5/20/2009

Indie Bookstores

David Mirvish Books to Close
[Globe and Mail - Jan.09]

One of Canada's oldest and most popular independent bookstores, Toronto's David Mirvish Books, is closing its doors at the end of February.

The store, specializing in books on visual arts, architecture, photography, design and film, was opened in 1974 on Markham St., near the famous Honest Ed's department store. The store, the brainchild of theatre impresario David Mirvish, son of Toronto businessman and philanthropist Honest Ed Mirvish, was first located in a building across the street from its current site. Its present home had been a gallery for contemporary art owned by David Mirvish and a few years after the gallery's closure, in 1975, he moved the store into its premises.

Eleanor Johnston, manager of the store for more than 25 years, said yesterday there was no one reason for the store's Feb. 28 closing. "David [Mirvish] just thought it was time, that the retail world has indeed changed a lot. Of course, it's always changing... There's always been something with the economy, the currency, the chains duking it out. It's not really a question of us not really being able to keep weathering those shifting sands, to mix metaphors. I think we just decided, 'It's just enough, it's time.'"

Johnston, who started as a clerk at the store 31 years ago, said Mirvish will move its out-of-print and rare books on-line and "make them available to the world." But the bricks-and-mortar operation is kaput. She said Mirvish has not yet decided what do with the high-ceilinged room, although the famous 50-foot-long Frank Stella abstraction, "Damascus Gate," will occupy its west wall for the time being.

"It's a problematic space in some respects," she laughed. "It's an event to change a light bulb."

The closing of Mirvish Books will be the second shuttering of a specialty book outlet in Mirvish Village in less than a year. Last fall Ballenford Books, specializing in architecture titles, closed for the final time. It started in 1979.

COMMENTS
[thestar.com]
The problem with online buying of art books is that you don't get to leaf through the book before you pay the huge price. The AGO bookshop is a shadow of what it was pre-'Transformation'. Buying art history books just got more difficult.

I will miss this book store. Christopher Morley writes of used bookstores as being something of a hub/nexus for the creative people of the world- in my long experience with Mirvish Books, it is one of the few new book stores that has a transcendent feel of the air full of ideas, sparks of inspiration, and a decent dose of bibliomania as per Morley's used bookstores. It is a special, physical place the online cannot, ever, touch.

Word on the street is that Mirvish had no issues with the bookstore, but preferred to turn it into a private gallery for his art collection, which won't even be open to the public. I guess when you own all the buidlings on the block, you can change a neighborhood's dynamic as you see fit. But it's a shame to see a landmark go and staff laid off on a whim. Makes one wonder how long Honest Ed's will last before he turns it into a condo.

What a shame. The architecture and scholastic community didn't come together to help Ballenford out. Now the combined arch/art/photography/design/film community in Toronto is going to let another landmark die. It's sad really, but what's worse are the university arch/art/fine art hist/photography/design/film professors who encourage their students to buy off Amazon rather then ordering en masse from these local retailers. Yes, Amazon has great selection, but local retailers can find you anything as well, AND THEY'RE PART of the COMMUNITY, which means they can do so much more. When's the last time Amazon held a lecture series? Shame.

I remember first coming here as a young designer in the late 1980's to get my art book fix. I've since gone there at least 5 times a year over the last 25 years. I will miss it and their very knowledgeable staff.


David Mirvish Books - Final Moments
*sigh*
*double sigh*
I don't live in Toronto, but when I'm up there, I love checking out some of your indie, smaller book stores.
Seeing the pictures, with the smiles, knowing it's ending, makes this even more sad.

I loved this place! I bought most of my UofT art/art history books here :(
I didn't even know they were closing! or else I would have gone down there!
RIP - I hope they do better online (but somehow I doubt that) because, "It's about coming here and reading and touching and feeling the books." so true

If you're still interested in drooling over and fondling art and design books ... there is always SWiPE, located in the 401 Richmond building.

Well, all I see are people complaining they can't go browse anymore. Maybe if more people actually bought the books, they'd stay open. It's a business, not a library.
Use it or lose it.

DM books didn't close because too many people were "fondling books". It wasn't because they were financially in the hole, or the rent was too high. The Mirvishes have deep pockets, and paid no rent as they own the building. David hasn't been involved with the book business for years, and it's no secret that he's re-focused the Mirvish biz on the theatre district.
I recommend everyone do themselves a favour and start fondling some books at SWIPE - their stock is phenomenal, they could use the extra business, and the owner is a really great guy.


David Mirvish Books




_______________________________________________

Swipe Books
[blogto.com - Feb. 09]

As I repeatedly circled around Richmond and Adelaide in search of the new location of Swipe Books, I began to wonder how a store so difficult to find could have any chance of survival. After about four loops in my car and the utterance of just a few expletives, I had the radical thought that maybe I should double-check my notes to confirm the address. Suffice to say, I might have kept circling all day had I not had that vague (and not altogether rare) feeling that, despite my annoyance, maybe it was me who was the idiot. After all, it's pretty hard to find a store located at 401 Richmond when searching desperately for 410 Richmond.

Once I had the correct address, it was a cinch to find Swipe. In fact, the building in which it is located is one that I've walked through a number of times in the past (before the store's arrival). A restored tin factory that houses a vibrant mix of studios, galleries and a few commercial spaces, 401 Richmond might just be the perfect location for a store that specializes in books on graphic design, architecture and the built environment. That is, if it weren't for that fact that the building offers no street-front space. Wrong address or not, I probably wouldn't have continually missed Swipe if it had a street presence, a point that's not lost on the store's owner, David Michaelides. One of his chief worries when he moved into the current space in May 2008 was that the location within a larger building might cast Swipe both out of sight and out of mind.

This, of course, begs the question: why did he move in the first place? Typically, his reasons had to do primarily with survival. As he frankly explained to me, "at the end of a lease cycle, pretty much all independent bookstores have to move." He should know; he's been in the book business coming on thirty years. And even when they're pretty successful, he continued, "they just can't afford to renew." For sad proof of this, consider the collective fates of Ballenford Books, Pages, and David Mirvish Books, all of which are closed or closing. One of the great difficulties, according to David, is that even when a bookseller has been astute in his choice of an up and coming area, he's still inevitably priced out of the market when the neighbourhood becomes established. In other words, you're damned if you do find a great location and damned if you don't.

So what to do? Well, despite the doom and gloom, the very fact that Swipe is still with us speaks to the viability - however precarious - of independent booksellers. But, to maintain their presence throughout the city, David muses that we might need to radically rethink how such bookstores operate and the nature of services that they provide. While they're clearly commercial enterprises, it might be more accurate to liken these stores to art galleries (most of which are also commercial, lest we forget). After all, where else is one so welcomed to loiter? And beyond this, having something of a patron figure can help to keep the doors open. Without getting into financial specifics, Margaret Zeidler, the owner/landlord of the building has been supportive of Swipe, believing not only in the concept of the store, but what it brings to a building occupied primarily by private galleries and studios.

I like this idea. When I go to bookstores, the experience is similar to the one I have at art galleries: a sort of meandering walkabout with plenty of time for contemplation. And hey, as expensive as some books are, they're cheaper than most pieces of art. Speaking of which, Swipe in particular seems a good example of this mix between gallery and store. Over the eight years it's been open, Swipe has gradually carried more and more non-book items in the form of exemplary pieces of design that range from the idiosyncratic and cheap (think egg-timer), to the sophisticated and pricey (think stainless steel juicer). There's also a well-stocked children's area, including books and toys. These items account for about half of the store's revenue, which might be high for a place that still characterizes itself as a bookstore first and foremost. But, that's just the nature of profit margins.

For all the promise that David sees in the new location, he still uses a rather apt screen analogy to summarize what it's like in the independent book business. Most will remember the famous opening scene from Indiana Jones: Raiders of the Lost Ark in which Harrison Ford narrowly escapes being crushed by a massive stone boulder. David likens his position to this frantic attempt to escape a boulder that is already in motion. What I find worrisome about this analogy, however, is that though Jones does indeed escape the cave (and the boulder), when he tumbles into the outside world, he is greeted by his archaeological nemesis, Belloq, who relieves him of his prized artifact. Left with nothing to show for his ingenuity and heroism, Indy must once again thwart death as he runs to his escape plane. But, alas, it doesn't matter because he isn't in it for the profit, but for the adventure. For better or for worse, this may be the case for David, too. And when was the last time you saw a blockbuster about a bookseller? (And, no, You've Got Mail doesn't count!)

COMMENTS
[blogto.com]
David's an incredibly entertaining guy to talk to - I spoke to him on the day it was announced that DM Books was shuttering. If you want to get into a heated yet jovial conversation about the current state of the book industry, I recommend you go up and introduce yourself to him.
It should also be noted that there are plans to expand the current space - David mentioned that this would happen within the next few months. I think their new space is absolutely beautiful, and I can't wait to see how it evolves.

I've shopped at sw pe for years, from the DX to Richmond to the 401. I like the fact that i can go in look at stuff that inspire me as a designer. The fact I can pick things up and examine them as to just looking at a picture of it online makes a difference to me. I will always support sw pe, we need more business like this it's what makes living in Toronto so great. I hate to think of the alternative like what is happening just up the street on Queen St.




David Michaelides, owner of Swipe


The rumours are true, Swipe has opened a second shop in a beautiful, high-profile suite on the ground floor of 401 Richmond Street West. BUILT, Books on Architecture is hoped, in the fullness of time, to fill the void left by the (really, really depressing) closure last year of the venerable Ballenford Books. For more than 30 years a succession of Susans served the community with a commitment and a level of expertise that we cannot hope to match, at least in the short term. In fact, so as not to make matters worse for our colleagues, Swipe avoided architecture as a subject area altogether for as long Ballenford was in business, with the result that we now feel embarrassingly ill-prepared and uninformed. So … um … help!

E-mail us and let us know what you need, want, or would just like to see at the new shop. Or drop by and see what’s here and what’s missing. We’re open Monday to Saturday from 10 am to 6 pm and we’ve even got windows! Please help us to make this your community bookstore. [swipe.com]
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The Best Bookstores in Toronto
Operating a bookstore in Toronto may not be the most lucrative business these days. The dominance of mega-chain Chapters Indigo, online retailers like Amazon.ca and the rise of the Canadian dollar have resulted in a permanent shift in the industry dynamic. The good news is that the many popular book sellers who remain have made their stores better by distinguishing themselves on features like the quality of their selection, helpful service and ties to the local community.

With so many diverse independent bookstores in Toronto, it's difficult to narrow the offerings down to the ten best. Science fiction fans might lament the exclusion of Bakka-Phoenix. Children and their parents might not forgive us for overlooking Mables Fables. And playwrights might hunt us down on the account of our omission of TheatreBooks. And that's just the tip of the snubbed-list iceberg.

Ultimately our list of Toronto's best bookstores came down to the nominations and votes from our readers. Perhaps to nobody's surprise, perennial favourite Pages Books & Magazines secured the top spot. Among other qualifications, Pages has been a long-time supporter of local and independent publishers and hosts the widely-successful This is Not a Reading Series. Below we present our top ten bookstores in Toronto. To discover more Toronto bookstores click over to our bookstore section.

COMMENTS
[blogto.com]
Really enjoying all your Best Ofs, but you've missed the boat on this one. Most of this list reads like it was compiled 5 years ago. Ben McNally Books is a far superior bookstore, actively involved in the literary and publishing communities, and it has a far larger selection than most of the bookstores listed here, especially boutique Type and This Ain't the Rosedale Library, which seem more interested in promoting graphic novels than books without pictures.

Totally agree with you, James. Ben McNally is a one-man bookselling institution in Toronto, and has been for more than 15 years. Nicholas Hoare is another perennial favourite.

No way. Monkey's Paw. #1.

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Ben McNally Books
[blogto.com - Jan.09]

I feel a confession is in order at the outset of this profile: these days I buy almost all my books online. It didn't used to be so. There was a time when I was addicted to bookstore hopping, when I loved the possibility of finding hidden gems tucked away in the used shops across the city, and when searching out books was as much about chatting with the clerks or owners as it was about actually buying anything.

I share this bit of guilty nostalgia because I get the feeling that there are others out there who have also slipped into such a habit, almost unknowingly, and sometimes it's good to remember why bookstores can be such stimulating places. But, of course, it's easy to romanticize things like this. Not all bookstores are created equal, the prices online are certainly cheaper, and those characteristics that I'm so fond of in great stores are becoming harder to find. It's for all these reasons that I was excited to drop by Ben McNally's Books and chat the owner up about his store's relatively recent opening and the state of independent booksellers in general. Maybe, I thought, a conversation with someone who's been in the business for forty years would inspire me to get back to my old book-buying ways.

Although the store that bears his name only opened in September 2007, many Toronto bibliophiles know Ben from his long time as the manager of Nicholas Hoare Books. In getting to know about his new venture, the first question that I was eager to ask was why he chose the Financial District as his location. When I think of independent booksellers, I tend to associate them with more residential areas, like BMV and Book City in the Annex, or Type and The Monkey's Paw in and around Dundas West.

But, as Ben explained, there is an obvious logic to why he chose Bay and Richmond to set up shop. Because he tends to stock a high percentage of first-run hardcovers, a well-to-do clientele is an obvious bonus (if not necessity). Not only that, based on the hourly traffic in the area, he can close the store at an early 6pm (and on Sundays), which allows for a variety of events to take place in 2500 square foot space after hours.

McNally's doesn't really specialize in any one genre, but if there's a focus on a particular type of book, it'd be on what Ben jokingly calls " the good ones," those nice looking hardcovers that people tend to want to keep around for the long haul, whether it be history, biography or fiction (genres in which he's well stocked).

As the bookseller for the Harbourfront Reading Series, he also has quite a number of signed editions from some of the authors who've participated over the years. In keeping with this desire to cater to those who collect books, the store itself is a warm, wood-paneled space that's reminiscent of an old library. Not overly cramped, it tends to invite patrons to browse through the various sections scattered throughout the room. It might even be fair to say that based on its size and decor, this is an independent bookstore that doesn't look like an independent bookstore.

I wonder, however, is that enough? Yes, the space is nice, and so too are the books. But, the other main question I had for Ben was how he would distinguish his store from the big chains and online retailers. His answer was surprisingly honest. If, he mused, the customer knows exactly what he or she is looking for, those other options do make a lot of sense.

But, on the other hand, for those who don't already have a title in mind, who'd like some hands-on guidance or recommendations, Ben's happy to help. It's the interactive experience that independent bookstores build their reputation on. While this may seem obvious, it's clear that Ben takes pride in helping people with their book selections, noting, for instance, how many regular customers he has and how often he consults with people participating in book clubs.

As I was leaving, we spoke briefly about the economic downturn and how it was impacting the book business. Although he said it was too early to tell in relation to his business, he did leave me with a statement that I think paints a good picture of his attitude in general. "Books should be a haven in hard times, because when you think about it, they're really an amazing value."

COMMENTS
[blogto.com]
Hurrah for Ben McNally, who exemplifies what independent bookselling is all about. And while it may be cheaper to buy online and to hit up chain stores for deep discounts, it is an entirely different and rewarding experience to walk into a store like his. It's the Church of Book Lovers. (As is Pages and Nicholas Hoare).

Ben is probably the best individual bookseller in the city, maybe the country.




Columbine by Dave Cullen
In the tradition of Helter Skelter and In Cold Blood, Columbine is destined to be a classic. A close-up portrait of hatred, a community rendered helpless, and police blunders and cover-ups, it is a compelling and utterly human portrait of two killers. [benmcnallybooks.com]


QUOTE
Don't rush the healing.

REVIEW
Not since Capote's In Cold Blood do we find such a thoughtful, illuminating, riveting, and disturbing portrait of the criminal mind. Columbine doesn't just explode the myths of what happened that day and why. Instead the book carefully dissects our biases, revealing a populace eager to blame this tragedy on poor parenting, Satan, rock music, or goth kids because it is simpler and more convenient than hearing the truth.

And the truth is that Eric Harris was a born psychopath and Dylan Klebold was clinically depressed, eager to please, and clawing for an escape hatch. Together they formed a rare and volatile combination known as a criminal dyad, a coupling of an egomaniacal control freak and a doting, depressed side-kick. Like Bonnie and Clyde and the D.C. snipers, the duo had a push-me pull-me effect that spun both kids out of control and down a dangerous path that now seems well-worn and obvious as we trace it back.

Cullen's coverage of the tragedy is remarkably broad and deep for a book that doesn't even run 400 pages. The entire scope of the Columbine shootings are covered with almost no wasted space. The book is agonizingly well-researched and brilliantly end-noted. Cullen was one of the Colorado journalists covering the event as it was happening, and has been following the aftermath for the past ten years. He has become one of the most informed minds to wrestle with the shooting, and one of the few to draw the right conclusions.

The layout and pacing in Columbine is also ingenious. Instead of pretending that this was a tidy moment in history that can be covered from beginning to end, Cullen pays homage to the frustrating way that details coalesced into a final picture. Jumping back and forth from Eric and Dylan's lives before the event to the tragic consequences that reverberated after, Cullen gradually paints a full portrait of the two men in much the way that they revealed themselves to investigators. There is no pretension here that this is a subject with an easy beginning, middle, and end. Any other method of relating this story would not do the popular confusion justice, nor would it result in such a vivid understanding of what these two boys were like, and what damage they wreaked on their community.

Another impressive touch is the complete lack of images presented in the book. The center clump of photographs, a mainstay of good non-fiction, is conspicuously absent. You will not find a single picture of the killers nor their victims. It took some time for me to appreciate this classy move by the author and publishers. There is no sensationalism here. This is an outstanding work of journalism that is not only the authoritative account of what happened at Columbine high school, it is also a glimpse of criminal psychosis that I believe will be held up as a classic in years to come. This isn't just a good book, it is an important book. It is not just about the past, and not just about this one event, it is about a sad fact of the human condition, and a call for forward-looking vigilance, not backwards-glaring vengeance. [...]

The Trench Coat Mafia and a massive conspiracy involving many other participants led many people astray, including investigators. The idea that these were unpopular geeks who were picked on by bullies led to a national campaign against something that played no role in the tragedy. Eric and Dylan more often played the role of bully than they did bullied. And implications that music, movies, goth lifestyle, Hitler, or videogames inspired their actions are as false as Michael Moore's assertions that they bowled on the day of the shooting.

Columbine replaces these falsehoods with an account of two kids that simply hated the world and its occupants. Everyone was beneath them. These were not kids cast out by society; they were misfits by choice. They fled the robots/zombies/sheep with eagerness and disdain. They celebrated the fact that they did not belong. Nobody pushed them away or ridiculed them, in fact they were just as popular in their own clique as any other kid, and just as invisible to most kids as we all were to people outside of our social circle. The kids who were not respected were Eric and Dylan's peers. The duo were able to look down on them from such a height of hubris as to be able to dehumanize them. Making them something outside of their scope of empathy. Easy enough to dispatch. [...]

Possibly the most shocking myth stripped down in the book is that this was a school shooting by design. The event became the poster for gun restrictions, which may be a noble cause, but it misses the intentions that Eric and Dylan had that day. By all accounts, the attack was a dismal failure. The massive bombs that they rigged up did not go off as planned. They had a low body count estimate in the hundreds, but hoped for thousands. They wanted to start a worldwide revolution. And they hoped they could do this all without devastating their parents. In every possible way, these boys failed. They failed their society, their peers, their parents, and thank goodness, they failed themselves.

These failures continue to cast ripples today. Cullen devotes a good chuck of his book to the horrible aftermath of these events. An investigation that became disgustingly political included cover-ups and foot-dragging. There were copycats, pranks and bomb-threats. Survivors went through physical and emotional re-hab. Some people tried to profit from the shooting. The school had to be rebuilt, along with the student body and the surrounding community. Some relationships were bonded for eternity, and some shattered. Depression and post-traumatic-stress were prevalent and devastating. Lawsuits were filed. The entire town seemed to be cursed, with normal bad luck ascribed to the ghost of Columbine. Cullen captures all of this with stunning detail and respectfulness. There is no stone that he does not peek under, describe, and then return with loving care. That he pulled this balancing act off for the entire book, detailing an event with so many scars and controversy, is absolutely stunning.

The end result is a book that should be required reading for every teacher, guidance counselor, clinical psychologist and parent. Columbine unmasks universal and innate tendencies that a small portion of our population harbors. And what makes this minority dangerous is that they have no empathy for the rest of us, and a genius for hiding this flaw. The signs of their disease are usually there, but they are murky due to our faith in nurture conquering nature.

Columbine is not just an account of an American tragedy, it is a guide for preventing future ones. We must begin by accepting that much of who we are is the dumb luck of genetics, but that this does not exculpate our actions. Sure, we can dream up more pleasant realities for us to operate within, where free will plays a larger role, and loving someone enough will make everything all right, but fantasy is never a solution for improving our existence. It is just the comforting blanket we tragically suffocate ourselves with.


What You Never Knew About Columbine
I know more about the Columbine story than most of Cullen's audience: I was Cullen's editor at Salon 10 years ago, on that awful day when the cable networks told us teenagers were dying in Littleton, and he told me over the phone he'd head there immediately. Little did either of us know then that he'd still be at Columbine a decade later.

So I can't be dispassionate about this book. I will point to raves from Time and Newsweek before offering my own personal observation: I knew Cullen was a dogged reporter and a terrific writer, but even I was blown away by the pacing and story-telling he mastered in "Columbine," a disturbing, inspiring work of art. [...]

What you won't learn, except in the footnotes, is that it was Cullen who broke most of the crucial Columbine myth-debunking stories and expanded on others. He was an army of one against the dozens sent by large national dailies, the news magazines, and local and national television networks. But he had key advantages: He lived there, he's charming and ingratiating, he's got an instinct for bullshit, and he's got a heart bigger than most hearts I know. He suffered through the Columbine story with the locals after the national stars went away; he also had the distance from local politics that a national outlet provided him. Still, what got him the story was his passion and smarts and sensitivity — he knew how to wrangle information out of traumatized teens and families and investigators because he was traumatized, too; I'll never forget some of our conversations when he talked through his own despair at what he was seeing.

As journalists debate the role of citizen storytellers and others who have a stake in the news we report, Cullen offers an interesting window — he was absolutely a trained professional who nonetheless never hid his devastation at the loss of the young lives at Columbine, or his place in the grieving community. He shows what someone with remarkable skills but even more remarkable compassion and judgment can do to break a good story. It was my honor to be his editor — and to discuss this book with him. [...]
______________________________________________

Monkey's Paw
[blogto.com - Sep.08]

Monkey's Paw is unlike any other bookstore in Toronto. There's no Harry Potter or Suzanne Somers Eight Steps to Wellness here. Instead, the shelves are a treasure trove of the rare and the bizarre with titles like Indian Police Today, Why China Has No Inflation, Artificial Impregnation, Cocaine Changes and Understanding Japanese Bantings.

Located in the old Carte Blanche digs on Dundas, just west of Ossington, Monkey's Paw was opened in March 2006 and named after a cheesy early-20th century horror story by W.W. Jacobs. The moral, or message, of the story is Careful what you wish for.

Owner Stephen Fowler figured that at a shop like Monkey's Paw, you'd never find the book you were looking for; but you might well find the book you didn't know you were looking for. Get it? So, don't go here looking for anything. Just go, browse the shelves and be amazed at what you'll find.

Even when the store is closed it's worth a visit. Fowler regularly rotates some of the most random titles in stock in the front window. Definitely makes for an interesting conversation piece after stumbling out of nearby Communist Daughter at 1am.

He also updates the store's blog on a weekly basis with some of the new and strange titles in stock. Customizing Your Van circa 1983 anyone?

For more details on the store, keep reading for my short Q&A with owner Stephen Fowler.

What distinguishes Monkey's Paw from some of Toronto's other bookstores?
We stock primarily odd, obscure, overlooked, and forgotten books. Other stores usually attempt to carry established classics; we look for books which are specifically NOT classics.
We select our stock according to an aesthetic formula: the beautiful, the arcane, the macabre, the absurd. We try to make sure that every book fits one of these descriptions...and the ideal Monkey's Paw title fits all four.
We also take into account the books' artifact value. In other words, we look at old books as not just texts, or collections of images, but as cultural artifacts in their own right: snapshots of their cultural moment, printed on paper, and gathered in bindings.
We try hard to offer good service...no bored, condescending staff. We'd like to convert the uninitiated, rather than exclude them.

Who is your typical customer?
We get lots of graphic designers, artists, journalists, grad students, and info-damaged postmodernists. Most are younger than the shop's proprietor.

What sort of events do you have at the store?
We've had a site-specific poetry contest (the "Detournement Tournament," where participants were challenged to compose texts using only the titles of books in the shop); a site-specific art show; and a few parties. We've also had a garage sale (thousands of books, nothing over $2) for the last two summers.

Anything else you'd like to a share?
A friend of mine who works in academic publishing said of my shop, This isn't a bookshop, this is a gift shop that sells books. This was probably meant as a slight dig, but frankly I'm comfortable with the characterization. Very likely the same statement could apply to any solvent bookshop in the 21st century; and I for one am honored to help discover a new role for old media in people's lives. Besides, who wouldn't be delighted to receive as a wedding present a 1940s clothbound edition of Van de Velde's Ideal Marriage, Its Physiology and Technique?

(1961) Master class in sensationalism: "Here are the swindlers and the swells, the babes who scheme and the pimps who outsmart them -- all conning their way in the greatest shell game on earth."

(1988) Considering a career change? This study is so richly detailed, it could serve as a practitioner's guide to the hustling life. [mo-paw.blogspot.com]
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NEW POSTS
Milla Jovovich
Milla
Not Above the Law

5/17/2009

I ♥ Geeks






Name: ZACHARY QUINTO
Age: 31
Occupation: ACTOR
Credits: STAR TREK / HEROES / 24
Sexual Orientation: UNCONFIRMED



NEW POSTS
Prefab Homes
Quote
Road Rage
Nude

MUSIC
Desafinado & Waters of March
Lisa Hannigan - interview



LINK
Pekka Sandborg

5/12/2009

This Just in...

Kevin the weather dude's looking sharp for spring

Lovecraft's been in Yorkville for 37 years and now they're leaving

It's where I get my specialty lubes and it'll be a shame to see them go

100 Yorkville's turning out to be one of the hottest addresses in town

The owner of this bike's gorgeous, lives in my building and more than willing to give me a ride...

...or so I imagine

I only watch the Daily Show when the news is topical, like mass panic over swine flu...

John has swine flu!

...or Manhattan getting buzzed by a bad decision

I'm going to fucking kill somebody!

The window dresser at French Connection UK has a twisted imagination...













...and I like it!

Fashion photogs vie for contracts and cash on One Shot, yet another ANTM-style reality show

Pretty boy took the worst pic but of course he got to stay

20 Greatest Reality TV Show Fights - Part 4
I found bupkis searching for more info on One Shot, but I did manage to turn up this little "gem", and yes, that's the beloved Julia Allison as one of the talking heads. Uhh...enjoy?

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NEW POSTS
Quote
Chad White
My First Million
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Agua del Pozo

5/09/2009

Proud FM

Patrick Marano & Adam Lawrence


On my way to a call the other night, a really good mix was playing on the radio. I looked it up and it turns out it was Proud FM, the gay music station. Unfortunately, during regular hours they talk too much and there're too many goddamned ads to count, as is the norm with commercial radio, but the selection's upbeat and manages to steer clear from the insipid crap you hear on other stations. If I hear more than two shitty love songs, however, I'm hitting the eject button.

Right now Not Fair by Lily Allen's on and it ain't half bad: "I've spent ages giving head..."

For less chatter and a more eclectic mix, it might be a good idea to tune in after midnight, like I did the other night in the cab.

Oh God - Dance Away by Roxy Music is on. They're killing me! "Dance away the heartache...dance away with me..."

Fuck it, I'll say it: 'Mos know how to party. Now if I can be the meat in a Marano-Lawrence sandwich, my life will be complete.

Ok - crappy song: Dead End Countdown by The New Cities. Who the fuck are they?

Mute!

Proud FM

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Not Fair
Dance Away
Dance Away - extended version
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NEW POSTS
Aftershock
James Piatt
United Nude
Brian Atwood
Omelle
MET Costume Inst. Gala
MET Gala: WTF?

5/05/2009

For Fuck's Sake

My Divine Wife (Xmas 1985, Paris)__[flickr.com]

Confessions of a TARP Wife
by Anonymous
[portfolio.com - May 09]

Forget the opera. Cancel dinner at Bouley. How life has changed since my CEO husband went on the government dole.

I am a TARP wife.

In keeping with the unwritten code of this new sisterhood, I have taken a vow of financial abstinence. I returned the presents my husband gave me for Christmas (but didn’t tell him, since he’s already awash in gloom) and am using my credit balances at all the major department stores for important gifts and other necessities.

I haven’t even looked at spring clothes; God forbid someone catches me out in something new. Keeping up with fashion seems somehow decadent in this new era, like getting Botox injections or catered dinners. Like so many others, I’m shopping in my closet. I’ve bought exactly two things this year—makeup and panty hose. If I buy a present for someone, I have the package sent to their home. I don’t want to be spotted climbing into a taxi, laden with Bergdorf Goodman shopping bags.

As you can see, being a TARP wife means, in short, making decisions according to a complex algorithm: balancing the need to look like your world hasn’t crumbled beneath you—let’s not alarm the investors!—with the need to appear duly repentant for your subprime sins. It also means we’re part of the community of more than 400 companies that have received government bailout funds, whose fall from grace has been swifter and harsher than any since Mao frog-marched intellectuals into China’s countryside.

Hitting the perfect note isn’t always easy. For instance, for the past 15 years or so, I have thrown my husband a birthday party. We traditionally celebrate with about 30 friends, mostly New York pals we’ve known for decades. We’re not talking an end-of-an-era Stephen Schwarzman-type $10 million blowout. Ours is a pretty sedate affair.

This year, of course, entertaining our crowd at our usual multi-star Michelin hotspots would simply not do. Extravagant is out; conservative is in. But not hosting a birthday dinner would have spurred rumors that we were broke, not a welcome thought either. Juggling these conflicting impulses, I decided on a slimmed-down party. Choosing Versailles to host World War I peace negotiations could not have been more complicated than my attempt to select the perfect spot for our annual dinner. Naturally, every restaurant I contacted was willing to meet my reduced budget; now that Wall Street firms are no longer entertaining clients or hosting events, New York eateries are struggling.

At the end of the day, it came down to a choice between an especially accommodating (and well-known) high-end restaurant and a less expensive, clubbier spot. We ultimately picked the cozier restaurant—even though it ended up costing us more, so eager was the more chic outfit to host the party. Why spend the extra bucks? Because our chosen place is distinctly low-profile and rarely mentioned in the press. We did not need a snarky story about a “Wall Street bigwig living it up while taxpayers wonder where their money went.” Really, not even President Obama spends this much time looking after his image.

It wasn’t long ago that America celebrated successful companies and the people who run them. My husband, CEO of one of the biggest TARP recipients, has received more than his share of accolades (in my opinion, well deserved). But because of a few tin-eared nitwits who failed to notice that their industry was under siege, the entire country now thinks that TARP bankers are greedy incompetents dedicated to ripping off taxpayers. Fancy wastebaskets, under-the-rug bonuses, lavish junkets—these are Exhibits A, B, and C in the people’s case against Wall Street. Even the Octomom gets better press.

Here is the reality: TARP managers are scared to death. The executives of these companies are desperately trying to hold their businesses together while complying with a slew of damaging bills flooding out of Congress. My husband has battled the shutdown of the credit markets and a deteriorating business environment for two endless years without respite. He’s exhausted, terrified of losing the company, and beaten down by the constant criticism hurled at him.

I’m trying to buck him up and not complicate his life. The last thing he needs is unpleasant publicity, so I’m learning to fly so far below the radar that I have perpetually skinned knees. We’ve picked up new habits, like making donations anonymously and sneaking in late to black-tie galas after society photographer Patrick McMullan has packed up his camera and gone home. We now regularly turn down the invitations we receive from museums and arts organizations that will inevitably be followed by a request for funds. No point in getting their hopes up.

I get it that I may not win much sympathy. Why should I? I’m not pleading poverty. We still live in relative luxury, we can afford almost everything we need, and we aren’t facing the prospect of losing our home or having to turn to our families to support us. But we are getting squeezed.

Like most Americans, we are worried about money. Our net worth is tied up in stock that is down 95 percent. Last year, before it became fashionable to do so, my husband refused a bonus. Because of the new restrictions, his pay this year will be a fraction of what it was. The combined swoon in our income has caused us to cut spending drastically, in hopes that we can hang on to some remnant of our former lifestyle.

In an effort to conserve cash, we are eating out less frequently, meaning that I’ve been turning out some pretty dreadful lasagna. Actually, staying home and watching Law & Order reruns has become our new guilty pleasure. It’s a far cry from opening night at the Metropolitan Opera, but it’s not bad. I drive the family crazy by switching off the lights every time we leave a room. Needless to say, we fly commercial. Using the company plane is now out of bounds; we’ve heard there are reporters staking out the private airports.

I have become oddly superstitious. On some level, I feel I’m being punished for too many thoughtless years of assuming that the trappings of success were earned and not given. I’m constantly knocking on wood or offering little good-citizen sacrifices, like manically recycling or chatting with telemarketers.

I’m struggling with how to communicate all this to our children. We’re thankful that they’re intent on making their own way in the world, but at the same time, they confidently rely on us for help. One daughter recently mused about going back to business school. I hope she didn’t notice my instantly negative reaction, stemming completely from concern about the cost. I cannot bring myself to shake her foundation. The collapse of the world economy has already crushed the confidence of young people just starting out. Meanwhile, retirement is like a rainbow, a beautiful mirage that we’ll probably never reach. To some people, these may seem like luxury problems, but to us they are painful.

I’ve watched the skin under my husband’s eyes take on a yellowish hue, and his hair turn from gray to grayer, as he tries to lead his company through this mess. He’s up every night for hours at a stretch, and for the first time, he has health issues. For a person whose life has been punctuated mainly by success—from perennial class president and high-school sports star to Ivy League MBA—failure is the worst of all nightmares. He seems off balance, as though self-confidence were a physical ballast that he is slowly losing. It’s heartbreaking how often he apologizes to me for losing so much of our money, for making so many mistakes.

I know people are angry—angry at those they view as responsible for the subprime crisis and the subsequent economic meltdown. I don’t blame them. I’m angry too. But my fury extends to any number of culprits: to Alan Greenspan, who encouraged the loose-money policies that undermined the pricing of risk; to Barney Frank, who cudgeled Fannie Mae into supporting loans to unfit homebuyers; to the rating agencies that were ethically compromised; to the subprime-mortgage brokers who chased fees and ignored any accountability; to the investors who didn’t do their homework and absurdly leveraged up their balance sheets. I’m an equal-opportunity blamer.

And yes, I blame those who were in charge of the big banks—including my husband—for not seeing the default tsunami coming. But almost no one did. Everyone knows this, yet financial CEOs have replaced the Mob as the most despised group in the country.

The good news is that Americans have short attention spans. Before long, some other group will come along to absorb all the frustration and anger.

Meanwhile, I’m off to the tailors to get some clothes altered. Shopping your closet is great unless you’ve put on a few pounds over the years. I’ve been holding out hope that fewer nights out could shrink me to fit back into some of the past warhorses of my wardrobe. Unfortunately, our appetite for comfort food has risen in proportion to the Dow’s decline; the selloff this past month has upped our mac-and-cheese intake and created a sinecure for my seamstress.

__________________________________________________
COMMENT

For fuck's sake, I just read the TARP wife piece and am now feeling particularly stabby. Since it's just past midnight here I'm going to indulge myself a bit.

Whatcho mean you returned the gifts hubby gave you for Christmas? Shit had already hit the fan and bailout money was already flying by then. If he was so worried about it then he shouldn't have bought you anything. Or, you could have let him shop in your closet. How's about that?

Bullshit you've bought exactly two things. Presents are things. And you can't be laden with bags with just two things. The most you could get out of that would be two bags, one for each hand. That's balanced, you twit. Also, presents are rarely necessities.

Subdued birthday parties happen at home. If you don't want press then invite everyone over. Don't shop it around and then drop heavy hints as to where it happened. You aren't interested in maintaining a low profile, you just want to look like it. Kind of like your husband's company not really making a lot of money or wise decisions, they just want to look like it.

I don't know what press you are reading but I haven't seen Nadia Suleman coming off so well in any of the stories I've read.

Really, sneaking in late to black tie affairs? So sad for you. And I'd be willing to bet that when you say you are making donations anonymously you really mean you aren't giving crap to no one, no where.

Bish, please, have the help pick up some damn Stouffers. You can even microwave it and it still turns out good. Or are you ruining lasagne made with imported noodles, sauce squeezed from first press golden tomatoes and cheeses ripened from unicorn milk? Because that shit gets expensive.

So am I a good citizen or not? I pay extra for our trash company to grab our recycles and set aside glass for a trip to the other recycle place and I've been flipping off light switches in unused rooms for years - years damnit - way before it was cool or chic or in vogue. But I'll be damned if I chat with telemarketers.

Tell your kids that times are tight and to be grateful for what you have. Don't raise them to be entitled brats. What is there to struggle with? How much struggling with communication do you think happens when someone has to move because of finances? Do you think they just don't tell the kids? WTF?

Oh, holy hell, you did not just say he's just now gotten health problems. No you didn't. So he had no stress issues or health concerns when his employees were laid off? No guilt about the chaos he was throwing downstream? No Ambien, Cymbalta, Xanax, nothing at all needed until now? From what I understand, those drugs have been selling like gangbusters due to the economy.

Shocking to know that failure is such a bummer for you. I know that each time my husband was laid off he didn't feel like a failure at all. Nope. Not a single time. And sitting here right now with no job for the first time in my adult life gives me the reassurance that I am a rousing success! So successful, in fact, that new employers are scared to interview me at all. You know, like the pretty girls that can never get a date? Yeah, that must be why I don't get any call backs. It's not because my city has lost 87,000 jobs within a year. It's cause I'm too pretty.

Finally - STOP SAYING NO ONE SAW THE FINANCIAL TSUNAMI COMING. I did and I don't follow economics. I'd been asking my husband how it could all keep going. What the fuck did you think was going to happen when Time and Newsweek and the NY Times were all running stories on the upcoming bubble bursting? I'm a fucking midwesterner, aren't y'all supposed to be so much smarter and savvier than I am? WHO THE FUCKITY FUCK FUCK DIDN'T SEE IT COMING? Isn't that why the goddamned CEOs have their holy-shit-that's-a-lot-of-money-for-four... degrees? What the hell were they learning in college? If all of these financial geniuses were so woefully unprepared, maybe you should all think about talking to your respective alma maters about getting a better class of professors in place.

Oh, and nice to see that you're getting fat. How incredibly small minded and schadenfraudy of me to delight in your expanding waistline, but there it is. It's all I've got. It's all your husband and his ilk have left me.

But it's nice to see you are an equal opportunity blamer.

By the way, how do you suppose your article makes your husband feel, hmmm?

In closing, I would like to say that I think Americans will be remembering this fiasco for far longer than you are wishing. Attention spans are short when money is a-plenty but I do believe that this time we are all sitting up and taking notice. Plus, what else is there to do that doesn't cost anything?

And now I wish my most humble apologies to anyone that has spent their time reading my rant. I swear, I'm not that bitchy in general. Really and truly, I have a brilliant personality!

[jezebel.com]

5/04/2009

New Posts


The New New Thing
[Amazon.com - review (2000)]
I bought this book at an airport I was passing through en route to someplace else. I knew Michael Lewis as an author, having read Liar's Poker, so I knew I would find his style appealing. I had no idea about Jim Clark at all.
To my utter surprise, the book was not only entertaining, but it brought to my attention some facts about the world that I live in that I had never fully realised:
1) You can choose to be a down and out misfit on the road to nowhere, or you can choose to show 'em all and make something of your life
2) Having decided to do something, there is no actual limit to how big you can think
3) An individual can actually swing the entire economy and all of its big established companies around to a different agenda and different competitive landscape
4) If you are blessed/cursed with the kind of mind that loves to dwell in "pure possibility", is never satisfied with the way things are and can always see how they could be, do what Jim Clark does - get on with changing the world! Actions speak louder than words.
5) Engineers have finally realised that they should be more fairly compensated, relative to the amount of value they create in the economy. The consequence of this is that financiers, who really don't understand what or how an engineer does what he does, must now compete to get a piece of the action. A financier, even if he has infinite money, cannot personally create anything of tangible value with his financial skills. Contrast this to what an engineer with good skills can create and you realise that what really counts is the creation of tangible things that make the human condition somehow better. This realisation is driving the new new economic realities - engineers can build a better world, financiers can only pay for them to do it.
6) You don't have to be especially bright or gifted to change the course of business history, but if you are, you owe it to yourself and others to use those gifts to the best advantage you can.


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NEW POSTS
In for Spring
The Nude Issue
Jon Kortajarena
Walking in My Shoes
The End
Megan Fox
Vaginad
Bedroom Eyes
Nude
Erotica
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5/03/2009

Smooth Operator


Men's Health Wants to Sweet Talk the Pants Right Off of You
The folks at Men's Health are notorious for giving out really sketchy advice, especially when it comes to women. So this article, 6 Phrases To Get Her Into Bed Tonight, fits right into their craptacular archives. However, this particular article stings a bit more, as it was written by a woman, Nicole Beland. Come on, lady! You're not helping our anti-douchebag cause by giving out information like this! Let's try to clean this mess up together, shall we?

I screwed up, and want to hear your thoughts.
Whether you blabbed a good friend's secret or ran over the neighbor's limited-edition bike, admit it. Confessing an error in judgment leaves you exposed and vulnerable, which makes a woman want to wrap you in her arms. Telling her about it wins her over even more, you're showing that you value her opinion. The resulting combo of compassion and confidence will inspire her to make everything all better, or at least distract you.

Remember that emo boyfriend you had in high school who was always all, "I am so sorry that our love is not blooming like the cold, frosted roses of spring, but my heart is filled with your love like so many setting suns" And then you, being 15, were all, "OMG that is so deep, you can totally get to third base now." That dude grew up to be Sneaky McManipulator, who likes to pull this "I am so hurt but sensitive" routine just to get you to sleep with him. He is Zach Braff in Garden State. He is Ross Gellar. He is 35 years old and still wears guyliner. Steer clear.

Did you know you have a heart-shaped freckle on the back of your thigh?
After the first few months of sex, inch-by-inch body exploration yields to cut-to-the-chase carnality. That's a shame, because having her body mapped puts a woman in the mood for luxurious sex. Pull aside the blankets on a weekend morning and run your eyes and fingertips from her toes to her earlobes, making admiring comments along the way. You won't get past her elbows before she pulls you in for a deep, wet kiss.

I have a freckle on my thigh!? No way! I've been alive for 28 years but I guess I've never noticed my body before, nor have I ever had anyone point out my birthmarks to me. Thank goodness for you and your "body mapping" techniques. Did you know you have a heart-shaped zit on your back? You should probably get that taken care of. And thanks ever so much for trying to "map" my body on a weekend morning, before you've brushed your teeth. Sexy.

I'm organizing a team of volunteers for Summit for Someone.
Whether it's climbing mountains with inner-city kids or carrying the neighbor's groceries, helping others boosts your sexy factor for two reasons. First, altruism shows her that you can put your own needs aside, which inspires her to take care of them for you. Second, your good deeds make her feel as if she's dating up, because clearly you're a better person than she is. She'll want to join forces with you on your life's quest.

There is nothing grosser than someone who pulls out what a "good person" they are just to get you to sleep with them. This is the guy who donates to charity and then makes sure that EVERYONE knows that he's donated to charity. His "helpful" efforts are really just a way to make people think he's a really deep, caring guy. And anyone who participates in such things to make you feel like they are "clearly a better person" than you needs a swift kick out the door. Dumping this douchebag is perhaps the most charitable thing you'll do all year. God bless you.

You must be exhausted. Let's take a hot shower and I'll scrub your back.
The number-one reason your partner turns down sex is because she's stressed. And while she knows there's no better cure for wound-up nerves than a spring-release orgasm, it can be hard to shake off the day's distractions. By blasting the hot water and lighting candles, you'll offer a tension-melting solution she can't refuse. Once the hot water and your soapy hands chase the stress away, she'll finally feel sexy again.

Yes, because when a woman clearly indicates she does not want to have sex with you, lighting a bunch of candles will do the trick. Or, you know, she might really be exhausted and not interested and your Dylan McKay circa 1992 moves will only irritate her to the point where your hot shower experience might have to turn into a cold one. Jackass.

I want to accomplish a few things in the next five years.
When a woman hears a man talk about the future with a "whatever" attitude, her level of respect for him drops and her thighs snap shut. She was surrounded by way too many of those directionless dudes back in college, and she has learned that men who have clear goals and realistic plans for achieving them are rare. She'll appreciate your farsightedness all the more. Making up your mind settles hers, as well.

That's right, ladies. Because your mind can't be made up unless a man is there to make it up for you. Why bother making life plans unless a guy is there to dictate how the next 5 years will go? Your hopes and dreams are essentially meaningless and directionless without some dude laying out his 5 year plan to take over the world, and your life. Thank goodness for penises with plans, am I right? Praise the lord and pass the ammunition.

I'm taking the day off tomorrow to chaperone my niece's field trip.
While a woman is impressed by a man who's driven to succeed, she's even more tantalized by a striver who's willing to put a family member first. Extra points if that family member is under 12. She'll instantly flash-forward to when you're the sweet, caring father of her children, at which point her heart will go all gooey. Come back from your kiddie outing with a cute stuffed animal for her and she'll practically drag you into bed.

Yes, well, either that or she'll instantly flash to visions of Chris Hansen pouring lemonade. Also, unless you are a high school senior at the County Fair, nobody wants your fucking stuffed animals. And why are you taking the day off from work, in a recession?! That's really going to screw up our 5 year life plan and your volunteer opportunities with "Summit for Someone." Now STFU and GTFO. I have a hot bath waiting for me. And you're not invited.
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COMMENTS

The worst thing, what makes this worse than all of their other advice, is that this would work, and I can totally see guys doing it.
@__: I agree, but with a caveat. If I like the guy already, all of those lines would work. If I don't like the guy, none of those lines would work, and some of them would seem pretty creepy (like, um, why are you looking at my freckles so closely? what are you doing lighting all those candles in my tub? and what's with the rigid five-year plan?).
@__: Word. The first, second and sixth ones have worked on me. Though for number two he was already well into my pants so how it helped I couldn't say. Isn't that just called foreplay?
@__: Eh, the first sentence of the article is "These simple linguistic cues tell her you're the right man for this evening." That doesn't imply commitment to me. Your boyfriend wouldn't try to get into your pants by telling you that he's doing volunteer work, but some dude at a bar might.

I'd be really questioning any guy my age who wants to be around children. I do what I can to avoid children. The 5 year plan? Please shut up. It will just freak me out about my OWN plans, and I go on dates to have fun with the person with me NOW, not to think about 5 years down the line.
If I'm stressed and someone gets in the shower with me? That would end baddddd. Better advice? Buy me a bottle of vodka. Or whiskey.
Men's Health is dumb.

"Second, your good deeds make her feel as if she's dating up, because clearly you're a better person than she is."
Clearly.
Holy guacamole this is absurd.
@__: that's obviously exactly what i want: to be in a relationship with a pompous elitist who's better than i am and can plan our life for us!

It sounds like dear Nicole's dating history involves a long string of dudes who spent a combined 387 years in the clink for either fraud or sexual misconduct.
@__: well, we all have a type.

You must be exhausted. Let's take a hot shower and I'll scrub your back.
Except showering together sounds more sexy than it actually is. Somone usually ends up at the back of the shower freezing their ass off.
@__: Yes on the showering together. You're standing there with the Dr. Bronner's peppermint soap burning the crap out of your lady bits, "HONEY PLEASE MOVE SO I CAN HAVE SOME WATER NOW."
@__: in addition worrying about slipping and splitting your head open during any shenanigans. Not sexy.
@__: Yeah, showering together is overrated. One time I showered with a guy and he spent the entire time washing his third testicle and blowing his nose.
@__: i'm going to build a shower in my house when i am rich that has two shower heads and some sort of bench that is cushioned. @__: third testicle?!? lol, wtf

Call me a weirdo, but my ultimate come-on process is as follows:
1) Be interesting to me in some way, perhaps with similar interests. Be fun to hang out with.
2) Be a reasonably decent human with your own personality. You need not be infallible, but don't be a total fuckup.
3) Allow enough time for us to get to know each other and cultivate a meaningful relationship. Talk about mutual feelings of romantic attraction.
4) At this point, one of us should say, "We should have some sex" and if the other is feeling agreeable, the other will say "Okay".
ET VOILA! INTO MY PANTS! NOT THAT DIFFICULT!

"Dating up"? Seriously? This whole thing is so warped and Machiavellian. Nicole: where's your dignity?
@__: She probably keeps it next to the letter from Men's Health which reads: "Check Enclosed".

What does this teach us? Don't go out with the sort of anus who'd read Men's Health. Honestly I've never met a straight man who'd even consider buying it. I'm sure they're out there, but I'll be damned if I don't think they're the most blatant idiots from the instant I've met them.
@__: I think it's for women. No men I ever met cared anything about their health or anyone else's, and they wouldn't go to a doctor or take a vitamin unless some woman forced them into it.

Why have guys still not figured out that they should just talk about me?
@__: You know, I tried that, I really did. But for some reason my girlfriend got REALLY pissed off when I wouldn't stop talking about you. I even tried calling out your name during sex and she didn't like that either!

5/01/2009

Got Jizz?


Got my first facial today.

No, not the spa kind.

Wasn't as bad as I thought it would be and the money was good.

I asked the guy to send me a clip so I can shop it around to various porn producers.

I've got to make some money, and if I have to take it in the face to get it, well that's what I'm going to do.

Just don't ask me to eat it, cause that's just nasty!

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Dance Me to the End of Love - remix
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NEW POSTS
Beauty vs. Beast
Guess Who?
Lady Gagag - 2
Gassy Emissions

Granny Panties Porn





American Stag
dir. Benjamin Meade [2006]
The history of Blue Movies

No matter what the subject, apparently, it's possible to say things were better before everything went commercial. At least, that's the case made by American Stag, which has its eye not on the modern porn film, but on the blue movies made up until about 1968, when the courts ruled that film was protected by the First Ammendment.

After all, as soon as something is legal, it's ripe for commercial exploitation. Before this, American Stag tells us, blue movies - called "stag pictures" or "smokers" because of how they were exhibited in the smoke-filled, men-only rooms in V.F.W. halls or Elks' lodges where "stag parties" were held - were generally the work of amateurs. They were shot on consumer 8mm or 16mm equipment, were seldom more than one reel in length, and produced in almost complete anonymity due to their questionable legality. Even well into the sound era, they were frequently silent films.

And, based upon what director Benjamin Meade shows us, kind of charming. Production values weren't that great, and the people involved tended to be ordinary people, with original-issue breasts, pasty skin, excess hair and all. The staging and camera work isn't sophisticated, but there is the sense of people having fun, telling a story and having sex because they enjoy it. [...]


[American Stag - quotes]

200 guys would gather in an auditorium to watch porn...it was bizarre.

It was a man's underground thing.

His father was a runner: he'd load up the car with films and a projector and off he'd go to a party.

Later on in the century the women became more sexually aggressive and demanded more from the male.

They lived in a society where women weren't supposed to like sex.

Once they get to the sex, it's pretty routine.

The girls aren't in it for the money - they're in it to get off.

It's fairly typical of stag films for rape to be ok.

Pot and stag films go together - if you want a woman to take off her clothes, get her high on pot.

It was rumoured that Joan Crawford made a stag film and was blackmailed most of her career by the owner (of the film).

The Casting Couch is a classic stag film where the man uses his position of power to get sex.

I think stag films are at their worst when they're portraying interracial couples; the point (of them) is some kind of sexual degradation.

While there was no integration in the schools, there was integration in the stag films.

The fastest growing number of consumers of porn (today) is fundamentalist Christian women.

If we weren't sexually repressed we wouldn't have porn.

American Stag - trailer
Vintage Erotica - Hot Number
No Integrity Left Behind