Generally, I reserve my disdain and criticism of escorts for those of the American hoochie mama variety…and generally exclude my Korean buddies from the crosshairs of my literary rifle. But lately…I’m not so sure.

Virtually the day that Master and Visa decided to stop processing payments for Backpage, I got a call from a Korean phone girl asking me about my take on the situation. And I distinctly remember citing that for the moment, the ads were free…and that the girls should call their posting slaves to renegotiate the rate of compensation given that the ads didn’t cost $17 anymore.

It is now some two and a half weeks later and guess what! The owners are still paying their posters the full price as if the ads still cost seventeen bucks! I’ll tell ya! I’d be envious if I didn’t know that the  law considers Backpage posters money launderers.

Anyway…leave me not go off on some useless bender on the legality of what escorts and their support staff do for a living and just get to the nitty gritty. BLUE SKY (646-321-4321) has a new girl on staff named BONNIE. And here she is! Looking pretty good if I do say so myself.

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killer-escprtWell…I’ve seen better-looking crackers. And I’ve seen worse. But I’ll tell y’all one thing. If I were looking to murder an escort, this isn’t the one I would pick.

In case you guys were away over the weekend and missed it, the woman you see to the right somehow managed to kill an armed trick she lured to her home on guess which recently-embattled website. Yup! Good ol’ in the news again!

I have nothing but admiration for this woman. How many escorts have I met who made up bull shit stories after becoming victims of a crime to cover up what they themselves were doing to become involved in that crime in the first place? Answer: Many.

But not this chick! Cracker power! Not only did she somehow kill the killer who clearly was a serial murderer  (at least to me given what was in his car) with his own gun…but she admitted how she came to let this scum bag in her house to begin with. Wow, honey! Would a proposal of marriage be too premature?

Whatever…what I want to know is where is Liz McDouchebag (Slackpage general counsel)  in all of this? Shouldn’t she be front and center claiming that Slackpage ads help the law find serial murderers and without her boss’s site, this guy would still be out there killing? That’s about the way that eye soar sees reality.

In the meantime, her strategy to sue Tomas Dart, Cook County Sheriff, for convincing Visa and Mastercards to stop processing payments for Slackpage has been successful. Guess what will be coming next: They’re gonna sue Dart in civil court for all their lost revenue. And they’re probably gonna win! Unfortunately (for Slackpage), his yearly sheriff’s salary probably equals three minutes of Slackpage’s former revenue. So how much can they really extract from the guy?

On another matter…Slackpage is becoming something of a free speech champion. Kind of like Al Goldstein was. The only difference is that Goldstein had something to say. Slackpage is nothing but a pimpish hustle…a rip-off format designed to relieve the girls of $17 on an hourly basis by virtue of its rolling real time design which by the way, wasn’t Slackpage’s in the first place. It got ripped from Craig!

Well anyway…how much worse could the publicity for Slackpage become? They’re already under the gun. So what if some flatbacker who advertises on their site killed a guy? Business as usual. Life goes on…except for the schmuck who managed to walk into an escort’s house and get killed by that escort with his own gun! As Bugs used to say…what a maroon!

imagesOn more than one occasion, I’ve talked about the infrastructure of advertising people and their role in the escort industry. And of course, I’ve pontificated endlessly about the girls who provide the service itself. But I’ve never divulged any insider info on the guys who drive Miss Daisy. A lot of this business is outcall…and a lot of those outcall women are delivered by guys (or girls) whose job it is to ferry the girls to and fro.

In Manhattan, the girls stay in the boro mostly and hail yellows or use car services to get where they’re going. But in the outer boros and Jersey, Long Island and Westchester is where escort services have drivers on shift. Usually, each car has two girls who stick with the same driver for the duration. On a $150 call, the girl will make $60 plus her tip. The agency gets $55…and the driver $35. If the girl goes on a multi-hour call, the split stays the same whether the driver is actually doing anything or not. Long distance calls will cost more – and everybody in the equation is compensated commensurately for the travel factor along more or less the same percentages.

Driving Miss Daisy is not a gig without its perils. With some agencies, the driver is on the front line of ensuring the girls’ safety. And so…almost anything can happen! And then there’s the law. If a driver is delivering a girl to a client who happens to be a policeman, he’s been known to get arrested with the girl – and in some cases, have his car impounded additionally.

But then there are the perks. Girls can take a shine to their drivers and before you know it, the chauffeur is getting blown – often by several of the agency girls! One guy told me that one night he even got paid $75 by the client so he could watch the driver “perform” with the girl. Nice work if you can get it!

Often, driving Miss Daisy is the springboard from which guys become agency owners. They watch the boss, checking out how he operates. He knows the girls and then one day realizes “Hey! I got a few hundred bucks stashed. Why don’t I run an ad…take off with my two favorite girls…and I’m in business, too?”

My favorite driver worked for one of the Brooklyn mafia style agencies. Even though the agency wasn’t my client, I took pictures of several of their girls for a friend while I worked at Action. So this big, friendly dude shows up with two girls and settles into my easy chair to watch Monday Night Football while I shoot the ladies. And as I’m snapping away, he asks “Dude! You’re the guy who takes the pictures and runs the ads, right? Can I run a picture of my ex-wife with my mother-in-law’s phone number?” Toooo funny! Talk about a diabolical way to exact revenge. And a twofer as well. You get to mortify your ex-wife AND her mother in one shot!

Anyway, I was never a driver for an escort agency. But it seems like it could be a pretty good hustle…with room for advancement! Like you could run the show and experience just how aggravating the job of scheduling irresponsible reprobates who often don’t show up for work can truly be! Whatever…in this economy, a job is a job. And driving Miss Daisy wouldn’t be so bad when ya think about it!

imagesGetting back to yesterday’s post, I now review my three hour trip to China. First, I have never seen a dirtier more disorderly doctor’s office in my entire life. Not even close except maybe when I was sent to a chiropractor by a personal injury lawyer after a cab accident. I was so unsettled about that hustler’s place of business that I dropped the whole lawsuit right then and there rather than let that quack “adjust” my neck. Back to China.

My trip to The Orient was actually a bike ride to 39 East Broadway, where I saw only a fancy and very full Chinese restaurant/dining room upon arrival. It took some considerable detective work to find the correct entrance to the doctor’s office – a pursuit which included  walking past a bunch of vendors until I finally found the elevator to the upper floors.

The reception room itself had just one small couch which was virtually covered with old Chinese newspapers! Apparently print is not dead in Chinatown! Only one of the girls spoke any English and when she didn’t understand a question I asked of her, the doctor’s employee responded with the old ghetto “Wha’ happened?” I laughed and asked her how she liked hanging with hood rats. The girl checked me up and down and then laughed “You’re a smart guy!”

Moving on…for some reason I don’t quite understand, she thought I was there for some physical therapy. It was then that I discovered that my insurance allows me 20 PT visits per year free-of-charge and 6 acupuncture treatments. I knew about the latter – but not the former. So I figured “What the hell!”…let’s go for the whole ball of wax.

Once past the reception area and through the hallowed treatment portals, I walked into what looked exactly like a cheap Asian whore house sporting numerous little cubicles with homemade massage tables covered with linens that clearly were not changed after every patient. Detritus of all sorts (old light fixtures for example and even crumpled pieces of paper) littered the floor and cheap green curtains sectioned off one patient from another. I don’t think I saw one computer anywhere in that office and my physical therapist (my first stop) almost laughed when I told him I’d brought the MRI disc of my lower back.

Now here’s the good part: I really liked my Filipino PT. And his treatment was excellent. First I got the buzz box (TENS unit if you’ve never experienced that. Not an Asian thing. PT’s hook you up and electrify the patient routinely in American offices as well). After 15 minutes of that routine (one with which I am very familiar after my shoulder therapy), dude gave me a massive massage in the area that hurt (lower back). I’ve had escorts rub me down but they couldn’t hold a candle to this guy. The dirty office notwithstanding, I was totally encouraged. Then it was on to the doctor who incidentally, was dressed almost like me (shorts and sneakers).

In his defense, ol’ sawbones was very friendly. He even brought in the “what happened” chick to translate. But then when he lay me down and began pressing where it hurts and started sticking pins right there, I started to wonder. I was experiencing all sorts of new pains from his treatment. For almost 30 minutes I lay on my stomach with pins sticking out of my back wondering what the fuck I was doing there in the first place…but still hopeful this bizarre treatment was going to help me.

Finally, an attendant came in to pull the needles and I was out the door to score some dumplings (I was very close) before arriving home from my 11:30 appointment at 2:42! Whoa! Almost 3 hours at the doctor’s office (I only spent ten or fifteen minutes waiting before I saw the PT)!

Anyway…I’m happy to say that this morning, I am back where I was before going to that quack! But yesterday? I was significantly worse than before the guy stuck me and I am extremely happy to be back to my familiar amount and type of pain. At least, he only fucked me up for one day. It wasn’t permanent.

This was my second experiment with acupuncture and essentially, it’s two strikes and you’re out! I’m confident that in 200 years, humankind will look back on the practice in the same manner as we in the 2010’s do with respect to early 19th century doctors applying leeches to sick patients in an attempt to suck the bad blood out of their bodies. I’m glad acupuncture brings some people relief but I’m confident that for whatever reason, I am not one of them!

However…I will return for the Filipino guy. My back felt really good after his TENS and massage treatment and I’m hopeful that with him…and without the pins and needles guy, I’ll find some relief. Maybe I should go find an Apache and let him chant and sprinkle powder on my back to replace the acupuncturist. I’d have more confidence in him than that dude with the filthy office. I have no idea how this guy got a five star rating on Google. Maybe it like a TER thing. Ya know…all the reviews are fake!

Fucking Google all over again! And by the way…the offended female genius from a few posts back is calling again! I figured chicks with two PHD’s would be rational and logical and not act like two bit ho’s! Guess again! She’s as wacky as the rest of the fairer sex. I’m not even answering her calls.

Enough with my bull shit. I think I’ll go ride around the Park Drive and then feed some bums. Maybe I can score a quick BJ from my buddy on the Upper East Side. She owes me one for a few favors. That’ll probably do my back more good than any acupuncturist.

imgresForget about pot, blow or heroin. Some of the most abused drugs in the USA are legal. People are prescribed these drugs by medical professionals for pain and before long, the patients find themselves addicted.

I’m not the type to take a lot of pills. It’s just not my style. But after fucking up my back big time in a silly little bike mishap, the doctors put me on 30 milligrams of hydrocodone and 10 milligrams of tramadol daily. Right away, I wasn’t really buying their palliative care. I was more in tune with “Let’s find out exactly what the fuck I did to my back and cure the problem rather than doping me up to mask the pain.”

So for literally 9 months, my pain managers addressed the pain – and not the root cause – with pills, branch blocks and epidurals…none of which did a mother fucking thing. Finally, they actually took a measure to fix what was causing the pain and guess what! It didn’t work either!

In the meantime, I didn’t like the idea that I was taking all these painkillers. Too many people have gone from 3 a day straight up to as many as 40! And once you get to that level, you’re fucked! You need rehab, a wing and a prayer. I went out with an opioid addict and trust me…she’ll die before she gets off the shit.

Fortunately, I am not an addictive personality. For starters, I only took 2/3 of my dosage. Again, I didn’t want to be on the shit. Plus…it really wasn’t doing all that much for the pain. When I took it, I’d take two at night – which would give me a pleasant and gentle high and help me forget that my back was hurting.

About a month ago, I decided to see what would happen if I stopped taking the crap. And sure enough, after about 24 hours, I started to fill light-headed and lousy. I had a mild addiction! So I’d take one to feel better. Slowly, I took one every 30 hours. And then every 35 hours…and like that. And now I’m off it. I take 5 milligrams of tramadol every morning when I get up. And tramadol isn’t physically addictive like hydrocodone – as it’s a synthetic opioid. And the best thing about all this? I crap like a champion again. Anybody who’s ever been on this shit knows it jams you up like a mother fucker. Constant ingestion of fibrous food notwithstanding…it’s still difficult to pinch a meaningful loaf!

There is a problem though. My back hurts! And being clean and sober (almost no beer or weed either) isn’t helping! The next move is acupuncture. My Korean buddies swear by it. And my new medical plan gives me 6 yearly visits free-of-charge. Why not give it a go? Granted, acupuncture doesn’t address the root of the problem. But at least it attempts to relieve or eliminate the pain without the use of addictive drugs. So wish me luck. I figure it’s gotta be better than taking hydrocodone and turning into an addict for the rest of my life.

Looking at a bigger and more significant picture…the sad fact is that Western medicine failed me miserably. It’s time to turn to the East. Only time will tell. But for free…with a guy who has 5 star reviews? I’m definitely going that route before I return to the original practitioners to get more pills – or more invasive surgery which may or may not work! I’d tell you that it sucks getting old…but I don’t think this is about getting old. It’s about riding a fucking bicycle. As I’ve said before “Riding a bike is really healthy until you fall off. Then…not so healthy!”

P.S. Funny story! I went to my health plan’s provider book…arrived at the acupuncture page…and immediately found a guy in Chinatown who googled out at 5 stars. That was good enough for me! So I called and got a receptionist whose English reminded me of Korean phone girl’s from 15 years ago. He asked me where I live and how long it would take me to get there. And when he found out I was 15 minutes away, the dude scheduled me for 11:30 this morning! OMG! I called the guy at 10 and he’ll see me an hour and a half later? That could be a good – or a bad sign! Whatever…I drove a cab once upon a time – and I had Fantasia as an advertiser. So I know how to get to East Broadway! Ooo! I’m on pins and needles (couldn’t resist).

After receiving numerous phone calls asking about my take on the new Backpage from not just the phone girls employed by the sidebar houses of this blog – but old friends for whom I do nothing at all anymore in the way of advertising – I now have something to write about this morning. This might not be of particular interest to the guys who read this blog…but it will be instructive for the girls.

Backpage has become a free-for-all not just literally – but figuratively as well. The number of ads posted has gone up in the order of 300 – 400%  now that they’re free. Predictably, the girls who had hired help posting along the lines of 4 ads per day for them are not happy. The response has gone down dramatically. Not only that…their ads are getting deleted from the site within a few minutes.

One woman called me in a panic about all this and asked what I thought she should do (beyond getting a real job). I suggested that she make a new account and see how that worked. So lesson #1: If your ads are getting deleted constantly…build a new account. That will apparently cure the problem.

But here’s the next issue: All a girl really needs in the first place is that first 15 minutes because after that, the ad is worthless anyway – owing to the rapidity with which the ads move down the list…and the viewing habits of consumers.

Now here’s where this gets interesting. With my Google analytics tracking software, I can tell a lot about what’s going on with my own site – which includes how many people are on the site…and where they came from! So I placed an ad on Backpage with a link to this blog and watched the real time analytics! And the bottom line is that once your ad descends from the top 25, it’s over! And that means if a girl really wants to make the site work, she’ll need to post no less frequently than every half hour! Yes, girls…it’s free now – but maybe you were better off with the $17 price tag. What you save in money, you more than lose in labor as it turns out. Oh well! Nothing for nothing in this world.

Now for the guys! What I’m seeing is a lot more bait and switch and a lot nastier girls (hey, it’s free) along with the significantly increased roster of women to choose from. A veteran viewer can suss all this out and in fact, Backpage is on balance an improved venue. But if you’re a novice trying to navigate the free-for-all? It can be a gantlet.

Whatever…that’s the way of this brave new world…at least until they start charging again. Have fun whatever happens.


imagesA repeat for today – at least until I think of something to say.

Don’t get me wrong. I like big juggs and a phat booty as much as the next guy. But there are other less tangible characteristics I also find seductive. Ya know…like a really sexy voice. I love a girl with a sexy voice. But that’s not what I want to talk about today. Today’s subject is the scent of a woman.

Most women wear some sort of fragrance or other which in combination with her own natural scent can run the gamut from downright seductive to utterly disgusting. I tend to not feed back negatively on a woman’s choice in perfume, and either shut my mouth or just move on figuring if we were really compatible, she would pick a scent that turned me on. Same way with a blow job by the way. Instructions never seem to work. Either the girl’s technique appeals to me – or it doesn’t. And coaching only serves to undermine the woman’s confidence.

So back to the point…a fairly recent ex-FWB was not a woman I would ever pursue. Not only did not I love her…I didn’t even like her. She pursued me (go figure) and after the first blow job, it was hard to say no. Predictably, her perfume and scent were a turn off. And that’s not to say she was a stinkerooney or anything like that (because she wasn’t). It was just her choice of fragrance and her personality were equally unappealing. And when she thankfully left after the “event,” I always had a nasty olfactory reminder of my indiscretion.

I mention this today because after hanging out with a different woman recently, my t-shirt smelled like heaven. So I texted her that the lingering scent was giving me a phatty all over again and she answered back “You mean my Victoria’s Secret?” 

Now I don’t know if her perfume cost more than the first girl’s or not. I prefer to think that I just like Jazmine’s perfume more because I like her more. And because we’re much more compatible…we both like the same fragrance.

So I guess the moral of the story goes like this: If you like how a woman smells, you’re with the right girl. And if you don’t? You’re incompatible. You can turn around and walk away right then and there. That’s my message for today! I’m out.


On more than one occasion, I’ve described how I feel about having escort “girlfriends” who may or may not have looked good…but were never my equal when it came to intelligence or general sanity. Or to be less euphemistic…they’ve pretty much all been stupid and fucked up emotionally.

As a result of my personal futility, I registered at a black dating site that was winking at me on a Yahoo sidebar and actually joined recently (so I could contact the girls) when they ran a fire sale and sent me a $24 offer for 6 months. I figured what the hell. Not that huge of a financial gamble!

Of course, I had to assume that most women would look at me and ask themselves “Did this cracker get lost or what?” But a few reasonably attractive women responded to my overtures and one whose profile stated that she had a PHD, took to me. First the woman noted “nice legs”…and then my writing skills and offbeat sense of humor really won the day.

From her pictures, the girl wasn’t the most beautiful creature God ever created. And in fact, I have a feeling that if she worked at Jewels (where I went in the room with most of the black girls), she’d have been one I passed up. But the woman writes so well…and is so intelligent…I couldn’t help but be seduced. Now when I say intelligent…I’m not talking smart enough to know where to place an apostrophe. I’m talking Yale undrgrad and Harvard law! And she also has a PHD in philosophy! Wow! Be careful what you wish for Dollar. If brains were tits, she’d have a natural 42GG!

Surprisingly, my perceived intellectual inferiority wasn’t a problem. I’ve accumulated a lot of knowledge in my 65 years and was bright enough to keep her interested. But there was a problem: Upon request, I forked over my real name (which is very unique so I’m easy to google) and the next day she blocked me! Bang! After endless emails, it was over. I had an idea why! That goll darn Google!

But it wasn’t over yet! Two weeks later she unblocked me and wrote back with a six word message: “You wrote about police and prostitutes!” (She found my two features in the Village Voice on that very subject.) My suspicions had been confirmed…but all’s well that ends well! She was back! I decided that slowly, I would acclimate her. And it was working pretty well. At a couple of junctures, she backed off and said we should only be pen pals because of my “occupation”…but soon changed her mind.

After voluminous emails back and forth, the “good doctor” gave me her number unsolicited and a 3 hour conversation ensued about everything meaningful. We were both smitten. On my part, it was like night and day. With all the old FWB’s, it was about meaningless banter until we got to the good part. But with Dr. Smarty Pants (as I called her), the verbal intercourse was sensational.

After the big convo, she wrote the next morning that she was off to run a 5 mile course in Central Park with a bunch of Harvard Law School alumni…and that she wanted me to meet a few intellectuals (though not that day). Wow! Talk about making the grade. She was gonna trot me out for a few of her Harvard buddies!

I wondered about introducing her to the hoochies at Jewels – and how that would go! (It wouldn’t. They’d see her as plain-looking and completely miss how intelligent she is.) On the other hand, I figure at least one of her colleagues would know who I am (I know a lot of lawyers visit escorts) and pull her aside to say “You’re dating Dollar Bill. Get the fuck outta here!”

To sum up to this point…I’d cleared the intellectual level…and the dog shit escort blogger canyon. I was good to go, right? Wrong! I forgot to mention that this woman is 32 years old! My profile stated that I’m 49. And when she asked how old I am, I figured 53 was a good lie…deciding that 20 years difference was about all she’d e able to handle. But twice as old? I wasn’t going there until I’d satisfied her in the rack at which point, I would break the bad news.

Knowing how bright this woman is, I googled myself two nights ago to see what she’d seen and discovered fairly quickly that there is only one person in New York with my name…and Google says that William is “65+.” Uh oh! Not good!

As if we were on the same wave length, I got the message the next morning: “Why didn’t you tell me your real age William? Perhaps that’s an easy question. Better- what do you do when people lie to you?” Oh shit! Busted!!

My response: Just last night I googled myself pretending to be you, knowing that whatever was there you’d find. And I discovered the 65 thing and thought to myself “Uh oh! THIS isn’t good.”

I lied to you because if I didn’t,  I thought it would kill my chances at a romance. Plus…a lot of people take me for being in my 40’s or 50’s.

And so…yes, I turned 65 on 4/19. I now ride the bus and subway half price. (I actually have my official half fare senior Metrocard.)

I infer from your new photo that the search has resumed. I can’t blame you. You’re just beginning in life – while I’m (except for my blog) essentially retired.

Nothing else I told you was untrue. I just couldn’t face the age thing yet. Up until right now, I was good with being 65. Now I hate it! Darn Google!

But before I go…I have to tell you that I’ve never been so seduced by a woman’s intelligence. My social set (if you want to call it that) is filled with dumbbells and losers. You’re a winner. The only thing that seems to be missing in your life is the right man. I trust you’re going to find that guy and I hope you do. If I were 15 years younger, I might have been that guy. May your life have fewer disappointments than mine has.

Now I thought that was a mature response. The ball was in her court. She could forgive me or not. Here’s what she texted back:

You were going to keep lying as long as it suited you. To someone who would have probably loved you in the long run. That’s unforgivable, really. Yikes! She was getting ready to love me?!?!

Well anyway…to wrap this long and boring mother fucker up…how do I feel about all this? Mostly good, actually. I made the grade intellectually with a world class brainiac…and I didn’t have to clear my own personal hurdle with her: Would I be able to get a boner for a girl who doesn’t look as good as say…the hood rats at Jewels?

I think the essence of the situation is that I’m just too old and scarred to get my heart broken anymore. Maybe when I was 25 this episode might have affected me adversely. But to tell the truth, I didn’t lose one second of sleep. I might toss and turn because it’s hot…or my fucking back hurts. But not about Dr. Smarty Pants. You never know. She may come back. But if she doesn’t, I’ll be just fine…or as fine as I was before this entire flirtation. I’d love to publish the woman’s picture but it wouldn’t be right…and it could mean a lawsuit. Back to the title…that goll darn Google! It’ll get you every time.

OK! Moving on to what matters…current events in the K-world! MIMI, previously of VIP ASIAN has now moved to ROSE HOUSE (347-624-3305). I omit the link because her pix aren’t up yet but responsible guy that I am…I have her pic on file. And uptown about 20 blocks…DREAM GIRL (646-276-0229) has a new “entertainer” named ANNA. Ok, guys. Let’s give them a standing O!

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If racism is finally in our past (which I don’t think it is), stereotyping goes on and on outdistancing the energizer bunny by a country mile. The proof of that came in an email yesterday in which a friend of mine explained her disappearing act with the following words: “I was white girl wasted.” The absence itself wasn’t really of major concern – nor was her use of an expression which I’d never heard before. Yet it did give me pause. Let’s see. Exactly what is the meaning of white girl wasted?

I imagine the term implies that when it comes to drinking too much liquor and getting really sloppy a la Snooky from Jersey Shore…nobody does that quite like a white girl. Yeah, a black or Asian girl can drink too much and act the fool as well but still, they can never quite approach the level of slovenliness that only a white girl can achieve. Kind of a dubious realm in which to excel if you ask me.

I wrote back a few of my observations to which my buddy defended herself saying that she’d heard it “from the kids”…and then pointed out that she’d actually gotten white girl wasted with a black friend. Oh boy! Isn’t that a first cousin to someone defending him or herself with the old “a lot of my friends are black” after they use the n word?

Whatever…I think the significance in this little anecdote lies in the fact that this is a youth expression – and not your father’s racist vernacular. The reason I’d never heard it before is simply that I’m a geezer and more familiar with stuff like “free, white and 21″ and calling Afro-Americans spear chuckers or jigaboos.

Well…what are ya gonna do? Racism and stereotyping live on in not just geezers – but youth culture as well. And “white girl wasted” is the proof of the pudding. Snore! So what else is new?

Talk about a trifecta of delicious Korean titans of titillation…check out today’s three new K-girls. And i gotta say…Sunday’s sundaes sure do hit the spot!

We begin at ROSE HOUSE (347-624-3305) where not one but two new girls have joined the staff. Meet LUCY in her sexy maid outfit…and all natural CANDY, whose so hot she even heats up the hot tub!

Moving due west, we arrive at HIYAKO (212-679-3681), a house which seems to be on a roll of late as far as attracting sizzling newcomers to the scene. And YUKI is the proof of the pudding. A round of applause, fellaz. Show a little respect. Here come da goils!

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Here’s one from a few years ago which could just as easily have been written today. The story is about a girl named BLUE. And a similar one could have been told about HEIDI as well. The theme is simple: be you American or foreigner, one must always pay their tickets. The computer will catch up with you!

There’s a lot of folklore, gossip and supposition when it comes to Asian girls…the manner in which they work…and especially, the infrastructure that gets them here in the first place. Mostly it’s perpetuated by people who may not necessarily understand how the whole deal works. And while I’m not an authority on the subject, ya gotta figure I know more than the average Joe.

Coming to the USA is a lot easier than it used to be for Korean girls. Once South Korea decided they didn’t want to buy American beef, the meat lobby screamed bloody murder and our government lifted the visa requirement for Koreans emigrating to The States in exchange for Korea resuming its beef imports from the US.

So yes, it’s less of a hassle to gain entry to The Promised Land than it was before but still, the problem remains that the girls are only allowed to stay for a designated period of time. But to the ladies’ relief, when that period of time ends, there’s no government agent knocking at their door to tell them they have to leave. And rather than return to Korea as the rules state…and then stay for a while before they can come back, some tend to overstay their welcome. Nobody gives a crap really…even when they get taken in! NYPD generally does its own thing and doesn’t concern itself with a girl’s immigration status. After all, she’s hardly a threat to national security.

But add an outstanding warrant from another state into the mix and then ya got a problem! Enter a certain crowd favorite who found herself in the wrong place at the wrong time recently. She would have been released hours later except for one unfortunate fact. She had an outstanding warrant in another state! Not good! And…she had overstayed her “welcome.” Really not good! Bottom line? Bye bye, baby doll! It’s my understanding that if she hasn’t been sent home yet…she’s on the way.

I feel for the girl but at the same time, I know that if I get a speeding ticket and decide to ignore it, my indiscretion will come back to bite me in the ass when my license comes up for renewal. I guess Blue thought she’d never have to pay the piper and could simply flee the jurisdiction and get away scot free. Guess again, honey! Ouch! You fought the law – and the law won! Now if she wants to come back, the girl will have to fly into Canada and cross the border by moonlight…always an iffy affair.

For once, I’m on the side of law enforcement on this one. Ya can’t just come to the good ol’ USA…get arrested…run away…and overstay your welcome. It’s some sort of privilege to be allowed entry into this country and abusing that privilege just doesn’t wash. We all have to abide by some rules. And in a K-girl’s position, I’d have acted differently than Blue and Heidi. Unless I’d had enough of the United States and didn’t care if I got shipped back to Korea.


I’ll be the first to admit that generally speaking, I’m not impressed with the average escort’s brainpower – or work ethic. The combination of stupid and lazy is a powerful combo which I unfortunately see all too often in the pay for play set.

Enter a woman named APRIL ADAMS (nom de plume) as an exception to the rule. I first met April 15 years ago when she was working the phones for one of my Action customers. Let me correct that. I didn’t really meet her so much as she was there in the office while I conducted business with her boss. Hence, I had almost no impression of her. She was just a cute phone girl…one of many I ran into in the course of picking up all the advertisers money for the magazine.

Well anyway…a few days ago, April emailed looking to use me as a source for some article she was writing. And in the correspondence, she provided a link which led to April’s previously published pieces, many of which have appeared on…and The Daily Beast. I started reading and quickly realized that the girl is a talented professional in the writing realm…and now, an escort as well! In fact, that’s part of her writing hook. She addresses issues from the point of view of actually being part of the netherworld as opposed to observing it. Regardless, I was impressed! An escort who is  a published writer, too? You don’t find that too often!

Continuing…I returned the email two days later…didn’t hear back…and then discovered that her piece had already run in Vice. With many sources in the article, it was clear that my contribution wasn’t indispensable. Not a problem. Sourcing isn’t usually my favorite thing to do. Often, the reporter is writing on a subject and working an assignment that I myself could do just as well if not better. So really, what’s in it for me?

I didn’t expect to hear back from the woman – although in her initial email, April had said it would be nice to see me again. I mean…come on. She’s a journalist who didn’t need me as a source anymore and an escort. So a return email didn’t bode well on two fronts.

Surprise surprise…April wrote back and still wanted to interview me! As it turned out, she had pitched her editor at Vice on doing a story about Dollar Bill and his blog. Now I know how all this works. Freelance writers pitch ideas to their editors and if he or she is receptive, it’s a go – and a payday for the writer.

Regardless, the situation had changed. With the feature being about me, there were certainly significant benefits to be derived from doing an interview (and being a source) not just for me…but the girls on the sidebar as well what with the traffic the prospective feature would garner. Suddenly, I was willing and even enthusiastic to meet up.

Wouldn’t you know it…her editor went for the idea provided an historical perspective on how the industry has changed in the past 20 years was included. And who better to shed light on that subject than yours truly?

Thus last night…I went on a date (not really) with a cute girl who asked me a bunch of questions while the tape was rolling (or the phone was recording) in anticipation of April writing a feature about Psycho Bill for a leading website. Go figure! Here comes another of my few and far between 15 minutes in the limelight.

Equally astonishing was the reality that I’d found an intelligent, opinionated and accomplished escort who thinks I’m worthy of a feature…and also (by the way) likes to go mountain climbing. Can you believe this shit?

However all this turns out…it sure is remarkable on a few fronts. Go figure times 3 – at least! Of course when published it could happen that the piece is really about the change in the business over the last 20 years with me as the main source. Stranger things have happened. I’ll just have to wait and see.

Finally, I want to inform the three readers who’ve come this far that I’ll be switching hosts in the next few days and there might be a few hours of downtime in the process. Like everybody else who runs a web site, I’m going to do the switch at 3 AM and more than likely, very few people will even know. But I just want to mention it in case somebody tries to log on and can’t get here.

You remember a couple of days ago I talked about somebody who was advertising on Backpage offering to orient Internet-challenged girls on how to buy Bit Coins?Well…I was seeing the world through rose-colored glasses apparently. What I assumed was a woman seeking to help her colleagues climb the learning curve so they wouldn’t have to go work for a sleazy agency or worse…slave for a pimp, is in actuality a dude seizing the moment. Altruism is certainly not part of his consciousness. For $130, he’s offering the Internet-challenged $100 worth of Bit coins. The extra thirty bucks goes in his pocket.

Pretty slick if you ask me. What one person saw as a tragedy and a breach of free speech… another viewed as an opportunity to turn a buck on the backs of girls who are either too stupid or too lazy to figure the Bitcoin program out. And in fact, he’s doing Backpage a big favor in the process. What a way to meet the girls and make some money! Only in America!

I discovered this via a friend who was about to fork over the $130 to the guy until I admonished her “Either learn the Bitcoin deal or just send a money order in to Backpage in advance of when you need ads. Right now they’re free. As soon as they begin to charge, fire off a money order overnight mail for a few bucks. You’ll have your credits within a day or two at a fraction of the cost this guy is charging you.”

She agreed with my assessment and so I saved her money. Will she take my advice? Who knows? The point? There’s an opportunist every 4 inches in the good ol’ USA. It’s built into the system and virtually defines our country. Hustle, hustle…the American way for sure!

Moving on to more interesting stuff…VIP ASIAN (646-391-2639) has a returning (KARA) and a brand new to the USA girl (COCO) now in attendance. Coco’s photo is amazing – as you will see. Make some noise fellas! Here they are!

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It’s amazing what’s happened to Backpage since the highly-publicized credit card crunch. At the outset, Carl wanted to be Craigslist – and now he is. At least adult adwise. Unfortunately, the site has failed miserably at generating the $80 million in non-adult revenue that its predecessor has. But it seems appropriate given that Carl ripped off Craig’s idea – virtually cloning his intellectual property.

Anyway and if you haven’t noticed…all the Craigslist casual encounter chicks have moved over to BP…all of which is good for the consumer. There are literally hundreds of new ads on the site. And the rate at which they are posted is alarming! Kind of reminiscent of the old Craig!

In the meantime, BP is scrambling to save the company what with offering girls the opportunity to pay for their ads via sending money orders and even personal checks to the company via snail mail . One woman posts on the site offering to orient anybody who calls on how to navigate Bitcoins, which still processes payments for the site. Gotta give BP credit (on pun intended). They’re not going down without a fight.

On the type of current events enquiring minds really want to know about SCARLET has returned to LOVELY ASIAN (212-470-0409)…another girl who';s brand new is coming tomorrow…and BLUE ANGEL (917-615-3281) has  cute new staffer named AMY. And here are their pix. Enjoy!


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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.

For those readers of a certain age (like at least 40), who can forget the senate confirmation hearings  concerning the appointment of Clarence Thomas to the Supreme Court? There sat Anita Hill, once an employee of Mr. Thomas’s, describing the sexual harassment she’d dealt with at the hands of Big Clarence…which included among other specifics, his description of a “movie” starring one Long Dong Silver, a black man who made Ron Jeremy look like a peanut. To be fair to the hedgehog of porn (Ronnie), Donger probably made Seabiscuit look like a peanut!

Whatever…The Donger has reappeared as a reader and (I guess) a fan of this blog! Go figure. And he sent me an email yesterday of a video y’all just have to see. I showed it to a female visitor who came to my apartment last night. First, she looked a little intimidated by how young and cute the girls are. And then she gave me an extree good blow job to reassert her dominance. Gotta thank The Donger for that!

Anyway…check it out. Japan has a game show in which two girls compete for which can make her subject cum from a dextrous hand job first. I kid you not. And somehow, the entire presentation comes off as good clean fun – and not like a nasty and sleazy American porno.

Moving on to some New York City stuff…HIAYKO (212-679-3681) has a new girl named SOFIA who looks supersonic and believe it or not, is all natural. I’m lovin’ her photo!

And OLIVIA once of Asian Paradise fame has now moved over to ASIAN FLOWER (646-639-1195). Again…an excellent photo of a pretty girl! Here they are!

Finally…check out MIA, the new girl at ROSE HOUSE (347-624-3305). ALSO VERY HOT!


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P.S. In his email, Donger has a suffix which indicates his real name and employment. I googled him and it turns out the dude is white…which makes me wonder if he’s the real Long Dong Silver after all!

As we all know, Korean girls move around from place to place with a frequency that spins the eyeballs. But what many guys don’t consider is that the phone girls are just as nomadic as the girls who work in the room.

One girl who’s worked for virtually everybody on this blog at one point in time was answering the phones at VIP ASIAN (646-391-2639) yesterday and told me that VIP ASIAN has the prettiest girls in New York – and that’s why they’re the busiest place. And this individual is very experienced and knowledgable. I’d take her word for it. So here’s VIP’s current roster. Enjoy!

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trustedHey girls who advertise on Backpage! Not only are your ads free now…but if you join TRUSTEDFLING.COM (free-of-charge) and add their url to three of your Backpage photos…TF will mail you an AMAZON gift card for $50 the first day…and $10 each day thereafter that you repost the ad!  Sound too good to be true? It isn’t! Here’s the url to get you started:

And guys! There’s free money for you, too…for either attaching a banner to your hobby emails, or having your provider or hobby friends join with you. Here’s the url for that giveaway:

So have some fun and make some money, too. No hustles…no hassles.

…AND I hate to do this…but I’m getting really sick of this guy. I’ve known him for a long time…and he thinks it’s OK to steal photos of girls working elsewhere in New York (like literally 300 hundred yards away) to use them for his client. I’ve asked both individuals involved (posting guy and owner) 100 times to stop stealing – and they do nothing about it.  So sorry…here it is:

CHANEL and CHERRY do not work at Honeymoon Spa on 46th Street between 5th and 6th Avenues. Their pictures are being stolen by a place staffed with let’s just say – women not quite as attractive as are Chanel and Cherry.

Anyway…there must be a message to this totally boring and unnecessary shit. And here it is: If there were a mob influence in the Korean escort game, this guy would have been “stopped” a long time ago for doing what he’s doing. And because there isn’t…I have to write about this bull shit in response to two advertisers on this blog pleading with me to do something! They don’t have any real muscle to rectify the situation so they ask me to get the job done with my poison pen.

Whatever…here are the url’s to the phony ads:

In other matters…so what happened with the big Backpage deal? Well…it looks like all the Craig casual encounters people have moved over for a free ad they know won’t get deleted. Pretty sweet deal for them. But some of the old line advertisers smell a rat. And they’re out! They figure following the recent credit card fiasco, there will be a volley of law enforcement activity part in parcel of the cc deal. And that makes sense to me!

So what happens if the casual encounter people suddenly discover that the Backpage ads are worth the $17 (when BP begins to charge again)? BP has a whole new set of advertisers and thus, they win in the long run provided that their site really work well enough to convince cheap Craigslist floozies to part with the cash. How ironic would that be? Only time will tell if the nightmare scenario (for the gov) will come to fruition.



Guess what! At age 65, I had my virginal experience with anesthesia today. Propofol to be specific. Ya know…the stuff Michael Jackson died on? Boy oh boy! What a sleep inducer! I can see why insomniacs love the stuff. But really…getting sliced open is a piece of cake under the influence of that drug, It was like falling asleep after a long and hard day’s work.

It reminded me of my cab-driving days when I used to bust my hack for 18 hours on Sunday and then come home to cook a burger…sit down in front of the tv…and the next thing I know…it’s two hours later and I wake up still sitting in the chair with the burger half eaten on the floor.

The office girls told me I just had to have somebody pick me up. So I booked a car service through my insurance and of course, the guy didn’t show up. So five minutes after they woke me, I announced to the nurse my name and address coherently and unceremoniously walked out and took the train home. In fact, I could have ridden the bike (as I usually do) without a problem. And three hours later I was biking uptown to feed the homeless and then visit one of the blog advertisers…which brings me to what matters.

BLUE ANGEL (917-615-3281) has officially reopened with TIFFANY and BIBI currently staffing the house. And from what they tell me, the dynamic duo will be joined by a beautiful girl fresh from Korea on Thursday who unfortunately doesn’t currently have photos I can post today. Bibi (who is really cute) will only be around for a week…so fans better call now if they want to convene with what I view as TOP 10 material!

On to LOVELY ASIAN (212-470-0409)JACKIE has moved downtown a few blocks (from Hot Lips) and is now at Lovely. Her pix rock! And here everybody is!

But before I post the girls, I want to say that modern medicine is pretty fucking amazing. To have a vertebra rebuilt so non-invasively (I only have a half inch cut in my back) and be able to walk away and function virtually immediately, is amazing. And while the area where the incision was made is sore, I can already tell my back is considerably better. And that’s really something because I’ve been fucked up for a year now. I can finally shed the back brace. And there is a silver lining to the story. I don’t drink beer anymore unless I’m going to have sex. And since that doesn’t happen very often…I don’t drink a lot of beer. Plus…I’ve been easing myself off hydrocodone and have pretty much licked that, too.

Enough. Now for da goils!





backpage…and the referee is counting them out! It’s no secret that state and federal authorities have been at war with for a while now. And Backpage has been winning the war essentially because the Communications Decency Act (section 230) states in effect that adult directories like Backpage are not responsible for the content of their sites. They need only include a warning in their Terms of Service that the users not promote any illegal activity to be within legal bounds.

But that doesn’t mean that law enforcement and the government can’t exert pressure on Backpage and sites like it in other ways. And this week’s flanking movement is the proof of the pudding. Unable to prosecute the site, Cook County Sheriff Thom Dart prevailed upon the collective consciences of Visa and Mastercard and convinced the plastic giants to stop processing payments for Backpage ads.

Because I no longer post on Backpage and haven’t spoken to my friends there for years, I knew nothing about this until over the weekend when I received an e-mail from a writer looking for a quote on the subject. And then just tonight (Monday), an old friend called to tell me her Backpage ads are now free!

This is a big deal – so big that Liz McDouchebag (McDougall is her real name), Backpage’s Chief Counsel, is not taking calls from the media until she and the honchos figure out what the fuck they’re gonna do about this! Currently, they’re giving the site away free until they decide which course of action to take.

Back when Craigslist shut down their adult services section in 2010, I asked my then rep Thomas Pearl how Carl (the founder) and company were reacting to the news and his comment was “We’re gonna hang on by our fingernails.” And if I know Carl and company, I have little doubt that they’re telling McDouchebag to write up a lawsuit with Master and Visa as its target.

Backpage is not gonna go down without a fight. That’s for sure. But make no mistake about it. If Backpage were the Confederate States of America, this is their Gettysburg! It’s only a matter of time. But it won’t happen tomorrow.

What a lot of people don’t understand is this: While Craigslist derived just 30% of its income from the adult services section, Backpage makes almost all its money from their adult ads. Thus, Craig could tank his paid-for escort ads and still generate some $70 million in revenue while Backpage is dead in the water if they shut down their escort section. In the beginning, Carl Ferrer had aspirations to clone Craig’s site and eventually turn a mighty buck on non-adult oriented advertising so that he could kill the adult section. But it just never happened.

I’ll tell y’all right now…I knew Carl Ferrer fairly well. We had many conversations over the phone on how I thought he should handle his site. Carl is no pimp. He’s a straight-up businessman with a wife and three daughters. His family can’t be happy now. They’re probably telling him it’s time to bail.

If Backpage can’t win its suit against Visa and Master, I don’t know what they’re gonna do. This Bitcoin thing (the only way you can pay now) is not for everybody. If it were me – with the ref hovering over my prostrate body while he counts me out – I wouldn’t get up even if I could…because as soon as I did, the gov would kick the crap out of me again. So to my old friend Carl I offer this piece of advice: Take the money and run! The gravy train has pulled into the station. It’s over, homey! Give it up!!

smoking-potDespite my vast accumulated wealth (yeah, right), I live in a small apartment made smaller by tons of stuff I never use – like huge speakers, pieces of bulky tubular (literally) stereo equipment, hundreds (maybe thousands) of vinyl records, two guitar amplifiers, multiple musical instruments, and three piles of publications in which I’ve written something. And as I said,  all of this crap lies completely fallow (except for two guitars) and essentially, just take up valuable floor space. It seems ridiculous, really.

So out of nowhere and for what reason I can’t tell you…I dug into the pile of magazines and newspapers and decided to read what I’d written 20 years ago for TAXI TALK newspaper. While some of it was good…it was voluminous. I lost interest about 30% of the way through but found one gem I really like! It’s a great cab in which the big city turns into a small town. And here it is!

As a forty-something dude1 who demonstrated against the Vietnam War in college, went to the Fillmore East the second night it opened, and CBGB the very first night of its existence, it should come as no surprise that I know a little about marijuana. Not only have I smoked it – but I’ve inhaled2 it as well!

Now we all know (from the movie “Reefer Madness”), that years ago the prevailing attitude viewed the ’30’s pothead as a psycho – and even in this day and age, some people still hold that opinion. But mostly at this point, the majority realizes that not only is reefer a milder and less deleterious substance than alcohol (I use this example because it’s legal), but marijuana is also useful in the treatment of glaucoma and the nausea induced by chemotherapy. What nobody has claimed is that weed can turn a crooked/scheming cabby into an honest man!

The story begins a few weeks ago when I returned to the garage at 5 AM to discover that the dispatcher had purchased a gorgeous, vintage Gretsch bass drum from a cabby whose passenger had left the item in his trunk. The guy in receivership showed me the merchandise  in search of an accurate appraisal from someone who might know something, and I gave him my best estimate, which was that the drum was some thirty years old and in very good condition – and that it was probably worth a minimum of $300.

The next day while I was gabbing with Higgins3, I told him about this diamond that had turned up in the rough and wouldn’t you know it, two days later, a dismayed passenger called the office bemoaning the fact that he’d left guess what in the trunk of a cab – and was offering a $300 reward for its return!

Michael, having at least a thread of morality, took the guy’s particulars and called me. I could tell he was having a problem with his conscience. “Achmed” (my cabby name at the office)…”Guess what!” And then he told me about the caller and gave me his number to do what I saw fit with the situation.

I was ambivalent – but decided to turn a buck in the deal. First, I went to the garage and asked the dispatcher whether he’d sold the bass drum – and if he hadn’t – how much he wanted for it. The answer was that the booty was still in the office and it could be mine for $100, which I did not have at the time but would at the end of the shift.

I pondered my options. How would I meet the owner and explain how I’d come by his property? Should we rendezvous on a corner? And how much would I charge him? The whole 300 bucks? For hours I contemplated the scenario to the point where I actually overshot a couple of destinations so preoccupied was I!

At about midnight, a fare jumped in and asked if it was ok to smoke a joint. “Only if you pass it forward,” was my usual response. We smoked the pot and after dropping the passenger, I had my moment of conscience.

“Scum bag! You thief!” I said to myself. “Are you really going to sell a guy his own drum? What kind of low life are you?” And with that the decision was made. At the end of the shift, I came clean to the dispatcher, telling him to call the office and get the owner’s number whereupon he could do what he saw fit. Personally – once I was high – I wanted nothing to do with profiting from this guy’s absent-mindedness.

Whatever the final outcome was is not important. What matters is that smoking pot made me pause for a moment to get a grip on the right and wrong of the matter. The THC high hadn’t turned me sour. Quite the contrary. It transformed me into an honest man! So the next time a driver tells me I’d better not smoke pot with my passengers because it might impair my judgement, I’ll tell him he’s absolutely right! Smoking that joint cost me two hundred bucks! After all…I’m out here to make money – not do the right thing!

1. As I said…this was written 20 years ago.

2. A reference to Bill Clinton who had just admitted that he’d smoked pot but didn’t inhale.

3. The owner of the taxi paper.

Breakneck Ridge with Jon Hutt and Sid Levy -- June 11, 2004 033After rejecting an offer to spend the holiday weekend in Scranton, PA visiting an old cabby homey, I decided to brave the Hudson Valley’s most difficult hike Friday morning when I awakened to a bright blue day.

Generally, I choose these expeditions on off peak days as I hate the crowds. But the train only goes to Breakneck on weekends, and I figured having some company along the trail would be a good idea given that it’s very steep and I’d never been there before.

The rat fuck began at the ticket counters all of which had long lines. I made the train by thirty seconds (literally) and found it almost completely full! Luckily, I located an aisle seat (people would be standing later). Ninety minutes later, hundreds of hikers (including me) got off at the Breakneck stop.

It was interesting to check out the demographic of people who choose to take a difficult hike versus slack off at the beach on a holiday weekend. The crowd was mostly white (about 80%) – and all civilized. Probably 15% were Asian…and only 5% black or hispanic. Of them, virtually none were hood rats. In short, not a lot of lazy flatbackin’ ho’s on that trail!

Mixed in the 80% of whites was a significant percentage of Europeans. And almost nobody was overweight – though there were a few. But nobody obese. This trail is very vertical and rocky most of the way. Fatties would be fucked within the first few hundred yards. And finally, geezers were few and far between. If I wasn’t the oldest person on the trail…I was close!

Being that a lot of the hikers were weekend warriors – and women – there were some bottlenecks along the way as novice hikers balked at particularly tough terrain. In fact, at one of the toughest spots, the girl in front of me began freaking out and I actually held her hand and steadied her nerves. Can you picture that happening on the streets of New York? Maybe if somebody was having a heart attack. But that would be about it!

The views of the valley and surrounding mountains really were amazing – which is why everybody goes. And unlike Bear Mountain where you can drive to the summit, with Breakneck, you have to “earn” it. There are no roads to the top.

Once having reached the upper plateau where the hiking was more or less level, I found a few blueberry plants and began picking…and actually attracted a couple of halfway decent looking girls for a while. The labor was pretty intensive (considering the bounty) but hey…hand-picked organic blueberries (that you pick yourself)? Click your heels, Grizzly! This ain’t no Manhattan! And no, I didn’t get spanked gastronomically from the fruit.

At a certain point, the trail goes left for people who want a 3.5 mile hike…or straight for pioneers who feel they can make 9 miles by sunset. Figuring a little solitude was in order, I took the trail less-traveled for about 200 yards and then found a rock to sit on while I ate a most excellent salad I’d taken home from St. Bart’s the day before because none of the homeless like to eat healthy. It was either going in my stomach or the garbage. It went to the former! And that was almost the best part. Ya know…all alone in the forest. But I wasn’t all alone. A salamander crossing my rock joined me for lunch.

By the time I’d descended, there was still an hour before the early train back would arrive. So I joined a young couple sitting by the river until our transportation blew its whistle. A grand total of 5 of the hundreds of people who rode north took the early train back and thus, I got my own three seats with a perfect view of the Hudson as we journeyed south. Pretty sweet!

By the time I got home (6 PM), I was also pretty stiff but really, no worse for the wear. Not bad for a guy who’s going in for back surgery on Tuesday…and a guy whose shoulder gets shot up every three months for pain. And by the way…the round trip off peak geezer fare was a whopping $18.50. Two warnings: wear good footwear for this hike. No sandals! And if you’re not in decent physical shape? Forget it! As the sign at the bottom reads: This is no walk in the park! Word up and true that! Not for the faint of heart!

Happy 4th of July weekend everybody. Let us all lament living in a country where the 4th amendment is a distant memory – and almost everything you say or do…and every time you click your mouse, the government is watching you. Sometimes they’re doing it…and sometimes they’re subcontracting the snooping out to the likes of Google, Facebook, Yahoo and on and on. But make no mistake about it, Big Brother is two feet up your ass.

Ever wonder why after you go online to buy a pair of shoes, every time you log on to some site for the next year you get ads for shoes on the sidebar? That’s not a coincidence! Is Edward Snowden a traitor or a patriot? I dunno! It depends on whether you think having the gov all up in your life is really thwarting terrorist attacks…or simply just snooping around on a witch hunt.

Anyway…this blog’s agenda isn’t really political discourse. It’s to inform you about which Asian cutie is where. We accept that our 4th amendment rights have been suspended indefinitely and go on about our business which today, is checking out the new girls of ASIAN PARADISE (347-256-8137). And here they are:

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One addition at TWINKLE (917-861-6600)…big changes at ASIAN FLOWER (646-639-1195)…and a lot of webmaster work for me this morning.

To start, TWINKLE has a brand new-new to New York cutie named SCARLET – with no letter on her chest (as this is a new era. Nobody gets a scarlet letter for doin’ her Hester Prynne thing). And ASIAN FLOWER has a bunch of new girls. Of course YOYO (the up and down girl) is an old favorite but RUBY, ELLA, DIDI, add JESSY all look new to me. Of course, they could have new pictures and I’d be fooled at this point.

Anyway…you all be the judge! Here they are.



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So much potpourri today. Where to start? First, let’s begin with a little musical chairs Korean style – except this is less about the girls moving from place to place in New York – and more about their inter city mobility. Favorites like GUCCI and SUGAR have recently travelled down the turnpike 100 miles to reap some new-girl-in-town rewards in the City of Brotherly Love (Philadelphia).

Traveling just 100 miles and making the new-girl-in-town big bucks is great until there’s a big bust in the land of milk and honey (which there was). And thus, you can expect to see them returning in the near future to the relative safety of the Big Apple. Apparently, it wasn’t just the girls who took the hit in PA. The phone people, managers and even the actual owners got a free ride to the pokey as well. And that always makes the natives run!

Easing on down the road 100 miles is one thing – and tripping halfway around the world to Hawaii is another! Enter CHERRY formerly of ASIAN FLOWER…who did just that! And rumor has it, she banked big time in the land of leis! Haha! Upon hearing that she’d be returning to Flower next month I had to ask “Why would she ever come back given the circumstances?” (making five figures weekly in paradise). And the answer is family. Whatever…not for me to say.

Moving on…MSNBC had another of their sex slave marathons Sunday night. I was starting to get angry watching the skewed presentation and might have reached a full boil had I not fallen asleep out of boredom. I mean…how many times can you present a show in which vice cops cruise ads and then bust hookers? And the answer is many times. People want to watch that shit over and over for whatever reason.

But if you check that crap too much, you get the idea that every woman advertising on Backpage is a pimped drug addict. Not true! There are a few who aren’t! I kid. Most aren’t…so why would MSNBC want to make it look that way? I don’t know. Morality? Ratings?

Just a few days ago, I republished a piece about the media recruiting. But sometimes they do just the opposite. Not only would last night’s presentation make a girl pause…but it would make the customers pause as well! At least 30 minutes of what I watched centered around tricks getting busted by cops posing as blow job artists. And if that isn’t a deterrent…I don’t know what is!

The main thrust of last night’s harangue is that prostitution is not a victimless crime. Damn right! I felt like a victim just watching that horse shit! But seriously…if so many girls are getting pimped and trafficked in the business, maybe it’s time to legalize it and get a bunch of wack jobs like Dennis Hof to run the show. Pimps are so much more societally acceptable when they’re really just tricks wearing a velvet hat! Plus…think of all the programming HBO could muster from that mess!

Enough of that boring stuff! The government’s war on ho’s is going about as well as its war on drugs. They’re losing! And why? Because people are gonna get high…and dudes are gonna get laid whatever the gov does. So why not just take it to the bank? We already live in a profligate and entitled nation with citizenry and government alike living way beyond their and its respective means. We need money! Ya let people smoke tobacco and drink liquor – all in the interest of turning a buck while at once criminalizing marijuana and prostitution? That makes a lot of sense! Not!!

Back to shit that matters! ROSE HOUSE (347-624-3305) has a brand new (drum roll) Japanese girl! her name is HARU and here she is! And crazy TARA is back at Rose House as well with some new pix!



Yesterday, a reader suggested that I post some old photos from when I used to take pictures at the Korean places, suggesting that while mine were far less professional than the current generation’s, they have a cache all their own. Well…I don’t know about all that…but I did dig up a few from yesteryear and found that the ones not meant for advertisements were my favorites. They provide such a revealing window into the culture.

Here’s what I’ve chosen to publish today.

This is an unposed shot of two girls streaming tv shows from home (why you can’t see the screens eludes me) in between customers. I saw the scene…had my camera…and took the shot before anybody knew what was going on. Once they realized there were no faces, there wasn’t a problem. This picture was taken almost 10 years ago at ASIAN VACATION.

The breakfast table at SPICY ASIAN 7 years ago. Blccch!


An Asian outcall guy from Flushing took me out to dinner one night. This isn’t 32nd Street for Americans. This is Northern Boulevard and 160th St. – strictly for Koreans.

paradise3 copy
Jisu’s slippers. Seeing the girls chrip away with each other while wearing robes and slippers like these is a lot different from going to their sites and viewing the photoshopped glamor shots. Still, a lot of the K-girls look irresistibly cute and innocent when they’re not vamping for us hound dogs.

urlAlthough it’s against my religion, I do occasionally telemarket for new customers. Very occasionally! But yesterday was the exception. I actually “dialed up” a grand total of one place called THE ASIAN CREAM TEAM! I’d say it was an original title but the owner of The Factory used it a long time ago. If there’s one thing that woman is good for, it’s naming her places. I remember when her friend decided to open an all black incall and she offered the name “The Plantation.” Funny…but very politically incorrect. They didn’t use it for obvious reasons.

Anyway…back to The Cream Team. Someone answered and I gave her the old spiel “I’m Billy aka Dollar Bill – and I have a site that virtually every Korean incall uses for advertising.” In her heavy accent, the woman responded with “Dollar Bill. I know you long time! You live on 10th Street in a crummy apartment. How much you pay now?”

Wow! I had no idea who this woman was. I didn’t recognize her voice at all. And here she actually came to my apartment and met with me at some point in I assume the distant past. That or I’ve gone completely senile! Whichever…definitely a case of too many Korean phone girls and too little time! I went on interrogating her as to where and when we’d met but all I could get was something about an outcall place in Queens.

Next, I asked if her recollection of our acquaintance was good or bad. The answer was both! Not surprising. Back then, I was overworked and harangued to death and thus, snapped at anybody who wasted my time. Identifying her from that feedback was like calling the Taxi and Limousine Commission to tell them you’d left your Stradivarius in the trunk of a cab driven by a guy named Mohammed. Which is to say…I snapped at everybody!

The bottom line is I did not recall who she was but suggested we set up a meeting in the next week or two. Mind you…there’s a good chance I still won’t recognize the woman if we meet up given that once upon a time I drew a blank on a really cute Korean escort with whom I’d had sex! Ya think she was a little offended?

Anyway…I rewrote the recruiting piece two different ways yesterday and with a little bit of luck, you’ll be able to check it out on THE DAILY BEAST. If and when it appears, you probably won’t recognize the feature as my writing. Especially the version that will probably meet with the editor’s approval. It’s reasonably well thought-out which is one good reason you – like me with the Korean phone girl – will draw a blank when it comes to the piece’s authorship.

green-dollar-sign-clipart-green-dollar-sign-4Because it’s Saturday, I don’t feel the need to report on all things escort-related. And since nobody has called to apprise me of new additions, deletions etc., allow me to share a personal triumph.

A couple of weeks back, I lamented a decision I’d made 40 some years ago to not pursue a corporate executive for a job, adding that with a similar current opportunity, I had decided that dogged determination was the order of the day and I would follow through on an opportunity.

And thus, I’ve been e-mailing urls’s from this blog on subjects I think might be of interest to my assigned editor at The Daily Beast. For example, I thought “Fucking The Cons,” or “Prison Hookups” might be of interest. But both met with deafening silence.

Well anyway…as those of you longtime readers know, yesterday’s “Reflections On Recruitment” is a repeat from a few years ago. But that was of zero relevance. Assessing blame to mass media in the arena of escort recruitment was apparently a subject which hit the jackpot! Within 5 minutes of sending the post, I received this e-mail from my prospective editor: “Bill! This is great! Can you source this and flesh it out a little more?”

Thought to myself: “Welcome to the world of professional journalism, Dorothy! Firing off half-cocked as you do every day is fine for an amateur hour pursuit like this here blog. But now, you’ve thrust yourself into the real world, buddy! Do you even know what ‘source this’ means?”

From my limited experience writing features for the Village Voice, I actually do! And in this case, it means assembling quotes on the subject from owners in the business on exactly how they get their new girls…from some public relater at the  Lifetime Channel…and maybe even someone in law enforcement. And while this is a professional writing gig, there is ironically…a little salesmanship involved. Which is to say, I’m going to have to call Lifetime and the NYPD and convince whoever answers that I’m a serious reporter on a story – and need to be connected with somebody who can speak on behalf of his or her employer. This will take a straightforward and no-nonsense approach dripping with professionalism and devoid of any “um’s” or “ya knows.”

The payday on this venture is not huge – but the payoff comes in the form of gratification as in…writers write because they like to. Getting paid for something you actually like to do is an extra. And having access to half a million daily readers to whom you get to perpetuate your mythology is another.

Whether this will happen – and if it leads to anything else are both in question. Just because the editor showed interest doesn’t necessarily mean it will be published. But I have some control over that. I’ll just keep sourcing and fleshing until my editor deems the effort worthy of publication. But the leading to anywhere part? That is beyond my control.

After publishing a Voice cover story written by yours truly many years ago, the paper’s managing editor called to say “You’re on your way. I’ll be curious to see where this leads.” It led almost nowhere. I got a thumbs up by a reviewer – and one more reasonably high-paid feature in the Voice from the associate editor assigned to adjust my feature. But that was it.

The only real benefit I derived from those two features was a little recognition from editors and former editors at Screw Mag, very few of whom had ever written cover stories for a publication as prestigious as the Voice (it was prestigious back then – believe it or not).

So anyway…now I’m already on to the “fleshing it out” part. Last night I took a shot and ended up on a legalization rant opining that given there’s no way to stop television or film from depicting the escort lifestyle as an enticing alternative to young women looking for work, legalization and destigmatization is the only rational course. But I’m not sure that’s what my guy really wanted! So I’m going back to the drawing board to pen another slant.

Ya see…it’s a lot of work being a journalist – which is probably why I’m not a journalist. Again…stream of consciousness writing is one thing. I’m good at that. Disciplined writing is something altogether different. I’m not so experienced in that area – but where there’s a will there’s a way and I’m determined to make the grade. We’ll see how all this “fleshes out.”

Grid_LifetimeWe read, hear and watch a lot of bull shit in the media about traffickers who lure girls into the escort profession. Maybe it’s true…and maybe it’s fiction. But I gained a little insight this afternoon that might really turn the mainstream on its ear – if only somebody from the mainstream actually read this blog.

Whatever…I was on the phone with an old buddy yesterday – one who I’ve known forever – when somehow the conversation turned to that old rites of passage thing (the usual sexual abuse mythology which is generally true)…and then to how she got lured into the profession in the first place. And you might find the seminal recruitment tool sublimely enlightening.

No, it wasn’t a big, bad pimp driving a $100,000 Benz – or a foreign broker who “turned her out.” It was THE LIFETIME CHANNEL that did the job! Yup! The girl was just 14 years old when one night she watched THE MAYFLOWER MADAM (the story of Sydney Biddle Barrows). And there is where she found her calling!

Of course, enroute to her destiny, the girl enrolled in UCLA on scholarship…but dropped out within weeks to pursue her particular dream – one of making the big bucks in the escort game. And sure enough at age 18, she was living in her own apartment, shopping till she dropped, and earning 900 bucks a day to pay the way!

This I find fascinating. While law enforcement pursues any number of facilitators and traffickers whom they think are the culprits, a freakin’ cable channel just might be doing more to glamorize the escort world than all the people they’re spending all that money to track!

And what about “PRETTY WOMAN” the movie? How many girls decided to give it a go based on that fucking fairy tale? I mean…come on! What girl wouldn’t want to marry a handsome trillionaire?? Ya think maybe a few girls entered the rank and file based on that bull shit?

I’m not trying to preach here or start a revolution. It’s not my style. But really…when you think about it…isn’t all the media coverage/glorification of the trade as culpable as any pimp or trafficker? What a powerful recruitment tool! Pimps do it one girl at a time. But Lifetime? Thousands and thousands! Not to mention Hollywood! OMG! Don’t tell me networks and movie companies don’t profit! How much do you think Garry Marshall earned on PRETTY WOMAN?

Of course, the constitution protects people like Gary and networks like The Lifetime Channel. Thus, they get to earn millions without regard for how many mixed up young girls they entice into the business while at the same time, some dude who posts an ad on an adult directory site as a favor to his ATF runs the risk of arrest for so doing…all of which doesn’t make a lot of sense to me. But what do I know…and who hears my voice? Answers: Nothing and nobody in that order. I’m out!

Grid_LifetimeWe read, hear and watch a lot of bull shit in the media about guys and/or traffickers who lure girls into the escort profession. Maybe it’s true…and maybe it’s fiction. But I gained a little insight this afternoon that might really turn the mainstream on its ear – if only somebody from the mainstream actually read this blog.

Whatever…I was on the phone with an old buddy yesterday – one who I’ve known forever – when somehow the conversation turned to that old rites of passage thing (the usual sexual abuse mythology which is generally true)…and then to how she got lured into the profession in the first place. And you might find the seminal recruitment tool sublimely enlightening.

No, it wasn’t a big, bad pimp driving a $100,000 Benz – or a foreign broker who “turned her out.” It was THE LIFETIME CHANNEL that did the job! Yup! The girl was just 14 years old when one night she watched THE MAYFLOWER MADAM (the story of Mary Biddle Barrows). And there is where she found her calling! 

Of course, enroute to her destiny, the girl enrolled in UCLA on scholarship…but dropped out within weeks to pursue her particular dream – one of making the big bucks in the escort game. And sure enough at age 18, she was living in her own apartment, shopping till she dropped, and earning 900 bucks a day to pay the way!

This I find fascinating. While law enforcement pursues any number of facilitators and traffickers whom they think are the culprits, a freakin’ cable channel just might be doing more to glamorize the escort world than all the people they’re spending all that money to track! 

And what about “PRETTY WOMAN” the movie? How many girls decided to give it a go based on that fucking fairy tale? I mean…come on! What girl wouldn’t want to marry a handsome trillionaire?? Ya think maybe a few girls entered the rank and file based on horse shit?

I’m not trying to preach here or start a revolution. It’s not my style. But really…when you think about it…isn’t all the media coverage/glorification of the trade as culpable as any other entity? What a powerful recruitment tool! Pimps do it one girl at a time. But Lifetime? Thousands and thousands! Not to mention Hollywood? OMG! Don’t tell me networks and movie companies don’t profit! How much do you think Garry Marshall earned on PRETTY WOMAN?

Of course, the constitution protects people like Gary and networks like The Lifetime Channel. Thus, they get to earn millions without regard for how many mixed up young girls they entice into the business while at the same time, some dude who posts an ad on an adult directory site as a favor to his ATF runs the risk of arrest for so doing…all of which doesn’t make a lot of sense to me. But what do I know…and who hears my voice? Answers: Nothing and nobody in that order. I’m out!

art-of-the-pimpUncharacteristically, I laid off reading for the past week in favor of watching endless hours of the PLANET EARTH series I’d DVR’d…and checking out dozens of country guitar lick lessons on You Tube. Exactly why I did this I cannot tell you…though it might have been about me being lazy. In the middle of reading a book about John Brown’s trial, I needed a breather from the drudgery and discipline of plowing through what felt like required reading for a 400 level law course. (Three hundred pages of arcane legalese concerning the case’s unique jurisdiction issues isn’t exactly like reading about blow jobs.)

Well anyway, I recouped to finish that tedious mind-exhausting prose, and descended to my lobby to check the mail this morning. And what was in the mail box? A complimentary copy of Dennis Hof’s autobiography “THE ART OF THE PIMP.” Exercised righteously by my reading of Brown’s trial, I zipped through 330 pages of Dennis’s crap in half a day.

But here’s the interesting part of the story: A week ago, I evicted Hof from my blog for what I felt were a few good reasons. First, he negotiated a discount on the basis of his place of business being 2500 miles from New York while the competition is just a taxi ride away! That made sense to me and thus, he got his lower price – and much more than the other advertisers. In addition, his advertising setup was labor-intensive and high maintenance.

Still, I was good – though basically in escort terms, he was that guy who hustled me for a discount and then wore me out in the room. But then came the first real no-no: Dennis picked my brain about blogs – how to set one up – and how to bring more traffic to his sites. So what happened next? He hired somebody else to essentially clone my blog (the guy was on staff and Dennis was saving money)…and then had the temerity to ask me to check out the other dude’s work and give him some feedback. To that I e-mailed him that I wasn’t the girl he was going to pay once and then get free the next time around. In consideration, I offered that I was more flattered than angry that he’d lifted my intellectual property. Which was a lie. I thought he was a cheap dick for doing that!

When it came time for the second ad payment, the check got lost in the whatever and finally arrived a month late – when the third payment was already due! Not good. And then came the two straws that broke the proverbial camel’s back. One of his employees suggested that I recruit some of the “knockout” Asians on the sidebar to go work in Nevada for Dennis.

It doesn’t take a PHD to understand what a grossly presumptuous request that is. Why in the world would I jeopardize my relationship with good long-time clients in favor of a newbie who was wearing me out with discounts, lots of work, late payments, and intellectual theft? Da noive!

And then finally…he didn’t see any of his girls on the sidebar (which was wrong…there were six) and requested that I place one of his beauties every fifth picture – which would give him something like a dozen girls on the site! Talk about ballzz!

So I sent him an e-mail offering a free month for old times sake and then suggested we call it a day after that. He responded in a state of semi-disbelief that I would evict him. I didn’t write back. While I am a cheap guy…I will give up income if I feel like I’m getting pimped or abused. Which I did. And then a week later…his book arrives in the mail.

So what do I think of his autobiography? Mostly, I thought it was bull shit. It depicts Dennis as a big spender…hardly my experience with him. And too much of it is about all the women he’s fucked well…and all the heartbreak he’s encountered along the way at their hands. Dennis craves the perfect relationship – one in which he can have his cake and eat it too in the form of having one “bottom bitch” while fucking all the other employees as well – or at least the ones he likes. Dennis has his head up his ass. Anybody who frequents American places knows it’s impossible to have a healthy relationship with an American escort. He maintains that most of his girls are normal and undamaged goods. They aren’t! And all the whining about failed relationships is redundant and moronic given this reality. Yet he goes on and on throughout the book.

But more important, the laundry-listed anecdotes about all the weird clients who’ve come to his house fell on deaf ears with this reviewer. I’ve heard it all. There simply wasn’t anything new there though admittedly, I am a jaded individual. Additionally, the stories that were supposed to be funny (mostly about Ron Jeremy’s antics) just weren’t that humorous. Really…the only time I cracked a smile were in the few pages in which Dennis included some rabid hate mail he’s received…and Cami Parker’s self-written wrap-up of her dysfuctional relationship with Dennis (she rips him a new asshole).

If the book and/or Dennis have any redeeming qualities, none of that is in evidence until the final chapter where Dennis goes to see a shrink and then allows said psychiatrist to analyze Mr. Hof. It’s not pretty. I applaud Dennis for publishing that chapter because it really lays him out for what he is…a manipulative sex addict. It’s to his credit that he would let a psychoanalyst have his say – given that the analysis was far from complimentary.

I guess Hof is a celebrity of sorts…and a guy who is waaay more famous than I’ll ever be. But that doesn’t mean I have to like his book – or put up with his demands as an advertiser. Reading Dennis’s tell all…and the shrink’s analysis, I just didn’t see myself in him at all. Maybe I’m as full of crap as Dennis. I wouldn’t be surprised if some shrink came to that conclusion about me. But I’ll tell ya one thing that speaks volumes:

On the numerous occasions when Dennis came to New York and phoned me up for recommendations, I told more than one person “I can’t believe this guy. He hangs out with those Cathouse girls all day in Nevada – and then he wants to see a girl here? You’d think that coming to New York to do the Maury Show, he’d want to take a break from all that hooker drama! It wouldn’t be me. I’ll tell ya what! I’d welcome the opportunity to get away from all that bull shit!”

A short while back, I wrote about the owner of “The Factory” telling me that I was “one of them” and that I shouldn’t fool myself. But she was wrong. Dennis is one of them – not me! And to prove it, he’s been a paying customer at her place on multiple occasions.

Dennis’s book is yesterday’s business in the literary world (it’s currently # 61,000 on Amazon’s bestseller list)…and his advertising is yesterday’s business on this blog. I wish him well…but I’ll be damned if I’m gonna let him manipulate me like he does his employees. Reading his book, I saw how he operates at his place: the same way he tried to operate with me, Not happenin’, homey. Go buy an ad with Eros. Your money don’t spend here.


The following article is a repeat…but the girl pictured at the end is brand new! Just fyi...

It’s a peculiar thing. When your sex partner actually has feelings for you, the last thing she wants to hear is that you’re taking Viagra…and that it’s chemicals as much or more than libido that’s getting the job done.

Take my last FWB just for example. On more than one occasion, she stopped right in the middle of a blow job to ask “You don’t take Viagra do you? I’ll be very upset if I find out.” And this from a wack job who took 15 percocets a day…not to mention all the cocaine!

A few months ago she spied a pill bottle in my bag and froze! “What’s that?” the woman asked fearing she’d finally caught me. So I opened the bottle to reveal a dab of vaseline. “If you really want to know…I carry this in case I take a crap. After I clean up, I grease down to prevent hemis…of which I’ve had enough to know not to go without my asshole lubed at all times.” And that pretty much shut her stupid ass up.

In this girl’s case, the appropriate answer to the Viagra question would go something like this: “Hey, honey! Take a look in the mirror. It’s the eighth wonder of the world that I can get a hard-on for you at all! I not only take one viagra…but two…and a six pack of beer…and a few hits off the pot pipe…all so I can stuff your orifices the way you like. Unless you feel like paying for all that medication so I can give your dumb ass an orgasm, just shut the fuck up and enjoy yourself.” The nerve! To think that I could do the job I did stone cold sober. I’d have needed a blindfold and (especially with her) ear plugs to get busy at all.

But to be serious…here’s the real deal: Normal women would rather that you satisfy them out of passion, lust and virility…and prefer not to face the reality that it’s a little blue pill manufacturing all the lust. To that I say “Be thankful for what you just got and don’t ask a lot of questions.”

In truth, I didn’t take Viagra with this girl because I can’t imagine that anybody wouldn’t get a hard-on with her…as she was such a suck queen. Whatever…if you’re taking 15 pills a day of a strong prescription drug, don’t bust me for taking one pill with which to make you gulp and pant in pleasure. Boy oh boy! Can you believe that shit?

And now for today’s new cutie…meet ANNIE from ROSE HOUSE (347-624-3305). Excellent photo. Pretty girl. What’s left to say?


There’s something disturbing – but not surprising – that I’ve noticed about this blog. When I write meaningful or introspective stuff, the traffic goes down. And when I do nothing but post pictures of new girls or information about the never ending musical chairs syndrome wherein Korean girls move from place to place…the traffic goes up. All this proves that just like with Juggs (Magazine – which I actually once wrote for)…dudes are into the pictures and not the articles. Oh well…if I thought anything different, I’d also look in the mirror and see Brad Pitt staring back at me. What are ya gonna do? I’ll tell ya what: mo’ page six stuff. As in…”Dollar! Spare us your pitiful little drama. Nobody gives a shit. Trot out the cheesecake!”

OK! So I was over at DREAM GIRLS (646-276-0229) today and met NICOLE, who has an outstanding body. Tall and very proportioned (though not superbusty). And really cute facially what with her bangs and all. I was pleasantly surprised. Unfortunately, she’s going on vacation for a week – but will be back next Thursday.

Lying in the top section of the house’s designer bunk beds was ELLIE of the angelic face. In fact, both of these girls are really cute!

But the big news they want me to convey is that BONNIE (once GIA at BLUE ANGEL) will be returning tomorrow. Pretty good lineup all in all. Definitely worth a visit. And now…here’s the cheesecake.




And guess where she is! LOVELY ASIAN (212-470-0409). Now there’s a surprise! Whatever…her name is BUNNY and she’s new to New York. The phone girl promises me she’s gorgeous. And from the way she said it, it just might be true.

That’s all for today. If you want something to read, check out “Fucking the Cons” from yesterday. It’s one of my better efforts – though that might not be saying much. Here’s Bunny.


18097690-mmmainNot very long ago, I wrote an entry about prisoner hookups not just with other prisoners – but with corrections officers as well. But most of that stuff was benign entertainment. Nobody got hurt and the public’s safety wasn’t ever at risk.

Enter the malignant prison hookup wherein CO’s get caught up in some sort of twisted love affair with a convicted killer. You’ll recall that something in that genre happened a couple of years ago at I believe Rikers (correct me if I’m wrong) and has now once again come back to haunt us in what may become the prison escape story of the decade – or century….if they don’t get caught.

And this trailer park melodrama is no joke – way beyond female prisoners sucking CO’s off at 3 AM in exchange for a Lady Bic shaver – or a female CO dating a one-day-in-jail hooker. These two escapees are convicted murderers! And some lonely hearts seamstress who was teaching at the prison aided and abetted their escape.

What I want to know is how stupid do you have to be to fuck not one (definitely) – but both (probably) of these prisoners…provide them with tools to escape…offer to drive the getaway car…and plan on murdering your husband (with their help) – who is coincidentally also an employee at the prison? I’d say I saw this in the movies but no Hollywood screenwriter is imaginative enough to dream this shit up!

And to add the sublime to the ridiculous, a police officer revealed to the press corps that one of the escapees is very handsome…and has an enormous penis. WTF?!?! Am I dreaming this? In what context and/or for what reason would a police officer offer this tidbit of irrelevant gossip? This is the kind of stuff you hear at a whorehouse…not at a police station!

To jaded individuals like myself, this story might appear to be a comedy of errors but in fact, it’s no joking matter – even to me. These guys are serious criminals. One beat, tortured, killed and then dismembered the boss who fired him. And the other killed a police officer. They ain’t two schmucks who dealt drugs in the park and got caught up in some Rockefeller aw nightmare. The US prison system is full of people who shouldn’t be there. These guys aren’t two of them!

There’s a real possibility that the escapees won’t ever get caught! It’s happened before. Or worse…they might kill again before they get caught. These dudes are desperate and no strangers to murdering people to get their way. It’s no stretch to think they’ll do it again if it means freedom for even a few more days.

Considering the prison had already investigated an allegation of sexual misconduct between David Sweat (one of the escapees) and Joyce Mitchell (the douchebag who facilitated their escape), somebody in a position of authority should have thrown an eye on the situation and prevented this fiasco. Unbelievable! Out-fucking-rageous! Heads should roll behind this sterling silver example of monumental mismanagement. And Joycee should do some serious time!

And finally…you’d have to put me behind bars for a long fucking time before I would fuck Joyce Miller. That could be the scariest prospect of all!

bear3There’s a Korean volunteer at the University Soup Kitchen named Angie whose nickname is “the general,” a moniker given her by one of the “guests” who thinks she rules with an iron hand. While stuffing envelopes a few weeks ago, Angie told me that coming to the soup kitchen on Saturday helps her reset for the week…to which I responded that going to the country and climbing a mountain does the same for me.

And so…this week on Wednesday morning, I awakened early to see sunlight streaming through my windows on the world (or 11th Street) and decided to ride to Port Authority and catch the bus to Bear Mountain.

With hardly a glitch (except for getting a fucking traffic ticket on my bicycle), I arrived at the Inn at the base of the mountain and decided to take the difficult trail to the top for a change. I have some new Asics which boast a burly tread on the sole. And given that both of my shoulders are in better shape than they’ve been in years, and my elastic back brace was wrapped firmly around my torso, I figured this was a good day to do my Grizzly Adams thing.

The difficult trail is really not all that difficult. The beginning is rocky with poor footing so you need to wear a shoe with good ankle support. But it’s not really very steep until a little more than halfway through when the trail becomes a 30 degree rock face where the footing is much easier – but the grade can be daunting. One slip and a hiker could go rolling down the mountain and really take a beating.

On the plus side…the view of the Hudson Valley at the top of this piece of the trail is astounding. To see such natural beauty just an hour and a half and $13 (round trip if you’re a geezer like me) away from the big city is truly a blessing for a wannabe country boy .

After spending a few blissful minutes at this little rocky plateau, I continued on toward the summit. One challenge with the pioneer trail I didn’t mention: the trail markers can be few and far between…and a hiker can lose the trail which of course, I did! Faced with going back or ascending without the benefit of a trail and its markings (called bushwacking), I chose the latter and with some difficulty, successfully made it to the paved road near the summit. Once there, I knew I was out of any danger of getting hopelessly lost (which could happen) and sat my as down for a rest.

A few yards away sat an old man wearing a broad sun hat and eating a peanut butter and jelly sandwich. Hikers tend to converse much more readily than city folk and I struck up a conversation with the old guy (who turned out to be my age but much older looking) and soon enough, we decided to join forces and hump the rest of the way together. There’s an unwritten rule of hiking which says you should never go it alone for obvious reasons. If you’re on a rarely-traveled trail and break an ankle or have a heart attack, you’re kind of fucked. With somebody along for the hike, you have a much better chance. You get the idea.

Well..that wasn’t really at issue as there were a few people on the trail on this beautiful day…and there really wasn’t any danger in hiking alone. But the guy seemed decent enough so I figured what the hell. I’ll take on a partner.

While humping to the top, the conversation was what you might expect. Ya know…trivia about Lewis and Clark and such. But by the time we reached the summit, it had turned much more meaningful with me divulging what I do for a living and some very stressful and life-altering closet stuff (not gay) that very few people know about me.

For his part, my new buddy revealed that he’d done some freelance writing in his life and had spent a significant portion of his adulthood entertaining children as a clown for a living. But now after his wife convinced him that shouldn’t be his life work, he went back to school and got a PHD in (drum roll) Clinical Psychology! I had to laugh. Here I was spilling my guts about all my personal drama to a stranger who turned out to be a psychologist!

Too funny! “So whaddaya think, doc? Am I crazy or what?” I asked having discovered he was a professional at judging such things. And his answer? “You seem fine!” Of course, that was the easy way out for him on a vacation day. Saying no to my question would have meant putting himself to work. But judging from his expression, I believe he meant what he said.

Well anyway…we roasted in the sun for a while and then I bid him adieu so I could get down the mountain and make the bus back to the city…but not before homey gave me his full name and told me he’d written two children’s books along the way. Amazing who you can meet on a mountain trek! I asked him where his wife was and he said she was back in Syosset…having no interest in his eccentric desire to climb a steep mountain trail to relive his youth. And guess what! I googled the guy when I got home and he actually has a Wikipedia page! Go figure.

Back to the point! My day on Bear Mountain was an unusually rewarding reset. Exactly what I’m resetting for I’m not sure as I mostly have nothing to do in my retirement. But whatever…it was nice to meet a kindred spirit in the form of an old guy who like me, digs climbing a mountain every so often – even if it means going it alone because nobody he knows wants to accompany him  – especially in the middle of the week to avoid the throngs.

So for anybody who likes a little fresh air and is up for the challenge…take the MAJOR WELCH TRAIL up Bear Mountain. It just might reset you as well. And for the $26 round trip (if you’re under 65), how can you go wrong?

In some ways, you could view the houses who appear on the sidebar of this blog as tenants who pay rent. Fortunately, all are good payers (if they weren’t they wouldn’t be there. I have no patience for excuses from deadbeats and never did)…but some are easier than others. And the easiest is MY ASIAN GFE (646-326-9512) (a place where rumor has it a guy can get his money’s worth). They just never call with any requests. It’s remarkable! So today (and not at their request), I’m volunteering to hook them up. A reward for being a good client is definitely the order of the day.

My Asian Gfe stands out from the crowd in another way as well. Some may think it better – and others not so much…but the fact is their photographer is clearly not on the level of the other houses. But in at least one way, that’s a good thing. There is absolutely no photoshopping in any of the images. What you see is definitely what you get – though sometimes it’s a little difficult to see what you’re getting with the dim lighting in some of the images.

Because they are so small, I really can’t blow them up to the normal size I usually use in the center section here. And so…I established a happy medium sizewise… and photoshopped everything for lighting, hue and smoothness. But in the interest of truth in advertising, I did not change any body contours. It’s still a what you see is what you get scenario. It’s just that you can see it better now.

So anyway…here goes with the girls currently working at MY ASIAN GFE!

cat copy



kayla copy

remi copy

sayuri copy

Moving uptown just a few blocks, we arrive at ASIAN PARADISE (347-256-8137) where a cute new girl named MIWOO has just arrived. In the Asian community, it’s usually a case of too many so-and-so’s and too little time when it comes to recalling girls named Yuri…or Sasha…or Cherry (just to pick three names).But MIWOO? First time in 18+ years I’ve ever advertised a woman with that name. And she also looks pretty good, too. Check Miwoo out!


Normally, I wouldn’t dedicate an entry to just one girl – especially when I’ve already done my blogging for today. But because LUCY (who just arrived at LOVELY ASIAN – 212-470-0409) looks so good, I figured I’d make an exception.

Miss Korea has not one…not two…but three crucial things in her favor. First, she’s new to New York. Second, she’s all natural. And finally, Lucy has a round booty! Need I say more? Probably not. Here’s my favorite photo of her. Enjoy.


Pursuant to some previous entries on two subjects…1. escort marriage and 2. getting outed as an escort or internet porno chick…I have some sad news.

First, one of NYC’s all time favorite girls is either on her way – or is already in – Florida to (drum roll) do her second porn for cash. It’s not a decision of which I approve (being an escort is better…you’re less likely to be outed in later life) but the girl has made up her mind. As with the implants I told her she shouldn’t purchase, Miss Honey is likewise doing something I would advise against. But hey! I wish her luck. Like…I’m not her father, right?

While that isn’t necessarily a sad story (at least for the moment), another is. A Korean girl I’ve known for almost ten years had a boyfriend…an American guy she loved. They were to be married – for real! No money exchanged – no nothing. She already has her green card.

Well…in the meantime, she still needs money to live and thus, has been in and out of the business (no pun intended) for the past few years, and was discovered by her finacee. So devastated by the news was he that the guy didn’t even have the decency to break up with her in person. He did it in a text message.

Ya know…there aren’t a lot of virgins left in this world and if you find one, the likelihood is that she’s a virgin for a reason (like nobody wants to diddle her – or she’s such a religious fanatic that more than likely she’d be so vanilla in bed you wouldn’t want her even if she looked halfway decent). A guy is not likely to find a woman in this day, age and country who hasn’t been personally acquainted with at least a few male organs.

And thus, if I knew this guy, I would surely tell him “get over it, Bubba! Look at it this way: She’s experienced hundreds or thousands of guy…and she’s picked you, asshole! You should be proud of that. Your decision to dump the girl is more a reflection on you than her!” Maybe I’m jaded after dealing with so many you-know-whats. But still…you get the idea.

The reality is that the guy missed out on a beautiful girl who loved him. Unless he looks like Brad Pitt, I doubt the dude is gonna find anybody more physically amazing. And really…she’s not that bad of a person (though honestly, she can be a pain in the ass at times). Whatever…if and when he comes back, I sincerely hope she’s moved on and laughs the guy off her phone – by text message – in a perfect world!

imagesSince there’s no news on the escort front today – and even I’m tired of writing about my own personal drama (let alone you guys reading it), I will switch gears and play Sports Reporter (I love those guys when I remember to watch them – which isn’t very often).

Watching the NBA finals was of special interest to me because there were two very recently ex-NY Knicks playing for Cleveland (I’m a big Knicks fan)…and a girl from Jewels actually dated JR SMITH (now on the Cavs), who I always found to be a John Starks kind of train wreck. Ya know…both very talented…and both capable of making seriously boneheaded plays. But most important, both irresistibly appealing and fun to watch.

Well as I said…I like JR and actually root for him. But he’s not a guy I want on my team if I’m coaching in the NBA finals. He’s cool…and I dig his haircut. But you get the idea. (Actually, his ex-girlfriend alleged he smokes a lot of pot. Makes sense when I watch him play.) But even though he scored a streaky 15 points in the 4th quarter last night, I still think he was one of the reasons Cleveland lost.

Ditto for IMAN SHUMPERT, who I also liked when he was a Knick. Great defense…but spotty shooting. Again…not a champion…and although he didn’t play badly…not quite ready for prime time.

In fact, at times, the Cavs reminded me of the Knicks…just with Carmello out and King James in. (I still say Lebron makes it look like he’s a varsity player competing against the JV!) Regardless, the guy almost single-handedly willed the Cavs to a championship. Gotta give James his props. He’s the best since Michael – and just may be his equal or superior when it’s all said and done.

But I can’t say that I like to watch him play. He’s reminiscent of WILT CHARMBERLAIN in what a dominant player he is and how both offenses that the boys played in weren’t fun to watch (at least for me) because they were so centered around the star.

Moving on…to the refs! Considering they’re the best of the best (these guys are scrutinized by the league)…they missed a lot of calls. But officiating basketball is really difficult – and you have to expect human error. What we all really hope for is officiating that doesn’t determine the final outcome. And thankfully, they passed the important test.

To STEPHEN CURRY! What a joy to watch this guy play. But the real key might have been IGUODALA who isn’t as good as Lebron – but is pretty much as big and strong. The Warriors needed that – especially with the big Russian guy in the middle on the Cavs. I tell ya what! I’d like to have that guy on the Knicks. He’s a big mother fucker – and a great shot blocker. I’ll take him over Chandler (I know he’s gone but still) anytime.

And finally, congratulations to The Warriors who I (along with most other sane people) picked on day #1 of the endless tournament. Obviously, they are the best team in the NBA.

0612-young_largeReferring back to yesterday’s post in which I reflected back with no regrets about not marrying a beautiful escort, I ponder a decision from even longer ago that if I had a do over on, I would redo differently. This introspection comes courtesy of a book I just finished the subject of which was Bill Graham’s rise to rock promoter extraordinaire during what I’ll call The Hippy Era – an era I was part of I might add.

One of Graham’s right hand men in the beginning was a guy named Kip Cohen. Forty some years ago I met Kip Cohen. At the time, I had no idea how he’d gotten his job as head of Arts and Repertoire at Columbia Records. Not that it really matters…but it took reading this book all these decades later to find out. So now here goes with the story:

Shortly after leaving graduate school before getting my PHD, I was down in Florida visiting my old man. The family was in an uproar over my decision to punt a paid-for graduate school education in favor of playing the guitar. Only my old man understood. And given that I knew nobody in New York and had no prospects other than answering Village Voice music notice ads, the first year wasn’t going that well. All I’d found was some crappy local work with which I was barely supporting myself.

So dad came up with a brilliant idea. He would write Clive Davis (the big wheel at Columbia at the time) a personal letter of introduction on my behalf. It seemed crazy. My old man hated Clive Davis with a passion. He had nothing but bad things to say about him. Yet now, Pop was on his knees asking Clive to do something for the son of his archenemy.

Despite their history, Clive wrote back and directed me to contact (drum roll) Kip Cohen for an interview. When Popsicle called to tell me the good news, he did marvel at Clive’s benevolence. Clearly in Clive’s place, he would have blown the entire letter off with vengeful alacrity. Regardless…I called Mr. Cohen and made an appointment.

At the time, I did not have very lofty goals. The recording business (as it were) held no mystique for me (even though my old man had been a star producer). All I really wanted to do was go on the road with my guitar…see the world…make a few bucks…and mount a few babes. Beyond that, I had very few thoughts. Like the idiot I was, I was hoping that Kip had a gig for me as a guitar player in some up and coming band.

Obviously, that was not the case. What he told me was he would be on the lookout to hook me up as a road manager for somebody on the Columbia roster. And then I was invited to one of Columbia’s famed singles meetings..a meeting I did attend. But when it came to calling Kip back about scoring a gig as a road gopher? Never happened. And to the best of my recollections, that was it. Disappointed that I hadn’t the prospect of playing for a living via my old man’s hookup, I lost interest. It was a big mistake!

With a do-over, I’d have badgered Kip endlessly until he found me something in the corporation. Once a road manager…the opportunities for networking would have been considerable. The opportunities for networking via the Jamissohn Scott Revue, the band with which I realized my road warrior dreams a year later, were limited comparatively.

I relate this story for a second reason today (other than reading about Kip Cohen in the aforementioned book). Via my old New York Press acquaintance – who is now an editor at The Daily News, I have been introduced to an editor at The Daily Beast, a news website of renown with half a million unique viewers every day! The big editor read some of the better entries on this blog and reported back that she is interested – and then passed me along to another editor who I get the idea doesn’t really want to be bothered.

So again…I stand at the crossroads. Do I continue e-mailing and pestering the two editors until they throw me a bone (a bone which doesn’t really pay a whole lot)…or just be satisfied blogging to a limited though dedicated audience (you guys)?

Well to answer that question…I e-mailed both editors yesterday with this reminder: “Put me in coach! I’m ready to play!” And I’ve decided, I will pester them until they come through with something. Chances are that even if they do throw me a freelance gig, nothing will happen except I’ll be $250 richer. No book deals…no groupies…no advertisers for the blog.

But at least I’m gonna give it my all. At this stage in life, I owe it to myself to discard my ego…pay no mind to what’s in my bank account…and simply go for it as if I were 23 – my age when I met Kip Cohen. Who says old dogs can’t learn new tricks?

Anyway… if I write something for “The Beast,” you guys will be the first to know. That’s it for today. Wish me luck.


171c58bb058c60aef636f859db804368_largeYou get it…as in the Chanel #5 ad campaign from a hundred years ago? But this isn’t about perfume. It”s about a girl who proposed to me.

So anyway…I was stuffing envelopes at the Soup Kitchen a few weeks back (fund-raising solicitations), when the subject under discussion turned to arranged marriages for citizenship. Now this is something I know about…and I chimed in accordingly.

Her name was CHANEL…and she would make any man swell! Chanel worked at a Queens casita out in Flushing. Literally my first week at Action, the house’s owner called the office looking for information about advertising and I was dispatched – with my trusty Minolta – to make the sale. (All Action salespeople were given cameras and instructed to take photos of any girl who was willing. This was the paper’s hook: “Over 200 girls you can have now!“).

To the end of the line on the #7 train I rode and then embarked on a bus to finally arrive at an almost suburban setting near 150th Street. In attendance was the owner/phone girl and two workers, one of whom was (drum roll) Chanel, a ravishing Venezuelan with a sensationally curvy body. So I took the pictures and submitted all the materials to production (via Fed Ex – this was before e-mail and such) and by the next month, the boss (Carolina for you old timers) was smitten. Chanel’s photo had brought in big money.

It wasn’t on that trip…but within a year…and after Carolina and her best friend Inez (who also owned another house which advertised with me) got to know me, Carolina proposed on Chanel’s behalf. “Chanel will give you $7000…buy a Mercury Montero for the two of you to drive around in…and give you sex on the weekends – if you marry her!” Whoa! Age 46 at the time, I think I’d had maybe a grand total of two girlfriends as beautiful as Chanel facially…and none with her body! Was I dreaming?

So I took her out to dinner that night at some totally Colombian restaurant under the L on Roosevelt Avenue to start the ball rolling…and called my lawyer friend the next day to inquire. The bubble kind of burst right there when Henry informed me that this sort of union was commonplace in the South American community…and not to infer that this girl had any feelings for me at at all. It was just business. And he added that after the two years it took to get married, I would be responsible for her financially (if she went on welfare) for ten years after we separated (which was part of the program. Nobody assumed we would be together forever).

I teetered on the brink long enough to have two free rolls with Chanel (auditions if you will). But after that, the boss figured out I wasn’t going to marry the girl (I did tell her what my lawyer had said) and that was that. In fact, I was considering the marriage until one day I brought one of my trusted cab-driving buddies out to a house where Chanel was working and after leaving asked what he thought of my prospective bride. He looked at me and confirmed what I already knew: “That girl cares nothing about you! That’s who you’re supposed to marry!” (I didn’t let him know while we were there.)

Subsequently, other girls proposed marriage…for as much as 25 g’s! But I never went for any of the overtures. It just seemed so artificial and worse…an open surrender! Marrying for money signified I’d given up on true love and romance. And as odd as it sounds, that was something I couldn’t live with.

And so ends the Ballad of Chanel. There have been some crossroads in my life at which in retrospect, I might have travelled in the wrong direction. But that is not one of them. Marrying Chanel would not have improved my life. Of that I rest assured!

James_Dietz_-_pearl_harbor1…HARBOR THAT IS!

Enter WWII in HD, one of my favorite AH2 shows. The format is simple: endless footage shot in color with narrators reciting the contents of letters sent home by the combatants – or correspondents who were there describing the action. The series is hours and hours long with each minute more gruesome than the next. I don’t know which is more horrible: the footage of dead and mangled bodies from the beaches and battlefields – or the piles of emaciated corpses the allies found when they liberated a Nazi death camp.

So right in the middle of the brutal spectacle, the presentation switches gears for an hour and examines the “oases” of Pearl Harbor, complete with two vice cops…one now 101 years old…telling the story. And quite a story it is! For starters, the general program dictated that each “hobbyist” got 3 minutes with the girl for the price of 3 bucks! And the lines of purchasers caught on film looked like Yankee fans queueing for World Series tickets! Gasp! I know Smokey told us “You better Shop Around” so you find the right one..but imagine the huge field of applicants a girl had at her disposal to find the perfect boyfriend!

Of course, the girls were forced to live where they worked…could not own a car…or have a boyfriend – among other atrocious rules and regulations that rendered them little more than indentured servants. But they split the three bucks with the owners (the most prominent of which was a woman) and as time always has it…made CEO money while their customers earned 30 bucks/month – that is – if they lived till the end of the month!

If you’d like to see Hollywood’s version of Pearl and its funhouses just days before the attack, check out “FROM HERE TO ETERNITY,” an Academy Award-winning film from 1950. The honchos were hesitant to green-light the production because a significant part of the plot revolved around a soldier and the love interest he found in one of these places. Exactly how would they depict the reality the book described? Well…they managed surprisingly well without spelling out exactly what the program was at these joints.

And really…though the scene and those real-life long lines of sailors were from some 75 years ago, the entire deal drew many parallels with today’s New York City escort world. A guy, his libido, and need for companionship never changes. That you can always count on!

Anyway…I highly recommend watching this series. I could watch it (and did) all day!

Today, the blog will be about nothing. Hey! If it worked for Jerry Seinfeld…it could work for me too, right? So here goes:

Did anybody watch the game two nights ago and see Lebron’s junk? I did – and did view Lebron adjusting his uniform. But I didn’t see any junk. Maybe it was just too small to see – though I kind of doubt that. Imagine if you were a girl…going out with a tall and built black man – only to find out he was junkless when you decided to hit the sheets. How would that work? I guess that’s why girls are always backing up on dudes in a bar. Ya know…to feel up dudes’ junk with their asses.

Anyway…back to big black men with no junk. I’m sure they’re few and far between…but one girl I used to run ads for way back told me a story about meeting just that…a big black guy with no junk! So I asked her how she handled the situation and she referenced staying with him for a while.

“Really? You…a veteran of huge junk stayed with a junkless guy?” asked I. “Well…he was very attentive,” she oozed with a wink wink, which I assumed meant he was a big pussy-eater. “So what happened?” I continued. “I dumped him,” came her answer. “And why’d you do that?” Answer: “Because he had no junk!”

Aha! I figured! I guess an agile tongue goes just so far (no pun intended). Girls are funny that way. Some like oral…and some like intercourse. Some like it slow and deliberate…and some just wanna get pounded with as big a hard-on as you can muster.


Man… I have a ton of food in my refrigerator today! It was the mother lode at St. Bart’s yesterday…and we could not give away all the food. Ribs…curry chicken…Starbucks desserts…awesome bagels and bialys now nicely stock the ice box. Sunday I have a date with my blow job queen. I’ll have to bring a feast for our afterplay session. She’s a big eater of not just healthy food… but as I in”dick”ated – junk as well!

That’s another thing. Would you rather have a girlfriend who lives to eat your junk – or one who lives to wedge it in her pressure cooker? I know…both! That would be your answer.

Once upon a time, I had a partner who didn’t like to eat junk – but loved to wham it in her pressure cooker. Anytime! She never said no that I can recall. I got a lot of exercise…I’ll say that! She had a big booty and an insatiable appetite.

Enough about that…what about chicks and their junk? A guy can tell a lot about a girl’s breasts even when she’s in her clothing. But he knows nothing about her vagina until he gets there. And just like with guys’ junk, girls’ “down there” junk are all different.

I remember meeting a trailer chick in Florida while working for Joey Dee who had the smallest junk ever! I felt like one of those monster black porn guys who can only get half his junk inside the “actresses.” And then there was that brief girlfriend who had a horrible tit job…a flat ass and a giant vagina. Biggest ever!

I felt kind of sorry for her. I mean…if you’re gonna be a chick with a giant opening, wouldn’t it make sense to have a super badonkadonk and 42DDD breasts with which to attract a dude with a 13 incher? Fortunately, she liked girls as well as men. And with a girl, chicks  can always have their BFF’s strap on the perfect partner – if that’s at issue. Honestly, I don’t even know. That girl was a riddle I never solved.

And that’s another thing I wonder as I watch lesbian videos of girls pounding each other with strap-ons. Not such a bad deal. A girl can pick the exact size she likes and be confident that it won’t get soft…and it won’t cum too quickly. And the wielder of that monster has soft skin and breasts to suck on, too. I mean…why would any girl even think about fooling around with some douchy and sweaty guy who’s just going to fuck her friend when he gets the chance because his life’s ambition is to impress every girl in the world with his big junk? Boy! If I’m a girl…I’m going gay. But then again…I like tits, ass and pussy so I’m kind of biased.

Anyway…my mission is accomplished. If nothing else…today’s blog is clearly about nothing. Look out Jerry Seinfeld. Dollar Bill’s comin’ for ya.

a_pimp_named_slickback_by_darkgxYa know…I used to be a psycho kind of dude. But lately without all the pressure under which I once labored, I’ve become decidedly sane. That’s where the archives come in handy. Lots of psycho stuff in there! Here’s an interesting post in which I’m pretty much angry with everybody involved in the process of running adult advertising in the Village Voice. Can you believe that two or three years later they actually hired me to work in-house after i wrote this and several other “psycho” entries about them? Anyway…enjoy!

A week ago, I wrote about my meeting with “the swells” up at The Village Voice – and how I had succeeded in negotiating a rate that would at long last free me from my pimp, an advertising agency which does absolutely nothing for me save siphon off 15% of my money. Guess again! Suspicious individual that I am, I called the rep who was set to handle me to ask if there was any chance that her boss might go back on his word. I know the agency and figured they’d bitch and moan that he was stealing their whore (that would be me). She assured me that wouldn’t happen. Uh huh?

That is EXACTLY what happened! My pimp went in there and in corporate speak screamed in essence “Where you get off stealing our mother fucking ho?” The guy folded like a beach chair and had one of his slaves call me to break the bad news. Now, I’ll do my chameleon thing moving out of the street metaphor and into a law office. Dear “esteemed” Publisher of The Village Voice. You breached your verbal contract. Three witnesses watched you make me an offer. You handed me a rate sheet with your handwriting on it and markings that indicated where I would fall on that rate sheet. I e-mailed you my acceptance of your offer. You e-mailed me back the terms of payment. You made an offer…I accepted it…and I can prove it. You can’t go back on your binding verbal contract! Additionally, you later convened with the officer of another corporation and cooked up a price fixing conspiracy to smooth the waters. Maybe you don’t see it that way…but I think the legal system does.

But really, I’m not by nature a litigious guy. I’m a common sense right and wrong guy. And here’s the way I see it: The advertising agency passing on a bogus rate hike is wrong. They deserve to lose me for this and a bunch of other reasons I won’t bother to enumerate here. And The Publisher of a major paper negotiating in bad faith? Get the fuck outta here! Ya know…during our meeting, he quipped with a broad smile on his face “We’re all whores.” Speak for yourself, bubba. There’s good whores…and there’s rip-off whores. I don’t think I have to tell you into which category you fall at the moment.

Really, this whole deal is a monstrous rat fuck. There are all kinds of reprobates who go up to The Voice and pay a garden variety of different rates. I know because several of my clients who I still deal with for other advertising vehicles have gone direct…and they’re all paying different prices. For all intents and purposes, there is no fucking rate sheet. It’s a mess and the people at The Voice know it.

The agency that insists on being my pimp is about to go under – which is why they have absolutely no morals or conscience about controlling me. They’re hanging by a thread…they’re treading water in the middle of the ocean with but one nostril above the water line. Their karma sucks. I’m not the first guy (or girl) they’ve tried to steamroll. Their problems are numerous. When I was their friend, I set them up with Extreme – free-of-charge. I set them up with Escort Magazine – free-of-charge. I taught them craigslist so they could save their company during a price war! And then when they started fucking me I said to myself “Why the hell are you helping these people? Stop! Stop talking to them!”

And the operative moment is nigh! I’ve been feeling it for a while. And then yesterday, somebody spilled the beans. They’re about to fold. While I pay them before publication – and have – like forever….they pay The Voice 30 days later. Yup! They oughtta have a float in The Siren Parade. They cry for me to deposit on time constantly. And then they hold my money for 30 days hoping to keep that nostril above the water line.

I’ve seen it all before. Here’s what’s gonna happen: The agency is going to drown owing The Voice close to six figures. My deal with The Voice had cash terms. That was in The Publisher’s e-mail when he accepted me direct. And the funny thing is when the agency expires, who knows all their advertisers? Who knows how to design the ads? Who knows all the sizes and how to build “camera ready” pages and blocks? Take a wild guess! Yup! The guy they just fucked. Go figure.

David Letterman announces that he will be retiring from the LATE SHOW with DAVID LETTERMAN on the broadcast tonight, Thursday, April 3 (11:35pm-12:37am, ET/PT) on the CBS Television Network. Photo: Jeffrey R. Staab/CBS ©2014 CBS Broadcasting Inc. All Rights Reserved

David Letterman announces that he will be retiring from the LATE SHOW with DAVID LETTERMAN on the broadcast tonight, Thursday, April 3 (11:35pm-12:37am, ET/PT) on the CBS Television Network. Photo: Jeffrey R. Staab/CBS ©2014 CBS Broadcasting Inc. All Rights Reserved

I’m definitely more than a day late and a dollar short with this but belatedly, I’ve decided to comment on the retirement of David Letterman from THE LATE SHOW if for no other reason than I was almost on the big show not once…but twice.

On the first occasion, Dave decided to take a bunch of taxi drivers out to dinner to see if what was mostly an unscripted scene would play out. So he dispatched one of his producers (a guy named Steve O’Donnell) to find a table full of cabbies who might be entertaining. And because I’d written for the local weeklies, I made the short list!

Small problem though. At the end of all my op-eds, the papers would italicize a short line which said “William writes a column for Taxi Talk Magazine.” So to make a long and boring short, when Steve called the paper to find me, the owner of the rag decided to impersonate $ Bill and take my gig.

“Wow! How’d you get the gig, Mikey?” I asked my boss after he bragged about doing the Letterman Show one day hence. His answer? “They called the office!” He neglected to say that they’d call the office for me! Schmuck-o got paid AFTRA scale and blew the cash on a gold chain. Talk about a douchebag!

Anyway, I missed the job. And the dinner went so poorly (entertainment-wise) that the crap never aired. Mikey was totally lame (so I heard later) and went over like a lead balloon. At one point, one of the producers actually pulled him aside to dress the big blowhard down: “This is Dave’s show…not yours. Pipe down!” Dickhead was trying to take over the entertainment! Talk about not knowing your place.

The only reason I found out  about this theft in the first place is because my numb-nuts boss left the evidence on his desk in the form of an answering service message that said the Late Show was calling for William!

The second time I had a near miss with appearing on Letterman occurred when Nick At Nite solicited Dave to have their taxi choir (which I was a part of) appear on his show. But once Mikey (also in the choir) told the producers that we’d all have to be paid AFTRA scale (already, he was a spoiled star), they backed off. Do you believe this guy? Talk about a one man wrecking crew!

And finally – though it had nothing to do with appearing on the show – some writer/trick who was reading my blog began stealing my material. Whatever offbeat take I’d written up on life somehow ended up in Dave’s monologue.

Getting that creepy feeling which told me I wasn’t imagining all this, I called Dave’s staffer out on the blog and I never got that feeling again.

Anyway…enough of my near misses. I’ve always known that Letterman is a moody and antisocial guy and thus, I feel a kinship to the late night icon. I’m sorry to see him go. While the writers were lame too often, Dave had some truly funny unscripted moments (like his interview with Paris Hilton during which he wouldn’t get off the subject of her experience in the slammer. Classic comedy!)

I did not fall for all the hype his last on-air week and watched none of the final shows – but did catch the finale on You Tube. And far and away, my favorite two minutes came when Dave introduced his wife and son – both of whom were seated in the audience.

Now Dave is a super private person. For years, he didn’t even acknowledge his live-in girlfriend – until she got pregnant and he married her. But still…she was as incognito as can be. His wife, a good-looking woman of the mature variety was as charming and normal as she could be for the camera. But his son? Just as weird and antisocial as his daddy. Almost embarrassing, actually.

Dave, searching for something to say that might break the tension of his son looking at the camera as if he could give a shit about the show or his old man, thanked Tommy Robatti (I think that’s his name) for coming along with Harry to the show.

With that announcement, Dave’s boy finally smiled for the camera and actually looked alive for two seconds. And it took his father announcing the presence of his boy’s buddy to get a rise out of his kid. Like father – like son – is all I can say. I can just imagine the family looking back on that tape for years to come and seeing Harry’s almost belligerent and clearly disinterested expression on the occasion of his father’s big sendoff. Wanna know why I never had kids? That bull shit right there!

If you really want to witness what I’ve just described, you can hit You Tube and search something like “Letterman’s last show” and I’m sure it will come up.

Regardless, Dave’s a funny guy. I’ll miss watching him on the occasional nights I actually did. Jimmy Fallon is good, mind you. But he’s not Dave. He’s way too normal for one thing.

P.S. Rumor has it that before his nupitals, Dave was a customer in our demented world – and reportedly a big tipper with a big tip.


imgresAs noted in a post many years ago, I’m a guy with good manners. I always say please and thank you as a courtesy to all service people – or anybody who does anything on my behalf. Perfect example: I’m at the supermarket checkout. The cashier hands me my change. How do I react? “Thank you.” Just a common courtesy I learned from my Aunt Ellie – drill-sergeant style – a long time ago.

Up until about a year ago (when I began volunteering), the general suffix to my “thank you” was “boss” if it was a guy and “ma’am” for females. But now while the thank you’s have not changed…the suffix has. I’ve taken to addressing everybody as “brother” or sister.” And it’s the volunteer world that “did the trick!”

It works perfectly. People who line up for free food in New York are a diverse crew. (I’d say that the one thing they all have in common is being poor but that wouldn’t be true. Not everybody is homeless and/or indigent. There are some people just getting a free meal.)

Whatever…in the soup line scenario, “boss” seems pretentious and fake. But “brother” (or sister for the women)? This is the term of inclusion which works for me. I’m not their servant…or superior. I’m their sibling. And whatever their race, creed or color, the implication is we’re all in it together. It’s so good (the brother and sister thing) I now use it everywhere. To date, it hasn’t offended anyone anywhere – even on the soup line. Trust me…that’s pretty impressive with some of the entitled malcontents we deal with. Not everybody has learned the “please” and “thank you” deal. What are ya gonna do? We’re not there as disciplinarians (though a little dose of that might help at times). We are there to serve.

Back to the demographics of the “guests” (as they’re called). It’s the usual gorgeous mosaic New York has been known for since Mayor Dinkins described the populous with that term. I have my favorites and let us say…some groups I’m not as fond of.

St. Bart’s on 51st Street attracts a lot of Mexican dishwashers. I know about Mexicans. They work for a living at low-paying jobs Americans won’t take. And I’ve always respected that! Back when I was a cabby, a group would occasionally flag me from in front of a restaurant on the Upper East Side. I knew they were dishwashers splitting a cab three ways to three different stops in Corona and Jackson Heights – a shit fare for sure! But I’d take them anyway (rather than give them the invisible treatment and run by them as if I didn’t see them waving). I knew the boys would be respectful, thankful and generous with the tip for a cabby willing to travel to an outer boro – their lowly wage notwithstanding.

Then there are the messengers from the messenger center across the street. As a bicyclist, I respect those guys. Bike messenging is a very dangerous and not terribly well-paying  job! I’ll give them extra if we have it.

Parents with their children always get extra not just with me – but all the volunteers. The thinking is that the tykes have nothing to do with ending up on a soup line. And somehow they’re always cute! I’d like to see more in one way but then again…no child should be on a fucking soup line. Seems like a heaping helping of reality for somebody way too young.

Downtown, we get a lot of little geriatric Chinese ladies. I’d like to tell you how sweet they are…but I’d be lying. They’re fucking rude bull dozers too often. Stealing food when we’re not looking and cutting in line is their general MO. I know that’s a racist statement but everybody down at the University Soup Kitchen who’s ever worked the pantry line is in agreement. They’re a rough dose!

And my least favorite guests are the junkies. We don’t get a lot of them (actually we get none at St. Bart’s) but downtown, a few zombies show up. Junkies gross me out. And that’s even before two from their crew got me fired with a certain advertiser a few months ago.

Moving on to providers of the mature variety (talk a bout a non sequitur!)…I rarely take photos of the girls anymore since I lost my photo gig. But I revved up the rechargeables  for my favorite cougar THE INCREDIBLE LEAH (347-357-8211). She’s incredible as in…incredibly attentive (or so I hear). But don’t take my word for it. A lot of guys many years her junior have enrolled in her fan club. Here she is!



One of the hallmarks of the Korean girls and houses on this blog is the amazingly seamless way in which the employees move around with no resultant rivalry and drama between the owners who employ the girls who do the moving. When that crap happens between American or latin places, WW III breaks out! But most of the Koreans know each other and the sisterhood trumps all.

Having just made that statement, there is an occasional instance during which the relationships among the Asian owners can get combustible. And it happened yesterday. One house told me so-and-so from somewhere has left one place and landed at hers.

But here’s the problem: Owner #1 isn’t in the loop. She doesn’t know the other bosses and the girl who left her in favor of a competitor told boss #1 that she was going on vacation rather than admitting the truth…that she was moving on.

I assume she pursued this course of action to leave the door open in case she didn’t like the new place. That was a dumb move. The secret would be out soon enough when house #2 told me that so-and-so from house #1 was moving to their place!

So naturally, I got stuck in the middle. And worse, the girl wanted me to use photos that had actually been paid for by owner #1. This has always been a problem with entitled divas who think they can use and abuse old employers. Whatever…when I called owner #1 to see if she’d paid for the photos, the shit hit the fan. I hate when I get put in these difficult positions because I can do no right.

Finally, I calmed down owner #1 (who was very angry because she thought the girl should have told her the truth) by relating experiences I had back when I posted Backpage when Korean owners would tell me they were going to stop posting Backage and didn’t need me to do that for them anymore rather than let me know that they were moving on – which I would inevitably discover the next day when I saw their ads on BP posted by someone else.

Pain in the ass…let me tell you! Anyway…

Big road day on the bike today. And a beautiful day it was for the rubber to hit the road! So in no particular order of importance…

LOVELY ASIAN (212-470-0409) has a new-to-New York girl named JOANNE. Or I should say “nude” to New York as she’s wearing nothing but her birthday suit in her photo!

Next…HEAVEN, formerly of a few places, has landed back at DREAM GIRL (646-276-0229).



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