By Alex Distefano
By Scott Snowden
By Anna Merlan
By Steve Almond
By Jena Ardell
By Jon Campbell
By Alan Scherstuhl
By Tessa Stuart
We are now a country as guilty as the pagan Baal worshippers and Aztec worshippers who sacrificed children to appease their gods. Or so Steve Ensleypresident of American Family Online, one of many awesome conservative organizations that have spoken out against the Supreme Court's 5-4 decision to strike down the Child Online Protection Act, which would've forced adults to register with authorities before looking at porn onlinetold Agape Press. Indeed. The only thing that could make our lot worse would be if one of our major religions institutionalized the buggering of young boys. Still, I remember rather fondly the first time I was sacrificed to America's god of pornography, in the basement, where my dad kept a stack of Playboy's from the '70s. How much more glorious would my martyrdom been had my older brother not already removed the centerfolds and brought them back to his room.
To commemorate that transfiguration, I've chosen to write about a movie roughly contemporaneous with it. The closest I could come was Jamie Loves Jeff (Vivid), originally released in 1987, when I was eight. (I wasn't close to cumming then, but that's another story.) The titular Jeff is one Mr. Stryker, a famed '80s cocksman. He plays greasy Rebel Cochran, a modern primitive modeled after the late Marlon Brando's hunkybut abusive!character in A Streetcar Named Desire. This involves him wearing tight Levi's and a tight white muscle shirt (which I'll not call a wife beater) trimmed to show his pumped-pecs cleavage, and acting like a dick. Needless to say, Stryker would've lost the Oscar to Humphrey Bogart, too.
Which is not to say I didn't enjoy the stupid plot. Rebel and his trashy wife plan on attending their 10-year high school reunion, and so does Rebel's bitchy old sweetheart Jamie, with her skinny-tied lawyer husband Mortie in tow. (Speaking of lawyers and judges and stuff like that, did you know that conservative Justice Clarence Thomaswhose pubic-hair-in-can-of-Coke shtick was immortalized around the time I learned porn's ultimate usevoted to kill COPA?) My girlfriend just attended her reunion, so of course I was curious to see what exactly happens at such a gathering. Boy, was I upsetit turns out the alums have sex! Deviant sex, even. And Jamie even scoffs at her concerned hubby, saying, "Don't tell me you're worried about some ol' boyfriend!" Anyway, I can't wait for the class of '97 to reconvene.
Now that we've got the cast of characters straight, let me tell you the real star of the movie: Jeff Stryker's ass. Yes, it's quite an ass: muscular and pale, highlighted by his tan line; it wiggles like two kittens in a bag about to be thrown in a river as he thrusts and grimaces. The guy is all steady firmness, and his ass a sort of focal point. It's rather gay of me, I know, but I found his butt mesmerizing. They just don't make 'em like that anymore.
So anyway, Rebel and Jamie make out on the dance floor as Mortie gets drunk, and then we see a montage of them gaily running around the playground, miming baseball, and climbing the jungle gym. (Before that, Jamie's bitchy as ever, crowing about her Jags and telling a friend who goes to fetch vacation photos, "You should use videotape, it works great!") "You did alright," Jamie tells Rebel back at his house, seemingly impressed by the surroundings, which include a colorful statue of a clown standing on his hands. Then he really pumps her good, fast and firm and steady. Meanwhile, a drunken Mortie has a threesome with Rebel's tender sweet little wife and a chick with a cool black-and-blond hairdo. All ends well. Jamie, holding her shoes and panties, returns with Rebel in time for them to be re-crowned homecoming queen and king. Mortie lets them "get it out of their systems" by fucking again, this time in his bed, and he gets sloppy seconds. Now if I can just hunt down the video of their 25th reunion . . .
For those of you who'd rather be smothered by a lady's buns then talk about Jeff Stryker's, there's Assufication (Blue). Or at least that's what I was thinking. With all the missionary fucking, it turns out the flick emphasizes men's (nasty, three-or-four-drowned-cats-in-bag) butts. Coupled with the fact that you cannot fast-forward through the phone-sex ads (or even stop the disc while they're playing! Imagine your eight-year-old walking in on you then), this severe shortcoming just about ruins the whole movie. (Also, there's no buggering. Sure, you can appreciate asses without that, but why should you have to?) Even still, Assufication has an unadvertised saving grace: female ejaculation. Not only do these ladies take noses up their pussies and turn baldheads flaming red, they shower faces with the nectar of their orgasms. I'd like to see Jeff Stryker's ass do that!
I picked Asian Assault (Legend) because if assufication isn't some kind of assault, what is? I despise Pussyman for no other reason than he seems like a real bore and walks onto his sets strictly to eat women out. Luckily, he leaves these beautiful women alone. The men he leaves them alone with aren't too fabulous, but at least we get to see the thick and insolent Mika Tan and Loni try to outdo each other while double-teaming one of 'em. There's something worth sacrificing your kids for.
Blue, 7239 Coldwater Canyon, North Hollywood, CA 91605, bluepicturesdvd.com
Legend, 9145 Owensmouth Avenue, Chatsworth, CA 91311, legenddirect.com
Vivid, 15127 Califa Street, Van Nuys, CA 91411, vivid.com