Special Victims Unit!
I hate bloggers. I hate their bloggy faces, their bloggy blog posts, their bloggy ways. I hate reading blogs, I hate reading about blogs, and I hate the word blog. Blog. Blahrg . . .
Why, hello dear reader! I didn't see you there.
That italicized stuff? Oh, that was just me grumbling to myself, a habit I acquired in my year or so off the porno beat ha-ha-ugh. That's right, Johnny's back. (I'd say I'm back like Aslan but then I'd be a-lyin'.) Once I had the honor of appearing amongst the escort ads in the back of the print edition of the Voice. Before long, I'd been demoted to online-only. After a failed attempt to replace me with the Johnnybot 1000--his crank kept giving out--I've been asked to return not as a print columnist, not as an online columnist, but as that most lowly, white-hot media phenomenon: the blogger. At least I still have my looks.
Seriously though, I was in a secret CIA prison in Romania. (Boy, do my nipples hurt.) Which kind of brings me to today's topic: special victims (and units). Abu Ghraib I've covered. Kill Girl Kill (VCA), directed by spunk punk Eon McKai (a fan of Fugazi's Ian MacKaye, mmm? Mmm? Mmm? Huh? Y'think? Maybe? Yah? Mmm?), pits inexplicably bruised, scraped starlets and dicks against one another in a hardcore Suicide Girls-style gonzothon.
But I am about to digress. There's some things you should know about my "blog," besides the fact that I privately refer to it as my boo. First, I am no longer edited by anyone. I can post whatever the eff I want, and no one will see it before it goes live. So I can do this:
NA NA NA NA NA NA NA NA HEY HEY HEY GOOOOOOODBYE
Second, I've decided that--after warning you that they are Not Safe for Work--to provide links to real actual boner fide porn. Oh sorry, porn. And maybe sensual wrestling. You'll notice on the right that I've provided links to clips and pics of some of my favorite porn stars, whom I've summarized with the snarky condescension you've all come to love, and which has become the thin thread by which my ever-dwindling dignity dangles. Also, you can now post comments below. I trust you will treat this privilege with the respect a column such as this one accords.
If you're currently at work or in the vicinity of wifey, I suppose you'll just have to let me tell you about Kill Girl Kill. What McKai has done is sort of well not really brilliant: Instead of burdening us with extended dialogue or acting, he let's the makeup tell the story.
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