Susie Bright's Journal

The Toasted Marshmallow Electric Milkshake Goodness Test

Last night I had a toasted marshmallow milkshake.

It was so heaven-gobsmacked-delicious I hardly know how to reconstruct the recipe. Is there anyplace else besides New York that has this on the menu?

It was served at a upwardly mobile burger joint called Stand, which my friend Laura Miller introduced me to.

She said there was no point in even considering another flavor, although there were many. Not only is the ice-cream itself potent with the nostalgic taste of a six-year-old's first bite of a burnt 'mallow— but the shake itself is topped with real whipped cream and a CROWN of actual torched marshmallows melting hot on the ice cold glass. Sweet Jesus!

Snooping Around the Underwear Drawer

That's my take on Hitchcock's Rebecca— one of my favorite bits from the documentary The Celluloid Closet, a whole movie of the secret sexual and queer messages that Hollywood so delighted in weaving into its dramas... especially Hitchcock!

I was a friend of the late Vito Russo, who wrote the book Celluloid Closet— the first liberated-critic's look at gay imagery in popular cinema.

When Vito died, and his friends started working on this movie, I told the producers— "Ask me to do anything! I'll take out the trash!"  Vito was SO generous, you just wanted to give to his legacy back a thousand-fold.

But they didn't ask me to do janitorial duty. Instead, the directors called and said: "Can you watch fourteen films in the next twenty-four hours and come in and let us interview you about them?"

I said yes. I knew many of the clips they wanted to use, but some of them I hadn't seen since I was seven years old, watching a black and white TV, with frequent commercial breaks for used cars.

Anyway, if you see me in C.C. and wonder why I sound meticulously knowledgeable about every script we discuss, it's because I had watched them all without sleep the previous night.

I'm eventually sharing all these clips: Hitchcock, Dietrich's Morocco, Fried Green Tomatoes, Doris Day and Joan Crawford in drag, Shirley McLaine and Audrey Hepburn in The Children's Hour, Lauren Bacall as a wicked lesbian, and more.

The whole documentary is spellbinding, and you must read the special feature where Charlton Heston INSISTS that no one in Ben Hur was the slightest bit gay.  Sandals away, my boy!

Speaking of underpinnings, this week I'm conducting a marathon of interviews for my In Bed podcast. Check out the guest list:

Erica Jong

Cintra Wilson

Richard Connerney

Debbie Nathan

Sharon Marcus

Jessica Cutler

Katha Pollitt

Tristan  Taormino

Jamie Gillis

Chelsea Girl of PrettyDumbThings

Kate Bornstein

Leonore Tiefer

Betty Dodson

Jeffrey Escoffier

 

Swoon-worthy! These interviews will be aired over the summer weeks to come, but for this week, while I'm locked up in the booth,  if you have ANY special questions you'd like me to ask these guests, please do speak up— I only get to tie them down to the chair for so long!

What Kind of Fool Do You Take Me For?

Despite my attempts at life's little enchantments, this week carried a deep, dirty, rotten disgrace in its wake.

I refer, of course, to the decision of the Democratic Party majority in Congress to give George Bush a hall pass and a pot of gold to sally forth into Stage Freakazoid of His Holy Crusade. "Y'all be careful now, W.!"

The "conditions" the Party laid down are as tough as mom's dentures. I'm sure the Iraqis'll respond to U.S. ultimatums like children at The Great Father's Knee. That's what the little brown people always do when we get upset, isn't it? Colonialism With Conditions!

I expect, expected— fucking-always-expect— nothing from the Democratic leadership. Can you sing, LBJ, LBJ, How Many Kids Did You Kill Today?

But the past few months, the Dems have been outraged about Iraq. They've been determined in their election promises, devoted to pointing out the criminally negligent, self-mutilating vainglory of it all.

I thought, "Huh! They're going to follow their constituents' wishes on this. They published the best arguments of anyone! They're going to bring the reality check to the table and stand there to see it gets paid in full. Yee-Ha!"

We got the Happy Meal coupon instead.

What does it mean when the Speaker of the House says the compromise she just struck is something she herself wouldn't vote for? That's pathetic.

It says that at today's 23% approval rating for Bush's war plan— and counting down—  the Bush Admin is still outmaneuvering the Democratic leadership. Who are the Dems playing to? Why should we bother to vote for a "President" in '08 at all?

What's left of the GOP is betting on the fantasy that they'll be better unified on horseshit than the Dems are drawn asunder on the same pile of dung. Both sides, in fact, are responding to corporate profits and lobbying strategies that have nothing to do with the public interest.

And, yeah, we know that, now.

So many people seem to get it, and are even mesmerized by the circle around the drain. But being led around by the nose is still very much in vogue. Voters have been played like marionettes on kneeslappers like "special gay rights!" and "immigration walls!"

Both houses, the Capulets and the Montagues, have given The War another pat on the back and a raise because they are beholden to, and blinded by, a different constituency than the one that voted them into office.

Who am I talking about? Quo Bene?

That's what I'd love to see spelled out in the daily papers of record. Talk about missing a set of teeth. They squander their space with dribble about how the Democrats are afraid of what they would "look like" if they aren't supportive of the troops getting their C-rations.

Look like? Are you kidding me? Who besides the gilded 1% is looking for anything, except an end to this immoral imperial charade? When are the Billion Dollar Dogs of Profiteering going to be put down?

One day Enron will be seen as a minor blip, a geologic footnote, in the glacier of greed that comprises the ruling class of this country. They will grind this world flat.

The people I see who are following the money are waaay on the outside— filmmakers like Robert Greenwald with Iraq For Sale: The War Profiteers— that's mandatory viewing. You can start your "who benefits?" list right there.

Then there's Amy Goodman's crew on Democracy Now: Ya gotta love Kenneth STARR, of all people, defending Blackwater's war contracts.

The war profiteers cannot be altruistic or public-spirited. They can't be fulfilled. It's like asking a scorpion to give you a free ride. They can't be talked into a wind-down, a slowdown, or letting up on the gas. Their existence as a permanent arms economy can only survive by expansion.

Until we take away their toys, they will break them; they will break us. We have to stop paying for them, voting for them, working for them. It's a vision thing, as King George might say— to stop seeing that we share the slightest, tiniest, mutual interest.

Bush and his posse were voted in by ungilded people who thought he represented their economic trust. What does it mean for them to regret that mistake? What will we do now, when it's all too apparent we're bleeding out?

Several weeks ago, Andrew J. Bacevich, a retired Army colonel who served in Vietnam, wrote an editorial in the Boston Globe:

"Today, Iraq teeters on the brink of disintegration. The war's costs, already staggering, continue to mount. Violence triggered by the US invasion has killed thousands of Iraqi civilians. We cannot fully absolve ourselves of responsibility for those deaths."

This past Mother's Day, he lost his own son, by suicide bomber in Iraq. In despair, he cried:

"What kind of democracy is this? When the people do speak, and the people's voice is unambiguous – but nothing happens?"

Then the words that must have been the hardest...

"I've been  struggling...to try to understand my responsibility for my own son's death."

It's a question any American could ask, because we're losing our sons and daughters in every quarter. Our Constitution— an infant, really— is gasping for breath.

What kind of a democracy is this?  It's a cradle that begs to be set right.

More Random Honest Porn Review

Susan, from Marin County, is another curious reader of this blog who subscribed with the bait that I would send her a random porn tape from my attic collection.

Of course she was also deeply devoted to my political passion and exquisite prose— RIGHT, Susan?— but it was just too funny to get a bizarre treat, too.

Her review, of Fashionistas Safado: The Challenge is now added to our cherished directory of HONEST RANDOM PORN REVIEWS, by people who don't have a thing to get out of it except a kick in the pants. Maybe a tickle somewhere else.

I love your reviews, please keep sending them! I sent about twenty of these suckers out so far. Don't be shy; there's no rules except your uncensored reactions!

Susan writes:

 

"Antonio" [the leading stud) bends over so the models can spank him a bit— while his cock, enormous, dangles before us. Shot from behind, his balls appear to be situated nearly halfway down the shaft.

Partner and I begin to wonder if this might be some sort of "extended cock." Has something been inserted between his body and his balls to give the impression of greater length?

I ask my partner to get down on his knees so I can take a look at him from behind, not a common view for me. He's not built like Antonio. Our experience of seeing men from this angle is admittedly limited, but we begin to doubt Antonio's cock is all it appears to be...

Read the rest of Susan's ruthless review and sexual outcome here!

 

To read the rest of Susie's memoir as a porn critic, check out: 

The Erotic Screen, Vol. 1: The Golden Hardcore and the Shimmering Dyke-Core 

 
Available at Amazon, B&N, & Smashwords. Here's the whole Table of Contents.

Stories from the 1980s with legendary artists like Russ Meyer, John Leslie, Sharon Mitchell, Jeannie Pepper, Christopher Rage, John Holmes, Marilyn Chambers... and many more.

 

 

Photo is a band photo on a 45 single that proves exactly what everyone says about those swingers in Marin!

The Abyss

 

Who needs sex toys for a desert island when apparently you just have to dive a little deeper for this sweet number?

This photograph is from the new book, The Deep: The Extraordinary Creatures of the Abyss, which is reviewed in the NYT today. The photographs have me agog. These are truly the most beautiful, and also the most fearsome, creatures I have ever seen.

Ariel Gore: Pregnant Again

Folks say I’m not supposed to tell everyone yet, but I’m pregnant again. Ha, ha!

By Ariel Gore

Editor, Hip Mama

Author, How to Become a Famous Writer Before You're Dead: Your Words in Print and Your Name in Lights

I don’t remember feeling quite this uncomfortable the first time, but it’s been seventeen years.

I remember barfing a lot back then. Now I just feel nauseous. My belly aches crampy, I have to pee, I’m breaking out, and my tits feel heavy with the occasional shooting pain from the side.

Some things don’t change: I’m still uninsured. But this time I’m in America, where we think universal health care is an evil communist-terrorist plot to take away your freedom. I’ll have to pay a visit to Adult & Family Services tomorrow and see if they can hook me up. Otherwise, it’s $3,300 for the midwife. and just hope we don’t end up in the hospital.

All that aside, I’m super-psyched. It’s easy to lose track of the joy of life-force in the presence of an evil biological-societal plot to get us bogged down in the physical and capitalist details.

Weird cultural things:

1) So, right. You’re not supposed to tell anyone until you’re twelve weeks along. This is, apparently, because you might have a miscarriage— and although it’s fun to share good news, it’s taboo and embarrassing to share bad news.

But doesn’t the silence make death in general and miscarriage in particular just that much more unspeakable? If I had a miscarriage, would that not be part of life?

2) Every stinking thing I read about pregnancy still seems to refer to “your husband” or “your partner.”

If they’re talking about second pregnancies they mention “your preschooler in the house.” WTF do they know about my husband, partner, or preschooler?

3) The first reaction of a certain close relative who shall remain nameless was:

“WHAT? Is this a joke? Well, did you go to the NOBEL Sperm Bank? WHY didn’t you go to the Nobel Sperm Bank? I would have PAID for you to go to the Nobel Sperm Bank!”

(One Nobel Prize-winner approached by said bank is rumored to have responded, “You want to produce people like me? Ask my dad. He’s a cab driver.”)

4) The internet. I know information is power... but from the Trying to Conceive “TTC” people to the newly pregnant “BFP” (Big Fat Positive) ones blogging about the ultrasounds they get every fifteen minutes to see if their blastocyst has turned into an embryo has turned into a fetus and grown the appropriate millimeter? Or, "This cramp is normal but this one means you’re going to die?"

Sometimes it seems more like a World Wide Swamp of Obsessive-Compulsive Disorder.

Paranoia breeds in there. I know life is worrisome, but the attempt to micromanage things you can’t control doesn’t help. Makes it worse. It’s like this culture is so stuck on itself that we can barely handle something so human and average and chaotic as women getting knocked up and having kids.

ONE DAY LATER

I paid that visit to Adult/Family Services this morning. I qualified for state insurance, the worker told me, but I’d have to provide proof of my pregnancy.

“I just did a home test,” I explained. “I haven’t been to the doctor yet because I don’t have insurance.”

The worker handed me an address. “They’ll give you a free test,” is all she said.

I found myself, about a half-hour later, trapped in a pink wall-papered room with a frail blond woman about ten years my senior lecturing me on “the kind of relationships GOD wants you to have,” and handing me a brochure entitled The Only Safe Sex is No Sex Until Faithful Married Sex.

“Are you for or against abortion?” she asked.

“I’m pro-choice.”

"FOR ABORTION" she wrote in all-caps across my intake sheet.

Later, my seventeen-year-old daughter Maia yelled at me for not yelling at the woman. It’s funny, she's  accustomed to seeing me pitch a fit in her defense, but when it comes to my own defense I’m shy.

“It’s intimidating,” I try to explain. “These people have the power. They decide whether or not you’ll get insurance. I’ll file a complaint.”

Maia shakes her head. “Oh, no. You should have gone off on her. If they deny you insurance for going off on someone who went totally Christian on you, we will sue them and we will win!”

What can I say? Hallelujah.

Ariel is an old friend and writing mentor of mine. Yes, that's her tummy at the top, from her recent book tour.  Several months ago she interviewed me for  How to Become a Famous Writer Before You're Dead. Despite its seemingly hyperbolic title, I recommend it for its stark honesty and dark humor... her advice is sound— and her pregnancy is going well!

Sex Toys for a Desert Island

I just made a little list of sex toys I would pack up to a desert island. My jill-off and orgasm essentials. And Paul Wolfowitz is uninvited.

What was my inspiration?

I returned home from a sex toy trade show in Las Vegas and was blown away by the mobs of Fuckerware party hosts and sexweb businesses and g-spot hopefuls who are... dazed and confused.

I don't blame them, because there are mountains and mountains of dopey items that are never going to get anyone off.

In Bed with Susie Bright 294: Las Vegas Sex Trip

Listen to the whole adventure: Link

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My sex-toy-Must-Have's are not simply my own quirks; I'm Your Average Jane, judging by the thousands... hmm, maybe make it millions... of women I've counseled about sex. Even though we really are all different fascinating individuals, a clit is a clit is a clit. And some stuff just feels great to everyone.

(Oh... a caveat here... you don't "NEED" sex toys to have a satisfying sex life, any more than you need triple layer chocolate cake to have a satisfying meal. They're simply fun, sometimes illuminating, and great expression of the pleasure ethic. Without your creative mind, hand, tongues, and soft parts, they're nothing!)

For those of you who know me well, you can forgive me for why I'm such a smartypants on this topic. But for the uninitiated, here is the unclassified background:

I was one of the first employees of one of the first two women's vibrators stores, back when we had like... one customer all day, in a space the size of a doghouse. I wrote our first full-length mail order catalog, and introduced the first women's erotic video library.

Our original motivation was sex education, not particularly money-making. (That changed later... I miss the ole' education-first spirit!)

I introduced the first silicone dildos to the public, the technological revolution of my generation's toy department. They were invented by a Granadan man and healer named Gosnell Duncan, who was an activist for spinal-cord injury survivors. (Gosnell's health didn't permit him to continue, but you can visit his innovative descendants here!)

Perhaps to my regret,  I also introduced those silly Vibratex rabbits. The Japanese packaging was a breakthrough for Americans— it was the first product to hit the "cute vein."

But how the rabbits actually work is as mediocre as any other battery-vibe, and even more misleading. Oh well— it was worth it to bring in color and imagination into the novelty's business's dubious aesthetics.

A little note about the Rabbits. Yes, they originally came from Japan, where it was illegal to sell sex toys that looked like genitalia.. their particular  government censorship at the time. When the first Vibratex salesman showed up in the States, he was turned down FLAT by the big American novelty distributors, who insisted that people would only but items that looked like big cocks in dead corpse Caucasian flesh tones. I'm serious! They laughed at him.

So Vibratex-Man came to our tiny shop, took out his cute box of rabbits and beavers and I clapped my hands in delight. He finally found a woman who had a real sexual and delighted reaction! I loved the way they looked... their whimsy, to my eyes, was just the shot of humor and color our world needed.

Unfortunately, the "action" of the rabbit-style vibe is somewhat illusory. The "phallic" part twirls, right? It looks like a whirling whisk in the free air. But in your vagina, your walls fit snugly around the totem, and it barely wiggles. After all, it's only two C batteries!

The beads you see in the middle are undetectable by your vaginal walls. Irrelevant. The original ones didn't have those, and they came in day glo colors. I always thought the "beaver" face was the most realistic.

Meanwhile, there's the clit-tip action, the little animal head with its flicking tongue. Again, looks fabulous "in the air." But when you hold it close to your mons, you  have to press it against you in the way you like, which you would do with any vibe. Unfortunately, it's not an eager beaver with a mind of its own performing cunnilingus on you. Sorry! This is one of those "coffee-table" items that doesn't quite live up to its appearance.

When Sex and the City incorporated the Rabbit into one of their scripts, its reputation exploded. But it's one of those TV Moments that doesn't live up to reality.

I sold a lot of women their first vibrator, fit them with their first strap-on, and elicited laughs instead of anguish over their first dildo purchase. I waited on nuns and queens and movie stars and high school feminists. My favorite part was listening to people's sex histories. And many of them bought rabbits along with my cautions, 'cause they couldn't resist they way they look.

I've wanted to make this little list for awhile, because I often get asked, "What works?" or "What your personal favorites?" and now I can just spout off this URL.

I have a couple caveats for my essential toys:

1) Electricity is essential.  I don't care what sex toy retailers say about battery-operated vibes— the main reason they push them is because they are dirt cheap, (wholesale), and they are lightweight to ship and transport (without the batts, of course!). A Hitachi magic wand is only marked up double its cost to the retailer... so if it's $40, maybe they paid $20.

But a battery vibe might be a dollar to them and they'll sell it for $10 or $20.

This reasoning has nothing to do with how it feels, or if women can get off on it. And the "sound" of batteries vibrating against plastic doesn't mean it's powerful. They can make an awful racket and not deliver any appreciable sensation.

Can women get off on battery-vibes? YES, some can, some are their mother's darlings— I'm not on a crusade to get rid of them.  But the reason they are hyped the way they are is because of money, not because of universal sexual satisfaction.

The vibrators that are produced by the mainstream appliance manufacturers like Hitachi and Wahl, were originally introduced as "massagers." They're quality appliances that will last years and years. I still have the first ones I ever bought in 1981. They have warranties. They have a following that's  been going for decades, based on technology that's over a century old now.

I always hated selling a woman a battery-operated model for her first vibrator because there was a 50% chance she'd find the whole thing a hoax. However, if I sold her a motor-driven or coil-operated electric model, she'd come out of the 'try-out' room with this amazed look on her face, and say, 'OH! I GET IT NOW!"

2.  The other big item on my list is lubricant. I'd say half the problems I've heard regarding a woman's arousal were related to dry, uncomfortable, even painful vaginal penetration. Yuck. And when it comes to anal sex without lube? There should be a law!

Sex educators are famous for a  particular cliche: "communication and lubrication" are what make people happy in bed. But truer words were never spoken.

So, given that essential fact, what lube do you get? My Amazon list is a little truncated because of what I could list on their site.

Vegetable oil is fantastic. Pre-AIDS, it was my lube of choice. If you're aren't using condoms, get your favorite oil— almond is really nice, maybe add a little coconut to make it creamy— and go at it. Or just grab the olive oil off the kitchen counter if time is of the essence. It feels great, it won't hurt you, it's sexy.... who could ask for more?

For water-soluble lubes, I always liked Probe because it has no taste! The biggest hassle with commercial lubes is that they usually taste AWFUL and make oral sex completely undesirable.

Are there other taste and scent-free lubes? Yes, Probe is my old tried-and-true. Works great with condoms, doesn't make you ill, doesn't cause cancer... what a treasure!

However, sometimes you need a lube that goes BEYOND. Sometimes the drugs you're on,  or menopause, can  turn you into a prune. How do you get that high-flying crazy slippery feeling that goes on and on and on?

Silicone lube.

That's why I recommended Liquid Silk for my desert island. It also is the first lube that  makes hot tub and shower sex possible and even fun. It's not water soluble— you'll have that slippery feeling in your vagina or ass for several hours. But the slickness is so intoxicating. Just don't use it with other silicone products or they gum each other up! Get that spatula out of your hot tub!

My big "BUT" to the lube discussion is this:  natural lubrication happens when you're aroused and not compromised by health issues.

If you use lube, and you're STILL not aroused, you can certainly fuck comfortably, but it won't be fun or orgasmic. That's fine if you're working a job, but put the pleasure part at the top of your self-interest, and and it will make all the difference.

3. Amazon has a piss-poor dildo selection. Call Jeff Bezos and tell him it's an emergency!

Really, I put a dildo-looking object in my list, as a symbol— but for actual shopping, I'd go one of two ways:

If you're trying to save money and just want to have a good time, pick the best-looking phallic vegetable out of your garden, and have a ball!  One of my fondest memories as a vibrator clerk was the time I got a letter from a customer in Georgia who was growing zucchinis to get around the prohibitive laws there. She sent me photos! They were beautiful!  And as she pointed out, completely healthy.

The other way to go is to lavish some money on an objet d'art that you'll treasure the rest of your life. I love the silicon dildos by Tantus, the glass one-of-a-kinds, the special woods. They're gorgeous. Check out the selection at Blowfish, Babeland, or Good Vibes— you know, one of the feminist sex radical stores that go the extra mile— and start your collection!

4.  I'm not completely serious about a vibrating Rubber Ducky being an essential— but the duck represents something I am serious about: water flow. I've moved out of apartments because the bathtub tap was in the wrong position, or the water pressure was hopeless.

Orgasms from streaming water on your clit are just... so special. Everyone's a spouting mermaid when it comes right down to it. Rubber Ducky is my little reminder of a waterfall's pleasures, and plus, I like to squeeze him and make him squeak!

Hair Lifes of the Rich and Famous

I'm bummed about Britney's wigs. It was my hope that she would stride about bald-headed and unapologetic since the first defiant day when she picked up the shears.

As one of my teenage informants offered, "For the first time, Britney was interesting."

Yeah, when a woman decides to take the crowning glory off, it squishes traditional femininity like a bug. Have you ever done it, or been with someone who did?

Episode 292, The Sex Lives of the Rich and Famous

Listen to the whole show: LINK

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I called my friend Ducky Doolittle, who's had a bit of experience with taking it all off. She said:

I shaved my head for so long that when I started to grow my hair I felt like an undercover female. But I have always walked a gender line, happily female, tough tomboy, natural feminist... But I was struck by how people treated me when I looked more femme. I look back an know that I shaved my head after I became homeless. Having a shaved head was an excellent bit of armor for me. People definitely left me alone and thought twice about cat-calling or fucking with me. Since then I have read how people traditionally and instinctively connect long, healthy hair with fertility and sex appeal. I have also noticed a lot of pregnant women cut their hair... Just a social observation.

Do you think that Britney is a secret Butch screaming to get out? She wasn't a little femme confection when she was a child, she was a "headstrong tomboy." Or is Spears simply another tragic loony-toon child-star fucked into the ground?

I think she is just a young woman. I am just SO HAPPY that no one photographed my every move when I was young. The bad hair, poor fashion choices, poor choices in friends, horrible jobs... I felt like I was completely lost in life until I hit about 25.

I wish Ducky was my guardian angel. And no, I've never shaved my head... quite the opposite. I was tortured by "pixie cuts" as a child and have always wished I had long curly locks to the floor.

And speaking of celebrity-sex-trash, you know how so many straight women say that they'd give it up for Angelina Jolie as a special exception? Well, there's a similar meme for lesbians, and his name is Gavin Newsom, the mayor of San Francisco, and patron saint of gay marriage (who happens to have a  nice head of hair). I have never heard so much about a politician's cock as I have about Gavin's, and it's always some dyke girlfriend who's breathlessly telling all. Details follow on my show...

When you think about your "type"— if you have one— is there a famous person you'd make a special exception for? Especially if they begged?

Finally, in the Try This at Home mailbag, I answer a letter from a woman who's passing out from too many orgasms. And this is a problem...

Don't forget, you can send your confidential questions, feedback about the show, and requests for girly cards to [email protected] (Episode 292, May 4, 2007)

Finally: Naked Lesbian Yoga

But why does it have to be in Melbourne?

I'm all the way in Santa Cruz, which is overflowing with yoga togs, Bikram, AND lesbians but no naked yoga classes. As yet.

This is actually a model shoot from the all-gal AbbyWinters.com, a pay site in Australia. These young women are not all dykes, they are simply up for an adventure, but I have my little crushes and hopes... "Patience" is the one on the left, in the knit hat, and my favorite— she is the most outspoken in the video shoot.

Last week when I had my little fund-raising drive, I sent random sex videos out to everyone who subscribed to my blog, and offered to post any reviews you might choose to write.

Well, Monsieur Zak from the O.C. San Diego has sent in the first critiques, including a review of an Abby Winters flick, which you can read here — along with his comparisons to Tristan Taormino's House of Ass. His reviews are great... I love random, honest, porn crit!

Jerry Falwell Takes a Flight Down

“I shudder to think where the country would be right now if the religious right had not evolved.”

"Grown men should not be having sex with prostitutes unless they are married to them."

“Christians, like slaves and soldiers, ask no questions.”

"AIDS is not just God's punishment for homosexuals— it is God's punishment for the society that tolerates homosexuals."

"I believe that global warming is a myth. And so, therefore, I have no conscience problems at all and I'm going to buy a Suburban next time."

"I listen to feminists and all these radical gals— most of them are failures. They've blown it. Some of them have been married, but they married some Casper Milquetoast who asked permission to go to the bathroom. These women just need a man in the house. That's all they need. Most of the feminists need a man to tell them what time of day it is and to lead them home."

"I do not believe we can blame genetics for adultery, homosexuality, dishonesty and other character flaws."

"The abortionists have got to bear some burden for this because God will not be mocked. When we destroy 40 million little innocent babies, we make God mad... I really believe that the pagans, and the abortionists, and the feminists, and the gays and the lesbians who are actively trying to make that an alternative lifestyle, the ACLU, People for the American Way— all of them who have tried to secularize America— I point the finger in their face, and say, 'You helped this happen.'"
— On Why 9-11 Happened

"Hell's a real place— where real people spend a real eternity."

The Man, The Waterslide, The Damage Done: Link