Just after 9 PM lock-in last night, my cell door crashes open and a corrections officer appears in the opening. “Mersey! Grab your blanket, tans, and sheets. You’re going home.”

“Can I return Upper 19’s books before I go? I want to do the right thing,” ask I. He doesn’t give a crap about that. So I simply place them on the card table next to my cell where for the past 6 days a group of Puerto Ricans has been playing some unidentifiable card game at 120 decibels. Continue Reading

oI can’t imagine that anybody remembers this place now…but about 15 years ago, there was a very successful Korean outcall which called itself DREAMHOUSE. Dreamhouse was notable for a few reasons. First and foremost, it was the first Korean outcall to use real pictures in their ads.

At the time, the boss was going through ad reps like club girls goes through guys. Which is to say that every week she was trying out a new one. This of course caused major wars between the two advertising agencies who fed the Village Voice somewhere in the neighborhood of 60 – 80 k per week….not to mention among ad guys whether it was with a rep from the same or competing agency.

When it was my turn to come to the plate, I was determined to stop the revolving door. “One week of ads with me and they’d know they found the right guy,” was my hope. With camera in hand, I rode the #6 to Grand Central…the #7 to Jackson Heights/74th Street…the GG to Grand Street…and then hoofed the last half mile to a private row house behind the old Panamerican Hotel in Maspeth, Queens. Continue Reading

posting_1261_300On numerous occasions, I’ve met girls in this business who’ve bragged “I could write a book” – meaning their bizarre experiences would be so fascinating that if ghost-written by a professional, the narration would be of great interest to the general reading public. Exercising my altruistic affirmative action initiative (or maybe I was just looking to get laid), I’ve responded with “write me something halfway decent and I’ll help you get it published” only to discover that the girl was completely full of crap. Only once in 20 years did somebody call my bluff and actually deliver something worthy.

The author’s name is Brianna, a superbusty feature dancer who once graced the pages of Score and Gent…in between working as a buck private escort for the bitch she summarily defecates on in this sordid jewel. The following is that effort, a long and entertaining piece about her trials and tribulations slaving for a gross-out owner who I can tell you first hand…was no walk in the park.

I don’t have the original as submitted – and having reread the article in its entirety – can tell that the first 500 words are ghostwritten. But after that, it’s all Brianna. And some of it is pretty fucking entertaining. Her story was inserted as the first feature in April 2002’s Escort Magazine – along with her photo on the cover – and brought what Brianna described as an “overwhelming response.”

Here’s the feature as published: Continue Reading

I have a theory with which I think most people would agree. If when you meet a girl (or guy) and want to familiarize yourself with his or her essence, there’s a foolproof way to do that. Pose this question: “Describe to me one of the top ten days of your life.” The answer will provide insight hours and days of hanging out just might not! I don’t have a list of my top ten days on hand or in my  mind. But reading a baseball book this morning in which 150 major leaguers describe their one most meaningful hit, I remembered one I’ll share today.

It was the summer of 1963. As usual, mom had prescribed for me one of her “meaningful” summers (as in no coed camps where all I do is try to feel up girls). In later years, those summers involved canoe trips, bicycle excursions and the like. But this summer was sports camp. Camp All America was its name. But it wasn’t exactly all about sports. It was about discipline (of which I didn’t have a lot) as well. Predictably, this institution was located in Croton, New York on the campus of New York Military Academy (where our president went to school). The day  started with calisthenics on the quad. Then a shitty breakfast in the mess hall – segueing into an hour and a half of cleaning up our bunks for inspection military style. I assume you’re getting the picture. Continue Reading


There are countless ways with which a guy can quantify a prospective mate. Intelligence, height, weight, facial beauty, booty/breast size shape and firmness, vocal timbre, sexual proficiency. The list is virtually endless. But today I want to talk about the stink factor.

Everybody stinks at one point or another. But some people stink a little (or a lot) more than others. I’m not a stinky guy. But I distinctly recall removing my khakis to take a shower during my stay at MDC and marveling at the stench I was emitting – thanks to no deodorant. Continue Reading

I know I’ve told this story before but indulge me. One of my first assignments when I  went to work for Action magazine was to harangue the paper’s Asian customers for their  ad money. This was not an easy or enjoyable task. The girls didn’t know me. And they sure didn’t want to pay their bills. As such, they didn’t exactly roll out the welcome mat when I arrived.

The cold shoulder treatment lasted for literally a year or two until one day, the girls showed me a long haired wig which I donned and then broke into a heavy metal swagger to gales of laughter. That broke the ice and thereafter, their eyes met mine when I stopped by. I was in the club.

I mention this today because in my new life as volunteer, I find many of the people I serve are little Asian ladies who like the girls who gave me their ad money, aren’t prone to acknowledging my existence. They live in Chinatown, speak no English, and for all intents and purposes shield themselves from any American culture with a surprising vigilance. But when it comes to lining up at every pantry they can find near their neighborhood, they do find themselves – for better or worse – mixing with Americans.  Continue Reading

To casual fans of pop music, the name JERRY LEIBER might not mean a lot. But even if you’ve no interest in the genre, you simply have to know some of his songs. “Kansas City,” “Hound Dog,” “Stand By Me,” “Spanish Harlem,” “Charlie Brown,” Yakety Yak,” “Jailhouse Rock,” “Poison Ivy,” “Love Potion # 9,” and “On Broadway?” All written by Jerry Leiber.

One reason I like reading biographies of musical icons lies in the fact that often, I’ll run up on names of people I met or even knew well in my musical days. And reading Paul Simon’s biography, I encountered the name of Jerry Leiber, who I recalled I’d actually met in the mid-70’s.

At the time, I was writing songs with an established co-writer who had little difficulty getting us in publishers’ doors. As with Leiber 20 years before, Dorian (my partner) and I had our fingers on the pulse of the new disco/funk music which was selling at the time. With tunes like “Move It,” “Gettin’ There Fast,” “Walkin’ On a Highwire,” and “Troublemakers,” we had enough with which to interest publishers. Continue Reading

It must have been 25 or more years ago that one day I decided to ride down to the Staten Island Ferry…take the boat…and explore what New York City’s orphan boro had to offer. With virtually no plan, I simply ascended from the ferry to the first major street…turned right…and pedaled. Soon I found a path to the water and what I can  honestly say was a road surrounded by near wilderness. Breaks in the brush and foliage provided fishing spots for the kind of people our president wants to keep out of the country.  Continue Reading

imagesPopsicle (my father) was part of The Greatest Generation. That’s right. He was in the navy for The Big One – WWII! But he never shipped out. Daddy was the band leader on a base out in Brooklyn. Thus the joke “Daddy fought the war on the BMT,” the train that ran to the base. Regardless, after my parents’ divorce, I found a lot of old, dusty navy electronics down in the basement which the old man had obviously somehow commandeered during his service.

Most of it was high tech stuff like oscilloscopes and other even more unrecognizable apparatus. But mixed in all the electronics of the day was this big-ass/battleship gray/hundred pound metal box with a huge multi-band dial. The behemoth looked like it might be a radio…so I brought it upstairs to check the monster out. And sure enough, one of the bands was AM. I had myself a “new” high tech radio. Continue Reading

While I had the dubious opportunity of playing behind many of the recording artists who provided the background music for my tween and teen years long after their careers peaked, there weren’t a whole lot of real blues guys I ever got to meet. JOHNNY WINTER came to jam with the band I joined after exiting graduate school. And I was once introduced to DOCTOR JOHN (if you want to call him blues) at a record company office. But otherwise I mostly picked in blues anonymity. But there was one guy I knew well before he became the stuff of legend.

Dorian Burton (not the guy I just mentioned) was a journeyman songwriter in the old school Broadway style who you might mistake for Little Richard. He crashed in a shitty rooming house and basically lived to drink liquor, smoke weed, write songs and suck cock (not necessarily in that order). Notwithstanding his subsistence lifestyle, Dorian had had a few hits and thus, publishers would answer their phones when he called – and wannabe songwriters wanted to write with him for his connections – if not his talent. I was one of them. Despite the fact that there were about four of us who competed for Dorian’s time, nobody got jealous – as he was so difficult to write with. We all understood that working with Dorian daily would have been madness.  Continue Reading

Mired in an 850 page small print paperback chronicling the history of the USA from 1812 through 1848, I’m reminded that if you stick a project out to the end (ya know…like actually reading the entire book), a reward generally awaits. That reward came in the form of a story about a supreme siren by the name of MARGARET O’NEALE.

Margaret (who preferred the name Peggy) was one of those ladies who every man wanted to mount – a fact of which she was well aware. And as barmaid at a Washington hotel – and with a husband away at sea for 4 years, Peggy had a slew of lovers – all gentlemen of station and renown. When the hubby died (some said he committed suicide owing to his depression concerning his wife’s affairs), Peggy quickly married JOHN EATON (one of the aforementioned gentlemen) who became ANDREW JACKSON’S Secretary of War. Continue Reading

Here’s a question for today: What’s the difference between an escort and a regular girl (beyond the obvious…like the former sells sex and the latter doesn’t)? I found out last Saturday at the soup kitchen. Angie (who I’ve mentioned before) is a salt-of-the-earth Korean American girl you could take home to mom eight days a week and twice on Sunday. She’s cute, warm, friendly and all that good stuff. Everybody loves Angie. Except the corporation which took over the sneaker publication for which she used to work. They laid her off after the changeover.

I can’t imagine that Angie was anything but an exemplary employee. Why they would nuke her only they know. While we were cleaning the men’s bathroom (not an appetizing job – especially for a girl), Angie apprised me of this sad reality. “So you’re getting unemployment, right? That should be a decent amount of money to tide you over,” I offered assuming she was. Her answer? “No. I don’t feel right taking that money.”  Continue Reading

Of all the poor decisions an aspiring party girl could make, entering the world of loop pornography rates among the worst. Flatbackin’ is something a woman can pretty much put in her past once she stops. But performing in just one porn loop is a mistake that can chase a girl for the rest of her life!

Picture the scene. A dude falls for a pretty girl and is ready to say “I do.” Then one of his friends says “Hey! I saw your girl sucking three cocks at the same time on an internet video!” And that’s all she wrote with most guys. The bubble bursts when he finds the video and the girl wonders how she was so stupid. For a thousand quick dollars, she’s effectively ruined her life. Now if somebody says “Hey! Your girl was an escort”…a girl can deny deny deny and there’s no proof. But with a porn loop? You get the idea. Continue Reading

Today, I’m happy to announce that all’s well that ends well on the new computer front. I am the proud owner of a mid-2010 model iMac, purchased for a mere $200 on Craigslist from a French lawyer who lives on the Upper East Side. It’s a curious deal that a man of my means with so few expenses would do anything but buy a brand new unit. But that’s besides the point. Back in 2002, I did buy a brand new Mac. It was very expensive and ultimately, a poor decision. The machine lasted but five years and has been since followed by two used units purchased at 1/3 the price, both of which performed much more admirably than the new joint.

As we all know, purchasing a new computer presents a set of challenges associated with replacing software (hopefully free or cheap) that is often old but superior to the new versions. Such was my issue with respect to Photoshop and Garageband. I do not like or want the new versions having seen and tested both. Could I somehow load my new computer with that old software? And would my spanking new Mac High Sierra OS even support the old programs?  Continue Reading

Somebody asked me a funny question recently: “How many jobs have you been fired from versus how many have you quit?” And as I was thinking, what I recalled most was two jobs from which I was never officially fired – but lost because of phone messages I left for the boss. I figure that’s more of a unique circumstance.

The first came courtesy of THE BELMONTS, a shitty musical gig which I never liked in the first place. I initially met Warren (the counterfeit Belmont who ran the group’s business) through JOEY DEE, yet another moldy oldie I worked for who lived just down the street from Warren in (guess where) the Bronx. Joe was off and Warren needing a bass player, asked if he could borrow me for a night. Warren didn’t work as much as Joe…but he paid better. So sooner than later, I left Joe for the Belmonts. Now when I say “paid better” I’m talking $50 or $75 a job versus $100 (in 1985 dollars). Not exactly union scale – if you get my drift. Continue Reading

July 28th, 2013 was a warm summer day with seemingly no significance. Having recently shed the yolk of selling Village Voice and Backpage ads, semi-retirement for me meant a quick ride to and dip in the Asser Levy pool, and then a longer ride down the East River bikeway for a stop in Chinatown – or maybe to the ferry for a boat ride to Staten. Such was my carefree life.

Then 9 AM the next day, everything changed. A knock at the door. “Who’s there?” asked I innocently. The particulars of the ensuing conversation I won’t detail here. But within a few minutes, I knew the feds had seized most of my money and I was in serious trouble.

Guys who read this blog can only access the last 30 published posts. But I have saved in a file the other two or three thousand. And I have what I published on July 28th, 2013 just hours before the boom fell.  Here it is…the last piece I wrote before the day of reckoning. Continue Reading

I know that if you keep an open and inquisitive mind, you can learn something new everyday. And I’m all down for learning. But recently, my mind is aching from all the goddamned learning! It all started when I was recently gifted with a fancy camera. One small problem, though. In point-and-shoot/automatic mode, it doesn’t take photos that are even as good as the $150 jobby I’ve owned for years.

With a little research (and asking questions of my cousin, a professional photographer), it became apparent that my problem lay in the powerful flash on the gift. It creates horrible shadows when I shoot indoors. And so…before I knew it, I was learning about shutter speeds, apertures, focal lengths, depths of field, flash exposures, and similar technical stuff of which I was more or less aware before. I just didn’t much need to worry about it. My knowledge of photoshop took care of all of that – until I owned a camera with a harsh flash. Then I needed to study. Continue Reading

Years ago, an at-the-time advertiser called to say that one of her employees was a reality star. This kind of thing happens more often than you’d think. A girl shakes her booty in a rap video…opens an instagram account…and applies for employment on a reality show or two and before you know it, she’s almost famous. That fame may provide the girl with a sizable income. But as often as not, it doesn’t –  and she’ll end up doin’ the flatbackin’ thing – as the pursuit of all this fame demands makeup, hair-do’s and often surgery to perpetuate the mythology.

So anyway…I google this girl’s real name and after finding clips from a VH1 reality show and her Instgaram account (which has four figures worth of followers), come to discover an article from a newspaper saying she’s dating J.R. SMITH, then of the New York Knicks. Too tickled, I just had to ask her “J.R. Smith. Really? He seems like such a huge party boy!”  Continue Reading

By the time I’d left Action magazine and struck out on my own as a one man advertising agency, most of the reprobates and shitheads I suffered at Action were long gone. I’m not a New York city landlord and thus, could evict anyone I wanted from my list of clients. Which was something I did often and with impunity. But back when I was an employee and just beginning in the adult ad world, company policy dictated that I had to court some of the most reprehensible human beings I’d ever met.

Very likely number one on that list was a supreme asshole who called himself Darren. A good-looking and fast-talking Italian (I believe) from Brooklyn, Darren prided himself on delivering girls from the Midwest to his horny customers, the great majority of whom he enticed through his ad in Action. Generating most of his business from the magazine did not prevent him from jeopardizing his standing at the firm by running a large and extended tab for his ads. And I was the guy stuck with the job of hounding this deadbeat for his money. It was a thankless and harrowing task I absolutely hated! Continue Reading

On this Memorial Day, I think back to my youth and specifically 1970, while a junior in college and facing the reality that I might well become cannon fodder half way around the world fighting a war that progressively appeared to be less and less worthy of an American risking his life. And while I wasn’t super vigilant about burning ROTC buildings and such in protest, I had a sneaking suspicion that Richard Nixon was up to no good and the entire war effort was misguided.

Still, I empathized with the other side and their point of view however deluded. And MERLE HAGGARD was the guy who impressed me most as the spokesperson for the “love it or leave it” ethos. It was just the purity of his sentiment that touched me. Redneck notwithstanding, his bluesy “Fightin’ Side of Me” caught my ear. ERIC CLAPTON and his merry band of hippies were surely my idols. But Merle and his leg-draggin’ guitar player turned my head around. Scoffing at country musicians and their message was pure folly for an aspiring artist. In my mind, there was no doubt they were for real! Continue Reading

Just last night, my family (such as it is) got together for a reunion. With me in New York, one cousin constantly traveling, the other in Westchester, and my brother in Florida, this is something that happens only on rare occasions. And really, it only happened yesterday because my brother attended his 50th college reunion in New England this weekend and corralled the family while he was up north.

My mother had a funny line about my brother and his propensity to not pick up checks after they’d dined together. She’d say “Your brother has a glue pot in his pocket.” This as it happened, changed drastically in the last 20 years of her life at which point she essentially depended on her two sons to keep her in the lifestyle to which she was seemingly born into (oy)! But that’s besides the point. Continue Reading

Pornography, never the last word in philosophy or erudition, has recently descended to previously unattained depths. All that stuff about stepbrothers and stepdads? Yuk! And how about cuckold films? Who watches that shit? But in the muck and mire, I found one laughable and another just too titillating trend!

The first set is on a site called Blue Pill men. I needn’t elaborate. These dudes are like 80! And they pay twenty something nubiles to do them though clearly, the girls aren’t enjoying themselves. Any semblance of enthusiasm for their work sailed from the stormy shores a long time back. The goils are obviously in it for the money and nothing else! Which makes the entire presentation that much more entertaining. It’s kind of like PLAN 9 FROM OUTER SPACE. It’s so bad it’s good. Continue Reading

Just recently, I got into a meaningless shmassle with a dumbbell I really should not have contacted in the first place. My altruistic attempt to convince her to get back with an old boyfriend backfired like you wouldn’t believe! Shame on me for thinking that  somebody as dysfunctional and dim as she would understand where I was going with the solicitation. It was beyond her comprehension that I would be looking out for somebody besides myself – the sure sign of a narcissist first class.

In fact, the girl harbors resentment for me due to one insignificant event (in my mind anyway). At a crucial point, I contacted her suggesting that I become a customer. A certain media event had temporarily rendered me a pariah in another realm and I was in need of some companionship. During our texting activity, I sent the message “You’re the best” to which any normal person would have answered either “Thank you” or “Next to you.” But how would a full-of-herself narcissist respond? Predictably, she texted “I know,” as I’m sure she fondled her own body parts in self-approval.  Continue Reading

Back two careers ago when I ground out a subsistence living in the music business, there were several tasks I would and could perform to pay the rent. Playing guitar and/or bass, arranging for strings, horns and voices, and production and songwriting were all in my money-making repertoire. So it should come as no surprise that these talents (presumptively speaking) led me into the jingle world – the world of writing, performing, arranging and producing the music you hear behind the spots you see on tv.

Unknown to many music fans, some people have earned vast fortunes in the jingle business with virtually nobody knowing who they are. Fame may have eluded them but fortune certainly did not! Forty years ago, the singers who sang dumb shit like “Things go Better With Coke” could bank hundreds of thousands of dollars from that one gig alone thanks to the incredible deal their union had negotiated with the television networks. And while the actual writers got fucked (that’s been changed in recent years), the musicians did fairly well – as did the production house from whence the music came. Continue Reading

Excuse me, but do we live in the United States or Great Britain? Everywhere I turn, it’s news about the fucking royals. Who gives a crap? Ok! Prince William is kind of a cool guy. He served in Afghanistan as a British soldier (though I can’t imagine they let him get in harm’s way). And his mother was Diana, whose death was an unfortunate tragedy built out of the very hoopla that surrounds events like the fucking royal wedding.

And then there’s MEGHAN MARKLE, not an especially beautiful woman. Mind you, I have nothing against her. I just don’t see her as anything extraoridnary. She’s not really all that sexy…or built…or facially stunning…or appealing. She’s just a regular girl. I mean…if I saw her in a lineup at a you-know-what, I’m quite confident there would be others I’d choose over Meghan. And how’s about her mundane family drama? It is of no interest nor concern to me. Why am I hearing about it on the real news? Continue Reading

For as long as I can remember, there’s been a myth going around about people starving in America. Don’t believe the hype – at least as far as Manhattan island goes. As a veteran volunteer of many different places, I can tell you beyond equivocation that the amount of food available free-of-charge to anyone who wants it is staggering. And if you think that the places that dispense this food are hurting for funds (like you might see in “The Last O.G.”), I got news.

Readily available at the Meatloaf Kitchen is a fold out map exhibiting no fewer than 140 locations in Manhattan alone where the hungry can eat for free (and 15 or so more where the 60+ crew can eat for a buck or two with their similarly aged homies). Let’s take Meatloaf as an example. Every Saturday, attendees are served a 1/4 pound of meatloaf along with salad, beans, a vegetable, all the bread they can eat and a cupcake. If that isn’t enough, they can reboot upstairs and do it all again as many times as they want. And if they can’t eat all that food in one sitting, they can haul the plate to the take-out table and have it bagged up for the road. Indeed, a few people go around and around half a dozen times and walk off with bags and pounds of food. But wait. That ain’t it! We also feature a pantry line which will often offer 3 pound pouches of tuna, big boxes of cereal, a pound of oatmeal or rice, and apples, pears and oranges. Continue Reading

Volunteering may not offer any monetary rewards. But that doesn’t mean the work can’t provide some other benefits. Ya know…like the joy of helping people who are down on their luck? Not buyin’ that? Well, how’s about the free food? And of course, there’s the thrill of meeting other volunteers who can be anywhere from near indigents right on up (or down depending on your perspective) to serious earners working high-powered jobs.

At this point, my experience and expertise (and the woman who runs the joint) has put whatever groups come in under my charge. Last week, we had two sets of 8th graders – one from a private school in Greenwich, Connecticut. And the other from yet another private school in Millville, Pennsylvania (the sticks). You can guess who did a better job (Hint: it wasn’t the super rich kids from Greenwich.) Continue Reading

Over the 8 plus years this blog has been in existence, most of the big players in the escort website game ran ads with me. As such, I dealt with either the principals or the first mates of most of those enterprises in the course of publishing this site. So one day maybe a year and a half into my ordeal with the feds, one of the aforementioned bosses calls me up to pitch a plan in which I would sell a package deal of secondary sites to all my Korean advertisers.

At the time, I had somewhere around 13 inches of federal dick up my ass and hadn’t sold any advertising for any outfit other than my own (this site) for over a year. There was no way I was gonna sell that crap. Even in my hey day, I’d have probably turned the guy down given that all the sites in his package were from the b-list. Still, the guy was determined. Continue Reading

Right after New York State Attorney General ERIC SCHNEIDERMAN put the wood to SOMAD ADVERTISING, a colleague of mine told me that the very same man busted a clumsy move at the local gym on a ho he was running ads for. According to my friend, the chance meeting was not in the context of a trick soliciting a whore. Just an awkward coincidence.

That story did not change my opinion of a man about whom I didn’t really have one in the first place. But I did object to his prosecution of Somad. All those accusations of money laundering and profit sharing with the agencies for whom they ran advertising seemed like a stretch. I’ll tell y’all one thing about the relationship between Somad and the ho’s who used their advertising agency. The ho’s were the abusers – certainly not the staff at Somad. Many of the clients were just downright awful to deal with!

Continue Reading

Although there’s a significant portion of the female bar-hopping crew who will back up on a guy to “see what he’s workin’ with,” there’s a time and a place for everything. And MARIA FERNANDEZ MORA is living proof. A Fox newscaster by trade, she was covering hispanic fans at a bar who at the outset were emblematic of the out-of-their-minds soccer fans we’ve come to know and love (or abhor).

But when one of the boys got a little too touchy-feely, the senorita (or senora – don’t really know) was not having it! Wanna see a bunch of wacky soccer dudes calm down in a fucking nanosecond? Watch as Maria turns around and starts pounding the offender with her Fox mike. Too fucking funny. Maybe that shit plays in the world of vanilla – but not so much south of the border – as Maria demonstrates in no uncertain terms. Times up for that mother fucker. Word! Check it out!

The time had finally come. Running OS X 10.8.5 just wasn’t gonna work anymore. I had to upgrade. Sites were telling me “We no longer support this OS. You must upgrade.” Anybody who’s ever turned on a computer knows these processes never go off without a hitch. Or ten. And so I’d delayed and delayed until yesterday when a tech-savvy volunteer at the church convinced me it was time.

So I backed everything up and downloaded the new operating system. After about an hour, I was ready for the bad news. First, I thought I’d lost Photoshop. And Garageband! But in a few minutes I found both and it seemed all was well. Just one problem. I couldn’t get into this blog’s dashboard! Round and round went the ball as I waited to see the window appear. Continue Reading

PORNHUB, the world’s leading porn site, has an interesting feature I just discovered. A la Billboard Magazine and their Top 100 pop hits, “the hub” features a most-viewed porn star list. As you might imagine, STORMY DANIELS is #1. Unfortunately (or fortunately), none features THE DONALD as her costar.

None of this is as noteworthy as the distinct paucity of dark-skinned porn stars featured on the list. In fact, a black girl doesn’t appear until #18. Or I should say a woman with some black blood, as MORIAH MILLS is clearly blasian and not very dark-skinned. By the time we get to #100, just 4 Afro-Americans (or at least somewhat so) appear in this group of elite performers. And one of them is actually MANDINGO (yes, the list is not gender specific. It just goes by the number of views of the stars’ videos). And really, the only dark-skinned porn star in that top 100 is Mandingo.  Continue Reading

I ran this a week or so back and then buried it superstitiously thinking it would be bad luck. I’m happy to say that apparently, my overture worked. The boss and the person assigned to me both emailed last night looking forward to hear what I submit.

In addition to turning a buck or two and (mostly) ventilating about the frustrations associated with selling advertising to escorts, I started this blog with the fleeting hope that it might lead somewhere beyond an escort’s bed or a trip to the bank. That is to say that with a little luck, this here train wreck might score me a paying gig with which I could express myself artistically.

So what did I really get on that front? Not a lot. A book agent who told me I could write but alas, was only interested in one proposed project – which lamentably was of the ghostwriting variety. Then there was the guy who plays Dollar Bill on Billions contacting me. And finally, the music promotion man who took me to a ball game and show or two. As I said…not a whole lot.

So anyway…yesterday, the promo man invited me to a showcase where meaningful music biz executives would be in attendance. Ya know…guys he could introduce me to! Eager for a shot at something to live for, I donned my fanciest duds (yeah, right. That means a collared shirt) and met up with my homey for the show.  Continue Reading

Finally and at long last, the jury has concurred with what most thinking people deduced long ago: America’s dad (BILL COSBY) is a creep. I won’t repeat what I’ve written about Coz and his MO. You can read it right here: http://dollarbill-ny.com/2014/11/why-is-there-air/

The question of the moment is what does society do with the mother fucker now that he’s been convicted on three counts of sexual assault? The dude is 80 years old, nearly blind, and probably incapable of ever drugging and then sexually assaulting a woman again. Wouldn’t a giant fine forwarded directly to a charity that benefits victims of rape and sexual assault make more sense than to lock him up?  Continue Reading

So I’m reading some book or other about the Allies first full-fledged assault on the Third Reich following America’s entry into the Big One. It was apparently a total scuttle fuck. Operation Snafu if you will. Whatever could go wrong went wrong during the operation. Just for example, the instructions on how to operate the new-fangled bazookas and the weapons themselves were packed and shipped on different vessels. So when the boys got the hardware, they had no idea how to operate them.

Moving on…one of the points of departure for the 100 ship armada was Hampton Roads, Virginia, where thousands of people had migrated for jobs in support of the war effort. The docks and supply stations were teeming with workers. And multiple ships and their sailors were in abundance – all in service of the US of A. Of course, where there’s sailors on leave, there’s vice to offer a little entertainment. Predictably, Hampton Roads had its share of beer joints, burlesque houses and flatbackers – all in service of those who were in service of the war effort. Continue Reading

As with many people in our world, Sunday has become my day of rest. Well, let me clarify. Most every day is a day of rest for me. But Sunday is the one day I don’t volunteer at a soup kitchen. Thus, that day is especially uneventful in Dollar Billville. So when it’s not football season, filling Sunday with meaningful activity can be a challenge.

Yesterday would have been the perfect day for the first hike of the season. But two things put a damper on that. First, who in his right mind would go hiking with the crowds on a Sunday when he could avoid all the people traffic by waiting for a weekday? Answer: not me! And second, I went to a late night party on Saturday and did not emerge until dawn. Hiking was kind of out of the question. Continue Reading

I get that the NY Post isn’t written by intellectuals for intellectuals. And I also understand that they run features designed to sell papers to stay afloat. So it comes as no surprise that the publication ran a long piece (for them) on human trafficking just yesterday.

All things considered, I thought the writers caught the gist of trafficking’s reality. For example, they reported that many girls don’t view themselves as victims. And they even interviewed one who said that a Snoop song was what recruited her. So far so good. But then came that quote of the day: Continue Reading

Well…I finally got to watch the ACM (country music awards) show I’d DVR’d a couple of days ago and I have to take issue with what was voted Song of the Year. In truth, my choice was apparently released two years ago. But for some reason, the powers that be chose to close the show with this tune.

Now don’t get me wrong. As usual, I found some very good songs in the three hour show. Which makes sense given the entire presentation is about showcasing country’s best over the past year so people will go out and buy – and attend concerts. Whatever…this was my winner. It’s called REDNECK LIFE. Check out the hook: Continue Reading

At 7:15 AM this morning, I was once again assaulted by the sounds of jack hammers hammering and angle saws sawing. It’s been literally months (like at least 3 and maybe 4), and the morons who are renovating/restoring the schoolyard are still at it. And like with a soap opera, it doesn’t appear it will ever end. A cursory inspection through my window reveals a huge amount of crushed gravel awaiting some placement or other. Not a good sign!

I know I’ve complained about this previously. So why am I beating a dead horse? Well…this morning as I sat in amazement at how loud the construction truly was…and how fucking long it’s been taking to do what appears to be a relatively simple job, a thought came to mind. Continue Reading

I’m currently reading a book recounting the history of the world-famous club THE IMPROV. And when I came upon an anecdote about an old Catskill comedian named JACKIE VERNON, I just had to stop reading and start writing. Ya see…I saw Jackie on one of my gigs in the mountains and it brought back bittersweet memories from my summer at THE BROWNS HOTEL.

It was a burning hot/melt-your-face mid-July day in 1981 when the call came in. The lounge band at the Browns Hotel needed a replacement for their guitar player who was leaving for what reason I cannot remember (probably boredom). Granted, I felt the gig was a little bit beneath me. In the past year, I’d played behind THE MAIN INGREDIENT and STEPHANIE MILLS. And even though I’d also driven a cab in between to earn back gambling losses, I’d also produced a couple of records which though stiffs, had been released by real labels and critiqued favorably by musicians I looked up to. Continue Reading

It’s official now – and just as I suspected. Backpage founder CARL FERRER, has pled guilty to money laundering and conspiracy to promote prostitution. Two days ago, I mentioned that I’d never met either Lacey or Larkin, the other two big fish in the Backpage takedown. But while admittedly, I was just a bag man for the Voice, it wasn’t like word of Dollar Bill hadn’t reached up to the lofty heights of the executive offices. And in fact, I would have met the boys had it not been for one second tier executive who was happy to flash my work in front of his bosses to impress them – but in no way willing to introduce me to the higher ups. And here’s how that went: Continue Reading

On many occasions in the past, I’ve described my dislike for Florida, a state I have visited way too many times in my life considering how I feel about the place. But when mom, dad, and my brother all moved there – and I worked with several bands which had gigs in the Sunshine State – the reality became unavoidable.

I never quite “got” why anybody would want to live in Florida. It’s hot, flat and beachy. For a guy who likes it cool and mountainous, Florida just ain’t for me! Then I did my income taxes this week and suddenly, I know why jews retire to Florida. Continue Reading

Thanks to a longtime reader, I was made aware of a PORNHUB video which features graphic sex scenes interspersed with hit K-pop videos. Talk about too much time on your hands. Whoever did this actually has professionally edited 15 different commercial music videos to include x-rated viewing. Yikes. Can’t say I’m particularly down with the program. But in watching two or three for but a few seconds, I observed that the Korean studs are not quite the equal of their Afro-American counterparts. Leastwise, not quantity-wise!

Which brings me to a stupid story from many years ago. The phone girl from the old HOT ASIAN called to say the house had a new girl they wanted on my blog. Such calls were common from clients. Whenever a new employee joined the staff, they requested a Page 6 writeup. Maybe three days later, the same girl called to say “Take so-and-so down. She’s gone.” “What happened? I asked in some dismay. “Three days and she tapped out?” “Too many big American dicks. She couldn’t handle it,” came the response. Continue Reading

Several days after the much-publicized raid on its principals, the BACKPAGE indictment has now been posted on the Internet and is available for all interested parties to view. If I had a life I wouldn’t have bothered. But given that I don’t, I did. There are some curious features to the 61 page manifesto.

For starters, the founder (CARL FERRER) is apparently not being charged while 7 others are! Reading through the text, Carl is mentioned dozens of times but referred to as “C.F.” And what that says to me is Carl is cooperating. Funny how having a wife and three daughters – and serving two weeks in County lockup after getting arrested for running the site will do that! Good for Carl! As a lowly bicycle bag man for Village Voice Media, I never met the other principals (Lacey or Larkin). But rumor had it they were rough trade. And from their photos, they certainly look the part. Continue Reading

For the past year or so, I’ve had an on-again off-again tooth ailment. At one point, I actually went to the dentist. But by the time the insurance clearance came through for a root canal procedure, the tooth stopped hurting. Not especially enamored of root canal procedures, I deferred.

But then a week or so ago while I was dining with a friend, the tooth exploded in some severe pain. It was time to go! Of course, it promptly stopped hurting the moment after I made the appointment. But this time, my resolve would remain. And yesterday, I went to the doctor.

Going to the dentist now that I’m 65 is much different than it was from age 30 – 64. In 1980, I was hired to arrange, contract and whatever else a recording project financed by a songwriter/dentist (not necessarily in that order). Joe and I got along famously and he became my doctor from that point on despite the horrible commute to Hackensack where his office is located. It wasn’t so bad. Joe gave me the same discount I gave him for arrangements and such. And I genuinely liked the guy. So I endured. Continue Reading

It’s a funny thing about technology. Sometimes, it can improve your life in new and unexpected ways. Like with a cell phone. We all know about its basic function: On the fly communication with people all over the world. But just recently, I was exonerated by the very device! Not something I expected.

I have a seriously leaky faucet in my kitchen. And when I say “seriously,” I mean it isn’t dripping. It’s running! So I called the new landlord agent and got a girl on the phone who I immediately found suspect. She had already fucked up the Click Pay changeover and never heard of the book “Fire and Fury” (which I’m now reading). Your basic dumbbell if you will – was my impression. Continue Reading

After numerous rumors and endless news stories about the site’s imminent demise, the inevitable finally happened. The US government has shut down BACKPAGE.COM, the country’s premier vehicle for the exchange of play for pay. No doubt law enforcement sees April 6th, 2018 as a red letter day. They’ve been after Backpage for years and have finally prevailed. But scratch the surface and the fed’s logic crumbles.

The recently voted-upon FOSTA legislation (which presumably enabled this takedown) is specifically designed to put the heat on human traffickers which oddly, the three principals of Backpage.com aren’t. But no matter. The feds feel the principals are providing a venue for traffickers. And that’s good enough for them. But what’s really going to happen in the escort game in this brave new world? That’s what “en”quiring minds want to know! Continue Reading

Once upon a time, the New York City Asian escort community boasted some pretty hot girls. Pinky, Ami, Cherry, Nicole, Gucci, Sugar, Yong and the list goes on and on. The houses where they worked were equally appealing. Immaculate spaces featuring bacteria-free table body shampoo rooms and spotless spaces where the action took place abounded. Then in April, 2016 came one of a long list of federal initiatives which finally made a significant dent in the Asian incall scene. The A-list owners were rounded up for deportation. The houses were closed. And the staff scattered. So where did they go?

A curious fact of the April 2016 action included no prosecution of the escorts themselves. It was all about ownership (plus one phone girl who chose to profit from allowing multiple houses to use her name and good credit to obtain leases for more than one location. That slice of greed added to an unfortunate decision to use a court-appointed lawyer landed her in federal lockup for 18 months)! Continue Reading

Ok! I admit that I’m not really an expert on the state of today’s sitcoms as mostly, I don’t watch them. But I have noticed a disturbing trend I could definitely live without. And that’s political commentary in the mostly lame-brained genre. It started with TIM ALLEN in LAST MAN STANDING, a show I binged-watched for Tim who actually is funny, one of the daughters, who was super cute and dizzy, and Tim’s neighbor Larabee, whose droll one-liners worked for me.

But as popular as Allen’s show was, ABC tanked it – supposedly because of all the conservative redneck commentary Allen insisted on wedging into the presentation. And I was with them. All that anti-Obama shit was an out-of-context distraction. Ya know…kind of like me talking about sitcoms on an escort blog (or what was an escort blog). Which brings me to my point. Continue Reading

Yeah, right. Don’t make me laugh. I don’t know about y’all…but just about everything I buy was made somewhere else. Ya know…like a place where people who don’t know the difference between “to” and “too” and “there” and they’re” don’t join a union and earn $50/hour for doing a half-assed job at something or other.

So K Mart had a deal which was about to expire: “Buy $30 in clothing and get $15 off.” In addition, I had some Shopyourway points I’d won on their game site that were drawing to a close as well. It was use it or lose it time so obviously, I chose to use it! “Let’s see,” I said to myself. “I got too many pairs of blue jeans…too many hoodies…too many socks…and plenty of underwear. What’s left? Aha! Baseball caps. I only have about a half dozen of those.” Continue Reading