Holly Randall Part Two Part Three Part Four Holly's Website Holly's MySpace Holly's Xpeeps profile Holly's dad Humphry Knipe

Holly Randall (eldest of Suze's three kids) does not remember the first time we met. She thinks it was at the Tampa Show (10/9/05). But it was January 8, 2005 on the red carpet at the AVN Awards.

Holly was too drunk to remember me or almost anything else from that night.

About six months later, I noticed her outspoken posts on XPT and emailed her for an interview. She asked around and was warned by many people (including her boyfriend) not to do it. She decided she would do it anyway and told her publicist so. I never heard from either Holly or her publicist.

I talked to Holly for hours at the Nightmoves Awards, Sunday, Oct. 9, 2005. She got drunk. I offered her my t-shirt and underwear and we swam until late at our motel.

McKenzie Lee, Luke, Holly Holly, Luke Holly, Luke Holly, Luke Holly, Luke Holly, Luke Holly Randall, Luke Holly, Luke Holly, Luke

And thus began a great romance (well, I didn't kiss her for another three weeks as she had a boyfriend).

On October 17, Holly wrote on her chatboard on suze.net:

It's funny, that was the first time I'd met Luke and for some reason we just got along really well and hung out the whole night of the awards. There were so many pics taken of us I joked that it looks like we're a couple..

By October 30, 2005, the end of daylight savings, we were a couple.

Did Suze Randall Hit On Tera Patrick?

Holly calls me from New York at 9:11am, Nov 1, 2005: "Listen to what Tera Patrick wrote [in the new book Naked Ambition: Women Pornographers and How They Are Changing the Sex Industry]."

Tera wrote: "I lived at Suze Randall's home for a while and when she wasn't busy hitting on me, I was getting published in every magazine imaginable. In retrospect, she probably paid for that house off of the pictures she shot of me, but no matter."

When Suze was younger (she posed nude in Playboy and Hustler before she became a photographer to support her husband's writing career, he's published two books), she slept with Warren Beatty, Jack Nicholson, Jim Brown, Hugh Hefner, Larry Flynt and Traci Lords. But over the past 20 years, she's been busy as a working mom and doesn't hit on people anymore (to the best of my knowledge, for instance, she's never hit on me).

Holly: "My mom did not hit on Tera Patrick. My mom does not hit on any of her models. She's [really bad word here] 58-years old. We bought that house at least six years before we ever met Tera. Can you believe she said that? Actually, I can believe she said that. That's disgusting."

Holly (stuck in a two-star hotel) and several other contributors (paid $50 each for their essays) to the book, including Wicked's Stormy, have paid their own way to New York to do a few readings.

In a "Holly Randall for American Bukkake" fan thread on XPT, Holly writes: "Sorry but I'm saving myself for Luke."

On page 172 of her book How to Make Love Like a Porn Star: A Cautionary Tale, Jenna Jameson writes:

I began to feel like Suze was taking advantage of me. My pictures appeared in every sex ad and foreign nudie magazine imaginable. And since I'd signed away the rights, she was raking in all the money. Whenever I asked her for a few chromes for a promo shot or to make a modeling book, she'd refuse. I'd ask her instead to shoot an extra roll for me at our next session instead, and she'd say she couldn't. She made her living off enthusiastic new girls like myself, and I understood that and was grateful to her for making me an international cover girl. But there was a bigger problem -- she was stringing me along, telling me that each shoot we did just might be a centerfold in Penthouse. However, nothing we did ever appeared there, and that had been my drea from day one. And with every picture of mine that was published somewhere else, my chances of ever being a Penthouse Pet plummeted lower and lower.

So I added Suze to mental s---list of people I could not trust and decided to stop working with her. Though my reasons made sense logically, they were also convenient rationalizations for my drug habit.

Suze was hurt and then furious when she heard about this remark. She says Jenna's comments are unfair. Suze gave Jenna a piece of her mind at Paul Fishbein's 2005 wedding, saying, "I'm sorry I wasn't there for you when you were going through tough times, but you've always allowed yourself to be controlled by whichever man you were with at the moment, and that hasn't changed."

I don't believe Jenna responded.

The Pornographer's Daughter

Holly Randall writes on Suze.net:

I have to say the good reception I've had from my essay in Naked Ambition has really inspired me to start my book-- my parents and I have already discussed it and we think "The Pornographer's Daughter" would be a good title. I'm only a little worried because to write a story about my life, I have to be honest about those closest to me-- and that would obviously be my parents. My mom was scared to read my piece in Naked Ambition, but once she did she was very proud of me. My parents were honestly the best you can ask for, but like all human beings, they did some things that really affected me as a kid. I want to be honest and forthright, but I don't want to hurt them. This is my dilemma.

From Adversus.net (interview done January 2003), Holly says:

I certainly have a very high sex drive but I don't know if that's because of the business I work in or because that's my nature. It's kind of like "which came first, the chicken or the egg"? Do I work in the porn industry because I like sex, or do I like sex because I work in the porn industry?
Ever since I was a young girl I've been fascinated by sex, but is that because I grew up around it because that's what my parents do? I don't know-- I just remember when I was about 8 or so my favorite book was "Where Do I Come From?" which is an illustrated children's book answering the common question of how babies are made. I recall re-reading over and over again the part about sex and what it was like, they described it as "being tickled with a feather, but much nicer!". I was so curious to know what that feather tickling was like! But unlike some may think, I didn't even kiss my first boy until I was 14, and I didn't have sex until I was 16. Boys never really liked me as a kid, so I was safe from any premature sexual activity.
I actually don't have one-night stands because I don't like having sex with strangers, but when I've got someone I want it all the time! I even have male friends I just have sex with, that's always a safe and good time. But though I am boy-crazy and a huge flirt, I am looking for that one guy that I can have crazy and consistent sex with for the rest of my life.

Holly Randall On Women's Sexual Liberation

This hardly seems like the demure girl I've gotten to know over the past few weeks. I was quite taken aback when I read her thoughts:

Do we still believe that women are supposed to act demure and play "hard to get"? If I want to f--- on the first date, does that make me a slut? Yet the guy would still be a stud, right? Why do we still fall for this bulls---? If we as women are supposed to really believe that we are equal to men, then why do we accept this double standard? I think that if you buy into this mentality then you are accepting this pathetic patriarchal rule that has plauged women for so long. Perhaps because I work in the porn industry, perhaps because my parents were swingers in the 60s and 70s, but I just think it's bulls---. And if you're going to f--- me on the first date and discard me, then you're going to miss out on all the other things I'm good at. ;) I'm sorry but I'm a very honest and upfront person-- I don't pretend to be someone I'm not-- and if you don't love me for who I am-- well, it's your loss, isn't it? So ladies-- I say that if you love sex as much as me-- go ahead and f--- on the first date! And if someone calls you a slut, just do what I do and change the terminology-- consider yourself a "sexually liberated female". And then tell them to f--- off.

Holly Randall Doesn't Need Any More Friends Who Can't Spell

She blogs on Myspace June 20, 2005:

Obviously about 90% of the friend requests I get are from people who don't bother to read my profile. I am on Myspace to meet interesting people that I share something in common with, or to find old friends that I've lost touch with. So, again, if you simply send me a friend request without trying to contact me first, I will automatically deny you. I won't even check out your profile first, because I just don't have the patience. It's not that I think I'm too important to add you as a friend, but I don't want 3,000 people on my friend list. This especially goes for bands who are just trying to get their names out there. Good for you guys, but at least consider the fact that I might want to actually enjoy your music if I'm going to add you.

And then there are the thousands of horny idiotic guys I get friend requests from and dumb ass messages. If you bothered to read my profile, you would see that I have a boyfriend. I love him very much and I'm not interested in any more offers of one night stands. Here are a few examples of what kind of messages I'm getting from people I'm NOT interested in getting to know:

want to talk about sex

porns so awsome we need to talk sometime

If you ever come to DC let me know. I am a really good looking succesfull broken hearted lonely guy. Can i fly you to DC for a day and a night?

Damn you are one hot chica! Holla back if you want to hit it up. I'm 6'2, good looking with a big cock. I will make you cum all the time.

hey um do u rekon u could accept my friend invite...or if not tis cool?

Look, I have grown tired of the fraud's on this website. The one's that somehow have enough time on their hand's to make fake profile's. So if your for real, and you have actually been working for Suze Randall photography for six year's, you'll know the ansewr to this ? Which model that has done many photo set's for Suze is a native of Australia, a brunette, a former Penthouse pet from the 90's (that's all the detail I'm going into there), and has gone by two other names, of which I'm not going to mention. I'm on this site, as I'm seriously looking into becoming a director, not a actor. Because I want to make good porn, not act in it.

I've met plenty of idiots in my lifetime, I don't need to meet more. If you have a question about the industry, that's fine, ask me. If you share similar interests-- authors, movies, music, etc, cool let's talk. Otherwise find some other dumb blonde who is desperate for attention. Oh, and BTW-- please at least be over the age of 18 if you're going to email me. I'm sick of the juvenile messages from horny 16-year-olds. And one more thing-- bad grammar is an instant "delete"! Get Hooked on Phonics, for crying out loud.

Holly writes about Jenna Jameson's birthday party.

Vilnii writes Luke: "The whole Holly thing is absolutely facinating! To think that a wretch like you could land such a doll! I need to get off my degenerate arse and get a life of my own!"

Monstar writes: "On a positive note: after Holly breaks Luke's heart, as we all know - that's what women do, he's going to comeback with a vengeance...which will be right around AEE & the AVNs. I expect his pictures to be masterpiece."

Holly writes me:

I got a myspace message from someone who I didn't recognize-- the title was "Say it ain't so" and the message was: "You are not really messing around with knucklehead Luke? ...right?"

You've certainly made a lot of friends, haven't you?

Was Holly Randall three when she caught Randy West masturbating in her parents' garden?

Holly tells Gram Ponante 4/19/05:

"When I was at UCLA I had affairs with some professors. Not UCLA professors, but sort of visiting professors. I am going to write a script about the teacher/student relationships that I have fantasies about. I've always had a thing for teachers.
"My dream cast would include Ben English as the teacher."
Holly was three when she caught Randy West masturbating in her parents' garden.
"I'd gotten away from my nanny or something and Randy West is in the yard getting himself hard for a Playgirl shoot my mother was doing. I said, 'Ewww! What are you doing ?' That was the quintessential example of my youth."

Holly writes me: "Saying that I caught Randy masturbating in my parent's garden isn't exactly correct-- my mom was shooting him for Playgirl and I got loose and kinda ran onto the set. He was naked...this is a story he told me-- I of course don't remember it."

Holly tells MrSkin.com: "The first time I ever saw porn, I must have been like seven. My parents were watching some weird porno movie in their bedroom, the door was open a crack, and I could see through it. This girl was supposed to be going on a date with some nerd, and her parents were downstairs waiting, and she was really bummed about it, and some stud crawled through her window and they started fuckin'. It was hot."

XXX-Communicated: A Rebel Without A Shul

Holly's first (and last) photographic appearance in Hustler:

A Horse Question For Holly Randall

Vilnii writes me 11/25: "We have not had our regular Holly Fix for a few days now...did you both suddenly decide to go on the down low? Or has the relationship already flamed out?"

Cam writes me 11/29: "I read on your site that Holly has horses. Just out of curiosity what kind of riding does she do? Dressage or eventing? (I'm taking a guess it's one or the other since I read her mother is European)."

Holly replies: "Well eventing involves dressage, so both go hand in hand. I did 3-day eventing-- 1st day dressage, 2nd day cross-country jumping, 3rd day stadium jumping. I won the Preliminary Championships at Flintridge when I was 17 and quit the next day. My mother never forgave me."

Holly Randall Coast To Coast

April Storm writes:

(Chatsworth, CA) It has taken a very long time, but one can finally say that Holly Randall’s work has graced the cover of every major men’s magazine. This month’s issue of Hustler, which features both a cover shot and a centerfold captured by Holly, confirms this impressive feat. Well aware that she joins her mother and a precious few other photographers, Holly is understandably proud and more than a little bit excited.

“I spotted the cover when I was passing a magazine stand in New York a couple of weeks ago,” she says, “I bought it from the vendor and was so excited that I proceeded to show everyone around my work. My companion reminded me that we were in a conservative part of New York, and most people would probably not appreciate my work as much as I did. I made him buy a copy of the daily news so I could hide the magazine in it and survey the shoot.” Holly was so excited that she called Larry Flynt and left him a message, thanking him for the cover.

It is even easier to spot Holly’s work on the other coast. Some three thousand miles away, the City of Angels is decorated with billboards for Hustler Casino that feature a shot from this latest Holly shoot. The giant pictures beautify the city and make sure that every Angelino gets a good look at Holly’s work.

This is not Holly’s official Hustler debut of course. In addition to her numerous shots that have been published in the magazine, she appeared in a photo at the ripe old age of (X months). Shortly after her mother gave birth to Holly, Hustler ran a photo of the pair in their “Bits & Pieces” column. The photo featured Suze shooting a layout with her infant daughter strapped to her chest in a sling and breastfeeding. The accompanying text, in typically classy Hustler style mentioned that Suze’s “newly swollen tits” were also making their debut and that Holly, little showoff that was “milked the shot” for all it was worth.

She has come a long way since that original shot ran, but Holly is still proud to associated with Hustler and proud to be carrying on the Randall family name so successfully.

Luke, do yourself a favour

Well, Holly asks me to do many things I'm not comfortable with, such as pick up the check.

JamesN writes: "Lukey, you're going to wake up in the middle of the night to the monkey cage forcing you into a shotgun wedding with this girl. You don't know what's best for you, we do."

I was chatting with Holly Tuesday afternoon, Nov 29. "Why are you so freaked about shows like Nip & Tuck and horror movies?" she asked.

"Because I have a soul and I don't like to tarnish it."

Holly Randall Launches Her Blog (12/19/05)

I dreamt of one day being famous, happy and beautiful, with a wonderful husband and gorgeous, intelligent children. I was so secure in my youth, I was so sure I was going to have the best life ever, and that I would always be so happy. I was a very solitary kid, I had almost no friends, and so indulging in these fantasies were a theraputic release from that current reality. That tree was my best friend.

....I'm not into girls. I realize it's a shame with all the beautiful women I'm surrounded by, but they just don't do it for me. (Plus I don't have sex with talent. It's just my rule.) I'm not particularly interested unless there is a cock involved. I've been with a woman twice in my life-- and both times there was a man involved. I'm very shy with women, whereas I'm very comfortable with men.

Holly on MySpace. Holly's website.

HollyRandall: oh god now people are actually going to read my blog
HollyRandall: sheesh i haven't even linked it to my site yet
Lukisback: I've made you and I can break you too.
HollyRandall: you can't break one who is already broken
Lukeisback: brokenness can make for some great writing...suffering for your art.
HollyRandall: yes, that's probably why all the guys i date are totally f---ed up
HollyRandall: no offense

Holly Randall: 'I never feel up my models. I really try to retain a respectful distance, even when I'm lubing up their pussies.'

"Seriously, I tell them exactly what I'm about to do and ask if they are OK with it, and I use all baby wipes, and touch them as little as possible. I am the lube queen. You have to put a lot on for it to show up in the photos."

Losing My Religion At LA Direct Model's Party

Monday afternoon (Dec 19, 2005), Holly Randall asked me via AIM if I was going to the LADM party that night.

I was so taken aback (after not having heard of the party) that I had to drive to Ralph's to buy ten pounds of orange, eight pounds of bananas and 100 feet of mint dental floss before I could answer her.

Still, I felt empty inside. Insecure. Needy.

So off I drove to the drug store and bought a Black & Decker Crush Master to make my smoothies.

Getting and spending, I laid waste my powers.

"Where's the party?" I finally asked Holly.

"It's invite only," she replied.

I didn't want to crash. I had too much pride to go uninvited.

"I guess I'm not going," I told Holly.

Holly agreed to give up dope if I gave up listening to Debbie Gibson. Perhaps if I gave up Air Supply and Barry Manilow, she'd quit drinking.

I emailed LADM and asked for permission to come to their party.

Lisa Ann said sure. I called her for the location. "Are you bringing someone?" she asked.

"No," I said.

"Bring Holly," she said.

"That's a good idea. OK."

Holly calls at 5:32pm.

"Your moral leader," I answer.

"Pfff...At least one of us knows what we're doing.

"Our baby horse was dying when my mom came down. By the time the vet came there, she was dead. [The horse was worth about $10,000.] It was an illegitimate horse."

Luke: "The parent's weren't married?"

Holly: "The mother was still a yearling. One of the young stallions boinked her..."

Luke: "Without a condom?"

Holly: "Irresponsible horses."

Da Burglar writes on XPT:

Extremely refreshing candor and honesty from Holly...We all know Luke demands and actively seeks out a woman with strong moral fiber and a functioning moral compass...his patience and integrity have been rewarded with just about the closest approximation of a perfect woman today. Luke is a role model for all of us here who only vicariously practice perversion through the pornography we watch, but who in real life are decent, upstanding and respectful males who open doors and pull out chairs for ladies, kiss ladies on the hand, and throw their $500 coats in 3 feet wide puddles of mud to allow a lady to cross unsullied.

And Holly, the concerned progressive pornography prodigy with an old world personal values index ...who wants her girls to be happy with their bodies, who lovingly practices minimally invasive lube procudures during dildo shoots, who prefers to avoid potential conflict of interest sex with talent, and who likes the natural order of things (cock) as opposed to the unnatural...Holly and Luke are the older brother/sister role model couple for the porn industry, for both talent and fans alike.

(Is it just me or does Holly continue to produce as much, if not more heat/wood as any cum guzzling chick who frequents this board?)

At 6pm, Derek emailed me back: "You can come if Holly comes with you. The Port, 12430 Riverside Drive."

I called Holly. She's booked to go to the party with her ex-boyfriend and coworker Chris.

She said to print Derek's email. She laughed that I can only get into the party if I go with her.

After a decade of responsible porn journalism, I'm debased to the point where I have to ride a beaver photographer into a party. Combined with the Cowboys late-season collapse, my life is grim.

Holly called me at 9:38pm as they wee pulling away.

They beat me to the party in Valley Village by 20-minutes.

That's me in the corner. That's me in the spotlight. Losing my religion. Trying to keep up with you. And I don't know if I can do it. Oh no I've said too much. I haven't said enough. I thought that I heard you laughing. I thought that I heard you sing. I think I thought I saw you try. Every whisper of every waking hour I'm choosing my confessions trying to keep an eye on you like a hurt lost and blinded fool. Oh no I've said too much. I set it up.

I run into Holly. She's leaving a message on my cell phone.

Holly Randall

The slip that brought me to my knees failed. What if all these fantasies come flailing around. Now I've said too much.

12:16pm. Holly's had a few shots and a few beers.

Chris asks her back to the dance floor.

I leave.

That was just a dream.

Jane writes: "Luke, have you got a therapist? You are really weirding out on your site about Holly Randall. You should talk to someone about it."

Vilnii writes: "You guys have already broken up? The relationship did not survive a second fight? Duke FLAWED...I repeat hopeless hopeless Duke FLAWED! What have you done?"

What Makes Holly Cry?

Holly Randall writes on her chatboard on Suze.net:

Just to get to know my members better, I've devised a short but interesting poll for those who wish to be involved to fill out. I've given my answers:
* What makes you cry?
Sappy Disney movies and sad dogs.
* What makes you angrier than anything else?
Littering. And that includes throwing your cigarette butts on the street!
* If you could live anywhere else in the world, where would it be?
Capri, Italy.
* What is the one accomplishment in your life that you are the most proud of?
Graduating from UCLA.
* If you could be anything or anyone else in the world, who would it be?
My parent's dog Oscar-- that animal has the best life ever.
* What one thing would you like to do that also scares the hell out of you?
Shark cage diving.
* If you had any other job in the world besides what you do currently, what would it be?
High school English teacher.
* What is one of the most magical moments in your life that you will always remember?
My first time scuba diving. A baby sea lion swam up to me and playfully tugged at my flippers with his teeth, and then came directly up to me face to face, it's eyes about 6 inches from mine, and stayed there staring at me for a while. It gave me what seemed like a smile, and swam off. I'll never forget that.


EleganceandChaos writes on Holly's new blog:

Your comment about feeling isolated when you were young is totally contrary to the person I envision when I see your photographs. Your work suggests that you would be very outspoken and have a strong personal vision. Either you out grew your introverted nature or you found an outlet for it in your work.

I asked a model at a recent convention what it was like to work for you and your mother. She said your mother looked like the quiet Grandmother type (I guess the knitting gives that impression), but she had the most explicit and outrageous things to say during the shoot. An outspoken lady to be sure, but the british accent made it all sound charming and funny.

She said you were a great fan of English literature. It would be great to see those historical references reflected in your own work.

It will be interesting to see how your work evolves in the next few years. I am big fan of shadow and contrast. I find that it is what you don't see and have to imagine that is more erotic than what you see. It is something I am trying to get better at in my own work.


William writes on Holly's MySpace:

I really think you should expand this blog into a novella. It has a timeless, tragic poignance that underscores the callous destruction wrought by gardeners all across the country. It speaks to the soul of America. I can already see a film version! Kim Stanley narrates as a young Holly Randall -portrayed by Mary Badham's neotonous clone- surveys the nightmare of mangled limbs littering her once beautiful yard...

Holly writes on MySpace Dec 26, 2004:

Why the hell is there Christmas music playing on Boxing day? (And if you don't know what Boxing Day is, you're way too American). I always find the day after Christmas to be really depressing-- the Christmas tree empty of packages, the lights twinkling pathetically, a testament to how wonderful the past was, and how sad the present is. I always feel a great sense of loss on the 26th-- for me, the year ends today, not on the 31st. I remember when I was younger I couldn't wait to get older, and now the passage of time feels really painful. (Insert violins here)

Holly Randall writes:

We get a lot of controversy on Suze.net about this -- we do a lot of smoking photos, and some members are crazy for it, some aren't. I have some smoking video, but very little. Unless one has a fetish for it, it's a big turn off to most.

I personally hate cigarettes, but I do think visually they can work at times. I point out to the members that all the girls in the smoking shots actually smoke in real life.

> Why do you hate cigarettes?

Because they smell awful and they make me want to gag. They are a big reason I can't go out to clubs in Vegas for long periods of time-- the smoke in the air just kills me.

Well I started smoking experimentally at about the age of 13. Then when I turned 18 I made a conscious decision to put an end to my habit. I was never totally addicted, it became more of an oral fixation than anything else. So I started chewing toothpicks constantly-- that really helped. I didn't quit cold turkey, but by the time I was 20 the habit was gone. I still smoked every once in a while (like twice a month if I was out at a party) but as I began to do it less and less, every time I did light up it became more distasteful to me. Now I can't even be around them. About once every 2 years, if I'm feeling compulsive, I'll have a couple of drags of someone else's. Then I'll feel sick for about 45 minutes. That's enough to remind me why I don't smoke. I can honestly say I will never smoke an entire cigarette again in my life.


Holly: "Did Mary Carey realize she named herself after Mary Boleyn (the sister of Anne, the mistress of Henry VIII of England and the mother of Queen Elizabeth), who married William Carey? Did Mary Carey know the historical reference?"

Luke: "What does Holly think about the crystal meth death look?"

Holly: "Pfff. I think it's hot.

"One of the tricks we have (and we don't really photoshop our images unless they need them) is that we use fabric to hide girl's bellies if they get rolls. It's disturbing when you have to use the fabric to cover people's ribs.

"I don't like to shoot girls who are too skinny. I told Kelsey Michaels to gain weight before we could shoot her. I don't think she's a speed freak. I just think she's naturally skinny."

Luke: "Can you think of anyone in the business who likes to shoot the crystal meth death look?"

Holly: "No.

"I understand the reference to today's celebrities. But first, that look is unattractive. Second, you don't see these celebrities naked. When you get a girl naked in front of a camera doing all these weird positions... I think it's better for a girl to be a little overweight than a little underweight."

Luke: "Can you think of any producers who feed the girls speed to get them skinny?"

Holly: "No. That's a ridiculous claim. When you're on speed... I don't know. I've never been on hard drugs for long. I have a friend who was hooked on speed for years. At first, your sex drive is up. Then it crashes."

Christmas at the Randalls

Holly Randall writes 12/27/05:

On Christmas Eve, I had gotten a copy of Adam's Film World through a friend of mine, and without telling me why he'd marked a certain page in the magazine. It was an article about "The Other Hollywood," a book that quoted both my mother and my father. I casually scanned the page and to my horror there was a large photo of my mom on the street next to some people with picket signs, a wicked gleam in her eye and a mischievous expression for the camera. Oh, and she had picked up her skirt, and was flashing the photographer. And she had no underwear on. "Ack!" I exclaimed as I slammed the magazine shut. Curious, my father asked for the mag. When he saw the picture, he got a dreamy look in his eyes. "Those were the days..." he sighed. This photo was apparently taken way back when (whether or not it was before I was born or shortly after we're not sure, though I'd like to think it was before), and it marked a religious right protest being staged at an adult convention. Being the troublemaker that she was (and still is) Suze followed the protesters, flashing them her privates and basically shocking everyone there. Apparently Al Goldstein was pissed because she took all the attention away from him. Funny thing, that an attractive woman flashing the crowd vs. a fat angry guy-- who are YOU going to pay more attention to?

My brother came downstairs shortly after, and without offering an explanation, I gave him the magazine and waited for him to find the picture. It took a while, but as I watched his face the change of expression from mildly interested to suddenly horrified I knew he'd found the picture. And like me, he immediately slammed the magazine shut and gave me a dirty look as he handed it back.

"Thanks a lot," he said.

"Hey man," I replied. "If I have to see it, so do you."

This of course led to more reminiscing. My parents had just seen a photo of them from the early 70s at the Wet Dreams festival in Amsterdam. "What a handsome devil I was," my dad has said repeatedly since he saw this photo. "I don't know what you're talking about Humphry," my mom countered. "You were wearing this ridiculous outfit-- that jacket-- all I can say is you cannot make fun of the fact that your youngest daughter (not me) is dating a guy who dresses like a pirate. I of course looked exquisite, made me feel much better!" This argument between my parents over who was better looking in their youth can only be overshadowed by their fond memories of the orgies at this festival. Now that is a trip down memory lane I can do without.


Meet The Parents

I meet Holly Randall's parents Saturday night at their annual New Year's Eve party (running for about eight years, the one year the Randalls were in South Africa, people showed up to their house anyway on New Year's).

I'm going to make the long drive to Brokeback Mountain to find their pornographic candle shining on the hill.

I'm not sure my van is going to make it to the top.

I call Holly at 3:30pm. "Some chick from Spanish Playboy wants to interview me. I didn't know Playboy had a Spanish edition.

"I told her I was in Best Buy now and shouldn't be answering her questions.

"I took the day off work to run errands.

"Of course you can come to the New Year's party."

Luke: "What if I get drunk and cause a scene?"

Holly: "Somehow, I don't think that will happen. I trust you."

Luke: "I'm not imposing myself on this."

Holly: "No. We've been having the party for years and it has gotten to the point where I don't invite anybody. Everybody knows and they just come. You can come."

Holly calls me back at 6:19pm Thursday and gives me elaborate directions.

Knowing that Holly's parents have heard for the past two months ten horrible things about me for every good thing, I ask: "Are you sure your parents are going to be ok with me coming?"

Holly: "Yes. I told them specifically that you were coming."

Luke: "I picture myself walking half-a-mile straight up your hill only to get punched out by your mom."

Holly: "She'll be perfectly charming. She said to me, 'Darling, I don't know him. I've heard bad things about him but who knows if they are true. If you like him, that's enough for me.'

"My dad said something interesting to me the other night. I had mentioned your name a while ago and he'd made no indication that he knew you. Then, the other night he said, 'Holly, I know all about him. I knew all about him before you ever heard of him.'"


How Luke Must Comport Himself at the Randalls Tonight

Chaim "Liberal Upper West Side Jew" Amalek writes to Luke:

According to the calendar of the goyim, this is the last day of the year, and as good a time as any for taking stock and looking at what comes next. We cannot be certain of anything in life but the passage of time. And what a time 2006 will be for you! In May you turn 40, and at that instant, you will cease to be welcome at the Friday Night Live Jewish singles events you are fond of attending. Already they have been posting sentinels against your presence, preparing for that day in May when you cross over to the other side, lose your boyish charm and officially enter the ranks of creepy old men trolling for the young flesh of the Jewess. (True, most of those Jewesses are not that young - only the demographically doomed can regard a 36 year old spinster as "young," but that's for another post.)

And yet hope still exists. God, Jehovah, Jesus, or the learned elders of Zion have chosen to place in your social path a young, fertile, sexually desirable woman who is every sane man's dream. Moreover, unlike the Semitic women of your community, she is a woman to whom neither explanation nor apology for what you do to support yourself is necessary. A woman who is tolerant of your economic status and who, since childhood, has been raised by the example of her mother to think that supporting a husband is what a woman is supposed to do. (Is this not evocative of a practice within our own community? For centuries, the most desirable daughters of the well to do were mated to promising scholars of the Talmud and expected to support them while they sat on their seats, doing intellectually demanding work.)

Of course I'm speaking of Polly Randall, who has telegraphed her interest in you many times, even after you have almost queered the deal by responding to her womanly charms with unmanly displays of low self esteem. That won't do here. To win Polly, you must be a man, for only a man is worthy of a woman such as her.

This evening you will attend a New Year's Eve party at the Randalls, where you will meet Polly's mother Vickie and her father Humpbert. She's introducing you to them because like any dutiful daughter, she wants their approval before permitting you to make any future inroads into her heart. She wants you to make the right moves, and with my help you will - I've got it all worked out.

The key to this evening is not Polly (you are already under her skin), nor her mother, but her father, Humpbert. He is one of the scattered remnants of a defeated tribe - White Boers of South Africa - who themselves belong to a race that is losing the battle for global dominance. During the course of your initial conversations with him, move the discussion over to this general topic, and frame the issue with strict, Jobotinsky style arguments developed for Zionism, but adapted to the current needs of the White Race. This will bring a look of hope and wonder to his eyes, as he begins to see within you the man his people needed, but never could produce.

The next step is to plant within his Boer mind the thought that the choice for his daughter is either you, with your sturdy Aussie genes, or - who knows? A Mexican? A ne'er-do-well married jerk? An arab with two other wives who is looking for a third?

This brings us to the most critical social maneuver of the evening. But for this to work, you will need the help of a complicit negro, and I'm afraid that much like most Hollywood Lifestyle Liberals, these Polly's parents might not have any friends of color with whom they socialize. So perhaps you should invite a few of your own to show up, like that nice Mister Marcus, or perhaps Lexington Steele. Cue them in so that they know what you are up to. It is sad to have to appeal to racial feelings to win over a woman, but all is fair in love and war. Just make sure that you have a black friend there by whatever means necessary. I want this man to be a large buck, and I want him to make the moves on Polly in full view of Humpbert, say by stroking her rear. All the while you will be standing behind his rear in a sexually dominant pose, tsk tsking this spectacle in a manner that Humpbert can see. Then you interpose yourself between sweet young white Holly and the Negro, extricating her from a situation pregnant with the possibilities of miscegenation, again so that her father can see. He will get the message: if Polly does not marry Luke, then perhaps his grandkids will look like Robert Mugabe. Luke offers his genes safe harbor.

Spend the middle of the evening playing the role of social butterfly, but return some time later to Humpbert to discuss the life of the writer. Before the evening is over, he will embrace you in a bear hug and think "This is just the sort of bloke I'd like my daughter to marry." Oh, that Vickie might have a smart-ass thing or two to say otherwise, as she is heavily into porn, but Humpbert will shoot her a look that says "Woman, you WILL respect my judgment in these matters."

You two are meant to be together, notwithstanding all the lawyerly arguments each of you can concoct as to why it wouldn't work. Some things are just supposed to be
This might well be the last New Year for both the single Luke and the single Polly. Next year will see Luke living large in his wife's home, the lovely Mrs. Holly Randall-Ford, wife of Los Angeles writer and Journalist Luke. And who knows - by this time next year, you might both be celebrating the New Year at home, with the infant Luke Amalek Ford nursing at your bride's tit.

Chaim writes me:

The only men Holly introduces to her parents are those she regards as boyfriend material. Tonight is your debut. She may be your last best hope for happiness in life. Lord knows you've been dating long enough and have otherwise had enough chances. You need to get serious about life. Settle down, marry, have kids, and spend your days like a true scholar, writing while Holly lubes up the porn chicks for money. How many men are lucky enough to have a wife who is lubing up a porn chick? Plus you get to live in that primo house. She's not perfect, but you can live with the woman she will become once she marries you and starts raising a family with you. Remember, in 2006 you turn forty, which places you out of bounds for most fertile jewesses. Holly can save you from being viewed as a creepy old man. Besides, you will enjoy shooting the breeze with Humphry. You sons of the southern cross.

She's got a life force to her that I never, ever see in NY. It is magnetic.

Remember, on a very profound, fundamental level, she has already chosen you. Luke, she is having.... She is what, the age that her mother was when she married? She wants a husband. She likes writers. You want a wife. You write. And you both are in the same business.

Just consider the lame losers she otherwise dates. Guys who do drugs. Guys who are not there for her. She knows that if she can snag you, you will be there for her forever. Her eggs are in command. They have selected you to be their dad. Not the married dude. Not some guy in a garage band. Not some illiterate. Next to the men she interacts with on a daily basis, you are the bee's knees. She picked you. And having seen how weird you can be, she still has your toothbrush in her bathroom. And this evening is to present you to her parents, to get their seal of approval. Her dad will love you. And he's the one you need to win over. I am counting on you to begin the New Year inside Holly. With her mom and dad looking on smilingly, her mom perhaps videotaping the whole thing.

'Shouldn't you be getting ready to head to Holly's party?'

Fran: What are you wearing?
Fran: I really liked what you wore at the Vegas party.
Luke: jeans, sweater,
Fran: I like your suit better
Fran: Is that suit custom tailored? It makes you look so posh
Fran: I really thought you were rolling in $$$ when I saw you in it that night.
Fran: I thought, "Gee, I'll bet he lives in Century City."
Fran: Are you taking a gift to the party?
Luke: No. New Year's gifts? Never heard of that.
Fran: Well, you are meeting her parents for the first time. Don't you want to make a good impression?
Luke: I was invited at the last minute as an afterthought. If it was a big deal, I would've been invited in advance. I'm just going for the story.
Fran: Oh. You're going to write about it? Did you ask Holly if its ok?
Luke: no
Fran: Has she asked you about the sex stuff that you post on your blog about her?
Luke: she reads it, but has a thick skin
Fran: impressively thick. I was shocked that you were so explicit.
Fran: Are you staying with her overnight?
Luke: dunno
Fran: Did you ask her?
Luke: no
Fran: You could try to seduce her with some roses?
Luke: no
Fran: Women want romance, Luke.
Luke: She likes to be in charge and make these decisions.
Fran: You should watch Oxygen and Lifetime Network.. you could learn about how to woo a woman.

Holly Randall Welcomes In The New Year With A Man She Values

Amber (Suze.net webmistress), Holly Amber, Holly Holly, Hollywood director Zev Berman, Melissa from Pleasurechest.com Suze Randall with her youngest child Lucy Lucy, Suze Lucy, Suze Suze, Penthouse Pet Crystal Klein Suze, Crystal Holly with her ex-boyfriend Brian and his wife Rosie Holly, Rosie, Brian Crystal, Holly, Rosie, Brian Crystal, Holly Crystal, Holly, Rosie Crystal, Holly, Rosie Holly and Rich (Crystal Klein's fiancee) Holly, Rich Crystal Klein Crystal Crystal Crystal pic pic Holly gets a refill on champagne Holly hoists champagne Brooke Haven, Holly Brooke, Holly Brooke, Holly Holly and her dad Humphry Knipe Holly, Humphry pic pic pic Nick, Suze, Jackie Suze with her son Nick and his girlfriend Jackie Nick, Suze, Jackie Nick, Suze Nick, Suze

Thursday, Dec 29. 9am. A friend IMs me. "Are you coming to Holly's party Saturday? You guys are so right for each other. I can't wait to see you in action."

"That's the first I've heard about it," I reply. "So I guess not."

I email Holly the first sentence of the IM I received. Six hours later, she calls me back. "Of course you can come, darling. It's an annual party. We don't even bother to send out invites. I forgot to tell you."

Saturday it rains, sometimes hard. I figure I'll skip the party.

Saturday night, the rain ends. I call Holly for the zip code of her parents' home.

She's distracted. She obviously has one hundred things on her mind aside from talking to me. But she eventually gives me the zip code and I use Yahoo maps as a complement to her explicit directions from Friday.

I start my drive tailed by two police cars (I check my pocket and realize I've left my wallet at home). Then they drop away. The 45-minute drive is smooth and sweet. I arrive at the home of Holly's parents at 9pm.

I park on the road and walk the third-of-a-mile uphill. A fancy import in front of me spins its wheels madly as it tries to mount the final hill.

As I approach the house, a tractor comes down the hill and though I scrunch to the side into the bushes as much as I can, there's still only a foot between its blade and me. I feel like the driver is toying with me.

The tractor stops beside me.

"Are you Luke?" asks Suze.


"You're the smart one parking down on the road.

"Go upstairs and say hi to Holly. She's curling her hair. Go right in."

"Thank you."

"I'm going to grade the driveway one more time."


I walk in the house and introduce myself to Holly's father Humphry Knipe.

"Hi," he says.

"Where can I get a drink?" I ask.

"Around the corner."

I round the corner. The bartender tells me if I want water, it's around the corner.

I round that corner, see nothing, then round another corner outside.

Humphry comes out.

"Where could I find some water?"

"What type of water?" he asks.

"Regular flat water."

"Just round the corner inside."

I retrace my footsteps and find the water cooler. I have a stiff drink of flat water and then sit down in a corner in the livingroom.

Ten minutes go by. I kick myself for not wearing a belt so that my jeans would be tight enough to hold Ask Albert Ellis? Straight Answers and Sound Advice from America's Best-Known Psychologist against my bum for easy access in times of boredom and crisis.

I look around the room and see no books.

Amber (Suze.net webmistress, she started the site in 1996) is the first person to really talk to me. The poor girl has taken a whipping on my site over the past couple of weeks (none of it directed by me at her, just my quoting webmasters annoyed and disgusted with the suze.net webmaster program).

"You're the one who told Holly that because I like the Dallas Cowboys, I must be a fag."

"That wasn't me," lies Amber.

She's sweet. She's kind. She's beautiful. She makes me feel at home.

Eventually Holly (holding a nearly-empty beer bottle) comes down and welcomes me. She's stoned (she began the day smoking marijuana resin, all that was left in her pipe, it's much stronger than regular grass, and the friend she shared it with is still knocked out twelve hours later with a ringing headache) and drunk and dressed like a hooker. I love that.

Luke: "Who did you give bad pot to?"

Holly: "Today? We smoked some resin. I told her this is all I've got. If you want some, you can smoke some."

What I love even more is to watch her spending the evening exchanging caresses with the dozen or so men at the party that she's fucked.

But this is not to say that she does not make distinctions. It's most important for her to be with her ex-boyfriend and coworker Chris. She needs to repeatedly hold on to him right in front of me. She needs to repeatedly break away from talking to me to drape herself over him and whisper in his ear. I love that because they were so wonderful when they were a couple. Nary an unkind word or thoughtless action.

If the only pictures I got to see of Holly locked in embrace with ex-boyfriends (ones I repeatedly asked her to take down) were the ones in Holly's house and on her website, that would not be enough. I need to see it repeatedly in my face. That way I get the full effect and I realize how much I mean to her and how clearly she wants to communicate that to me.

During my sum total of 15-minutes with Holly, her mind is elsewhere. There are a hundred things and people at the party more important to her than me. The legs to the fire grill rate about a nine on her 1-10 scale of importance (ten being of premium importance). Getting refills of champagne is a ten for her. I feel that I rate about a two (along with the starving in Africa). The only time I can sustain her attention is when I aim the camera at her (or when she's reviewing her pictures in my viewfinder).

I spend most of my night talking to Holly's parents. I give them a brief sketch of my first eleven years.

They're every bit as charming as Holly promised they would be.

Holly told me when I first met her that her mom had eternally repented for writing her 1977 174-page memoir Suze because it burned so many bridges, particularly to Hugh Hefner and Playboy. Suze tells me she has no regrets about the book. Humphry says he'll happily get me a copy of it (and of his first book Pecking Order). I've been asking Holly to come up with them since I met her. She never has.

Humphry seems ambivalent about the burned bridges the book Suze created. He misses the weekly visits to the Playboy mansion. But he's glad helped build a bridge to Larry Flynt.

If I were to accept everything Holly's parents tell me as 100% true, then much of what Holly's told me about them is not true. Someone somewhere has flawed perceptions.

Porn is like a family. When we have better information about each other, we can make better decisions. Author Stephen Fried argues that every family would benefit from having a skilled journalist come in, get everyone's stories, fact-check them, and then lay out the facts. People often hate each other and refuse to talk to each other over false stories.

Meeting Holly's parents has made all the difference in my understanding of them and of her.

Knipe is working on a fascinating and controversial new novel about porn.

Suze does not like to read Humphry's work in progress and is afraid to offer any critique of it.

I largely talk to Humphry about writing. I tell him about rereading my late mother's book Fireside Stories.

"That's why you're so fucked up," he says. "Religion and losing your mother."

Humphry says that in the age of nuclear weapons and terrorism, religion could kill us all. He praises the recent book by Sam Harris, The End of Faith: Religion, Terror, and the Future of Reason.

I heard Harris demolished on Dennis Prager's radio show (August 16, 2004). It wasn't fair. Prager already knew all of Harris's arguments but poor Sam hadn't thought about Prager's challenges. Sam thought it had done so poorly in the debate, he asked Prager to come back on the show when he was better prepared.

I ask Humphry what percentage of people can live happily without religion.

"That's a good question," he says. He admits that many, maybe most, would not be able to do without it.

"They will seek substitute religions," I say, thinking of communism and Nazism which replaced Christianity as leading ideologies in Europe in the 20th Century. Those ideologies, based on hatred of God and religion, slaughtered far more people (over 100 million within 40 years) than all religious wars and persecutions in all of history put together.

"Sam lays out a framework for a secular humanist approach to life," says Humphry, "but I only skimmed over it."

"That sort of stuff will only appeal to a tiny number of intellectuals," I reply. "It's not a rubric for ordinary people to lead a meaningful and happy life."

"I'm happy without religion," says Humphry.

He says that he was motivated to write his Nero novel because he wanted to show the stupidity of religion.

"You regard astrology as a religion?"

"Yes. It is based on faith. There is no evidence for it."

"Does astrology have a moral code?"


"I've always thought of astrology as a pagan nature religion. I was disappointed that your book didn't link Christianity to its roots in Gnosticism and the pagan mystery religions. While the Christians took the Jewish Bible, all their uniquely Christian beliefs such as a god coming to earth and becoming man who dies for our sins and we can have eternal life if we eat his flesh and drink his blood, these beliefs are all Hellenic paganism."

Humphry repeatedly introduces me as the "famous internet scourge of the Adult industry."

He describes the tone of my writing as "vitriolic."

He merits 75-words in Wikipedia, even though his first book, The Dominant Man, was translated into five languages.

Suze Randall gets 291 words, and Holly Randall 125 words.

People must care more about porn than ideas.

Brooke Haven is recovering from a nasty flu. She comes to the party with Derek of LADM.

I meet Holly's ex-boyfriend Zev Berman, the Hollywood director, who comes with busty blonde publicist Melissa (she does a show on KSEXRadio.com every Tuesday called Baadmasters’ Dungeon) from thePleasureChest.com.

"Did you come here to get blackmail pictures?" Holly asks Zev.

"I already have all blackmail pictures I need," he laughs.

"Tell me more," I say.

"No," says Holly, looking guilty. "Let's not go there."

I meet Holly's ex-boyfriend XXX, an author, with his beautiful young wife.

At 11:45pm, I walk around the party until I find Holly by the bar. She's got a full eight-ounce cup of vodka (with a little cranberry juice).

I want to give things one last chance. Why go away mad when you can go away glad?

"Aren't you violating the rule you told me about Friday [she was painfully hungover on a week during which she had resolved not to drink, we went to breakfast]?" I ask. "That you should never have more than two types of alcohol drinks in a night?"

"Since when do I follow the rules?" she says.

"Good point."

As the crowd counts down the seconds to the new year, Holly and I lean against each other. She pulls out her camera.

She must want a picture of us bringing in the new year. She wants me. She wants to treasure me as I treasure her. She wants a picture of us to place in frames around her home instead of those of the 40 or so men who proceeded me into her.

But I'm wrong. She has no interest in me. She's not taken a picture of me all night. She wants a picture with Chris.

As we enter 2006, I turn to Holly to kiss her for the first time in three weeks, but I only see her back leaping in the air.

She wants to spend this precious time with someone she values.

Jumping from her seat, Holly hurls herself into Chris's arms and gives him a passionate kiss on the lips.

I turn away and leave her in the arms of people who want to fuck her.

If you are curious why Holly acts the way she does, you might want to research the term "love addict."

It's a cold and lonely 15-minute walk through the mud to my car. Midway down, I open up my zipper and take a long leak good-bye.

I arrive home at 1am and get on my computer.

Then I look down. I've tracked Holly's mud into my hovel. I vacuum and scrub but I can't get rid of the filth.

Her mud is all over my hovel, all over my shoes and jeans, and all over my life. It's time for a massive housecleaning. A New Year means a new beginning. I never make New Year's resolution, but this year I make one to clean the mud out of my life.

With the wisdom of hindsight, I now realize I should've stuck around so that I could've gotten in line and tasted Chris (and her other lovers) on Holly's lips. She did call my home at 12:24pm to say that she wanted to kiss me (along with about 20 other guys I'm sure).

What a glorious sensation it would've been to have tasted those drunken men on her mouth and breathe in their smell on her body.

With a few more drinks, I bet Chris, Holly and I could've smoothed our differences with a double-anal scene videotaped by her parents and lit by her siblings.

Just by hanging with Holly, I can feel what it's like to be banged by 40 guys.

Until Saturday night, I mainly saw Holly's previous lovers laid out on her refrigerator (and in frames in almost every room of her house, including the bedroom), on her website, and sometimes at parties (or those who just unexpectedly walk into her home when I'm with her, I guess they've been granted that right).

Now I've met a dozen of them in one night and gotten to see her do everything with them short of opening up an orifice and bringing them inside. I love that. I love how it makes me feel. I love dating and sleeping around. It's such a wonderful preparation for a lasting marriage.

Thanks to the miracle of the Internet, we can all enjoy the handsome visages of Holly's ex-boyfriends. It makes a man feel so special when he sees daily reminders of his girl's ex-lovers and gets to constantly hear about how much they mean to her (how she's canceling a snowboarding trip to host a birthday party for a boyfriend from seven years ago).

Though many people break up in anger, that is not true with Holly and I. Though twelve years my junior, she has taught me to not look back in anger, but in love.

Thus, it is with love in my heart that I lay out the following photo gallery that I've been forced to constantly confront since I met Holly, and visited her home and website. She's a special girl to be able to maintain such an intimate connection with so many men. (When I contemplate the wonder that even I rate a couple of pictures and a link, my heart swells with pride that I was such a special notch on her belt.)

Some people might read sarcasm into my commentary. They should not. Holly is the sweetest girl. She never did anything bad to me. That I was not more important to her is my problem, not her's. That I have had no appetite since DEC 11 is my problem, not her's. That I am a basketcase right now is my fault, not her's. Holly was only good to me. My problem was that I wanted more than she could give. I was not content with sloppy seconds, with tasting Chris's kiss on her lips. If only I wasn't so homophobic, I could've joined the gangbang fun.

Holly and Chris

Holly and her ex-boyfriend Zev.

Thomas Rifter (Chris) and Holly.

Holly with best-friend Angie and Thomas Rifter (Chris)

For too long, I have been afraid that I am the only person who truly appreciates these photos. Now it gives me great joy to share them with the world.

Holly had a heart -- how shall I say? -- too soon made glad, too easily impressed; she liked whatever she looked on, and her looks went everywhere. It was all one! My favor at her breast, the dropping of the daylight in the West, a bar tender, a movie director, a journalist, a professor, a dom. Each drew from her alike the approving speech, the blush, the blowjob.

She thanked men, -- good! but thanked somehow -- I know not how -- as if she ranked me with any other man. Who'd stoop to blame this sort of trifling? Even had you skill in speech -- (which I have not) -- to make your will quite clear to such a one, and say, "Just this or that in you disgusts me; here you miss, or there exceed the mark" -- and if she let herself be reproved, there would be some stooping, and I choose never to stoop.

She smiled, no doubt, whenever I with her; but who was with her without much the same smile?

Vilnii writes:

Amalek was wrong! In hindsight, Holly did not invite you over to her party to introduce you to her parents. You were invited because she wanted to make a point, and it appears she made sure you got the message. The good news is that what you feel now (well-written by the way) is as bad as it gets. In men, the emotions and hurt typically wear off quickly from here on.

You are getting suggestions from all over. It is amazing how everybody is trying to help you make it with Holly...but dude, the fact that you did not get an advance invitation to her New Year's Party is not a promising sign - even though you both seem perfectly matched. You may have to surrender and retreat here. It's been interesting to watch your intense withdrawal symptoms though. If Holly actually reads your site she must realize what effect she has had on you. I think she knows she has turned your head. Women can sense stuff like that.

Fred emails me questions and Amalek answers them for me:

1. Luke, do you think that the ex-boyfriends still have feelings (beyond mere friendship) for Holly?

1. Yes, they enjoyed having sex with her and likely would have sex with her again were the opportunity to present itself. In time, that will go for Luke, too.

2. Do you think Holly still has feelings (beyond mere friendship) for the ex-boyfriends?

2. Yes, she both liked having sex with them and she likes them as friends.

3. Do you think Holly derives any pleasure from putting all the ex-boyfriends in one room and watch as she gives attention to this one or that, with the possibility/likelihood of leaving at least a few of them in a state of angst?

3. Yes, as would we all.

4. Is the problem here that you are possessive of something you don't possess? Or that she is callous?

4. The problem was that Luke had far more emotional committment to Holly than she ever had to him, a dismal state of affairs that he telegraphed by being the first to issue a declaration of love in this affair. The problem was compounded by Holly's intoxication, the presence of numerous stimuli, and Luke's sensitive nature.

Luke Crushed

Smiling Arab writes in the Monkey Cage: (The Break-Up Song)

I'd just like to open a neutral and open thread to discuss general impressions of Holly's savage destruction of Luke's gentle Jewish spirit.

My thoughts: while I am not a hadith scholar myself, like the scions of all prominent Gulf families we keep a few on the payroll to protect us from winding up a smeared bloodstain on the wall when things get rough, so if you want to work out a fatwa for this vile display, hit me with a PM.

Also, while I could see how a chica could get creeped out by Luke's posting psychosis of every painful detail of his relationship, we're somewhat in the dark about the ins and outs (um... pun intended). Luke exposes all of the cringeworthy parts of a relationship but leaves everything beautiful out of it. It's a disturbing habit, comrade.

Is Joanna still around?

JamesN writes: "If the devotees really needed a hint of what was to commit was written weeks ago when Luke was asking for a place to stay in Vegas. If your girlfriend is some nominated directress, why would you be begging for a couch to crash on?"

Smiling Arab writes: "I believe we should hear Holly's side of why destroying Luke in public was better than doing so in private. I'm keeping an open mind here."

Willie D writes:

Unless your marital life is preordained by your caste or familial status or religious convictions, you will eventually be dumped by the one you believe is "the one." The one with that unmistakable ability to finish your sentences for your, and vice versa. As Luke has already written, this starts with a sense of disbelief and some token act of rebellion, followed by a strong desire to rid himself of any and all references to the woman in question, followed by a gut-wrenching acknowledgment that, for a brief moment, you let down your guard which has kept you relatively safe on this planet heretofore, only to get stabbed in the testicles by the anti-Cupid. It hardens the psyche.

Luke, my advice to you: keep taking pictures. Throw yourself back into your work. Just keep showing up and snapping the photos which are the lymphatic system of this here Cage. Sit back and let us caption those photos in a manner which will bring a smile to your face.

Some music a little stronger than Air Supply will also help to vent some anger and frustration. I'd personally suggest The Phunk Junkeez, Helmet, and Agnostic Front. And for G-d's sake, stay away from anything by Peter Gabriel.

Ivor Biggun writes:

I'm inclined to suspect wrong-headed game-play over deliberate malice. Holly isn't stupid. She must have had some idea of how her behavior would inflame Luke's possessive instincts, but (maybe I'm wrong) I don't read her as a bitch who would deliberately rub it in for no purpose.

Smiling Arab writes:

Holly isn't stupid, Ivor, you're quite correct, but there is an element of cultivated frivolity about her. Break those two words down and juxtapose them, as I can't express it any better. And those are the most dangerous to the sensitive Jewish soul, which craves transcendence, as the Other constantly reminds herself that nothing matters.

Ivor writes: "I can't do that without the word "conniving" entering my head. And my more tolerant (naive?) part prefers not to believe that. (just yet)."

Willie D writes: "The anger is seeping more into his writing. This was much more plaintive when I woke from my New Year's coma at 7:17 a.m. and first read it."

Smiling Arab writes: "I'm genuinely frightened by the changes I've noted. I only pulled this up a few hours ago, but from the time I offered my services as a fatwa pimp until now it's been altered in the most peculiar manner, with decidedly more bitterness coming through, you're correct."

Random writes:

“Jesus, only Luke could feel threatened by those champs.”

That was my first thought when I finished Luke’s recap. Most of Holly’s ex-boyfriends look like card-carrying members of the Nerd Brigade.

The Randall Party was destined to be a soul-crushing experience for Luke. Being an intelligent person, he should have seen this coming. Drugs, alcohol, ex-boyfriends, New Years -- he‘s lucky a Violation of Holly Randall wasn’t already in full swing by the time he arrived.

But let’s take this back to the beginning.

Even if you disregard that Holly forgot to invite him (and that would be a very difficult thing to disregard), he should have known going to that party would be like walking through a landmine zone with magnets in his boots -- he was bound to get hit in every direction by the one thing he’s been trying to avoid. His concern about her former lovers should have been addressed before the party. If Holly’s response was anything short of accommodating, he should never have gone.

But that's not what happened. Luke went, and now he’s going to suffer for some time.

Luke, If I have anything positive to offer you it's this: You have every right to be upset. I don't know what "stage" your relationship with Holly was at, but her behavior was immature and classless, regardless. Playing grab-ass with men who at one time had their penises in her, in view of you, is just a s----move from any perspective.

As your self-appointed spiritual counselor, I demand you binge on prescription pills and hard alcohol (that would be a lite beer for you) and nail random floozies up till and during AVN. Aggressive, inebriated sex is the only way to fill the void left by Holly.

I reply on XPT:

Holly did not do anything bad to me. She was just Holly. She was always nice and well-meaning and sounded apologetic if I was ever upset. She was often there for me when I was sick. She has a lot of things/people/ex-BFs/guys in her life that are more important to her than I am, and in the end, I could not accept that. I could not accept her for who she is (as much as I've tried over the past month). In the end, she's a burning house I must run from.

My desire was that when we were together, I would be the most important thing to her in the universe during those times (unless there was some pressing matter which I hoped she'd explain to me). I haven't gotten this wound up over a relationship in about a decade. Somehow certain people just get to you and your rational thinking is overwhelmed by other desires.

Holly did not do anything bad to me Saturday night. There was no moral imperative for her to hang out with me and exclude other guys from her affections. There was no moral imperative for her to kiss me as the New Year began.

She's always had other priorities above being with me. I've been someone she fit in at the times she felt like it and I went along with this like a good little whipped puppy dog. I accepted that I served at her convenience. As she paid for all our dates, as she paid for the piper, she selected the tune and I danced to it until five seconds into Jan 1.

Holly Randall posts:

I'm sorry. I have this horrible thing called a conscience, and it's bothering me right now. Luke, you know I never meant to hurt you. I don't like to hurt anyone. Yes, I have a lot of ex-boyfriends. And I am friends with them all. Did you not notice they brought their girlfriends? Chris and I broke up 7 years ago. He knows me better than anyone, and we still work together. You will see me with him in Vegas. He is one of my best friends. I don't know what else to say; I won't rehash my personal issues on a chatboard, but many things you said about me were true. I am very selfish, and I should have behaved better. Again, I apologize. I think that's all I can do at this point.

Khunrum writes: "I'll wager Luke wasn't as hurt as he claims after being romantically shunted aside at Holly's holiday gathering. After all, there was good food, plenty of bottled water, copy for the site and lively dialogue with her father who flattered our boy."

How Do You Handle a Girl Like Holly?

Chaim Amalek writes:

This was a big win for all concerned - you AND Holly, as well as Humphry. I mean, prior to your involvement with her, I had never heard of Holly or her mother, and how many books had old Humphry been selling over the last thirty years?

[Khunrum writes: "I believe his efforts must be languishing in the basement along with Luke's Producer and Jewish output. Perhaps they could team up -- Buy-One-Get-One-Free. Purchase one of Hump's and we'll toss in a free Producer's libro."]

You need to put yourself into similar situations far more frequently than you have to unleash the old, pre-medication Luke who made porners tremble with fear.

Next step: You date Holly's sister, and get her to clean up her act and fly straight. She looks like she is in need of some Torah in her life.

Bob writes:

Cool the wounded Romeo bit and keep pimpin' her site. You stay in her good graces. You stay on her Rolodex. You'll be joining Holly and Chris in a DP soon enough.

BTW I noticed a shocking resemblence between Holly and the late Dana Plato.

She doesn't know a dreydel froma butt-plug. She paid for dinner. You...her. You got some good copy. That's what I call a Hat Trick. Move on.

Chaim writes: "Robert speaks wisdom. You are coming off as too needy in all this Luke, so now is the time to cool it and maybe even start praising Holly's work on your web site. But not too much - just here and there, in dribs and drabs. Make her jump for the occasional biscuit. She is to be cultivated.

"Confucian women are better adapted to marry, have kids than are the average secular LA caucasoidal woman. Years of eating kittens and rats during days of famine have taught them the value of a good man. Just don't take this woman to a pet shop or the pound."

At 1am Sunday, just after arriving home, I emailed Holly, in part: "I'm so glad that you got to begin the new year in the embrace of someone you care about. It's obviously not me."

She replied:

I realize that you are furious with me. If it matters at all, I felt terrible when you left, and I didn't really have a good time after that. Call me what you want. Call me a slut, call me a bitch, go ahead and hate me. But know I do care for you. And I feel awful.

Sorry I'm not perfect. Exactly what did you expect from me, by the way? I am NOT the perfect Jewish wife you have been looking for, but I do have a heart. And it hurts. In the end, you do have my respect. No matter what you think of me, I will be there for you if you ask. Hate me if that makes you feel better. But I don't hate you.

After I got up later Sunday morning and huffily told Holly that I never wanted to see her again, I later sent her a two-page 15-point bulletin on how she must change if she is to have the privilege of my company.

She replied:

Luke, I never asked you to change. I accepted you for who you are. I will also never change. If you cannot accept me for who I am, well then we hit a dead end. But I don't want to fight, I really, really don't. I don't have enough hate in my heart to do so.

I'm a nice girl as long as you don't fall in love with me. Then I'm a monster. I'm sorry you hurt so much. But remember, I never wanted a boyfriend... and there is a reason for that.

You are right, I do need to grow up, but not now. Not on New Years Eve. This year, yes. But it was my party, and I will dress and act as I like.

Damn, that was clear. Why hadn't I seen her point of view?

Kryptonite Wreaks Its Toll

"I just took Luke's soul. Drinks are on me."

Holly Randall Part One Part Two Part Three Part Four