Debbie Doesn't Do Dallas; Readers Revolt!

When I first began playing with myself, it would be at night, after I'd said the Lord's Prayer and one Hail Mary. I've since erected a few more walls between my horny and holy selves (some of which are described in my last post). And, as I've joined the pornographic economy, kept subdividing: secular, sexual, romantic, relationship--none of these aspects of my life overlap comfortably with my porn identity. When my girlfriend began reading "A Very Maldoro Christmas!" over Papa Maldoro's shoulder, for instance, I pulled her into the kitchen on some flimsy pretext, possibly involving the visible differences between surface and dish-cleaning sponges. She doesn't normally read my column, and I don't normally read it after I've typed it. The checks still come in the mail, so why monkey with the formula?

I mention all this for two reasons: One, although my girlfriend and I do not share porn as a hobby (or profession, for that matter), last night we watched the "classic" Debbie Does Dallas together; B, I no longer toil over this column in the obscurity of my own perversion--now that any reader can post a response, everything I write is up for much-needed correction, vocal opposition, tangential philosophizing, and facile commentary (apologies for the redundancy of the last two). In other words, my intellectual and emotional isolation has been threatened, and as man, this has shook me to my very core (or maybe that's just gas).

My overly defensive reactions to readers' posts will follow shortly. First, in the interest of servicing you with some service journalism, I'll describe how Debbie Does Dallas reflects on the ever-hyped "couples" viewing experience. Since the only Netflix movie I had lying around was Gerry, and I knew I had this post to write, the g.f. and I agreed to put on the porno. And so, I smoked a good deal of hash and prepared myself to watch one of the most famous skin flicks of all time, not to mention recipient of the prestigious Highest Rating from Hustler. Within minutes, I was questioning Hustler's status as a leading critical institution. This IMDb user comment on Gerry about says it all: "Awful, horrendous, not even the biggest Damon and Affleck fan could stomach." First of all, it's called Debbie Does Dallas, but the movie is about Debbie and the rest of the cheerleading team raising money to go to Dallas--they get the money, but we never see them take the flight. I'd understand if we were talking New York or Detroit or Cleveland, but Dallas? They couldn't shoot on location in the capital of Texas?

The movie's only redeeming quality is the tease factor: No one wears bras, there's lots of topless locker room strategizing, and the men who help contribute the funds do so 10 or 20 bucks at a time, begging in turn for peeks and sucks and so on. Star Bambi Woods manages a pretty convincing bimbo, and I was into one of her mannish cheermates, played by Rikki O'Neal. But basically, the cheerleaders get part-time jobs where they put up with sexual harassment, to which they finally give in, literally prostituting themselves in horrendously edited, anti-climactic scenes.

Re-reading that last sentence, I realize the movie sounds pretty sexy. In fact, I was kind of impressed with some of the more unpredictable set-ups: a blowjob that results in a spanking, the storming of the girls' showers by some meatheads. But who am I to contradict myself? I have my readers to do that. Which brings me to today's highlights of recent comments posted to the Dirty Pornos boards.

In "Threesome How-To!" you'll find a discussion of just how old oldster Nina Hartley is--56 or 46. This somehow involves "a major political smackdown between Noam Chomsky and Alan Dershowitz." Thanks for your interest, guys!

Here you'll also find a post from the original Violet Blue, apparently some sort of friend of my fellow columnists Rachel Kramer Bussel and Tristan Taormino: "My real, true name is Violet Blue and I am a sex eductaor and widely-published sex author (and have been for eight years); not the outspoken racist porn starlet capitalizing on my name in this article." Why, you're turning Violet, Violet! Seriously, though, I don't see how any upstart could not know who the OG Violet Blue is. Shame on you for stealing that unique porn name! (As to OG Violet's accusation that VB2 is a racist, I cannot speak. I will say this: One of them starred in Adam & Eve/Ultimate's Black in White #2.)

Revisiting Johnny Answers Hard Readers' Questions!, you'll find more opinions on porn-race relations from industry insiders, including the real reasons why alt-porn lacks diversity and the mainstream has "shocking lack of standards." Joanna Angel herself explains that Burning Angel rarely gets applications "from anyone colored," points out her company's openness to less conventional body types, and seems to take exception with me making fun of her DVD commentary on Re-Penetrator. About the latter, all I can really say is, I do feel bad for being unkind, and I welcome clever assassinations of my character.


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