I hear that Sylvia Saint was expelled from Australia for lacking proper documentation while on a shoot for Private.
A Letha Weapons update:
"She's off the dance circuit. Letha, my
girlfriend and I used to get together for threesomes. Some of THE
BEST sex we ever had!
"Letha hated the road,
and retired. She works now as an escort [in
LA], and had a reduction... But not to worry, the tits are still
plentiful... Here's
a recent picture of her..."
Alicia Rio launches her "Eye of the Tiger Comeback Tour" at Club Exotica (626-968-4434) in the City of Industry Dec. 3rd.
Amin Balshe writes: "I know that you damn Jews are a bunch of damn hippy's. Palestine will return to the rightful owners the Palestinians. So from me and the entire Muslim world I say f--- you. You will all burn in hell. ALLAH is the all mighty lord and always will be. Hamas forever."
John Bone's Newsletter:
‘Twas a month before Christmas
So it’s late at night,
T. Bone and Mrs. T. Bone are sitting up in bed
watching re-runs of the X-files. The frantic barking of the T. Bone
dogs interrupt their quiet time together. "What that noise," says Mrs.
T. Bone. "Mrssshpher" says T. Bone, scoffing down a cheese and
pickle sandwich on soft, sweet, Hawaiian bread.
"Get up and take a rook."
Recognizing the voice
of authority T. Bone lays down the sandwich
and drags his weary bones out of bed. Disgustingly naked, peering
out of the window of the guestroom, sucking the last of the
extra-sharp cheddar from a particularly nasty cavity he mutters.
"There’s somebody going through our garbage"
"What you say?"
Those English lessons
were a complete waste of money T. Bone
muses.
Mrs. T. Bone joins him
at the window "who that going through our
garbage" she says.
"Well it looks a hell of a lot like Rob Black," he replies.
"Again, don’t he have
garbage of his own?" Mrs. T. Bone lacks
humor after 8 PM. "Rook, he picking up Chary Fly, I thought you
got rid of him months ago."
"I did. I dumped him on Metro. They must have thrown him back"
"What he got in his pocket, our party?"
"Looks like it, I think
Rob’s starting some kind of T. Bone
memorabilia museum."
"He really ruv you a
rot, huh? He some kind of faggot or
something?"
After contemplating
the magnitude of her last statement and it’s
social implications, T. Bone goes back to his sandwich and TV.
"Someday you going to
have to f--- him up real bad," Mrs. T.
Bone snarls.
"I just did, darling, I just did."
