Forty years after a pop culture phenomenon has long since shone brightly and then fizzled out, few stand the test of time when resurrected. Yet SATURDAY NIGHT FEVER, one of the worst movies ever, is being celebrated as we speak. As you can tell, the phoenix that rose from the disco din is hardly a moment for yours truly. Yet (again) here we are noting this pile of what we used to step in before the pooper scooper law.

For me, JOHN TRAVOLTA had to be the most repulsive film actor ever. Who could find him appealing? Answer: Everybody. Even my cousin June –  a Jewish American Princess of the first order who would never have been caught dead dating a greaser in high school.  Continue Reading

Like it or not, the truth is that many escorts suffer from a case of raging narcissism. They’re just too sexxxy for themselves. (And insufferable as well!) But then again…some are almost worthy of their self-absorption. They’re that hot! For me, when it comes to escorts, I’d rather adjourn with a full-of-herself beauty than a humble woman I don’t find physically attractive. I mean…that’s the whole idea of the one hour at a time deal. Once the fun is over, you don’t have to lie around pretending you have any interest in what she has to say or what interests her.

OK! Enough of that! I mention this today because last night, I found a photo on an Internet ad that is so narcissistic it almost strikes me as high art! It’s just the ultimate! Check it out! I don’t think she needs a man (or a woman for that matter). The girl has herself!

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There’s a prevailing opinion in (and out) of the escort business which says that all practitioners of the trade are damaged goods. It’s the only rational explanation for the way in which the girls choose to make their living. And mostly, I agree with the stereotype. I think I’ve dealt with enough escorts to be a leading authority on the subject.

Whatever…what I want to talk about today is the inherent double standard implied with this assumption. What about the consumers’ modus operandi is any less damaged than the girls’? And since when did anybody establish that it’s more undignified to sell “it” than it is to buy it? By me…the seesaw sits in limbo – and each side of the equation bears equal weight. The scales of justice need not be calibrated. They’re completely level! I’ll tell y’all a funny story from many years ago which illustrates my point. Continue Reading

Ah yes! It’s the end of the year legal roundup – at least in my world. And that means I field a request from my lawyers that I pay the outstanding bill. I know what you’re thinking: Don’t lawyers get paid a retainer up front so they’re never behind? The answer is yes – until you’ve given them so much fucking money that they cut you a break and once the original 50 k retainer is exhausted, will resort to normal billing. And so it is with yours truly. Continue Reading

I think it’s safe to say that at least by society’s standards, I march to the beat of a different drummer. Late 60’s, no ex-wives or kids, yet not gay? Token honky in numerous all black bands? Cum laude college graduate who drove a cab and/or sold ads to whores for over 30 years? Multi-millionaire who waits to buy stuff on sale and then gets a bunch of it to save a buck? Yup! I’m the odd man out all right. Of that I have little doubt. And so it follows that as a daily volunteer, I’m not exactly like my fellow do-gooders. If I didn’t know that before, I certainly found out yesterday.

Given the average “guest” at the Catholic Worker, you’d expect violent outbursts to be the norm rather than the exception. I mean…there are more than a few mentally ill attendees down at the soup kitchen. But ours is a mellow shithole – often because the volunteers treat the guests like human beings. Which apparently makes us unique in the field…at least according to guys I talk to who come from near and far in search of a decent meal (which mostly we don’t serve) and a little compassion. Continue Reading

On the recommendation of a former client (one of the very few I still speak with), I logged onto Netflix to watch a film titled THE IMMIGRANT. And it was worth the time and effort on three fronts.

The immigrant herself is a Polish girl who lands on Ellis Island and is immediately accosted by a pimp who cruises the territory looking for single women much like modern day dudes work Port Authority. I was not aware that 1920’s New York even hosted that sad reality. But with a little research, I came to discover that indeed, such a circumstance was not fiction. Who’d a thunk? But then again in colonial times, the Battery was a fancy promenade by day – and – a ho stroll at night. Apparently, men’s lust knows no time restraints. So that was the first interesting element for this viewer.

Now to number 2: At the end of the movie, the pimp (who has fallen for the immigrant he turned into his whore) confesses he’s a piece of shit manipulator. This particular climax didn’t meet with the distributor’s approval. And he wanted the ending changed before releasing it to the public. Guess who that distributor was! HARVEY WEINSTEIN! Old Harve didn’t want the male lead to break down and admit his sins. Funny thing about that! Continue Reading

Throughout the wave of sexual harassment accusations aimed at high and mighty males of influence, I had not once heard a name I knew to be a customer of one of the girls or agencies to whom I sold ads. But that changed just recently when a rap mogul was charged (not legally) with sexual assault by more than one lady from his past.

The guy (who I’ll call Sam) was (and is) a household name among fans of rap and hip hop. Personally, I never bought even one record manufactured by his label – and couldn’t hum one melody (I’m not sure any of his records ever had a melody) or recite one rhyme from any of his hits. Regardless, he is a god in some circles – though hardly that according to one of my independent advertisers who claimed to have Sam as a regular.

Jaime was a busty blonde from north of the border who fancied black men – the scrubbier the better. Given that reality, you would think our heroine would have been starstruck when Sam walked through her door one day at the Best Western (where she worked) and paid her for an hour, more than 59 minutes of which were wasted if sexual intercourse was his goal. For time and again, he returned to pay the fee and then give her what Jaime derisively characterized as two pumps and a squirt.  Continue Reading

A decade or more ago, it was commonplace to walk into an Asian place and see the girls watching videos of recent Korean television shows they’d rented from the local Korean video store. In fact, several of these commercial establishments profited from Korean transplants’ desire to see media from back home.

I was amazed by what I was seeing. Granted, American tv is mostly crap. But the Koreans had us smoked. Quiz shows with contestants getting doused by vats of jello when they answered incorrectly? Bubble gum pop tarts preening for the delight of Korean audiences? Check on both. I wondered if Korea had anything like Sixty Minutes or Meet the Press. Or maybe it was just that the girls didn’t give a shit about anything but mindless fluff! And that’s what they rented at the store. Continue Reading

Rarely does a simple NYPD prostitution bust turn deadly – unless the perp jumps out a window and falls to her death in a vain attempt to “beat the rap.” And so it was two days ago, when one (or a group) of New York’s finest put the wood (not literally) to an Asian flatbacker out in Flushing whereupon she hopped out the window in a vain attempt at escaping. Apparently, the girl neglected to take that paratrooper elective while pursuing her degree in Suckology and somehow managed to die jumping out a third story window.

Now that would take some doing. Like you’d have to land on your fucking head – which I’m guessing is exactly what happened. Probably got her foot stuck somewhere along the line (a la John Wilkes Booth) and oops! Actually, this isn’t a funny story at all. Imagine being an immigrant (and very likely an illegal one) in fear of deportation. You could make the same mistake!

Ho’s running from busts is certainly nothing new. Happens all the time as a matter of fact. Does anybody actually get away? Apparently, yes. Three stories on the subject: Continue Reading

“Me so ho-nee” is an expression that the hip hop world has adopted in song a couple of times. But its inception comes from a film called FULL METAL JACKET, directed by Quentin Tarantino’s idol, Stanley Kubrick. If you’ve never seen the original “Me so Ho-nee,” here it is courtesy of You Tube.

Kubrick truly catches the essence of the Vietnam War hooker experience in this scene. I myself did not serve in Vietnam thanks to a high lottery number. But drinking friends from the East Village who were over there told me that the scene was very authentic. Kudos to Kubrick. I don’t know where or how he found this girl for the scene but she’s just too perfect in the role. Too slutty for words. Check it out. Truly classic.

 

If you read Yahoo News every morning like I do, I’m sure you’re aware of the sorry case of CYNTOIA BROWN – and the celebrity drive to set her free. The fact that the two famous individuals (KIM KARDASHIAN and RIHANNA) are in relationships with men who are either abusers – or simply incredible assholes – would strike me as relevant in this instance.

To enlighten those who missed the news…Cyntoia Brown was a 16 year-old runaway who hooked up with a pimp and began turning tricks under his “management.” Ordered to go out and make some money, Ms. Brown met a guy at the local Sonic restaurant and accepted his invitation to go to his home and have sex for a fee. After experiencing his erratic behavior and seeing that he had firearms in clear view, she shot him dead when he reached for the night table presumably (according to Brown) to retrieve something to harm her. That is more or less the way the situation is portrayed in a moving 2011 documentary dedicated to her plight. And now at least two celebrities want her to be freed after serving 13 years in prison. Continue Reading

No doubt, I’ve mentioned a daily ritual which includes my stepping out to the local Mickey D’s for coffee somewhere around 6 or 7 AM. This morning was especially appealing as the weather was cool, crisp and clear…and almost nobody around owing to the holiday.

Somewhere around 7th Street I saw an Asian lady coming up First Avenue as I headed south. For a second she looked familiar. But I thought nothing about it until she stopped with a surprised look on her face. “Billy-ah!” said she. It was one of a half dozen or so Korean phone girls I counted as real friends way back when. And so we stopped and talked for what must have been 20 minutes. Continue Reading

Allow me to boil the entire human experience down to its essence. People are essentially walkers – or talkers. And unfortunately, most fall into the latter category. I mention this today because just recently, I came to discover that one of my non-assuming fellow volunteers at the Catholic Worker is a supreme walker.

Gregory not only specializes in washing dishes with alarming speed, but also manages to serve coffee and mop floors if there’s but a second’s lull in the almost constant onslaught of dirty bowls and dishes. Now I knew that Gregory works with Doctors Without Borders when he’s not volunteering – visiting all manner of not-so-exotic locations (Sudan, Yemen, Zimbabwe) no tourist would ever go when our hero isn’t manning the mop down at the CW. Continue Reading

one_linerawardAs I’ve noted before, the escort rank and file is not a good source for wisdom, philosophy, humor or timeless one-liners. Escorts don’t contemplate their station in the universe or time continuum. They’re mostly hedonists who live in the present. Despite, there have been isolated moments of clarity expressed by one person or another from the community I’d like to share today.

Actually, the first came not from an escort…but from a distributor of pornography who had a warehouse out in Corona. The outfit specialized in S & M and tranny flicks…and the boss had called into Adam As Eve magazine (a tranny contact tabloid) to purchase an ad hoping he might score some mail orders for his movies from the tranny-chasers who bought that publication. And I as one of the ad reps, was dispatched to sell the ad. Continue Reading

I know it’s retarded that I would waste more then 30 seconds on the pursuit I’m about to describe. But given the memory of a girlfriend past, the very activity makes me want to call and hip her to an addiction with which she could only turn out a winner.

I have a membership card to both CVS and Kmart. It’s the kind of deal where they sign you up, track all your spending proclivities, sell it to whomever, and (drum roll) send you special deals and such. And being the parsimonious fuck I am, you know I’m all in like it was a sopping wet entrance on a super curvy member of the fairer sex.  Continue Reading

If the South didn’t rise again with the election of DONALD TRUMP, it’s about to have a second chance in the personage of an asshole named ROY MOORE, a US senate-seeking redneck who makes the Donald look positively benign. But Roy Moore isn’t just your average yahoo. He allegedly has a little pedophilia going on as well!

It seems a Washington Post reporter heard a rumor that Moore had a history of dating teenagers when he was a thirty-something year old Alabama Assistant District Attorney. Following the story, diligent reporters’ research left (and leaves) little doubt as to the veracity of the claims. Basically, Moore (a single man) liked to hang at the mall and approach women (or should I say girls) many or all of whom were aged 14 to 18! Continue Reading

Yesterday, I was combing through the archives to figure out exactly when I had my fateful back-breaking bike accident. There was a reason (not worth mentioning) I wanted to know. Anyway, right next to the post which revealed the date was this – which I decided to repeat today for no particular reason.

I was always a big Andy Rooney fan. He was the reason I watched “60 Minutes.” It didn’t matter that sometimes, the stories which proceeded his two minutes bored me to death. Just so I got my quick Andy fix, I’d stick around through thick and thin.

And come to think about it…where the fuck did the expression “through thick and thin” come from? Did it originally mean that a guy stuck with his significant other while he cheated with skinny and fat girls alike? Seems like a logical explanation. Continue Reading

It’s not yet a foregone conclusion. But it would appear that the fat lady has drawn a deep breath and is about to sing the EROS.COM BLUES. Pursuant to a search and seizure warrant, Homeland Security agents raided a call center in North Carolina which is either a contractor for – or is actually a part of Eros.com. Nobody’s been arrested and the site is still in operation. But is there any doubt that the end is near?

Eros has never had a lot of friends in the advertising infrastructure community. And I don’t picture anybody going to bat on their behalf. Time will tell the outcome. But I have a sense that the time will be coming sooner than later. Here’s the video from an ABC affiliate in North Carolina. Enjoy (or lament).

I know the title of today’s insanity might strike y’all as an oxymoron. And it may or may not be. But debating the title’s veracity isn’t my mission. I use the expression for another reason.

Yesterday’s snail mail included a “love” letter from the New York State Department of Taxation and Finance. They want proof of my itemized deductions for 2016. This isn’t really a huge deal for as we all know, the huge deal already went down. Plus, those deductions are real. So while it’s a pain in the ass to dig out all the proof, I’m not losing any sleep over the inconvenience.

Well anyway…it was time to hit the slush pile next to all my vinyl albums to find some relevant paperwork. That ream of paper (about a foot thick) contains all manner of material most of which is comprised of printed out letters, articles and queries from back in the day when such material was routinely faxed (rather than emailed) to the recipient. Continue Reading

A not-so-well-known fact about Trump in-law JARED KUSHNER is that he was once the publisher of a highbrow, nose-in-the-air publication titled THE OBSERVER. So full of itself was the paper that its owners chose to publish it on brown paper to make it look like some form of parchment used by the Founding Fathers.

But that didn’t stop it from running adult ads, a few of which I sold for them with the sales pitch “You won’t get a ton of calls. But the ad is cheap and those who do respond will be intellectual Park Avenue types with big money and modest demands physically.”

Anyway (I simply added the previous paragraph for context), one of Jared’s old editors came forward to say that his boss (Jared) didn’t read the paper and offered zero editorial input while on the job. I couldn’t help but laugh when I read this story. Not because Kushner is decidedly not intellectual…but because his editor thought a publisher’s role was to consider his paper’s content. Continue Reading

Today, I don the cap of Ghostwriter Bill to relate a conversation I recently conducted with an escort. File this one under “boys will be boys” and/or “enough is enough.”

In the wake of the fusillade of accusations leveled against Hollywood and media moguls, I have to pause to consider the victims’ degree of distress. Not to diminish their claims, but each time I hear someone new come forward, I think to myself “Try working in a whorehouse and then tell me about all the sexual harassment that so injured your psyche.”

I’m a black American woman – medium dark complexion, 5’9″, slim with nice legs, a phat booty, a decent (though not huge) chest, and an ok face. I like me and think I can bring enough to a relationship to merit a good man even if I don’t see myself as a bombshell/head-turner. But when it comes to the male security guards I’ve met at several incalls, you’d think I was Marilyn Monroe, Jayne Mansfield, Halle Berry and Selena Gomez all wrapped up into one. Continue Reading

Included in my incredibly boring daily routine is an early AM stroll to the local McDonald’s. Now don’t get me wrong. McDonald’s could be renamed McDogshit for all I care. I don’t eat Mickey D’s unless it’s under dire circumstances. But the coffee? That’s different. Not only is their product superior – but a big 16 ouncer goes for a buck! Sold! I’ll take the soap and the radio!

On a seemingly unrelated note (but wait), I think Madison Avenue ad agencies grind out tv commercials about on the same quality level as McDonald’s does food. Which is to say, most tv ads and campaigns are totally not entertaining or clever. But Mickey D’s has one they call “Nothing Comes Before Coffee.” And it’s actually really inventive. The idea is that when something really crucial is about to happen, the whole world stops while somebody takes a sip of McDonald’s coffee. Continue Reading

Ahhh! Who doesn’t love a salacious story about a pot-smoking hoochie perp blowing and/or fucking two rogue cops in the back of their cruiser to get out of a bust? Oh wait a minute! She says they raped her! Now it’s getting really interesting. So interesting that the scoop ended up on the front page of that venerable contribution to American literature, THE NEW YORK POST!

The big debate in this case will center around whether the sex was consensual or forced. That the sex actually happened is not at issue. The “beasts” have already admitted that it did. And that would be because the girl went straight to the hospital claiming rape and the cops’ DNA were found during the examination. Curiously, she showed no physical signs that a struggle took place. Things that make you go “hmmmm.” Continue Reading

While you guys are busy turning a buck on the job so you can forward that hard-earned cash to girls who would make their living flat on their backs, I who have little to do daily save feed layabouts, endeavor to do diligent research on behalf of my brothers. And yesterday, that research included reading “CALL GIRL CONFIDENTIAL,” yet another bio from a “high end” (whatever that means) escort who among other things, claims to have bedded two governors, and turned over the proceeds of illegal liaisons to the Manhattan DA’s office as they had her wired for sound.

No doubt, Simon and Schuster thought REBECCA WOODARD’S  story was unique. Or else why would they publish her book? But really, for someone like me who’s heard all the stories a hundred times before? I can’t say I found much illuminating in her hooker anecdotes. But the manner in which she was wired-up by the Manhattan DA’s office did make for somewhat interesting reading. Continue Reading

Once upon a time (like when I was working 16 hours a day for a bucketful of escort clients), I used to get seriously bent out of shape behind customers who used and abused me. And even though I’m now in retirement, the memory of scum and douchebags of monumental entitlement is vivid. Didn’t like them then – and wouldn’t like them now! I count the disappearance of this ugly reality in my life a silver lining to the storm cloud that has been hovering over me these past 4 plus years. But just recently while attending the Halloween party I referenced yesterday, I got a fresh reminder of what it was like to be used by losers.

In my conversation with the girl who would pretend to care about me in a ruse to access my money, she admitted owing her independence and success (such as it probably isn’t) to her association with guess who (me). It seems that a couple of years back, this individual was fired from her job for being an undependable, not that in-demand, fall down drunk with an attitude and self-image not quite in line with how the boss herself saw this girl. I myself ignored all the minuses and concentrated on her prodigious technique and amazing chest. Forgive my indiscretion. When dealing with you-know-whats, there are certain characteristics I seek with them which are less paramount with other people. Continue Reading

Morons like me who flip through Yahoo news every morning will always end up clicking on a pop culture fluff piece the likes of which will lower my IQ precipitously. With that thought in mind, you can imagine how I reacted to the lure of the headline “CARDI B Engaged.” It was just too seductive for me to pass by! Now I know I promised never to mention Ms. B’s name again. But the story is so illustrative of a theme I’ve commented on ad nauseum that I couldn’t resist.

The man of Cardi’s dreams is a dude named OFFSET (I’m guessing a show biz name), a member of a famous rap aggregation called MIGOS. True journalist that I am not, I did my duly diligent research and found one of the group’s hits. I’m sorry. Rapid fire triplets (which aren’t that rapid fire when the beat is so slow) impress me about as much as C-A minor-F-G doo wop. Which is to say…no sale on Migos.  Continue Reading

It would seem to a not-particularly-keen observer, that whenever and wherever America stages a glamorous athletic event, hookers benefit – and the authorities see an opportunity to round up a few flatbackers to make a point. This time it is in Houston around World Series time that the authorities took over a massage parlor…and opened up for business with the entire staff comprised of local cops compiling a list of tricks to whom they would serve a “treat.”

After two or so weeks of this ruse, the Houston Police Department came down on the customers (rather than the girls), 139 in fact, one of which was one of their own! This became big enough news for a reader who is currently attending the Series to send me an email with this link. My immediate response after reading was this: “Only one?” Meaning out of 139 random tricks only one was a policeman? Continue Reading

Film and TelevisionOnce again, this iconic photograph is in the news. Here’s what I wrote 3 years ago when back then, I found the image on the Yahoo news page. No need for a rewrite.

Even though I was just 7 years old at the time, I remember all the hullabaloo behind this photograph. Way back then, the three big international sex bombs were Jayne Mansfield, Marilyn Monroe, and Sophia Loren. And rightfully so. They were all magnificent in their own rite. Anyway…the first and the third attended an affair one night, and this is the iconic picture that was published in the papers the next day.

Sophia Loren, now 80 years old and the only one of the three who’s still alive, has just penned a book about her life. And in one of the chapters, Ms. Loren explains what she was thinking at the moment the photog caught that shot. Sophia claims that Jayne had just tipped into the affair…sashaying step by step for the crowd’s titillation…and then sat down right next to her. The  Italian goddess goes on to explain that at that pregnant moment, she was deathly afraid that Jayne’s boobs would tumble out of her dress and spill onto Sophia’s plate.

Really? No sale, honey! Jayne’s tits are pretty impressive…but there was no way they were big enough to reach your stupid plate. Of course we know what was really on her mind: Wow! Those tits are huge. I don’t know whether to chop them off or suck on them. Whichever…I’m jealous!

Anyway…I display this picture pursuant to my theory that many escorts are gay or bi – and that scenes like this take place on a daily basis at your favorite incalls – are are a catalyst in “turning” the girls into switch hitters. Is it any wonder why? Girls sit around all day in provocative attire being judged by each and every guy who comes to visit. And with each customer, there’s only one winner. Everybody else loses and is left to ponder why the man picked the girl he did – and maybe, why he didn’t pick her!

If you recall, I described a moment in a Queens casita when one of the girls considered out loud who she’d want to see in the room…me or my boss. And let me give you a hint. It wasn’t me. While I recovered without the aid of professional help, I can’t tell you it wouldn’t have affected me if this scene were played out dozens of times a day. And it makes sense that the girls who endure this would react with either jealousy, hate, or some sort of bonding experience. Add into the mix that a lot of escorts are highly sexed and what you get is the old carnal pile. Maybe one girl eyes the other’s breasts while she secretly covets the other girl’s booty. So why not share? We’re all sisters and together, we can have it all! Makes perfect sense to me.

Whatever…I don’t believe a word of what Sophia said in her book. Come on, girl Give it up! You were really thinking “Damn! Look at the bazingas on that Jayne slut!” Get real!

Back in my 24th to 30th years, I had two primary songwriting partners, both of whom were twice my age and three times as dark. Despite our obvious cultural and generation gaps, the thread that made us siblings was love of the blues. The fact that mine was of the pimply Long Island type and theirs with deep and bona fide Southern roots mattered not. I could lay down a guitar rhythm for demos and help with lyrics. So I was good to go.

ROSE MARIE McCOY, one of the two aforementioned partners, was a journeyman (or woman) songwriter who posthumously became the stuff of legend. But at the time, I was too young to really understand her place in music history. To me, she was a born lyricist who sang a little – but couldn’t read a note of music. I’d try to count her into phrases and invariably, she’d come back with “There ya go with that countin’ again.” Continue Reading

Not really up on my pornography nor the endless list of mostly bimbos who inhabit that subculture, I got the news late about CHRISTY MACK. Three years late to be exact. But that makes no difference.

Now I’d seen one of her loops in passing and noted that the girl is especially sexual (how’s that for a euphemism?)…has many many tattoos…ridiculous-looking breast implants and an extremely delicious booty (especially for a white girl. Whether her ass is real or not is difficult to tell. But if it is, that derrier is amazing)!

Christy’s story is right out of the cookie cutter. Ya know…nice Midwestern whitebread girl gone bad – or good – depending on your perspective. Nothing new there. And like most girls who fuck for a living, she had a predilection for bad boys. Pursuant to that ubiquitous reality, the girl began dating an MMA fighter named WAR MACHINE!  Continue Reading

In our post-9/11 era, entering a federal facility is security-wise about the same as boarding a plane. Every piece of metal on your body (including your belt) and (in my case) my backpack has to run through the scanner. It’s a routine I’ve been dealing with either monthly (initially) or bi-monthly (now) at the Eastern District building pursuant to my pretrial probation.

The first time I arrived it was in a suit and tie (to impress the judge with a show of respect). Predictably, the guards addressed me as “counselor.” As in…aging jewish-looking guy? He must be a lawyer. But ever since then, I’ve been more casual. My probation officer doesn’t really give a crap what I wear. Just so I’m there when I’m supposed to be and pass my pee test we’re good. (Actually, I like my probation officer as it turns out.) Continue Reading

Though not really an expert hiker, I’m well aware of the first rule of hiking. Which is…don’t hike alone! That’s great in theory. But for a guy who likes to go on the spur of the moment. And on weekdays only. I find myself breaking that rule constantly. Nor am I alone. Other oddballs hit the trails solo as well.

Out in the woods the social norms are different from those in the city. Just for example, people generally nod or acknowledge each other’s existence on a hike. And often when we reach a scenic overlook, strangers will converse. For me, I strike a happy medium. While I do tend to talk with people, I cherish the solitude of being alone in the woods. And as such, I rarely team up with another hiker and spend more than a few minutes with him or her. Continue Reading

All women – but especially escorts – worry about two things: The tightness of their you-know-whats. And aging gracefully. While it’s true that men worry about the size and hardness of their you-know-whats as much as women, the aging thing is of less concern. While men are often perceived as as attractive and wise silver foxes as they advance in age, women are often viewed as shriveling deserts.

As such, you would be amazed at the figurative hoops women will jump through to delay that aging process. They’ll rub expensive goop all over their faces and bodies to eliminate wrinkles. They’ll go to the gym to reduce belly fat, cellulite and bulges. When that doesn’t work, they’ll go under the knife and get liposuction, a procedure which is very painful for months afterward. Continue Reading

It should come as no surprise that I really don’t give a crap about social media. Facebook, Twitter, Tumblr? I’d trade ’em all in for one good hand job. Ok! I know what you’re thinking. Asshole! You have a blog. That is social media. To me, this blog isn’t social media. It was a way to get rid of the fucking mob (or the faux mob – I never was really sure).

The year was 2001. Some hustler who was grinding out “meet and greet” rags for the local bent-nose distributor convinced me to start a paper. I could write it and sell the ads. And he would do the layout and hook us in with “the mob.”

It was a terrible fucking deal. Not only did the printer have us paying top dollar for the print job, but he took 1/3 of the profits as well in exchange for guaranteeing that our paper would be distributed wherever Screw was. Schmuck that I was (and am for that matter), I thought this was a great deal! Continue Reading

This morning I woke to find an email from an old customer which contained a link to an article from yesterday’s HUFFINGTON POST. In the piece, the author reports that a new study conducted by three renowned academics reveals that thanks to CRAIGSLIST, murders of females in the US was down 17% during the years that site’s adult section was in existence.

This might be an astonishing revelation to bookworms and people not associated with the escort business. But to insiders it’s mostly a big “duh!” Like who doesn’t know that fewer ho’s get offed when they can advertise on the web and vett their prospective clients before meeting them? Do we really need a study to reveal the obvious? Continue Reading

Initially only about a fat slob rustling up some pussy behind his position of influence in the movie biz, the HARVEY WEINSTEIN case has now exploded in an entirely new realm. Political campaign financing has always been a problem in the world’s greatest democracy because let’s face it. Campaign contributions are all about buying influence and affecting that democracy. And people like Harve and the current president of the United States have both been exposed as part of the hustle thanks to the Weinstein case.

In an odd turn of events, CYRUS VANCE Jr., New York County’s current District Attorney, is now in the spotlight for having received campaign contributions (directly or indirectly) from both the aforementioned parties. All of which is democracy as we know it except that what some people viewed as slam dunk cases against Weinstein and Donald Jr. and Ivanka Trump went mysteriously unprosecuted by Vance after lawyers close to the accused parties had made – or did make shortly after the case was dropped – contributions to Vance’s campaign fund. Funny thing about that! The appearance of impropriety is now staring American democracy in the face. At very close range. Continue Reading

Ok! Fear not! I’m not about to defend HARVEY WEINSTEIN. To me, he looks like the type of guy who would commit the indiscretions of which he stands accused. I realize that’s probably a judgmental/prejudicial statement. But sue me…it’s just a feeling I get.

Anyway…here’s the other side to which I refer. Old Harve didn’t sexually harass every woman with whom he came in contact. Like MERYL STREEP for one. She’s been outspoken in her condemnation of the mogul but stated for the record that meetings with him could be contentious. But he never made any inappropriate sexual advances toward her. Continue Reading

While recently reading a memoir about a New York City police officer, I came to realize that as a convicted felon, I have lost many privileges and civil rights afforded those who haven’t been convicted of a serious crime. The fact that my crime was nonviolent – and that the government got twice as much as I would have owed had I paid in a timely fashion – matters not. I have lost the aforementioned privileges. Curious to discover the magnitude of the situation, I googled the subject and am happy to report that in my somewhat unique case, it looks like I’m better off for the loss. Continue Reading

I’ll be the first to admit that I don’t give a crap about major league baseball. And I don’t watch any of its games until the playoffs. Maybe not even then unless the Yankees or Mets make it to the post season. But I’ve been tuning in to catch at least a few innings recently and last night I got a good look at why I’m happy not to route hard for the Yankees. Their manager is a moron!

JOE GIRARDI was never a great player. He was ok offensively – and just below average behind the plate. In fact, some of the Yankee pitching staff insisted on having Jorge Posada catch when it came their turn to start because they didn’t like the way Girardi called the game. Now 20 years later, the guy who in some pitchers’ opinion ran a shit show from behind the plate has become the Yankees’ manager!  Continue Reading