductive chances open to your average American male. He is overwhelmingly sexually successful. And all of that alpha male posturing, the kind that other men wear as armor or padding or weaponry, Marcus carries as a function of his success. Frankly, it’s fascinating. Marcus pulls on a fresh pair of underwear as the crew makes the bed with a clean set of sheets. Again, he pre-tears the condom wrapper for easy opening during the shoot and pops the lid on the lube. Again, he crawls into his scene partner, holding her neck, touching the small of her back, kissing her with intent. And again, he fucks a girl on camera for money while steadfastly narrating the entire act and making sure the timing of the foreplay, each position, all instructional points and the popshot is perfect. And he continues his narrative right up until the moment of ejaculation. For the entirety of both shoots, my positioning in the corner of the room meant that Marcus’s tan, not-gay asshole was staring me in the face the entire time.

Wrapping Up

My time with Marcus ends where it began. In his office. He has one last thing to show me.

I watch as Marcus searches through his YouTube account for a video. A solo effort, it features him, standing in front of the camera, dressed like some kind of boy band auditioner, and singing his heart out. It’s a music video for the Usher song “There Goes My Baby,” featuring an earnestly lipsynching Marcus London.

And I am dying.

My laughter erupts from within with the violence of a dam bursting. I’m clutching the sides of my chair, trying to hold on to this new fragment of Marcus in the context of everything else I’ve seen from him and after everything, this is what breaks me. I’m apologizing, trying to lessen whatever egregious errors of etiquette I’m committing, but laughing nonetheless. “Marcus,” I tell him, “You are fucking insane.”

The video opens with footage of Devon talking on the phone. I’m pretty sure she’s fake talking on the phone, the way one can be pretty sure a five-year-old is lying. Next is a shot of Marcus, clad in one of his ubiquitous black T-shirts and jeans, sauntering over a giant rock in the distance, swaying side-to-side with machismo.

When the vocals start, Marcus is directly in front of the camera, wearing black sunglasses and a silver cross, still swaying, ducking and twitching his head along with his singing. After each line, he leans back and away from the camera, like a nervous performance tick. He appears to know most of the words, though he is singing through a tight, small mouth, so it’s hard to get a good handle on his enunciation. He flings his arms open, welcoming the love and adoration of his wife, letting this moment wash over him in a sweeping, glorious tidal wave of ridiculousness. There are several shots of his wife feeding carrots to horses, decorating a Christmas tree, and walking away from him, swiveling her hips in a tight pair of jeans with white topstitching. There are black-and-white scenes of the two of them, naked and embracing, her lying atop him in the bed, their mouths mashed together and gnawing at each other. There are shots of Devon in a black, diamond-encrusted fedora, wearing an exposed bra and infant-sized white button-down shirt, leaning against the wall and massaging her breasts.

Actually, there are several shots of her massaging her breasts. All of this interspersed with footage of Marcus on the rocky hillside, lip-synching passionately, yet awkwardly, into the camera. At one point he pops his top off, baring his tan, smooth, pumped up porn body.

Everything you need to know about Marcus is captured in this video. His cinematic aspirations, his willingness to put everything out there, his cocky nature so wildly impervious to failure, his utter ridiculousness. He’s an earnest, cocksure, proud, do-it-yourselfer who’s not afraid to go after what he wants. He had an idea to make a music video for his wife. He did it. It’s terrible. But it means something to him, the making of it, the sharing of it. He puts it on YouTube for all the world to see. Because of course it must be fantastic. He made it.

Thankfully, Marcus is laughing, though the thought occurs that perhaps it’s just at the sheer hysteria in which I’ve found myself drowning. He tries to mount a defense of the video, but he doesn’t have to. I get it. It’s singularly the most ridiculous thing I’ve seen in a pretty ridiculous week, but it was done with such earnest devotion and there is nothing about it that makes Marcus look like anything other than a completely delusional lovesick fool. I cannot look away. I cannot stop laughing. I couldn’t make this up if I tried.

Marcus shows me another, this one a short film called “Alone.” The entire film is of Marcus going about his daily routine… alone. He’s constantly reminded of his wife throughout the film, via flashbacks and pictures and moments he would have shared with her. In light of his rather vulnerable discussion of his recent tribulations with Devon, the short is genuinely sad. Some of the shots are beautiful and it’s almost enough to draw you in, but as soon as you get close, cheesy, earnest poetry scrolls across the screen in what appears to be a script version of comic sans.

I cannot help but wonder, after such a dynamic shift in personality once he was on the porn set, how much of the Marcus I saw this week was the Marcus that he wanted his wife to see. The aggressive antiporn stance, his apparent disinterest in women, his lofty, mainstream aspirations, the coldness of his demeanor, the way he scoffed at the beautiful women who came up in conversation and wandered his home in various states of undress, how much of this is classic bad boy reformation? Heavy speculation, sure. But it is in the face of the undeniable fact that Marcus on the porn set was the happiest, nicest, most professional Marcus I’d seen all week. Everyone loved him. He seemed to be taking great pride in his work. My god, there was even that cheesy “light in his eyes” people talk about when someone is flush within their true calling. On a porn set, Marcus glowed.

Several months have passed, and I’m back in Vegas, finishing the final edits for my feature on Marcus London. Curious about what he’s been up to, I call his cellphone.

He is working more, he says, currently finishing up a script for a "Mad Max" parody. Not that he’s happy about that, of course. “I love "Mad Max" but my heart’s not in it. I’m not enjoying the parody aspect.” He’s also producing a porn for a firsttime director which, to put it lightly, sounds like an absolute nightmare.

This newbie director seems to have a tenuous grasp on reality, at best, and is prone to do things like demand to change location mid-day. Even through his frustration, though, Marcus sounds excited to be busy.

After his passionate vow to leave porn for his wife, this busy schedule surprised me. Last I saw him, Devon was living away from home, but reconciliation was looming on the horizon. But little has changed. Marcus talks like a man who has had his heart broken: he hopes for a simple, lovely future with his wife but is realistic about the chances of it happening. “Work's like this: If I lose her and I’m poor versus if I lose her and I win the lottery. At least something isn’t terrible.”

He says this casually, sounding very different from the time when he gave his deeply wounded monologue about love while we were on the porn set. “I’m in a better place because other things are looking up. But you know, I got too used to getting my own way all the time.”

He has plans to see her soon, but tells me she cancelled at the last minute for their previous rendezvous, and that he doesn’t expect her to actually go through with it this time. She’d still like him to slow down on the porn work, but he tells me she understands that he can’t just quit the business. A step in the right direction, I suppose, but asking Marcus to work less feels like a cruel punishment for some past transgressions, rather than a supportive gesture.

His interest in sex outside of work has ebbed. “I’ve learned all I can learn, I’ve taught all I can teach. At some point, you wonder why you’re doing it.” He skipped a massive swingers party in Vegas last weekend.

But then he’s back to talking about work, and happy again. He talks about the new squirt watches coming soon and his AVN win. He tells me about his producing work, his directorial aspirations, his scripts, his set building, his creative ideas, a busy stream of planning and action and excitement. Even his issues with the "Mad Max" script won’t defeat him.

“I just have to get my finger up my ass and get it done.”

_______________________________________________________________________

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#593851 - 06/17/13 09:07 PM Re: The Pornarium [Re: drained]
Jerkules Offline
Porn Jesus

Registered: 07/15/09
Posts: 12542
Loc: 3 feet high and rising


EDIT: My comment deleted by 2:30EST


Edited by Jerkules (06/17/13 11:29 PM)
Edit Reason: Added delete time
_________________________
Thinking of cracked-out and/or tweaking whores getting their throats and asses brutalized for the next hit makes me hard. --Rear Admiral

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#593853 - 06/18/13 12:04 AM Re: The Pornarium [Re: drained]
drained Offline
Porn Jesus

Registered: 02/12/08
Posts: 4580

ADT, LukeIsBack.

MikeSouth is supposed to be relaunched soon, according to the Porn SaviouRetard (PSR) Rob Black.
That probably means Tom Byron's operating the thing since weeks.
Social media syndication. Retards.

It's hard out there for the truth.

They're all diseased. And retarded.

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#593854 - 06/18/13 06:07 AM Re: The Pornarium [Re: drained]
backdoorman Offline
Porn Jesus

Registered: 09/01/08
Posts: 9750
Loc: Hillbilly Holler
It amazes me how so many folks on here are more interested in the men in porn than the women. I really couldn't care less and certainly wouldn't take the time to read all that above.
_________________________
I may not know arse but I know what I like !

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#593860 - 06/18/13 07:29 AM Re: The Pornarium [Re: drained]
Jerkules Offline
Porn Jesus

Registered: 07/15/09
Posts: 12542
Loc: 3 feet high and rising
_________________________
Thinking of cracked-out and/or tweaking whores getting their throats and asses brutalized for the next hit makes me hard. --Rear Admiral

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#594393 - 06/27/13 04:27 PM Re: The Pornarium [Re: drained]
drained Offline
Porn Jesus

Registered: 02/12/08
Posts: 4580
_______________________________________________________________________

Porn Is Too Dirty To Regulate
By MikeSouth

June 27th, 2013

This is a well thought out comment from a reader that deserves to be read by everyone from AHF to APHSS to performers, it really hits the nail on the head, It’s what I would write if I could write that well…Good job BT thank you man!

Originally Posted By: BT Writes
Geez, Mike. I go away for a couple of days and it looks like all breaks loose. And I’m trying to imagine your first day as a SCOTUS. Do you wear fishing gear and a t-shirt under your robes?

I also had a chance to read Julie Meadows’ response to your request for a comment on AdultFYI. Put aside the personal nature of the response – that’s between you and Julie. If you read through the rest of the response, coupled with silence from other organizations, and what you have is a big no comment with regard to Stagliano. Two thoughts.

This may not mean anything to the industry beyond whether one side in the case prevails over the other. If you’re in the pornography business, that may be a great outcome. What it says is the government really doesn’t care what you do to performers; your business is too dirty to regulate and we don’t want to get dirty. Just don’t kill anyone.

It’s bad news for performers because it says the government doesn’t care enough about what happens to you to protect you in the same way it would protect someone in a more socially-acceptable business. As long as a producer doesn’t maim or kill you, you’re a deer in the headlights for whatever the industry can imagine and ask you to do. You’re also at risk of catching any passing on whatever diseases and infections are among the pool of performers you’ll work with because the industry response to STDs other than HIV, at least as expressed on other boards is: Don’t cry over STDs. Just take some penicillin and get over it. Cost of doing business – your cost, not ours.

In that regard, here’s what I find interesting. Young girls are expected to do almost anything today. But when you see comments from many of the older performers on either AdultFYI, or who post on your site, or are quoted in books on the industry, they’ll say things like: “Back in our day, we faked ATM” (Rebecca Bardoux); “I didn’t do anal and all that crazy stuff” (Sharon Mitchell); “I wasn’t an anal queen” (Seka); “I was engaged four times because a guy wanted to have anal sex with me and I wouldn’t do it otherwise” (Amber Lynn). Doesn’t it say something about the change in the industry when industry icons also say, in essence, “This stuff is crazy. I would never do that!”

Which leads to the reason this could be important. Some businesses are regulated for reasons of the public health and public good – think the gambling industry or prostitution in Nevada. Or, think the coal mining industry.

But the larger reason businesses are regulated is that they become unable to regulate themselves. Someone has to step in and referee. Someone has to say: this is acceptable business behavior for your industry and this is not.

That’s where porn is right now. You had a time – and I would argue it was the most industry’s most profitable time – where pornographers had lines they did not cross in terms of content. I don’t know if the Cambria Rules came first, or if Cambria wrote down unwritten rules that had worked, but there seemed to be a limit to what people would and would not film.

In addition, for whatever reason, the industry appeared to be relatively HIV free.

What you’ve got now is an industry that is unable or unwilling to regulate the content it produces. That may or may not be a First Amendment issue. We won’t know unless and until someone tests it.

But, you also have an industry that is unwilling or unable to say what is acceptable behavior when it comes to the health of its performers.

The argument had been: We test. We test regularly. Testing works.

When testing didn’t work, for whatever reason, the argument was, well, the individual didn’t get HIV on a porn set or on a heterosexual porn set. It’s escorting. It’s cross-overs that are to blame.

When you point out that STDs besides HIV are prevalent in the porn population, the response is either that the researchers lied and you can’t trust their stats, or: Hey, what the big deal. You cure it with some antibiotics. That’s the risk you take when you choose this profession.

When Mr. Marcus shoots while taking antibiotics – according to his story – and may or may not have faked his test – the response is to attack him but remain silent on the larger issue. Or to say, so what, no one got sick as far as we know.

Now, you have Stagliano. He may or may not have tested. He may or may not have revealed his status to a performing partner. It doesn’t seem to matter that you now have a heterosexual HIV + person interacting on film with the intimate parts of naked actresses because folks think he’s a nice guy, and besides, he didn’t have sex.

When pictures surface of him with his fingers inside performers, well, it doesn’t matter because it wasn’t his penis.

When pictures surface of him with his penis between the buttocks of a Brazilian performer – I can’t tell whether he’s penetrated her or is just up against her – the response is silence.

My point is: The industry rule seems to be: We have strict testing policies and you can’t work with an STD unless:

The STD is non HIV. If that’s the case, hey, you should have expected to get a disease when you signed on.

The STD is HIV and you have non-penetrative sex – and we’re going to define and redefine what counts as penetrative sex, based on whether or not you’re an industry icon.

When an industry can’t define what is and isn’t safe and acceptable behavior, the government steps in.

That’s where you’re at at this moment in time. Unless, the first scenario is accurate, and the government just doesn’t give a damn about the safety of performers because its a distasteful industry.

_______________________________________________________________________

Nick East:

Performers are also treating themselves for the STD’s they are getting! Let’s not forget that little tid-bit, please?
This bit of information scares the s**t out of doctors who realize that the porn venereal pool is in fact creating stronger and stronger STD’s which are becoming harder and harder to cure with ANY medication!
Simply put, lets say a performer doesn’t take enough self-prescribed medicine to cure the STD raging in his/her body, okay? What happens next is the STD becomes resistant to that particular and otherwise effective medication and as they pass it on to the other performers, it grows stronger and stronger until it no longer responds to ANY medication!!!!! We already have an untreatable gonnorhea train barrelling down on us, so lets pull our heads out of the sand and stop the madness before it’s too late! Puleeze!!!!!
______________________________________________________________________

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#594403 - 06/27/13 08:44 PM Re: The Pornarium [Re: drained]
Jerkules Offline
Porn Jesus

Registered: 07/15/09
Posts: 12542
Loc: 3 feet high and rising
Nick East is a douchebag who tried to work an angle w/ Measure B to put some change in his pocket. Nothing he says is credible.
_________________________
Thinking of cracked-out and/or tweaking whores getting their throats and asses brutalized for the next hit makes me hard. --Rear Admiral

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#594405 - 06/27/13 09:10 PM Re: The Pornarium [Re: drained]
drained Offline
Porn Jesus

Registered: 02/12/08
Posts: 4580

Maybe. According to him or someone who named himself very similar or the same, he wanted to work with a rubber on a Wicked set and got blacklisted.

As if anything in porn gossip Onlinia is credible. People text around with board handles on ADT named after porn whore brand names and think interaction's going on. Maybe not.

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#594447 - 06/28/13 02:29 PM Re: The Pornarium [Re: drained]
oralperv Offline
Rob Black's Crack Pipe

Registered: 04/15/12
Posts: 117
.
why u speak normal now ?
.
_________________________
"If it quacks like a duck .. I probably have a boner"

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#594450 - 06/28/13 03:42 PM Re: The Pornarium [Re: drained]
drained Offline
Porn Jesus

Registered: 02/12/08
Posts: 4580

Forgivingly reading your bullshit, why don't you?

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#594456 - 06/28/13 04:29 PM Re: The Pornarium [Re: drained]
oralperv Offline
Rob Black's Crack Pipe

Registered: 04/15/12
Posts: 117
.
.. ahh .. meds...

.. got it..

.. FWIW .. I like the other guy better..
.
_________________________
"If it quacks like a duck .. I probably have a boner"

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#594463 - 06/28/13 05:13 PM Re: The Pornarium [Re: drained]
drained Offline
Porn Jesus

Registered: 02/12/08
Posts: 4580

Ah, stuff other handles posted.

Right.

For what it's worth, fuck yourself. You don't have to count that much to agree on a price.

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#594487 - 06/28/13 07:33 PM Re: The Pornarium [Re: drained]
drained Offline
Porn Jesus

Registered: 02/12/08
Posts: 4580
___________________________________________________________________________________________

585 Outbreak

JOHN STAGLIANO: Krysti was supposedly going to meet Marky Mark, alias
Mark Wahlberg, at some restaurant. She was at my house because we
were supposed to look at a location the next morning for her music video.
Krysti had recorded a song, which had been written by Prince and was
produced by Ed Strickland, who had been working for Madonna’s company.
So we were producing a music video to go along with the song.



586 The Other Hollywood

Krysti was all dressed up, and she was playing hard to get, and then
Marky Mark’s people didn’t call back, so it was a memorable afternoon.
Krysti left, and she was going a hundred miles an hour on Los Virgines
Road and lost control of the car and went off into a gully.
She died.
I never had anybody I was close to die before, so it was a little bit difficult.

BROCKTON O’TOOLE: John and I were out there when they found the vehicle.
I went out there, and the highway patrol had already removed Krysti from
the wreck and taken her away.
Krysti was found under the steering wheel. It was very sad. John was
pretty torn up about it. So I have a feeling that the business down in Brazil
would not have happened, if it hadn’t been for this. I think he was punishing
himself.

TRICIA DEVERAUX: Krysti had a friend in the car with her when they were
both killed, and I think John felt responsible somehow.

BROCKTON O’TOOLE: John was torn up pretty badly. It was tough, but Krysti was
driving, and she was at fault, no question about it. And there was this young
girl, a secretary, who was also killed. Krysti was driving John’s second car, so
her family said to John, “What are you going to do about this?”
John had a meeting with the other girl’s family, and he says “Let me
talk to your lawyer.”
The family went into another room. John said to the lawyer, “Well,
what do you think?” The lawyer says, “Well, I think if you want to settle
it right now, I think the family would agree to $250,000.”
John said, “I’ll write you a check. But I have to give it to the family
myself. I want to tell them I’m sorry.”
And he did—and told them not to worry about the funeral.

JOHN STAGLIANO: On the first anniversary of Krysti’s death, I was feeling
kind of bad about myself. The girlfriend I was with, I felt, didn’t really
love me; she didn’t show affection, and I was not feeling good, a little bit
bitter.
So I go down to Brazil.

TIM CONNELLY: John ended up on a suicide mission in South America, seeking
out a Brazilian transvestite street hooker to violently fuck him up the
ass without a condom, hoping to drown all his sorrows and guilt.

JOHN STAGLIANO: I’d been drinking a little bit, kind of enjoying being
unhappy. Next thing I know I’m picking up this street “girl” and demand



587 Outbreak

ing to be fucked up the ass, so lost in my self-pity I don’t care what happens.
I gamble, and I lose.

TRICIA DEVERAUX: John went down to Brazil, and he got HIV.
He knew right away that he’d done something he shouldn’t have—the
non-condom part for sure. So he started getting HIV tests.

JOHN STAGLIANO: I was real careful the next couple of months, getting
tested all the time. I didn’t think I’d gotten it because I really didn’t think
he’d taken the rubber off before he fucked me. But for six months I was
worried, thinking I had to change my life.
And then I started thinking, “Man, I wish I could do it again. I’m not
going to do it again. But I want to.”

TIM CONNELLY: John, after being diagnosed HIV-positive, confessed his disease
to a more-than-not ragingly homophobic industry, knowing full well
the details of his infection would give his jealous detractors and business
enemies poisoned fodder for the gossip market.
And with his courage he proved himself yet again to be of the rarest
quality in the smut biz: an honest man.

JOHN STAGLIANO: You know, I am a little bisexual. I had sucked some guys’
dicks in quarter peep shows and stuff like that, as a variety thing. But primarily,
I guess, I’m heterosexual. I just personally don’t worry so much
what people think about me.
But, you know, admitting that I really wanted to get fucked in the ass,
and might really like it, is not necessarily a socially acceptable thing for a
straight man.

TRICIA DEVERAUX: I met John Stagliano because he called me—he had gotten
HIV a year before I did. He said, “Well, you need to have someone to
talk to who kind of understands a little bit about what it’s like to have
HIV. I could talk to you a little bit.”
I said, “You know, that would be really nice.” So we went out for a
drink at a Mexican restaurant near my apartment. We hit it off immediately,
as friends.

JOHN STAGLIANO: I really enjoyed shooting Tricia when she was working.
The people in the business today are so much more sophisticated than they
were, I think, ten years ago. So I just starting talking to Tricia after she got
infected, and several months later we wound up getting together.

TRICIA DEVERAUX: John and I became really good friends, and then he had



588 The Other Hollywood

to go back down to Brazil to shoot a video. And he called me a couple
times from Brazil, even though he barely knew me. I said, “This is costing
you a fortune.” He said, “Ah, don’t worry about it.”
Another time, he called me after he’d been drinking a little bit. I told
him, “You know what? I think I just have to leave L.A. because everybody
just thinks I’m this horrible drug user who was trying to infect them.”
And John said, “Well, I know things are hard for you. But if you stay,
maybe you could, you know—maybe it would be nice to have you
around.”
I just chalked it up to him being kind of drunk; I didn’t think twice
about it, and about a month later I went back to the Midwest, for a year
and a half.

JOHN STAGLIANO: I grew up in Chicago; I have reason to go back to
Chicago. So off and on for the next year I went back three or four times
and saw Tricia there. Then she came back.
Yeah, we fell in love.

TRICIA DEVERAUX: We realized we liked a lot of the same things. We’re both
from the Chicago area—and our personalities are very similar, which was
what really drew me to him right away because I’d bombed out on two
relationships by going for two different extremes.

JOHN STAGLIANO: Tricia and I have a lot in common. We’re both pretty
much type-A personalities; we like the same music, rock and roll; and sexually
we’re very compatible.

TRICIA DEVERAUX: What do we tell critics who say we’re only together because
we both have HIV? I think that’s why we started to get interested in each
other. But if that was all there was, I think we would have broken up. We’re
both too strong-minded to stay with someone for that reason alone.
We’ve had a couple of hard times in our relationship because now that
I’m out of porn as a performer I’ve always wanted my relationships offcamera
to be monogamous.
John loves going to strip clubs; he loves hiring strippers to do private
strip shows and things like that. And I was like, “Why do you need that?”
John was always a very sexual person, so having HIV probably hit him a
lot harder than it hit me. Because John was having casual sex, and he had
to stop doing that.

JOHN STAGLIANO: I have girls dance for me sometimes—strippers—and
when I’ve got their butts in my face I just play with them forever. I really
get into focus, and I think, “Oh my God, what I had!”



589 Outbreak

In the last couple of months I’ve thought about how fucking incredible
Krysti Lynn’s butt was. I mean, I loved fucking Krysti from behind—it was
the most incredible experience I ever had. I really enjoyed it, but I never
appreciated it—not in the same way I appreciate the little things now.

TRICIA DEVERAUX: The decision to try to have a baby was difficult for
John and me because of HIV. We didn’t even know if it was even possible.
Then we read a couple of articles about HIV-positive moms giving birth
and the babies not having HIV. So we started talking to our doctors
about it.
I asked the doctor, “Is all this just really good luck?” She said it was a
protocol of several different things. The mom has to take HIV medication
during pregnancy; I wasn’t taking medicine yet, but I started when I was
two months pregnant and took it all the way through the labor.
The doctor also said the baby would have to take HIV medicine for the
first month after she was born. And I’d have to have a C-section because
that would allow the doctors to control what would happen with the
blood. She said, “If we do all those things, we’ll have less than a 1 percent
chance that your baby will have HIV.”
Even then, we were worried: What happens if she does? But now it’s
clear that she still could have lived a normal life—and even if she didn’t,
there are worse things in life.
So we decided to try it.
The baby, Isabelle, is negative. And she’s a really good thing for both
of us.

JOHN STAGLIANO: I was getting fucked-up the other night watching porno
movies. And I thought, this is how you write a movie: You set up this
whole scenario where some guy’s doing drugs, he’s about to go too far and
OD, and just before he does, he looks at the camera and says, “Fuck you,
people! You live by a whole different standard than I do! I have this life in
front of me that inspires me. Every one of you has done something at some
point to fuck up your life—get a little too drunk, do too much cocaine.
That’s life, right? And you’re judging me?”
I used to judge these people, and I never knew what was going on
inside them.
You know, they’re experiencing life in a certain way that I don’t know
about, but I need to know about. We want to push ourselves to experience
life and to enjoy it: to be a race car driver, or do drugs, or get fucked in the
ass and risk getting HIV—it’s all the same fucking thing. Pushing yourself
to experience life to its fullest necessarily involves risk. And if you sit in
your room and never do anything—like my mother wanted me to do



590 The Other Hollywood

because she was worried that if I left the house I’d get hit by a car—you’ll
never know what life is like.
Maybe it’s genetically programmed, like women holding back sex.
We’re genetically programmed to say, “Wait a second—oh, it feels good to
go around that curve really fast, but I’m gonna crash.”
You know, like Krysti Lynn did.
___________________________________________________________________________________________

Top
#594489 - 06/28/13 07:37 PM Re: The Pornarium [Re: oralperv]
J.B.
Unregistered


Originally Posted By: oralperv
why u speak normal now ?



Nicely played. Now, see if you can get him to stop regurgitating every gossip site in creation and summarize instead.

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#594647 - 07/01/13 07:34 PM Re: The Pornarium [Re: drained]
drained Offline
Porn Jesus

Registered: 02/12/08
Posts: 4580

Rob Black is a retard with quirks. Some of those:


when incoherent:
uh... uh... uh...
I... I... I...
to... to... to...

when coherent:
uh, uh, uh
I,I,I
to, to, to

all the aspects
unfathomable

listen...
(once) again...

... of this business

[constant hiccups, nearly no completed sentences at times]
[constant smacking, attenuated by the mediocre microphone, connection and compression]
[incorrect use of phonetically similar expressions, for example "antidote" instead of "anecdote"]

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#594675 - 07/03/13 01:07 AM Re: The Pornarium [Re: drained]
drained Offline
Porn Jesus

Registered: 02/12/08
Posts: 4580

Rob Black is a retard with plans. Maybe wishes. One of those:

Let’s just talk about the Rob Black dastardly plan- in the next year and a half, the agents will be gone; testing clinics will be gone; the Free Speech Coalition will be gone and about 80% of the studios will be gone.

That bit of text above isn't necessarily a quote. It wasn't one in the Adult FYI article Tom Byron most likely typed up like he most likely typed up all the other show summaries. Black mentioned as much in some show. They run the Adult FYI site and since Black's an utter tech tard, it'd probably be Byron again.

Derek Hay runs LA Direct Models, an agency and porn whore catalog for video production ("adult talent resource"). Black believes he also runs The Luxury Companion, an agency and porn whore catalog for hooking ("escorting resource"). In his latest show, he makes noises about someone who he says is dropping off the whores for The Luxury Companion and collecting her cut at the end of a booked session, after companionship. This someone's handle's called Karen Adonia, @AdoniaD1983 on Twitter.

A link to the show. Stuttering, smacking and incoherence starts at around 1h 52m.

That potential pimp doesn't look that bad that she'd have to stay "in the shadows" of some VIP lounge at an event Derek Hay takes her, acccording to Black. Maybe her hubby, who's said to be the administrator of The Luxury Companion site makes up for her. Whatever.







Attachments
@AdoniaD1983 on Twitter_headshot_karine.jpg (336 downloads)
@AdoniaD1983 on Twitter.jpg (334 downloads)


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#594743 - 07/04/13 09:08 PM Re: The Pornarium [Re: drained]
drained Offline
Porn Jesus

Registered: 02/12/08
Posts: 4580




Top
#594769 - 07/05/13 03:29 PM Re: The Pornarium [Re: drained]
drained Offline
Porn Jesus

Registered: 02/12/08
Posts: 4580

Germany's odd.

Scientology isn't or wasn't recognised as a religion, due to its focus on financially draining courses towards clarity, as far as I'm aware.

Pornography doesn't seem to be that intellectual there. That is, pornography wasn't considered to be intellectual property when a US law firm wanted to fine people who seemingly downloaded some cerebral stimulants, porn flicks. Maybe the intellectual, creative types behind its creation didn't bother to force some plot into their productions which most likely is just a way to circumvent prosecution by career Christians.

Gene Ross didn't get it, the core of the hardcore, but Gene Ross is a retard. "Meanwhile Germany makes the best pissing/defecation/fisting videos around" is not what it's about. It's about "copyright trolling" primarily; the freedom of expression thing is transparent bullshit even in the US.

[Ross' paste job]

[where Ross pasted it from]

Top
#594807 - 07/07/13 04:19 AM Re: The Pornarium [Re: drained]
drained Offline
Porn Jesus

Registered: 02/12/08
Posts: 4580

Rob Black had a chat on his live stream about a month ago.
It doesn't seem to be active anymore. Some chatter from there:


"Host" - Tom Byron, most likely; Rob Black was talking on the live stream, not hacking away on a keyboard.


"Host: Titties and beer at Satr Gardens
Host: Star
fishlon: No chatting with Tom Byron then. The keyboard input of this chat does not automatically cover non-US layouts.

Host: I got kicked off, now I'm back
Host: Everyone's feed is OK?
fishlon: The feed is okay here.
fishlon: Whyever Tom Byron does not have a microphone while talking to the Black regularly would be podcasting magic, I assume.

grider98: An Interesting thought
fishlon: Headsets or table microphones with a usable USB sound card should run about twenty value meals these days.

Host: I know, working on it. Priorities. Gotta keep the cable on
Host: Hope next week I get mike
fishlon: Porn transcends the language barrier quite nicely. Unlike this chat. No fun with a European layout.

Host: Yeah but european takes Amex
Host: and we don't have to give 70% to streamate
fishlon: See, all the money and no service...

Host: right now, no money and no service
Host: we suck
fishlon: Servicing for money as a last resort was offered by the Black. Gay solo jerking off, to be precise. Most porn legends seem to escort. The money is out there.

Host: If anyone wants to see my old ass kerking off I'm there lol
Host: jerking
fishlon: If you are Tom Byron, your old cock still gets some work once in a full moon.

Host: with pharmaceutical assistance of course
fishlon: The disillusionment is heavy. So it is not all fun and unicorns all the time in porn. I blame marketing.

Host: yeah ok
Host: me I blame father time
Host: and too much pussy
Host: lol
fishlon: The structure of the show varies a lot. From completely forgettable to actually interesting. The mobile test run without other people talking being audible, for example. Stuff like faky, shaky feel-good-testing fun makes for a better podcast.

Host: We're learning as we go
Host: trying to improve
Host: not evry show gonna be perfect
fishlon: The slightly pornishly political casts were the ones I liked most. I listened to every show except for the mobile test one, so long-time listener, first-time chatter or whatever.

Host: cool thanks for the input
Host: my internet sucks
Host: lost my feed again for a sec
fishlon: I wondered why there are alway
s so many film quotes before the show actually starts. One began around 36 minutes in, so I generally download the episodes when they are available on Blog Talk Radio to skip roughly an hour per show in quotes.
Host: pee break, medication time, give audience a break
Host: sometimes we're running late and need time to set up etc etc etc
Host: we're a 2 man op here
Host: one time we got pulled over by cops lol
Host: u can get show on stitcher and itunes too
fishlon: Was that the drug buster cop with some vintage legal info (question mark).

Host: no different cop
Host: we're shady lokking lol
Host: looking
fishlon: The Black looks a bit rough around the wrinkles, yes.

Host: he's almost 40
Host: no sleep either. always chasing money
Host: medication time
XPW4Life: XPW!!

XPW4Life: Cant wait for XPW to come back
Host: XPdub XPdub
Host: empty chair
LouisBBC2: Rob should hang William Welchs thumb up behind him.
LouisBBC2: Make it into a commemorative plaque.
Host: How about we hang Theroux's thumb
Host: Rob is full of shit. I live in a mansion cuz I'm a famous porn star
XPW4Life: Who's theroux?

LouisBBC2: I'm a collector. I would like to make an offer on the thumb if you aren't going to display it.
Host: look it up
Host: don't have a thumb, would u like to volunteer yours smart guy?

LouisBBC2: I know it's a safety deposit box.

LouisBBC2: I have cash sir.

XPW4Life: How much are you willing to pay?

Host: i'll send somebody right over to collect
LouisBBC2: It all depends if it's autographed and authenticated by PSA.

Host: yawn....

XPW4Life: What happened to Kristi Myst? Is she still around?

fishlon: Journalism these days...

Host: don't know about kristi, haven't seen her in years
LouisBBC2: She was pissed on and didn't want her tumbs cut off.

Host: is your cock hard?

XPW4Life: Mine is. I'm thinking of Pogo the Clown breaking Violent J's ribs
LouisBBC2: Yes, I've been searching for the thumb for years. I feel like I'm getting close.

Host: who's vilent j? I don't remeber
XPW4Life: One of the Insane Clown Posse
XPW4Life: The fat one
Host: oh yeah
Host: now i remember
LAPD: Hello, We are investigating a break in. We were told that Mr. Black may have details.
Host: Fuck the police
XPW4Life: Is Rob still married to Lizzy Borden?

Host: yes
LAPD: We've identified 2 niggers with scissors. Does Mr. Black know these men?
fishlon: They just wanted to make it snappy.

Host: N-word=bad
XPW4Life: is this all in reference to the Messiah thing? Rob wasnt questioned was he?

LAPD: Sorry, spooks.
XPW4Life: You would think if there was even a hint that Rob had anything to do with it hed have been questioned
Host: no cuz he didn't have anything to do with it
LAPD: Maybe OJ Simpson did it.
Host: maybe lapd
XPW4Life: OJ was more than questioned. Rob wasnt even questioned
XPW4Life: Rob wasnt even a suspect.

LAPD: Mr. Welch is quoted as saying that Ms. Borden was wet.
XPW4Life: So was Mr Welch when they cut his finger off
LAPD: Mr. Black is a very moral man. We are looking into other suspects.
XPW4Life: Like who?

XPW4Life: Homeless Jimmy?

XPW4Life: Ron Hed?

XPW4Life: Kriss Kloss?

XPW4Life: Kevin Kleinrock's speech impediment?

LAPD: Jessie Slaughter
LAPD: It was backtraced.

Host: I have it on good authority that Dalmy has a ver nice ass
Host: Rob is friend of the brown man
hbc: Seymore Butts said Rob is an idiot that eported to the wrong jail.

Host: seymore is msinformed
hbc: He said Rob is Gary Busy of porn but without the excuse of a head injury lol sorry
Host: seymore shouls stick to ass porn, comedy not his strong suit
grider98: Asa was born in New York
hbc: No match for Rob. Rob is comedy master without even trying.

Host: I was BORN IN THE USAAAA I was BORN IN THE USAAAAA
hbc: dont you worry that all the big money suits are going to take rob out for talking about them?

Host: yes vry scared
hbc: do you test his drinks before he takes a sip
Host: They will take our value menu money
hbc: no I mean like a mob hit job
Host: we are heavily armed
Host: bring it steve hirsch
hbc: porn is srs business
Host: yeah ok
hbc: 1-800-cock-smokers
Host: mesothelioma
apple7: lololololol
KeybdWarr: Rob Zicari is one of the most lowlife pieces of shit in human history. For him to sit here and play moral saviour is laughable at best.

Host: yes whata hypocrite
KeybdWarr: Indeed. This is a 3 hour self jerk session. no one is reporting this shit ecept Gene in his pocket.

Host: Hi Sean
KeybdWarr: Hi Tom.

KeybdWarr: Rob has 3 listeners which are nutjob wrestling fans. He has no fans.

KeybdWarr: XPW was garbage.

Host: ok ur right we'll stop
KeybdWarr: Did he move onto Katie because of Lizzys botched lipjob? Poor dumb Katie.

Host: ooh look he acknolwedge u! Did u come?

KeybdWarr: I think the boss needs a new soda, slave.

apple7: Rob is going to surprise many people. He just needs to realize that a lot of his help will not come from "Porn America". It will come from people exiled who don't want to return.
apple7: Great webcast Rob.
KeybdWarr: Better get an 18+ warning up on that site. Dont want to go to jail again for pedophilia...

KeybdWarr: Anytime I'll go MMA with Rob. Winner wins. Loser agrees to shut his mouth 4 life.

apple7: Sean Tomkins keybdwarr could not face or fight Monica Foster.
KeybdWarr: Probably couldn't.

KeybdWarr: Keyboard warriors dont offer to fight MMA. Put up or shut up.

KeybdWarr: The Government watched you. How did that turn out?

apple7: not when you have people like Julie Meadows making youtube videos saying HIV is a "manageable disease"

KeybdWarr: Tom must be wife a tranny or getting another drink.
KeybdWarr: with
apple7: Do you think Diana Duke was sent in by Manwin to prompt these lawsuits to shut down American porn using industrial espionage methods?
apple7: More information on Diana Duke needs to be known.

KeybdWarr: Kora Peters
apple7: represent
KeybdWarr: Robert, idiot, there's something known as an assualt charge. Sign a waiver. We'll fight legally. Anytime.

apple7: you don't need a waiver bitch.

KeybdWarr: Like I would fight you on the street knowing you are broke. I knock you out, you sue me. Sorry Rob not as dumb as you.

Host: I'm soory I was thinking about trannie
KeybdWarr: We can set it up. You like the attention. We can dsell tickets. You can have the gate. I dont care. Sign that waiver. What I want is free.

apple7: you do not matter Sean.

KeybdWarr: Dont you have a cock to suck maim?

apple7: what happened with Alexis Ford?

apple7: you have inspired many people
KeybdWarr: Yes all those people that enjoy pissing and shitting on one another. What an inspiration.

apple7: what he is doing now is inspiring. comeback kid about to wIN
KeybdWarr: Assuming he doesn't overdose or is knocked off by one of the people he's slandering.

KeybdWarr: Yes its a great comeback story to make torture porn and comeback making an angry incoherant rant every
day.
apple7: Who will knock him off? No one - everyone he talks about is a coward who is scared of him.

KeybdWarr: Rob black the great hero. A failed garbage wrestling company. Garbage porn. Garbage show.

KeybdWarr: He's a sociopath that doesn't even respect the 3 people thatl isten. Calls his fans "retards"

grider98: XPW was awe
some
KeybdWarr: Thats why they couldn't draw people to High School gyms.

apple7: He should bring back XPW and feature porn stars!!!!!!!!!

KeybdWarr: XPW was awesome to some sick fuck that thinks 2 fat guys hitting each other with light tubes is entertaining.

apple7: XPW should become like delebrity deathmatch but with pornstars. That would be awesome.

KeybdWarr: They rented out the entire grand olympic arena and only sold a hundred or so sets.

grider98: Rob Black made the mistake doing business with Shane Douglas and moving to phill
KeybdWarr: seats
KeybdWarr: Shane Douglas was the only star he had. That says something.

apple7: why are you even here Keybd with your shit attitude? Go away.

apple7: you are not the bad guy
KeybdWarr: I'm here because he scammed people out of money. I'm here because he's a sicko. I'm here bewcause he got away with assault and not tries to play hero.

grider98: Shane Douglas killed wrestling companies
apple7: no you are here cause you are a jackass obsessed fan keybdwarr
KeybdWarr: XPW had no stars. NONE. Never made one star. Wasted 3 million dollars on crap.

apple7: good show Rob Black. Enjoyed it.

KeybdWarr: DVDs in the 99 cent bargain bin and even then they didnt sell.

grider98: They had allot of stars and put california back on the wrestling map
KeybdWarr: Name me one homegrown star that ever went to WWE. Just 1.

grider98: im back
KeybdWarr: Pogo The Clown, Vic Grimes, Kaos, Johnny Webb, indy garbage TRASH.

KeybdWarr: XPW did more to huert the wrestling business than anyone in history. A fat guy flying off a scaffold almost dying infront of a few hundred people.

grider98: Vic Grimes work that out with New Jack
grider98: New Jack try to kill him for that shit he pulled in ECW"

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#594861 - 07/08/13 01:50 PM Re: The Pornarium [Re: drained]
Jerkules Offline
Porn Jesus

Registered: 07/15/09
Posts: 12542
Loc: 3 feet high and rising
XPW was just backyard wrestling in a bingo hall. ECW had actual wrestling talent. From the smaller guys and luchadores they brought in (Jericho, Malenko, Guerrero, Rey, Benoit), to the talent they nurtured that went on to great success elsewhere (Dudleys, Dreamer, Taz, RVD). XPW did nothing to bring wrestling forward. It is an after thought that is only remembered for Messiah's missing thumb and having a coked out porn guy as the backer.
_________________________
Thinking of cracked-out and/or tweaking whores getting their throats and asses brutalized for the next hit makes me hard. --Rear Admiral

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#594864 - 07/08/13 01:57 PM Re: The Pornarium [Re: drained]
Barry the Pirate Offline
Porn Jesus

Registered: 12/09/08
Posts: 8432
Loc: Great Pacific Northwest
And "invading" an ECW PPV. Apparently Amish Roadkill beat a bunch of XPW heads in the parking lot after.
_________________________
Having killed someone doesn't make you a killer- @KINGROCHE

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#594900 - 07/09/13 06:44 PM Re: The Pornarium [Re: drained]
fartz Offline
Registered Sex Offender

Registered: 07/24/11
Posts: 2330
Loc: Central US
You know you have a shitty promotion on your hands when the best thing going is your straight man latino color commetator. I remember watching one of their deathmatch tournaments and that Larry Rivera guy kept admonishing the deathmatch style while calling for more armbars and leg drags. I thought it was funny.

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#594901 - 07/09/13 06:54 PM Re: The Pornarium [Re: drained]
backdoorman Offline
Porn Jesus

Registered: 09/01/08
Posts: 9750
Loc: Hillbilly Holler
No offense but doesn't this chatter belong in the wrestling thread?
_________________________
I may not know arse but I know what I like !

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#594910 - 07/09/13 10:34 PM Re: The Pornarium [Re: drained]
Barry the Pirate Offline
Porn Jesus

Registered: 12/09/08
Posts: 8432
Loc: Great Pacific Northwest
Thread Nazi. Just my opinion but I think the connection is RB is as well known for his shitty wrestling promotion as he is for his shitty porn company. It's a veer off the original topic, but a pretty organic one. And as far as thread jacking and getting off topic, it';s a pretty minor one, ya Nazi bastard. Smiley face.
_________________________
Having killed someone doesn't make you a killer- @KINGROCHE

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#594916 - 07/09/13 11:30 PM Re: The Pornarium [Re: drained]
Jerkules Offline
Porn Jesus

Registered: 07/15/09
Posts: 12542
Loc: 3 feet high and rising
Ghetto turtleneck.
_________________________
Thinking of cracked-out and/or tweaking whores getting their throats and asses brutalized for the next hit makes me hard. --Rear Admiral

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#594923 - 07/10/13 06:12 AM Re: The Pornarium [Re: fartz]
the unknown pervert Offline
Porn Jesus

Registered: 03/22/07
Posts: 5186
Loc: Joshua Tree National Park
Originally Posted By: fartz
You know you have a shitty promotion on your hands when the best thing going is your straight man latino color commetator. I remember watching one of their deathmatch tournaments and that Larry Rivera guy kept admonishing the deathmatch style while calling for more armbars and leg drags. I thought it was funny.


Another way of knowing you have a shitty promotion on your hands is when Veronica Caine has more wrestling potential than anyone else on your roster.
_________________________
I would eat Allie Sin's asshole until I got an emotion out of her.-Jerkules

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#594953 - 07/11/13 06:23 AM Re: The Pornarium [Re: drained]
backdoorman Offline
Porn Jesus

Registered: 09/01/08
Posts: 9750
Loc: Hillbilly Holler
Thread Nazi ? Yep that's me. Can I get a Sieg Heil ?
_________________________
I may not know arse but I know what I like !

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#594959 - 07/11/13 11:05 AM Re: The Pornarium [Re: drained]
Barry the Pirate Offline
Porn Jesus

Registered: 12/09/08
Posts: 8432
Loc: Great Pacific Northwest
Sieg heil, bitches!!
_________________________
Having killed someone doesn't make you a killer- @KINGROCHE

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#596656 - 08/16/13 06:10 PM Re: The Pornarium [Re: drained]
fartz Offline
Registered Sex Offender

Registered: 07/24/11
Posts: 2330
Loc: Central US
Email from Brooklyn Lee (who I always thought was hot as fuck) to Gene Ross-


" First of all, dipshits, my retirement had absolutely nothing to do with this supposed “evisceration.” Your words had little (if any) effect…probably mostly because I couldn’t quite follow the maniacal ramblings of a meth-addict.

My issues with Rob began months before he contracted verbal diarrhea and began going batshit on his little radio show.

None of this started with me “attacking” Lizzie. Get your time-line straight, you senile old fuck. Read through your own postings if you’re truly that delirious.

Rob is a piece of shit. Plain and simple. Lesser than the dog shit currently stuck to my flip-flop. You Gene, are that last little corn kernel refusing to digest, encrusted in said poo.

Rob LOVES to excuse his own deplorable actions by pointing the finger at everyone else.

“Hey, I may be a thief and a liar—but wait! Check out those people over there doing worse things! Hey I’m a whistleblower! I’m thusly absolved of any wrong-doing! Sweet!”

Nice try fuckers.

I’ll now be going back to not giving a shit.

Pardon me for extrapolating upon basic medical safety issues, which are so clearly misunderstood by performers in an increasingly dangerous industry.

If Rob’s intention is to approach Mike Moz for some sort of an “apology,” Rob might wanna consider a mouth guard to protect his remaining teeth.

I, however, do owe Lizzie an apology. Here goes…

Dear Lizzy Borden,

I am apologizing to you on behalf of myself and the entire universe, for ever having met a scumbag like Rob.

I’m deeply, sincerely sorry, because without this little cretin clinging desperately to your side, life could have gone a lot better for you.

I truly wish you the best. Hopefully you finally decide to scrape off the tick, and move on with your life.

You’ve never been anything but nice to me (at least to my face, anyway). I’m sorry your husband is a rapidly unraveling lunatic.

Seriously, you’re way too hot for him.

Best,

Brooklyn Lee"

Btw…I’ll be CC’ing this to Mike South as well, just in case you decide to play more games of word twisting .

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