Twenty five plus years ago, the owner of the juke box at the Village Idiot introduced me to a goofy guy at the bar who also drove a cab. And John and I have been friends ever since. Even though he now lives in Pennsylvania, we still talk frequently and will occasionally compare cab stories from days of yore.
Yesterday was one of those days I rung him up (so to speak) and somehow the conversation turned to the dumbest shit we’d ever been guilty of while hacking. Who owned the moron move of the century was about a dead heat. But I liked his story so much, it (and mine as an intro) bear repeating. Continue Reading
Has anyone ever noticed that many of the foreign-born escorts in New York are of the mature variety? And that if you want a girl in her twenties or teens you have to go American? Ever wonder why that is? There’s actually an explanation for this phenomenon. And it lies with the tastes of our men – versus the tastes of foreign men:
Many cultures outside the USA are even more youth-oriented than ours. Once a girl hits the age of say…25, she’s already used/damaged goods and considered over-the-hill for this business. Guys with currency of the realm are not interested in buying their services. So what’s a girl to do? Answer: Go to a country where men aren’t so hung up on youth. And that country is AMERICA! A while back I broached this subject with a forty-something client from Brazil who explained to me that 16 year-old girls litter the nude beaches in Rio. They’re all over the place vogueing, preening and selling. And that’s what Brazilian men want. Once a girl is 21, she’s already too old. Hence, the mature girls come to New York to earn dollars, which they send back to Brazil where they’re valuable. Many end up building houses and/or buying buildings in Brazil with the money they make here. And this is why we have “The Million Brazilian Cotillion” in New York. Continue Reading
CANDICE WIGGINS, ex-WNBA star, recently stated in an interview that she cut her career short by two years for a sublimely counterintuitive reason. She was tired of being discriminated against for being heterosexual.
We all know that the WNBA is a predominantly gay league. Most of the women are lesbians – as is a big percentage of their fan base. That fact has been acknowledged for a long time. What we didn’t know is that supposedly, the gay girls didn’t like any dick-loving women in their ranks. Of course, we don’t really know that now. We’ve just heard it from one of their players.
After reading the story, I thought back to recall if I could remember ever being discriminated against for being straight in a gay setting. And via that fleeting thought, I came to a not-so-startling but still significant realization that while selling ads in the she male community, I was not singled out for ridicule for the crime of being straight. In fact, the trannies were very accepting of their hetero sales guy. Rarely was I sexually harassed or even questioned about my sexuality. While I was occasionally treated unfairly (like when a client fired me because the idiots at the Village Voice omitted her ad), it was never because I liked “fish.” Continue Reading
We’ve all heard the generic medial advice joke: “Take two aspirin and call me in the morning.” It turns out that the sawbones who’s been caring for the orthopedic problems of the US women’s olympic gymnasts has his own take on a cure-all recommendation. But his is a little different.
Picture the scene at the women’s training camp for these adolescent girls. They have two head coaches from Eastern Europe barking orders and constantly pressuring them to be better (this is according to the girls’ own testimony). Rarely are they commended for their hard work. But doctor LARRY NASSAR is different. He’s friendly, supportive and essentially, a breath of fresh air for young girls under constant stress. And he’s the guy who tends to their aches and pains which apparently, are many – and threaten to derail their olympic hopes and dreams. Continue Reading
Originally written for SCREW MAGAZINE at the end of the Clinton administration, I offer this gem today (and every Presidents Day) in honor of the holiday.
So you thought you were the biggest pervert on the planet! Nobody could possibly eclipse your level of depravity. Guess again, fellas! In honor of Presidents Day, we bring you the cold hard facts about the rocket scientists/skirt chasers/drunken debauchers who designed this very republic: Thomas Jefferson was pounding an underage slave…Benjamin Franklin was the biggest horn dog in France, and despite having the biggest joint in The Continental Congress, George Washington never bedded the love of his life. Read on for the details on these outrageous but true historical tidbits! Continue Reading
It should come as no surprise that many of the American girls in the escort business have the kind of social life that guys like us can only dream of. For starters, think of all the variety! And then consider that many escorts like members of both genders effectively doubling their opportunity! Ask yourself what happens when the girls go out clubbing. How many individuals bust a move on them? And then there’s the intramural on-the-job activity the girls have when it’s slow! It just never ends!
A while back a manager I know called me up to say she’d just seen some selfies the girls had taken from the night before. Essentially, a group of 4 or 5 were in a carnal pile satisfying each other all while mugging for the camera. Nice! Continue Reading
At this point in time, 42nd Street is about as sanitized and tourist-friendly as it could possibly be. And on balance, that’s a good thing. But 30 years ago “the deuce” was a totally different scene. No chain restaurants. No Madame Tussaud’s. Just porn stores, porn theaters, live sex shows and conglomerate emporiums with all of the previously mentioned. And right at the center of it all was the mop man.
The mop man was the guy who cleaned up the mess. Men from all walks of life would cum…and they would go. And he’d be the individual to keep it copacetic! It didn’t matter whether it was a video booth, a one on one booth (with a window in between) a live sex show, or a squeeze-through window. The happy ending was always the same. And the mop man stood at the ready to clean it all up. Continue Reading
It’s late and who wants to leave the house or wait for a girl to arrive when video chat with this and many other girls is just a few seconds away? Check it out! And every time you hit the refresh button, you’ll see a different girl. Or click the girl’s pic and the sound comes on.
General naivete about the business notwithstanding, only the grossly uninformed think escorts suffer from being underpaid. You hear all kinds of news and rumors about trafficking and pimping and coercion and on and on. But rarely is there a news feature claiming that the pay-for-play set earns the minimum wage.
A logical question poses itself pursuant to this reality. What the hell do the girls do with their money? It’s been brought to my attention that the occasional forward-thinking escort actually saves it. But I’m not buyin’ that. If I had one finger for every girl I’ve ever met in the biz who banked most of what she earned, my hand would look like John Pierre Paul’s! (I know. Soooo wrong!) Continue Reading
Lately I’ve been reading some WW II books many of which divulge specific and intimate details about the soldiers’ lives. Of particular interest to me is a) what they ate – especially while in battle – and b) the obvious – if and how they got sex!
It shouldn’t come as no shock to discover that a foxhole is no place for vegans, vegetarians or health food nuts. It was the armed forces job to provide caloric content first and foremost. They weren’t worried about preservatives or high fructose corn syrup polluting the boys’ bodies. I mean…let’s get real! Still, there were some exceptionally odd items included in WW II field rations which boggle the 21st century mind. Like just for example…every ration contained a four pack of cigarettes and sticks of chewing gum. Where’s the caloric content and nutritional value there? Continue Reading
You’ll notice that the past three posts all had one thing in common: the word “hooker.” There’s a reason for that. Usually when I decide to run a repeat, I’ll go back a year or so and begin trolling around for something worthy. But recently, I switched up and searched backwards for the word “hooker” to find three oldies I liked. So I ran them on consecutive days and that’s how that happened. Somehow, searching for a specific word brings better results than simply dialing back the clock.
Moving on…while riding uptown yesterday, I noticed that the bottom bar of my Kryptonite bike lock had somehow fallen off. Ouch! Doubling back didn’t work. Couldn’t find the sucker. And to prove that lightning indeed does strike twice, the same thing happened today with my shitty spare! But the second time I did find the bottom part and could continue on my way. Continue Reading
Ever fascinated by words, expressions and their derivations, I happened upon the etymology of the word “hooker” recently while reading a book about 4 female spies during the Civil War (very interesting reading by the way). In the text, the author offers the derivation of the most commonly used slang term for a woman who sells sex.
George McClellan was arguably the weakest general ever to lead American forces in wartime. In fact, several historians claim that had he had any balls at all, the war would have been over quickly and hundreds of thousands of lives saved. After a while, Lincoln had had enough of his pussified leader and fired him in favor of Ambrose Burnsides (whose odd beard birthed the term “sideburns”) and then Joseph Hooker after Burnside lost the Battle of Fredricksburg. Continue Reading
I’m always tickled when in the process of reading some academic tome about an era in American history, I find some clues revealing the history of the world’s oldest profession as a byproduct.
My current book du jour is titled “TRIANGLE,” an exhaustive work which details the run up, main event, and fallout following a huge fire at the corner of Washington Square Park which killed 146 garment workers back in the early 20th century. Continue Reading
Any student of history or person who lived through the Watergate Era is well aware of Richard Nixon’s indiscretions. He perjured himself…he obstructed justice…he sold ambassadorships…he illegally wire-tapped…he paid hush money to keep himself out of trouble…he was arguably a drunk…and on and on. Nothing new there. But what about Nixon and hookers? Let’s get down to the nitty gritty Dollar Bill style!
Nixon was not a guy who cheated on his wife. In fact, to look at him, one might wonder how he convinced any woman to let him mount her. Kennedy or Clinton he certainly was not in that arena. But using hookers to sandbag his enemies? Now that is a different story! Continue Reading
I was on the phone gabbing with an old friend, a legendary pro who no longer works. She’s in her mid-50’s now and still more or less in the prime of life. Yet despite having a live-in boyfriend for decades, she hasn’t had sex in “a really long time” (her words – not mine). When active, she no doubt entertained thousands of individuals. But now? Completely fallow…and not all that concerned about it, apparently.
On other occasions, I’ve been in the company of younger girls who opted for ownership and eventually faded from the scene in the room. And not because they had boyfriends and felt it was time to retire…but more because they’d had enough of men for ten lifetimes! I guess if I were force fed all kinds of food for years, I would eventually lose my appetite for anything after a while. And actually, it sort of makes sense when you think about it. Continue Reading
The latest chapter in the ongoing soap opera between those media outlets who suggested the First lady was once an escort and MELANIA TRUMP herself features MT claiming that the inflammatory reports concerning her alleged previous occupation have prevented her from marketing a fashion line and thus, have cost the entrepreneur uncounted millions in revenue. Well…as a guy who specializes in seeing a silver lining to every storm cloud, I have a capital idea. Continue Reading
You’ll notice that yesterday’s post was a repeat when in fact, I’d written an entry titled “Dear John,” for publication. It was named for the man who decided to tell the world about my legal predicament and financial secrets via the Daily News…and how his article made my fucked up life even worse. I wouldn’t classify the text as “psycho”…but then again, I didn’t have a lot of praise for the guy who outed me.
Once finished, I googled his name to add a picture which as you know I do for every entry, and came to discover that my John quit his job at the Daily News on December 1st after being the paper’s cops and court reporter for 31 years! Most likely, emailing him at the DN address I had wasn’t going to get to him after all. And I doubt he reads this blog. Continue Reading
A tale of tribulation from days of yore when I drove a taxi…and King Tut’s Wha Wha Hut was the happening East Village bar. File this one under karma’s a bitch!
His name was Stinkbomb Stan – or at least that’s what I called him. And there was a good reason. Stan was the bouncer at an East Village bar where I used to “socialize” 20 or 25 years ago. He was also a steady 4 AM fare to Brooklyn on nights that I drove a taxi. Stan wasn’t that great of a guy – nor was his ride a particularly good one. He went deep into Bed Stuy through 100 traffic lights and only tipped a buck. Still, driving him home was good neighborhood politics and at least a guaranteed fare at a time of night a cabby could really have difficulty finding anybody who sought his services. Continue Reading
Back in my formative years, I was pretty much a bratty kid. Mom tried to get me to say please and thank you…but it just didn’t happen. Dad was gone and I had little or no respect for her authority. The lessons didn’t take. Then one summer when I was 8 years old, my mother shipped me off to visit my father’s sister to spend a few weeks in the country. Ellie was a no nonsense woman who at once scared me and commanded respect. By the time I got home, believe me…I knew how to say please and thank you…and have continued to do so for the rest of my life!
Even with people as dissolute as the crew which line up for free soup at the Catholic Worker, they’re mostly (though not all) appreciative of the free food and know how to show that appreciation with simple pleases and thank you’s. That part of social convention has by and large not eluded them though so much else has. Continue Reading
I was in an American place recently and couldn’t help but observe with curiosity the entertainment area in the “girls only” section of the establishment. The girls were at rapt attention (figuratively) while watching television. So what would you guess is the majority viewing choice in the late afternoon hours? Not a big surprise: a talk show hosted by a female…with the subjects for discussion being the kind of stuff you might read in Cosmopolitan magazine. Sport that she is, the boss had invested in Spectrum and a 50″ tv to keep the girls in waiting content. And it was well worth the investment. Continue Reading
In the wake of yesterday’s revelation that the NYPD will be adding vice cops to its roster in an attempt to apprehend human traffickers, I couldn’t help but comb the archives of my mind to see if I’d ever actually sold ads to somebody I knew was a trafficker. I mean…I serviced some serious low lives pursuant to keeping a full time job at a magazine. That was a given. But actual traffickers? Well, the answer is yes. But it wasn’t foreigners with whom I dealt. It was good (or bad) ol’ pimps! Continue Reading
Years and years ago when I first got my job at Action, I actually socialized with some of my clients. The boss wanted his salespeople to represent his magazine as the “we try harder” company and approved of us becoming part of the girls’ personal lives.
My first BFF on the stroll was a huge-chested latina named SUMMER who during my first month of employment asked if she could stay for the night in my apartment! Summer worked in Midtown and lived in Staten. Knocking off work at 1 AM only to take the ferry and a train home to return the next day at 11 AM was too much. Crashing with me seemed to be a better alternative.
Nothing happened that night (a story not relevant to today’s entry) but Summer and I became friends in great part because she had a car and was down for rides in the country, an activity in which we partook a few times. One evening after returning from our joy ride, Summer decided we should go to a strip club. Not one of those glitzy/fancy joints…but a simple bar out in Queens (might have been called Pennywhistle’s. I’m not really sure). Continue Reading
…but it wasn’t about me and an escort finding true love in the most unlikely of places. Allow me.
Many years ago when I was an Action Magazine road runner, frequent subway and/or bike rides to Queens were virtually a daily chore. So one day I got a call to go out to a prospective customer who was doing business at the 45th Road/Courthouse Square stop on the #7. Easy enough. Not my first rodeo. Continue Reading
Just yesterday as I stood behind the counter ladling soup for the have-nots, the scene in front of me became the focus of my attention. The Catholic Worker dining area is a relatively small and very chaotic scene at meal time. Twenty eight guests are seated…another half dozen or so are milling about…and generally twelve volunteers are walking back and forth delivering soup, bread, milk, butter, water, tea and coffee. It’s amazing more stuff doesn’t get spilled…and more harsh words aren’t spoken given the traffic. Continue Reading
Last Saturday while drinking with the Meatloaf Kitchen volunteer crew, I came to discover that my buddy and shift boss Mark had a new girlfriend (with whom I was conversing). Asked how they met, the couple revealed it was a dating app which put them together. Hence, I republish this post from about a year ago. Enjoy!
So I was talking to the owner of an American joint yesterday…a guy I’ve known for a long time…when the subject turned to who’s zoomin’ who and homie revealed that he subscribes to Tinder, the “it” hookup site of the moment…and that he’s scored with no fewer than four women via his membership on the site.
This didn’t come as a huge shock because “Charlie” (fake name) isn’t one of those trick-turned-owner guys who entered the business to get back some of the fortune he’d spent “seeing” escorts. Rather, Charlie’s a mack who has no problem bedding babes. Keeping them unaware of each other would be more like it! Continue Reading
As someone who’s tapped out hundreds of erotic pieces (of crap) for a fee, I’m not partial to writing any more. Initially, it was kind of fun to depict the sex act for money. But it got old quickly. I simply stopped taking the work and opted to be a sales whore instead figuring “hey! If I’m gonna prostitute myself, I might as well go for the big bucks!” And the big bucks was in selling advertising and not writing sploogey slime for a living.
To the point…y’all noticed that after the big Slackpage announcement (which as we all now know amounted to nothing), I got a mini rush of new advertisers. And a funny thing happened when I met them for the first time. “You can do reviews for us?” asked the managers. My verbal answer was a simple “no, I don’t write phony reviews.” But what was rattling around my brain was “really? Your ad guys are still doing that bull shit?” Continue Reading
My fleeting infatuation with kpop has long since fizzled. But you know how “you-tubing” goes! The site’s suggestions lead the viewer back to a land he or she once inhabited.
It’s not that I love the following song that much (as it’s a first cousin to one of the girls’ previous hits). It’s about the quality of the video production and the lead singer, both of which rival our best and brightest. Maybe South Korea can’t blow up the world 100 times over like we can in the good ol’ USA…but they can sure blow up a video screen with movement and color I just don’t see from the American producers. Check it out! Continue Reading
The neighborhood in which I live (The East Village) has always been known as a Bohemian mecca which attracts creative and eccentric types. At least, that’s been its reputation. What legend leaves out is all the drugs, hookers and on-welfare Puerto Ricans who lived to rob and burglarize the gringos who dared live in their ghetto.
Well…all that has pretty much changed now as the hood is hardly a “hood” anymore. The drug dealers are gone…the hookers are gone…and even most of the Puerto Ricans are gone. Only if you go to the C Town supermarket coincidentally located on Avenue C do you hear cashiers talking to each other in Spanish! Continue Reading
Just last week I ran an opinion piece about a teacher/student relationship which came to the attention of the authorities. And now just a few days later comes yet another similar tale from the Lone Star State in which a 27 year old female cross country coach had sex with a 15 year old male student.
In my previous entry, I presented the opinion that the kid and his parents (who were aware of the affair and tried to cover it up) should carry some of the weight incarcerationwise. Well…if you were in agreement with me or not, this next episode should give you pause. Continue Reading
It’s no secret that wherever you find military installations, you’re gonna find women who will play with the boys in exchange for their hard-earned pay. You might recall that I’ve chronicled the brothels of pre-attack Pearl Harbor right here. But that was a benign sort of situation in which girls signed on willingly to make a small fortune at the world’s oldest profession. What about the Vietnam War era during what could arguably be called America’s darkest moment? Now that was a different story! Continue Reading
Pardon the interruption…but a funny story from the music and cab biz. I’d tell y’all a funny story from the escort business but there aren’t any. Not a business filled with funny people. Anyway…this one is about a guy named SYLVAIN SYLVAIN.
For those unaware, Sylvain was an original member of a band named the NEW YORK DOLLS, who some credit as the original punk rock/glam band. And while I actually played in a country band which led off for The Dolls once upon a time, I did not meet Sylvain that night. I was introduced to DAVID JOHANSSEN (who was a total dick) but Syl and the band left very little impression on me. I didn’t (and don’t) remember any of their music and felt that if I wanted some real alternative whack job glam noise, I could get it from WAYNE COUNTY’S outfit, with whom my band did many more gigs. Continue Reading
Feeling as I do about the new president, I made a point of watching not one minute of the inauguration festivities. I’m sorry. I don’t like the guy. Friday night frat boy types who sit around and talk about all the pussy they’ve scored just don’t do it for me. What can I say?
But come Sunday AM, I almost always DVR CBS Sunday Morning to watch later so I can avoid the commercials and segments that don’t interest me. (DVR’s are great for that.) Whatever…I did catch a few moments of the inauguration footage and upon seeing a certain featured woman in her designer threads, could not help but ponder the hypocrisy of it all. Continue Reading
The clique of phone girl/managers who run the show at the Big Apple’s KMPs is a pretty tight-knit and exclusive group. It’s not easy to gain entry into the sorority and thus, I see the same faces over and over again moving around in much the same manner as the girls who work in the room do. But recently, there’s been a new addition.
Her name is ZSA ZSA (why not)…and she’s a single mom in her late 20’s (I think) just learning the business. Somehow, I have become her mentor. Watching people process that the schmuck on a bike was actually a multimillionaire once upon a time is almost as entertaining as it is disturbing. Like just yesterday, an old female friend told me she had a dream in which some girl successfully hustled me out of my riches. To which I had to laugh: “I think Uncle Sam beat her to it!” I mean…I’ve actually received advice from more than one government agent on how to spend what money is eventually coming back to me! It’s crazy. Continue Reading
A couple of careers ago (when I was a musician), I got a band leader job with a crappy agency who had the legal right to book any three black girls and call them THE MARVELLETTES. Because the whole deal was as rag-tag as it possibly could have been, the office handed me their greatest hits album – rather than written charts – to acquaint the band with the material.
I liked the group as a teenager and thought I knew most of their hits. But upon listening to the album, I found one song to be the best of all. And it wasn’t one I’d ever heard. THE HUNTER GETS CAPTURED BY THE GAME was a stroke of pure Motown genius, essentially because the story line involved a predatory girl becoming the hunted while pursuing her prey. Well anyway…I was reminded of that song a few days ago when one of my clients fessed up on her star struck indiscretion. Continue Reading
Picture DONALD TRUMP in a you-know-what. I know! An uglier specter would be difficult to imagine. Loud…entitled…boorish! Exactly the kind of guy I try to convince everybody not to be on a visit. Yet today, he will take the oath of office. Somehow, I figured it would never happen. He’d get shot. Or somebody would find out something that would prove how unfit he is for anything but hustling and he wouldn’t be allowed the presidency. No such luck! We got the pussy grabber for four years! Continue Reading
Twenty five years ago when I first decided to embark on a freelance writing career, “men’s sophisticates” were big. Racks and racks of girly rags covered the walls of magazine shops all over the city. And I was determined to write a story for every one of them!
As I became established at some of the organizations (like houses that published Screw, Juggs, Gallery, Leg Scene, Score and several others), it became clear that if I really wanted to make a living, I’d have to begin writing erotic fiction to the tune of 3000 words of carefully crafted sex-laced prose with a plot! Sounds ridiculous (I know) given how little story line your typical porn movie has. But trust me…the editors weren’t paying $400 for something as simple as “I was driving my cab one night when some drunk woman decided to blow me.” They wanted me to earn my four hundred bucks! Continue Reading
Most Americans don’t know that THOMAS JEFFERSON wrote a paragraph into his original Declaration of Independence condemning the British for ever bringing African slaves to America only to have the other founding fathers edit out the passage. Even though it never made it “to print,” Jefferson was aware of his hypocrisy as he was a slave owner and he knew damn well that his timeless “all men are created equal” phrase should really have read “all white men are created equal.” (And forget about women. They weren’t even under consideration.)
I don’t mean to minimize the injustice of importing Africans as slave labor all those years ago. But the world benefited therein with an indigenous art form called jazz which I’m not sure ever would have been had this abhorrent importation ever taken place. And so I bring you a brilliant piece in the genre to make my point. OSCAR PETERSON is one of the baddest mother fuckers ever to tickle the ivories. And CLARK TERRY could scat with ELLA. Continue Reading
One week has passed since the momentous news of the Slackpage adult section shutdown and what I wanna know is exactly what has changed? Let’s take a look. All the ads from the escort section have now effectively migrated to the “women for men” personal area. The body rub ads have moved to “massage” in the services area. And the trannies now have their own “t” section in the personals as well. While there is no longer any niche for dommes/role play, I do see those advertisers sprinkled in “women for men.” And with just a simple search on the keyword “fetish,” I’m sure fans of that genre could call up all the relevant ads in just a few seconds.
You get where I’m going here. Nothing has changed! I’ll be curious to see how the Feds handle this new reality. I gotta think they know they’ve been hoodwinked. Slackpage pretended to cave when in reality, it was all a shell game. I have a picture in my mind of the three principals snickering behind some office door about how they pulled the wool over the Feds’ eyes. But having said that, there actually is one significant change in this deal. And it’s this: There is no more adult help wanted section. And I don’t see those ads filtering into the “women for men” area. Continue Reading
Thanks to the big news on the Slackpage front…and then a tech disaster suffered by an old friend who implored me to help, last week was by far my busiest in literally years. I got so overloaded and stressed that I actually missed a dentist’s appointment (very uncharacteristic) and only volunteered 4 days.
I have a system for adding new advertisers which while a little cumbersome, is efficient and organized. The images go on the sidebar first…and then into “who’s new,” and “all natural” if they have no implants. Finally…a quick mention in the “roundup,” appropriate placement on the sidebar…and I’m done. Getting those images is where my lack of control takes its toll. Continue Reading