Tuesday, August 24th, 1999
Porn Industry Finds Its Voice
By Sam Loewenberg
Legal Times August 23, 1999
Question: What $12 billion-a-year business does not have a lobbyist in Washington? Answer: The adult entertainment industry. But Michael Ross is going to change all that.
The Sacramento-based lobbyist has big plans for pushing a diverse agenda that ranges from the status of independent contractors to e-commerce issues to trade relations with China. Ross' first problem has been overcoming his clients' pariah status.
"When a bill comes up, they have got no place to go because nobody wants to deal with them," says Ross. "When something comes up, they have no place to give money."
The industry should give its money to his lobbying ventures, he says, because "I can deal with it professionally."
Ross does seem to have found an unexploited niche. His three-week-old National Cabaret Association has already pulled in commitments for $150,000 from 300 strip-club owners -- one-third of which he already has in hand.
Ross' other effort, which has yet to win any financial commitments, is the Adult Entertainment Industry Education Fund. It will represent the industry as a whole, from video makers to magazine publishers to Internet companies. Ross registered both groups to lobby Congress on July 30. Organizing his varied constituents is difficult, Ross says. "The problem with this industry is they have never had lobbyists before. They don't know who to trust, they don't know what to think."
Read on at:
http://www.lawnewsnetwork.com/stories/A4729-1999Aug20.html
Ted Turner Porn & Pot Shocker
From Luke F-rd Wire Services, Ltd.
Gloria Leonard Kisses and Tells!
"Ted Turner reeked of pot, just reeked,” revealed the now-fifty something porner of her first tryst with the media magnate. “I sniffed and joked, ‘Hey, you started without me,’ recalled Leonard. “He then said, ‘I wasn’t aware that you partook.' Well, we ‘partook’ together and continued on our way.”
The year was 1978--and Gloria Leonard, nationally known for her role in the 35mm porn classic “The Opening of Misty Beethoven” and as editor of Carl Ruderman’s High Society magazine--was visiting Atlanta on a High Society publicity tour. She soon discovered that Atlanta’s favorite son and lover of Jane Fonda was also a fellow pornophile: “The first night we had sex, Ted opened up his attache case and inside were dozens, if not hundreds, of Polaroid pictures of totally nude women that he had taken.”
These and other details of Gloria Leonard’s erotogenic link to the Fonda family are spilled across the pages of Star, dated July 17, 1990: “In addition to being well endowed,” gushed Leonard, whose once-glistening charms have been gobbled by countless sexual personae ranging from Screw’s Al Goldstein to convicted coke felon Bobby Hollander, “this was a man who obviously enjoyed sex and knew his way around a woman’s body.”
Today, Gloria Leonard enjoys a successful career flacking for some of the nation’s most respected mobsters and pimps. She writes : "The Friars' Club in Beverly Hills, long associated with a legendary membership that included show biz luminaries George Burns, Jack Carter, Milton Berle, Jack Benny, Bob Hope and countless others, may never be the same again since deciding to accept Al Goldstein as a member.
"Al, sort of the Gertrude Stein of our time, never fails to assemble a continually diverse and interesting Salon of the famous, infamous and often, notorious. Last night, I was Al's guest for dinner along with - Buck Henry, Joey Buttafuoco, comic Bobby Slayton, former Los Angeles coroner, Michael Bader, restaurant critic Jay Weston, Dr. Susan Block and hubby; widow wench Laurie Holmes, former Playboy Playmate (she was actually Hefner's significant other for a long time) Carrie Leigh and hubby; cigar maven and radio personality, Matt Allen and others too numerous to mention.
"At a nearby table, the 91 year old Berle, (for those not in the know, Berle is famous for not only the size of his cigars but also his formidable schlong) was also having dinner and holding court with a gaggle of much younger cohorts, who hung on his every word, as though they were sitting at the knee of the master! And because it is a private club, you can smoke there!! What -and give up show biz??" ()
If Al Goldstein is Gertrude Stein, does that make Gloria Leonard...Alice B. Toklas?
XXX writes: "Alice B. Toklas was Gertude Stein's longtime lesbian companion and occasional literary inspiration, i.e., "The Autobiography of Alice B. Toklas" is written by Stein. Alice B. Toklas is also legendary for "The Alice B. Toklas Cookbook"--which contained a beloved recipe for hashish cookies. At Gertrude Stein's famous salons, Alice B. Toklas was a constant presence, brooding in Stein's shadow."
From Spy mag, dated Oct. ‘97 “Remembering Al Goldstein: A La Recherche Les Knishes Perdu” [byline: Mark Kramer]:
“Like a Gertrude Stein of gluttony, Al organized the very cream of Manhattan’s D-list into a moveable prix fixe bruncheon salon that haunted a waning constellation of downscale eateries. These culinary gatherings--memorable for such noted gourmands, raconteurs and schnorrers as Al “Grandpa Munster” Lewis, washed-up 1970s porn actor Jamie Gillis, subway shooter Bernhard Goetz and his pet chinchilla, former Miss America and New York City official Bess Myerson, a pimp named Moreno, and Al’s watch salesman from ritzy Tourneau--supplied a colorful stream of anecdotes to be shared by Al at his daily Overeaters’ Anonymous meetings, and established him as a reliable source of slow-news-day items for the local gossip pages.”
How is Goldstein like Gertrude Stein? He hosts a lot of restaurant gatherings. Stein is largely credited with bringing the concept of the "salon" into general parlance. Her Paris salon in the 1920s included such personalities as Hemingway, Picasso, F. Scott Fitzgerald, TS Eliot, James Joyce, Ezra Pound, et al.
XXX writes: "BTW: There was a movie that came out around 1968 called "I Love You, Alice B. Toklas" featuring Peter Sellers as a nebbish who gets "turned on" by hippie chicks."
ZYZ writes: "XXX writes: How is Al Goldstein not like Gertrude Stein? The answer may lie in now-defunct underground newspaper “The New York Ace”, circa. 1970, from the column “Al Goldstein’s America”: “What do I stand for?” writes former welfare recipient, pill-head, industrial spy and Herald Price Fahringer client Al Goldstein. “I am committed to nothing save the protection of my own ass and were the FBI to offer me a proper stipend, I would turn testimony on you quicker than a politician in heat...” Wouldn't you like to be a Friar, too?"
XXX writes: "How was Gertrude Stein like Al Goldstein? She was the same shape."
Bianca Trump vs. Brandy Alexandre
Bianca Trump writes Luke: "It still amazes me how you just print s--- without hearing my side. Or even knowing the whole truth. Here is the email to show who gets the site in the end. Her fraudulent claims are bulls---. I am the sole proprietor of B.T. Productions INc. It is indeed my company. And Sidney Fleishman is indeed an Attorney at law ....800 east broward blvd. suite 310 ft.lauderdale, fl. 33301 (954)523-7223. I was just trying to give her a one last chance to stop her BS before I waste more money (which I have) to persue her legally. . You know she is in no position financially or mentally for a legal battle with me. Frivolous or not. I will persue it if necessary. Again she is a disgruntle old hag who is pissed that I beat her at her own game with just $70.00 that she couldn't afford. like I said we will see who own the site after the internic update. Also I have the letters from nameserver denying her requst to attempt to fraudulently take control of my site. Print that."
Fred the Lawyer writes: Just for the heck of it, I looked up CC 3344. Score one for Ms. Alexander:
3344(a): Any person who knowingly uses another's name, voice, signature, photograph, or likeness, in any manner, on or in products, merchandise, or goods, or for purposes of advertising or selling, or soliciting purchases of, products, merchanise, goods or services, without such person's prior consent, or in the case of a minor, the prior consent of his parent or legal guardian, shall be liable for any damages sustained by the person or persons injured as a result thereof. In addition, in any action brought under this section, the person who violated the section shall be liable to the injured party or parties in an amount equal to the greater of seven hundred fifty dollars ($750) or the actual damages suffered by him or her as a result of the unauthorized use, and any profits from the unauthorized use that are attributable to the use and are not taken into account in computing the actual damages. In establishing such profits, the injured party or parties are required to present proof only of the gross revenue attributable to such use, and the person who violated this section is required to prove his or her deductible expenses. Punitive damges may also be awareded to the injured party or parties. The prevailing party in any action under this section shall also be entitled to attorney's fees and costs.
It's late and I'm too lazy to reproduce the rest of this thing. (I think California legistators are paid by the page.) When you get the chance, ask Brandy why she thinks only lawyers can send cease and desist letters.
Bianca Trump replies: "Rebuttle..... I am not selling advertising or gaining any monies in any way from her site. If you saw it which I am sure you did Luke this code does not apply to what I was doing. #2 I am not in California. I run my business out of Florida so you are all checking the wrong state ordinances."
Score 2 for Brandy. The Martindale Hubbel legal directory does not list a Sidney Fleishman in Ft. Lauderdale. My guess is that Ms. Alexander probably searched other data bases as well.
Bianca replies: "Come on Luke show us your journalism skills. He exists. Believe that."
Luke: "Sidney Fleischman certainly exists. Call 954-523-7223 for Fleischman and Fleischman attorneys at law.
"He was the leading state prosecutor for many years in this county before he went into private practice," says Bianca. "He handles all entertainment cases. Cival or criminal... He was the one that did Kathy Willits case and mine as well. He was on the cases over money laundering at the S. Florida strip clubs that Michael Peters owned..."
Fred: Score 3 for Brandy. 37 CFR 202.1: The following are examples of works not subject to copyright and applications for registration of such works cannot be entertained:
(a) Words and short phrases such as names.... (CFR stands for Code of Federal Regulations.)
What a stud . . . or whatever she is.
Bianca Trump replies: "Rebuttle. What is copywritten is the entire page I created and all its written contents...Including the domain name. So get it straight.....besides how could I just copyright the name of just a damn DRINK in the first place?
"Also I have spoken with Anabolic (MY buddies) and they are setting up a meeting with me via phone with the copyright attorney they used for their Harley Davidson case........... So I will have it on both ends. To garnish her unenployment pay."
Brandy Alexandre replies Tuesday at 3PM: "Boy, she just keeps digging herself deeper. The irrational "logic" and total lack of reason from Bianca is astounding. She obviously doesn't know the first thing about intellectual property. She's back-peddling like mad. In her own email she said she owned the copyright on "Brandy Alexandre"--capital B space capital A. Now she's trying to say it's just the domain name. Well, since *I* have exclusive right to the name Brandy Alexandre, she has none with regard to it in any incarnation, as confirmed by Fred the Lawyer, even the domain name. As to the page she "created," it's made up of stolen images--more violations of the copyrights of others. (By the way, BT, it would have been "copyrighted" if there was anything original in it, not "copywritten.") For those who aren't following, by her claim she owns a "copyright" on every name in the page, and all the thinking people know that ain't possible. I hope now everyone can see how ridiculous her claims really are.
"Further evidence of her circular logic (meaning you can't get anywhere explaining the way things are versus the way she wants them to be) is that the applicable law is in the state where the victim/complainant resides, not the perpetrator, thus, I quote California law. That's a little general, but you get the idea.
"I should also add the spelling of my name makes it unique, having nothing to do with the drink, and was trademarked at the time of first commercial use, which was 1984. She implies that she makes all these bizarre claims based on advice from, or with the grace of her attorney. If this is true, she's making him look like a hack. I think she's operating more on the advice of Diablo (Kendra Jade's ex-love) because he likes to see her make an ass of herself. I'm sure he's laughing his butt of right now. I called the number Luke provided and no one heard of her. They are, however, asking around."
Bianca Trump replies: "I really can't believe you print this s--- Luke. Are you kidding me? Since I am the one filing a case it resides in my stste deary. You stole my website remember Brandy? I am the victim here. As far as my attorney. If you call him and ask if I am a client I believe he will reply yes although I am unaware of their procedures. And "my" email as you put it could very well be taken out of context as well as altered by you couldn't it. There are no stolen "images" on the site. Just one image. And I own it. Get your facts straight. The page is still up on my site if you need to put your 4 eyes back on and look. Nameserver gave me her original application as well as all her personal info. They also gave me their letter to her denying her access to the changes she was requesting. Internic also was so kind as to forward me her fax that she sent them where she forged my signature for the changes. We all know I am in no 818 area code to send faxes. The phone # at the top of the fax is a no published # registered to a Karleen Smith. Can you explain that? Lastly Luke I forwarded you the email from internic reporting the switch of the domain back to me so. It would be nice if you actually told the FACTS. The site is once again mine."
Fred writes: "1. BT now says she only copyrighted the site, not the name "Brandy Alexandre." BA says BT is backpeddling. Fred says: BA is right. BT is backpeddling. 1 point.
2. BA says BT's site is made of stolen images. Fred is too lazy to figure out if that is so. No points awarded.
3. BA says that the page can't be "copyrighted" if it is made up of stolen images. Actually, a "compilation" can be copyrighted. A compilation is: a work formed by the collection and assembling of preexisting materials or of data that are selected, coordinated, or arranged in such a way that the resulting work, as a whole, constitutes an original work of authorship. The term "compilation" includes collective works. 17 USC 101. (The copyright statute.)
Conclusion: Fred doesn't feel like figuring out whether the site is a "compilation." However, BA overstates the law. Minus 1 point.
4. BA says that the law of the state where the victim resides controls. That's way too much of an oversimplification. There are volumes written on "conflicts of laws." (The Restatement of the Conflict of Laws is 3 volumes on this awful topic.) BA does admit that her statement is "a little general...." Since BA admits that this is an overstatement, we won't dock her any points, but she gets a yellow card.
5. BA never answers BT's counterargument that BT makes no money on the website, and civil code section 3344 doesn't apply. No fair ducking arguments.
6. To figure out whether CC 3344 applies, one would want to read the cases construing CC 3344. Fred is too lazy to do that for free.
7. BA says that she "trademarked" her name. Does she mean she registered her name as a trademark, or simply that she started using that name "in commerce?" Perhaps BA should consider the anti-dilution statute as her remedy against BT. See Panavision v. Toeppen. This recent 9th Circuit case (California) pertains to some guy from the midwest who registered the domain name "Panavision". Panavision Corp. got pissed, sued the guy in California under the state antidilution statute. They were able to get jurisdiction over the guy. This case is published on the net--Fred saw it earlier this afternoon, but he was too lazy to write down the URL. If you look for it, make sure you get the appellate decision.
8. BT says she's going to sue BA. Bad idea. Lawsuits are expensive and ugly. Don't do it. Fred recommends: make a voodoo doll of BA and stick lots of needles into it. That will make a lot more commercial sense than a lawsuit. Avoid lawsuits when feasible.
BT's comment that she will pursue this matter whether it is "frivolous or not" is utterly unwise for two reasons: 1. How will it look to a jury? 2. How will it look if BA tried to get sanctions against BT for filing a "frivolous" lawsuit.
My Main Complaint About Porn
Gibert writes on RAME: There seem to be way to many sceens were guys finish a scene by jerking off. These guys sometimes have some of the most beatiful women in front of them, they can do ANYTHING they want with them, but the only way they can climax is by jerking off. I don't get it. Why do they even need these women then? Why don't they just lock themselves in the bathroom and jerk off? It seems so anti-climactic, and such a waste of a beautiful actress to do this.
Comeback Girls Do Interracial
John writes: Luke, I just saw "We Go Deep 2" from Sean Michaels and saw my all time favorite porn gal Danielle Rogers going at it with Sean. Wow, not only does she finally do someone other than Randy Spears, she goes interracial for her first time. The 1999 comeback gals (Ginger Lynn, Marylin Star) and now Danielle come out doing interracial.
Girl writes Luke: very worried about you, think you need therapy (in a good way!), worried about the Narcisstic Complex that has way overcome both "Luke the Journalist" and "Luke the Man." I told you once before, until you're comfortable with Luke F-rd, I mean really the person, you cannot be in a place to be with a woman."
Luke: "I'm in transition. I just don't know where I am going. Interacting with women in a deep way triggers things and issues inside me that lead to changes and growth."
From :
Luke Lobbies to Become Kid Vegas' Gabby Hayes
Luke F-rd writes: "Please tell Kid Vegas I'd love to be in his movie if he could set me up with some high powered guns and stuff and show me how to shoot them. Perhaps he'll take me to the shooting range as well and show me how to shoot straight.
"By the way, my boss fella thinks you're kicking my ass...
"I'm in a slump, Gene and I don't know what to do. Things have been real bad ever since Kendra left for the Bunny Ranch. Oh well, I guess business is business. I just love too much.
"It's coming on Rosh Hashanah and Yom Kippur, the High Holy days in the Jewish religion. So I've got to go now. There's someone I have to forgive. Myself. I never wanted to be a porn journalist. I never wanted to come to America. I never wanted to leave Cooranbong. I never wanted to become Luke F-rd, I was so happy as Leonarto August. In fact, I wish I never left my mother's womb. It was so warm and secure in there."
Gene sez: "Luke, a straight-shooter and snappy dresser such as yourself deserves to be Kid Vegas' comical sidekick. As far as the quaint notion that I'm doing YOUR old column? You as the master of footnotes should know better. It's the other way around, mate. Granted, I didn't have a website at my disposal during the Mesozoic period, but I've been doing the gossip beat a pretty long time. By the way, glad to see you're getting a jump on the High Holy days, which reminds me, I've got some Christmas shopping, so I've got to go, too. And, if it's any consolation, I never wanted you to become you, either. Incidentally, the Bunny Ranch is looking for a few good men who love too much - about ten times a day, worth. As far as slumps, kid, you're never in one as long as you can lay down a good bunt."
The Kid Vegas-Zoe Controversy
Steve Irons writes: "Come on Gene, who is going to believe that Zoe was begging Kid Vegas to work with her. Zoe seems like a smart enough person and she has to know what a total loser Kid Vegas is. And the comments about AIDS, seems like Kid Vegas is a little upset he got dissed by Zoe. Hell, if anyone has HIV its most likely him, since he's f---ing Kendra Jade. And she's had more pipe laid in her then the New York sewer system."
Gene sez: "Now, now, now. That isn't nice. Besides, you're talking about the woman Luke F-rd loves." ()
Luke asks: "Who is Gabby Hayes?"
Gene sez: "I knew you would ask that one. He was Roy Rogers' comical sidekick in 1940's westerns. Now, if you ask me who Roy Rogers is, I'm going to have to give you a penance by forcing you to watch Quigley Down Under."
Luke: "I hope Quigley Down Under is not a porno. I'm never watching another one of those things. They're morally depraving."
Gene: "All this sex must be rotting your brain. Quigley Down Under was a western with Tom Selleck shot in Australia."
Porn Chat
Killus: It was about censorship. Look the thing that will nail this
industry will be when Congress has to sit down and look at rocco and
max hardcore cuz that s--- is FOUL !!!
MikeSouth: I like Luke better'n he likes himself...or thats what he wants people to believe anyhow
Brandy Alexandre: 30 years ago it was a big deal to do a double axle. They one ice skater wanting a high score and did a trible, and then another skater added twists, and so on. So all porn is today is a competition for glory of the sport, nothing to do with the beauty and elegance of the dance.
Joywank: Speaking of innovations... was the Celeste the first pornstar to make an art form out of weaving cobwebs with come?
JimGunn> Only way I'm ruining strip clubs is cause I get there *first*, hehe
JimGunn> Luke, what's with this Nice Jewish Girl- what a yenta. Isn't
all that porn star trim you're getting keeping you satisfied, albiet
in a shallow way?
LF: Jim, I find her amusing
BobBlec> Luke: she probably thinks she can't satisfy you after all those pornbabes you've bedded
l-keford> I just talked a nice jewish ...we're going out...
MS: thats what you need Luke...best therapy around dude
MikeSouth> Luke comes to Tampa and he is gauranteed my protection...
BTW yer carry permit from Cali is prolly good in FL. Only one rule Luke....you
stay the f--- in YER bed
BA: Get an Amtrak sleeping car and see who you can seduce from coach
BrandyAlx> Diablo, I know you're saying something about faxes because that's what you read in some of the procedures about the domain name transfer, but I never had to fax anyone. In fact, BT blew it herself with her calls to namesecure.com They think she's totally nuts. One guy says she needs to lay off the smokes. She sounds like a truck driver.
* MikeSouth is thinking he coulda made a LOT of money charging porn girls to pee on Luke
Diablo^> Brandy thats nice, to bad they sent her a copy of the faxes
she gave me the BEST BJ I have ever had how do you think she has your
po box address
Diablo: Because it's on my web site, silly. you f---ed up big time
forging a signature on a fax thats just plain stupid
BrandyAlx>Diablo, I did tell them if there was continued dispute they could put it on hold. That's probably what they did. That's by no means a victory as your aching id seems to like believing
Thats because brandy is full of s---
BrandyAlx> I think the big question is why is she so obsessed? Why does she need my hits so bad? Can't get enough whoring bookings?
l-keford> can't go to tampa, high holy days, yom kippur
l-keford> these are days of intense spiritual introspection, i can't
go traipsing after porn stars
MS: why not Luke...thats spiritual
Taksan> Luke why don't you become like most jewish people and give up god for $
<`^-_-^`> l-keford , substitute Mons Venus for Temple.
JimGunn> I see. Oh well. I can say this though...the closest I have ever gotten to God is on a bench in Mons Venus with a 18 year old grinding my dick through my nylon sweatpants. hehe
<`^-_-^`> actually Mike and I were going to get Luke an Aryan Nations
T-shirt for Tampa. * Squishboy goes scrambling for his new world order
literature a guy gave him on the street last week
JustMrT> Brandy, how can there possibly *not* be a single "Sidney Fleishman" in the Florida Bar Association? It's almost inconceivable.
JimGunn> Well I am only interested in looks, no matter how shallow
that sounds for the sake of this argument
BrandyAlx> She's furious that she hasn't gotten her way with the domain
name war. Now she's sending ridiculous legal threat, lies to the web
hosts, and claiming that BT Productions has a copyright on my name.
Diablo^> Brandy forged BTs signature on a fax she sent to internic. BT has a copy of said fax. Brandy tried an illegal takeover of brandyalexandre.com
Dr Susan Block
Sex therapist Dr. Susan Block writes Luke: Thanks for being such a good guest last night. I consider the evening a great success since no disgruntled porners or producer's brothers stormed into the Speakeasy to beat you up.
Right now we're broadcasting footage from the post-show action that kicked in last night shortly after you left. It's probably a good thing you did leave, since it got pretty hot; Jolie and a sexy fashion designer named Kim, dancing topless and playing with dildos. Nothing XXX-rated, just good, clean, half-naked dionysian fun. Nevertheless, the temptation might have been too much for you, and then you'd have really disappointed NJG.
As I said, I enjoy reading your romantic, tortured, soap operatic dialogues with her. She reminds me of girls I went to Hebrew school with. I'm glad she enjoyed the show, and that I made her think of her mom, who must be a nice Jewish lady. And tell her that she needn't worry about me "coming on to you." I'm very touchy-feely with most of my guests, and I love to tease, but I'm monogamous with my wonderful, adorable "schlub" of a husband.
Anyway, Luke, I knew you'd be well-spoken, but I was pleasantly surprised that you were such an attentive listener. When I asked you why you think the crime rate has gone down in recent years, even as consumption of pornography and attendance at swing parties have gone up (as has occurred in most countries that have decriminalized sexual expression), you had to admit there might be a connection. That took integrity, and I appreciate that.
I know you wish you could attribute peace in society to religion, but I think you'll find that the statistics do not bear that out. In fact, the opposite seems to be true.
Not that I'm totally against religion, not at all. I enjoy observing many holidays, especially since Judaism encourages husbands and wives to top off their celebrations in bed. My favorite is Purim, as one of my heroines is Queen Esther, who used her powers of sexual seduction to save her people from genocide. I'd be interested in your view of Esther's story.
Max says to thank you too, and to tell NJG he's terribly sorry that she was molested by her grandfather. Since his voice and/or photo apparently brought up those awful memories, we would like to offer NJG up to three hours of free counseling here at the Institute.
Peace with pleasure, Susan
P.S. I wouldn't normally point out a typo to you, but I think you've got a loo-loo on your front page. After you say that you believe abortion is "killing, it is wrong, sinful," you go on to say, "If these chicks got pregnant, I'd have them put up the kids for abortion." Don't you mean "adoption"? If that's not a typo, you're even more schizoid than I thought.
Loose Change
(Satire) 8/25/99 by Fred Buccolini
The first time I laid eyes on Alexandra Silk I was drunk in a cheap, dank motel in Pahrump, Nevada, trying to get my pants off my sweaty, corpulent mass, while watching Silk give head to some stud in a porn flick on the Spice Channel. I wanted to masturbate. But I couldn't even find my dick!
Let me tell you from the get go, I am a pathetic creature. Three years ago I couldn't even leave my apartment. I weighed in at eight-hundred and twenty-five pounds. I was 46 years of age. I could not get out of bed to take a dump. I would sweat profusely. There was a musky odor in the room of urine and stinky socks. I went through 18 private nurses. Nobody could watch me eat. I was a pig.
Oh, and did I tell you I was still a virgin?
Then one day I received a mysterious package in the mail from an anonymous source. Inside were a bottle of pills called fen-phen. I took three an hour for six weeks. I shed four-hundred and thirty- three pounds. Then I had a stroke and lost two-thirds of brain capacity. My word recall, my speech pattern, my muscle coordination, all went into the dumper. My face, which was never attractive, now looked like the split image of Boris Karloff.
My family doctor, Dr. Loring, who has an office near Hustler Hollywood on Sunset Boulevard, suggested I go see a specialist in Nevada, who I will call Dr. Feelgood.
Dr. Feelgood had an office on Main Street in Pahrump, Nevada, a very dry, god forsaken patch of dirt that some denizens actually call a town. My male nurse, Candy, wheeled me into to see Dr. Feelgood. And I had trepidation. I had hung up my shingle years ago, people did not want to hire a private dick who could not touch his toes let alone find them. The advent of Westec Security systems and their ilk had taken a major chunk away of my livelihood. Presently, I was depressed, fat, and I didn't have medical insurance. In a nutshell: I was broke.
"Mr. Marlowe. So good of you to come. Dr. Loring tells me you've been having shortness of breath, chest pains, but your weight is about steady at three-hundred and ninety-two pounds."
"Fix me up Doc."
"Well, what would you like done Mr. Marlowe?"
"I want to be handsome."
"Of course you do. Wouldn't life be stress free if we were all handsome?"
"But you could do it Doc. I know you can."
"There are no guarantees in life Mr. Marlowe. But I could try. Is there anybody in particular you would like to look like?"
"I want to be movie star handsome; a young Burt Reynolds, a young Warren Beatty. Think Gator not Boogie Nights. Think Shampoo not Bulworth. Got it Doc? I'd like to be a composite of both guys."
"Anything else?"
"Liposuction. I want you to suck this fat right out of me and throw away the key. I'm tired of people staring at me and smirking. Oh, and new hair Doc, a full plate of it; dark with some distinguishing gray. And, of course, brain surgery. I'm tired of talking out of the left corner of my mouth while leaking spittle--too messy and not attractive with the ladies."
"Anything else?"
"Well, while you're at it Doc, I'd like three more inches of dick!"
"Of course."
"There's one thing, Doc. It's about payment. I don't know..."
"Not to worry Mr. Marlowe. Your bill has been taken care of by the same person who sent you the diet pills."
"s---. Those diet pills only worsened my condition, why should I take money..."
"At least you are out of your apartment, Mr. Marlowe. You were a caged, self-hating, animal before you arrived here."
"Whatever you say Doc. Oh, when you're working on the old brain pan, maybe you could pull a few strings and give me a cocky personality. Cynical but funny. Aloof but alluring. In short, I'd really like to get laid when this is all done with."
"Your wish is my command, Mr. Marlowe."
Well, suffice it to say, everything worked like a charm. I looked like a million bucks and not only that, this benefactor sent me some mad money via the Doc: Seven portraits of Madison. That's thirty-five thousand buckoos boobie! The first thing I did was return to my apartment on Yucca Avenue in Hollywood and try on some of my old suits. I found an appealing gray pin-stripe, a neatly pressed white dress shirt, and a red tie. Fit like a charm. I then proceeded to throw out about 75 LeisureTime videotapes. No more porno for me. I was going to go out on the town and get laid. Then my phone rang. It was a dame.
"Is this Mr. Marlowe?"
"Yes"
"I have Mr. Larry Flynt on the line. He would like to speak to you. He says it's urgent."
"Put him on."
The voice was distinct. Slow and wispy.
"Philip Marlowe? Larry Flynt here. I need to see you right away. One of my writers is dead. They found him at the bottom of his pool early this morning at his home on Franklin Avenue. I suspect foul play."
"Why is that?"
"There was a message on the guy's forehead written in red lipstick."
"What did it say?"
"It read: l-keford.com"
"Hmm. Anything else?"
"Yes. There was also a microcassette recorder at the bottom of the pool. The tape was playable. I suspect it's this Luke guy. He speaks in an Aussie accent. He's babbling about living on a kibbutz in Jerusalem, that he hates L.A. and is planning to relocate, but first he has some business he's going to take care of. I suspect that the writer at the bottom of the pool was 'the business' and he has taken care of it."
"What was the writer's name?"
"Terry Lennox. This is all hush, hush Mr. Marlowe. But I think you should know that Terry Lennox was my bastard son. He was nothing but trouble, but I loved him. Please Mr. Marlowe, met me downstairs at the coffeehouse at Hustler Hollywood. I'm hosting a fund-raiser tonight for a good cause. Be there at 6 p.m. sharp. I don't like tardiness."
I arrived ten minutes early at Hustler Hollywood. The red neon sign in front of the building reminded me of my youth and the board game Candyland. And though my parents put me in an orphanage when I was a preadolescent, deceiving me by telling me we were going to meet Boo Boo the Clown, nobody, not nobody, was ever going to make a sucker out of me. A white limo pulled up to the curb. The rear passenger door opened and I saw those luscious legs. They were like a break of sunshine on a muggy, overcast day. Then the chauffeur stepped out of the car and it suddenly got very cloudy. He was big and mean and his eyes shot daggers at me. But the dame, I could tell, she liked me, because she suddenly fainted right in front of me and I caught her in my arms. I looked down at her angelic face and she opened her left eye and smiled. She stood up and extended a black-laced left hand. I shook it preciously.
"Thank you for catching me...Mister?
"Marlowe. Philip Marlowe."
Her eyes studied me for a second. Then she became animated.
"God! You're gorgeous."
I blushed. This was all so new to me. Never has anybody said those words to me.
"You can call me Alex. Are you here for the auction Mr. Marlowe?" she asked as I raised her to her feet. I shook my head, negative.
"All of the proceeds go to AIM, a health care organization for the adult entertainment industry. It's a terrific cause. You can bid, if you'd like, for a lunch date with me."
I smiled and reached down to my left pant pocket to feel for my portraits of Madison. I realized that I had locked up those big bills in my safe before I left home. I felt a nickel and and three pennies. I stammered.
"I seem to have left my money at home. But...but, I'm here on official business. A private matter. With Mr. Larry Flynt."
I felt a sharp pain on my right shoulder. It was the ugly paw of the thug-looking chauffeur.
"Is this guy bothering you Ms. Silk? I'll be happy to break his nose for you."
"No. That's quite all right, Tiny. Mr. Marlowe is going to walk me in."
She locked her arm under mine, and as we walked through the main entrance, I remembered that motel in Pahrump, and the porno I was watching on TV, and I realized that the girl holding my arm was porn star Alexandra Silk. This was heaven.
She stopped me just as we were entering. She reached up and whispered in my ear.
I smiled and picked her up. All eyes were upon us. I walked down a long ramp toward the coffee area, carrying this petite beauty in my arms. Her perfume was intoxicating and I was feeling light headed. There was an array of beautiful porn stars lined up to my right, all wearing frilly see-through gowns and undergarments; with a look in their eyes like they were at their High School Prom and and about to be awarded the Home Coming Queen award. As I walked, flash bulbs exploded and blinded me slightly. I put Alex down and she told me she was going to powder her nose. She pointed to an available seat and my eyes darted around the room.
Then I heard that voice. Soft and wispy.
"Mr. Marlowe. Up here."
On a second level above the coffee area was a make-shift stage. There was a middle-age man in a wheelchair. I recognized his face from his interviews I'd seen on television. He looked feisty, smarmy, but exceedingly intelligent. I approached the man. He reached out his hand. I clasped it. It was moist, clammy.
"Dr. Feelgood gave me your description, Mr. Marlowe. He did an excellent job."
"You two know each other?"
"Without Dr. Feelgood, I would be in much more pain than I am right now. But that's neither here nor there. Please be so kind as to push me to the table. There's something I want you to look at."
I stepped behind his wheelchair and pushed him toward a laptop computer connected to a website. I could see the words l-keford.com on the masthead. He clicked the mouse and up came some pictures of a salty-haired man holding a gun.
"Mr. Marlowe, this is Luke F-rd. I believe the man is criminally insane. Take a good look at these pictures. I am fearful that he may attend this very event tonight."
"Peachy, Mr. Flynt," I said. "But where's the motive? I need more to go on than a few internet pictures and a beached whale floating at the bottom of a pool."
"How did you know Terry Lennox was fat, Mr. Marlowe? I didn't give you that information."
"Call it a hunch," I said.
Suddenly there was a belly in my face. I recognized that gut from all of those LeisureTime Videos I used to watch.
Larry looked up and smiled.
"Ron Jeremy. How the hell are you? This is Philip Marlowe, he's a private dick."
Ron was wearing an extra-large black cotton t-shirt and jeans, his hair dark and kinky. He smiled like a school kid about to audition for a role he wants with a passion. He shook my hand.
"That's an interesting choice of career Mr. Marlowe. I once worked on a movie called Rick Quick, Private Dick. Life is sort of funny, huh?"
I smiled and he looked down toward Larry.
"Larry. Did you see the movie Detroit Rock City?"
Mr. Flynt looked befuddled.
"Naw, naw, naw. I rarely go out. I heard it tanked, though."
"How 'bout you Mr. Marlowe. Did you see Detroit Rock City?"
I gestured, negative.
Ron looked very disappointed. He looked down, took a deep breath, and said softly: "Oh, well. I got a part in it. Check it out if you can."
Ron glanced curiously at the computer screen.
"Luke F-rd? Is he supposed to be here?"
Mr. Flynt said abruptly: "Ron, there are some free cookies and candy and coffee near the refreshment stand. Go knock yourself out."
But Ron become very excited, hyper. His words came out like a Gatling gun. "Well, if Mr. Marlowe is here because of something Luke F-rd did, I think I can help."
Mr. Flynt's face flushed with anger. He raised his right arm and pointed across the way.
"Cookies, candy, free coffee, Mr. Jeremy," Flynt said anxiously.
Ron pouted his lips and said, "I can take a hint Mr. Flynt." As he was leaving he tried to whisper something to me in pig latin but Mr. Flynt interrupted.
"I fear for my life Mr. Marlowe. I'm an old man and all I want is peace and quiet. I want you to find this Luke character and see what he wants. If it's money, I've got plenty of it. If it's women, I've got incredible access. But if it's respect? There's nothing I can do to help him and you will have to take matters into your own hands. I'll pay you well. Money is no object. Within reason, of course."
"Why would you fear for your life, Mr. Flynt? Terry Lennox is dead."
"Mr. Marlowe, I've had several warnings about Terry, that I should have fired him. That he was a loose cannon. I should have fired him. But, it's my foolish pride. I cared for his mother deeply. Promised her I would look after him."
"What happened to his mother?"
"Suicide. I feel responsible for her death because I was too busy running a media empire to take notice."
"I can't take your money, Mr. Flynt. But I can give you some advice. Let it go. It's over. Go and run your magazines. This is a job for the police. It's a police matter."
I realized that this was a man who was used to getting his way. I excused myself and walked over to my seat. A very attractive girl in a dark pants suit sat at a chair next to me. She looked at me and smiled.
"Are you planning on bidding?" she asked.
"I didn't bring my portrait of Madison." I said.
"What's a portrait of Madison?"
"A portrait of Madison is a five-thousand dollar bill."
"Could you go home and get it? As you can see, we're very short of male bidders. The money will go to a good cause."
I shrugged. "Sorry. I'm here on official business."
Ron Jeremy walked over and sat down and smiled at the girl who was looking more and more disappointed. "Hi Mitch. Did you see Detroit Rock City?"
She did not acknowledge him but kept staring at me. Her mood changed. For some reason the name Mitch rang a bell and I realized that the person shooting icicles at me was the veteran porn star Sharon Mitchell. I'm not sure what I did to upset her. She barked, "Empty your pockets!"
For some reason this dame thought I was lying. I threw my nickel and three pennies on the table. She smirked, "Just what I thought, a cheapskate. Cheap change for a cheap guy in a cheap suit. I've had my share of guys like you. You probably smoke cheap cigars, drive a cheap ass car, and go home at night and crawl into a cheap bottle of whiskey. Get lost cheapie!"
Ron became panicky. "Whoa! Sharon. This is Mr. Marlowe. He's here as a guest of Mr. Flynt. Here's here on a special case. Involving the death of Terry Lennox."
Sharon looked up and belted out a contemptuous laugh. "Terry Lennox was a porn journalist. A throw-a-way. If I wasted 20 years at the bottom of the food chain, than this guy was three steps below."
"Just a minute, Miss Mitchell," I said. "You must understand something: I feel your pain!"
"You could never possibly understand me Mr. Marlowe. Things have changed for the worst. In the 70s, I was the darling of the porn industry. We made big movies with big budgets. I would make a G-note a day, shoots would sometimes last for three or four weeks. I had the best of everything; the best food, the best drinks, hotel suites. Then came video production. And low, low budgets. Before I retired from the industry, do you know what motel they put me in?"
I gestured, no.
"Motel 6, Mr. Marlowe. They are all now just a bunch cheap directors and producers looking for a quick buck."
Now it was my turn to laugh; I belted out a good one.
"An excellent performance Miss Mitchell. Always the actress, aren't you? Do you really know who you are? I think you're just spoiled. Always used to getting your way. You're no different than all the other actors in this town looking for an easy living. Well, nothing comes easy Miss Mitchell. Life is hard. There is pain involved. If you weren't so self absorbed, worried about what other people were thinking, maybe, just maybe you would have asked me some simple questions, like: Who are you Mr. Marlowe? Have you had a hard life? Have you ever had a weight problem? Who did your liposuction? But no. The first thing out of your mouth has to do with how much doe you can get out of me. You're all about the f---ing money!"
I slapped the nickel and three pennies into her right palm. "Here! Take your f---ing money. Go buy yourself a shoulder to cry on."
Then came those tears, flowing like wine. She began balling like a new born baby. A very angry baby. She threw the change across the room. And that's when I heard a scream.
"SON-OF-A-BITCH!," someone yelled.
And then he approached our table. A tall, older man with a lizard like face. He was rubbing his right eye which was now bloodshot and moist.
Ron was the first to speak.
"Oh, God. It's Roger Wade! Look what you did Sharon, you hit Roger Wade in the eye. He could ruin your career if he wanted to. How are things at the Black Tower, Roger?"
Roger kept rubbing his eye. He shrugged. Ron looked at me looking confused. "Oh, you guys don't know each other. Roger, this is Philip Marlowe. Marlowe's investigating the death of Terry Lennox."
I shook Roger's hand. I immediately felt a pin prick on the back of my neck.
"What do you do Mr. Wade?," I asked.
He shrugged. "I'm a PR guy."
Ron, ever the lapdog, chimed in: "This is the head guy, Mr. Marlowe. All information related to our industry, gets filtered through him. He has a lot of power. A lot of power. Did you see Detroit Rock City, Mr. Wade?"
Roger shrugged. And said: "I need a drink."
I pulled out my flask, handed it to Roger, and he took a swig. He looked like he just rolled out of bed. His clothes looked slept-in and his long hair, unkempt.
Roger handed me my flask and said: "Go home, Mr. Marlowe. You're not wanted here."
Sharon got her nerve back. "Yeah! Go home. And you too Roger, you hack, you lush. You were supposed to promote this event. I'm here to raise money so the talent can be tested. I have found my calling--to help people. What do you do Roger? You bitch. And you bitch. You don't support this industry. You're only interested in your little turf wars."
Roger smirked, and said, "That's completely uncalled for, Mitch. You know I'm terribly underpaid and overworked. And I work in an essentially thankless business."
Sharon stood up and pointed her right index finger at Roger's chest. Her eyes were fiery. "Where is everybody? We are starting this thing in five minutes. How are we going raise money for AIDS testing if people like you don't support us? Who can I rely on If I can't rely on the industry's head PR guy to get the word out?"
Roger shrugged. He picked up a napkin, dabbed it into a water glass, and attended to his bloodshot eye.
"Well I think Luke F-rd was doing a pretty good job to help the industry until he went bonkers," said Ron.
Roger's face become flush.
"Ha! Luke F-rd is a flea on my left testicle," said Roger indignantly. "He makes me so irritated. At one point, I foolishly thought he might learn and grow from his mistakes but that's not going to happen. Luke F-rd is going to spend the rest of his life in jail for the murder of Terry Lennox. End of story."
I stepped in. "How do you know Luke F-rd murdered Terry Lennox, Mr. Wade?"
"Because Mr. Marlowe, I was right there after it happened. Terry invited me over to talk about starting a new trade magazine. When I arrived at his home I found him at the bottom of the pool and I immediately dived in and fished him out--which is not easy. I'm no spring chicken. But when you love somebody, you find inner strength that you didn't know you had."
Ron stepped in. "First off, nobody loves anybody in this business. And second, I can't believe you dived in? You didn't call 911, first?"
"What, like that idiot from Star Trek?" said Roger.
Sharon stepped in. "No. William Shatner did the right thing. You call 911 first. He was the host of Rescue 911, for god sakes."
Roger continued: "So, I found Luke's tape recorder in the pool. I noticed the message on Terry's forehead in red lipstick, and, I also found this..."
Roger, at this point, looked like a disgruntled DMV employee. His wrinkled yellow shirt began to stick to his body; he was sweating. He reached into his back pocket and pulled out an envelope. He yanked out the letter and unfolded it. He began reading in hushed tones.
"To Whom it May Concern, My name is Terry Lennox. I need to clear the air for I fear that I maybe murdered by a man named Luke F-rd. As I sit here enjoying my fourth whiskey sour, I am going to reveal the true story about my relationship with Luke F-rd. First, I should say, I will never acknowledge Luke as a credible writer even if he pens a bestseller. I foolishly let Luke into my home when I first met him and I shared some of my notes about porn stars and their real names with him because he charmed me. But he pilfered those notes when I was in the toilet. The rat prick.
"Second, I always thought the internet was a joke. I never saw it as a viable medium. It kills me to say this, but Luke was ahead of the curve. He saw the internet as a good way to reach people who want to read about celebrities in the adult entertainment business. Who would have thunk? I, of course, write for jerk-off rags. I hate every second of it. Nobody reads them, or maybe a few. There's a guy named Jilly, or Milly, somewhere in Katmandu. He's on parole; his fan letters are beneath even my standards.
"Luke, if you ever read this letter and you have succeeded in your mission to destroy me, I want you to know that our lunch date was meant to be a small form of payback. But a joke nonetheless. If I am dead... all I can say to you Luke is: Get a sense of humor. For those of you reading this letter who don"t know the real story about my little lunch date with that little cocksucker, well here's the poop: I told him that I would take him to lunch at Musso and Frank on Hollywood Boulevard. We ordered lunch. I ordered a New York steak, a few drinks, and dessert. When the check arrived, I went to the bathroom, and crawled out the bathroom window--which wasn't easy--and I landed ontop of some garbage cans, ripping my pants, which pissed me off further. But I knew that having Luke pick up a dinner check would drive him to madness. So, I guess I was foolish. But it was funny as hell and people will talk about it for years to come. I can't believe dad hasn't fired me over this. Oh well, I think I'll go out for a swim and enjoy my Saturday afternoon. venting always Terry Lennox"
I noticed Roger Wade's hands were shaking as he finished reading the letter.
"Is there something the matter Roger?" I asked.
His eyes darted to Sharon. "I'm just not used to being scolded by women. It's a bit unsettling. Reminds me of my mother."
Ron piped in. "Well, the letter proves nothing. I've read a lot of true crime books, and this thing could go either way. Terry could have been murdered or he could have drowned while inebriated. Or maybe he wasn't drinking at all and he was set-up after trying to set-up Luke. Maybe he was double crossed by the real murderer. And the real murderer could be in this room right now."
Suddenly, Roger became very animated. And he let out a small laugh. "I think you've been watching too many reruns of Columbo and Perry Mason, Ron. But I must say, you do have an active imagination for a guy with a big dick."
"f--- you, Roger. I'm smarter than you'll ever be. Go on and write your piece of s--- news stories. I'll see you in hell!"
Ron stormed off.
"Well Mr. Marlowe, I think you've had your fun. The show is about to begin. You can stay if you'd like. Maybe, later on, you can find out what Ron is hiding. He seems a bit touchy now, doesn't he?"
I took out my flask and had a quick one and put it back in my vest. I was trying to wash down the sleaze.
"You're too full of yourself Mr. Wade. And I don't need your permission to tie my shoes. I'm a big boy now, daddy. I'don't know where you came from or what rock you crawled out from, but there are laws of nature and justice. Nature works on its own. But the laws of justice take a little longer. Sometimes there are snags. But I'm very good at untying knots. I would have offered you another drink--but why? Why waste good whiskey?"
Roger looked a little stunned, threw his napkin on the table, and stormed away.
Sharon Mitchell took to the stage and the porn auction began. Since I arrived a few more men had straggled in. Some sat in the front near the stage, others hid near the back. Opening bids began at $75.00. Some lucky guy bought a lunch with the girl of my dreams, Alexandra Silk, for $150.00. One of Flynt's bodyguards, won the bid for lunch with a girl named India for $100.00. A guy who works for the Black Tower, bought a lunch with Chloe, for $350.00. A girl named Mayla, said she would throw in a blow job, and she was sold at $225.00.
Things got real interesting when porn star Tina Tyler took to the stage wearing a tight fitting white evening gown. She brought with her a friend named TJ Hartley. But, something was not right. TJ's wig did not fit, the gown was ill fitting, and the hot lights from the television cameras began to cause a disturbing change to her makeup. Her eyes darted across the room and locked onto Roger Wade.
Roger was standing to the far left of the stage, and I kept my eye on him. Then the right heel of TJ's shoe broke, she stumbled, and fell off the stage. Her wig fell off, and a gun dropped out of her inner thigh. People were laughing and screaming at the same time. TJ grabbed her gun, hopped back on stage and grabbed the microphone.
Her voice bellowed, but alas, it's wasn't much of a she but a what? An Australian male voice.
"Ladies and Gentlemen," said this thing. "My name is Luke F-rd."
There was hushed silence. He put the gun under his arm and reached for something in his pantyhose. Somebody in the back yelled: "Oh my God, he's going to pull out his dick!"
A woman screamed.
"I'm here tonight," said Ford "because somebody here is trying to set me up for a murder that I did not commit. About a half-hour before this function began, I was sitting in my van parked outside of this very building."
Roger Wade yelled: "What were you doing, jerking off?"
There was laughter. Ford glanced at Roger and said: "Just you wait buster."
He cleared his throat and continued. "Ladies and Gentlemen, I have in my hand a police scanner, which can tap into cellular telephone conversations. I know it's illegal to be doing this but I had no choice. At approximately five-thirty this evening I tapped into a phone conversation between three people. One was Mr. Larry Flynt, who I believe to be an honest man; the other party was a man who is sitting in the audience here tonight, Mr. Roger Wade, who I believe is the DEVIL!. The other party in the conversation was a Minneapolis state judge and who is Roger's very own crooked brother, Alphonse Wade. This judge was going to put Mr. Flynt behind bars for the rest of his life on trumped-up obscenity charges if Mr. Flynt did not comply to certain nefarious requests made by Mr. Roger Wade. One, to relinquish fifty percent of the Flynt empire to the Wades. Two, to partake in this horrific ruse in accusing me in this terrible tragedy. I HAVE EVERYTHING ON TAPE! And a full-out confession from Roger to Larry admitting to the murder of one Terry Lennox and of planting evidence to incriminate me, such as my stolen microcassette recorder. The police are outside and licking their lips. And all is well. Thank you, and good night."
I got a good look at Roger Wade, who was fleeing for the exit. But somebody, a guy named Tiny, just happened to have his leg stretched out in a convenient place, and as Roger tumbled, Tiny's other leg found a soft spot. Roger winced and grabbed his nuts; a small red lipstick case dropped from his top shirt pocket and rolled across the room.
I approached Luke F-rd, who as on stage looking at a tear in his pantyhose.
"It was you, wasn't it?" I asked.
He looked confused and became excited, "What are talking about?"
"You're the one who sent me the diet pills and the money. You helped me get me back on my feet."
He smiled. "So, you're Philip Marlowe. Wow! To be honest, I was a big fan of Raymond Chandler's novels back in high school. And in my heart, I knew you had to be a real living and breathing person. Not just a fictional character. So when I got in trouble, I looked your name up in the phonebook. And there you were--listed with a Hollywood phone and address. It's so god damn romantic, I'm almost teary-eyed. Have you got a hankie, I think my mascara's running."
I pulled out an unused red silk handkerchief from my top pocket, and said, "Here. Keep it. Also, I want you know, that I still have your money."
Ford smiled.
"That's yours to keep Mr. Marlowe. A trust fund of sorts. You deserve it. And it's an honor to have met you."
"Likewise," I said.
"Well, I better go put my face on."
And he walked away.
"Mr. Marlowe? Mr. Philip Marlowe?"
It was Larry Flynt and an assistant approaching. "I think you should let my assistant cut you a check for your time. I think your presence here tonight helped in some fashion and I owe you...something. I hope money makes you happy."
I smiled.
"Thank you Mr. Flynt. But I have seven portraits of Madison locked up in a safe at home."
Slow and wispy, he asked: "What is a portrait of Madison?"
"That's a five-thousand-dollar bill."
"Well, if money is not important to you, what the hell is Mr. Marlowe?"
I grinned, looked down for a moment, then looked back up at Mr. Flynt. I could feel my lips pucker as I formed the word.
"Pussy!" I said.
Flynt smiled and craned his neck a bit and called out to someone: "Will somebody get Miss Silk in here and show this boy a good time."
He turned his face back to me and handed me a key. "There is a lovely suite upstairs, Mr. Marlowe. Take all the time you want. And the drinks are on me."
Luke's Site Sucks
David writes: I'll get to the point. You're site used to be fun, now it has gotten soooooo boring. I'm sure some people care about your personal feuds with AVN, Gene Ross, which can be fun, but the constant legal issues get old. I analyze financials for a major studio in Burbank. Legal issues such as Microsoft vs. Justice Dept, interesting? Yes. Luke F-rd potentially sued for calling Gene Ross a pig, no. It's old already. I check your site and where are the pics. Look at your list of photos and they've been the same for some time. You have a great niche, inside porn gossip. I heard you on the radio and you seemed to sort of look down on the whole industry. I can see why to an extent, but the fun thing about the porn industry is the kooky characters and the f---ed up lives they have. Drugs, jail, alcohol, abuse. It's a real life soap opera. It's entertainment. It may be ruining our society, to some, and the male sex drive must be controlled, as you say, which is true and then again overstated, the problem your talking about is here, but it's not going away and the world still exists. I'm no doomsday forecaster. Keep it simple, and FUN, and keep the legal stuff to a minimum. Try to think about what your customers want. It ain't constant articles on legal issues or your personal battles. Boring. You seem to be a frustrated journalist. Get out of the business if porn annoys you.