Alien Night Club - Show 15?
Alien Night Club <the transcripts>
If you’re just discovering this (Hi!), begin with The Pilot HERE.
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Hello, hello, hello! Welcome to the Show!
Show15? Show 15? Are we sure it’s Show 15?
Is witchcraft real?
You know, like back in the day, the Salem witchcraft trials and the burning at the stake and drowning and all the horrible, messed up shit they were doing back then?
Were the women actually witches?
Or were the people murdering them just a bunch of bigoted superstitious dipshits blinded by their upbringing, obeying their programming like any bot? Or maybe just protecting their position of power by subjugating people they couldn’t control.
And I'm not saying that any of those women were witches. And maybe guys, too. I'm not saying they should have been executed, that they should have been murdered.
I am not saying that. At all. Okay? Just so we're clear. In fact, quite the opposite. I'd like to see them in action. Let's see what they can do.
The argument, then, of course, was that if they were witches, they would’ve been able to use their spells or their witchcraft or their magic to save themselves from being forcefully held under water.
Which would make them a witch which means they needed to be drowned. At least in the minds of the people doing the drowning.
So, did any of them get away?
Were they able to use their magic to say, Abra cadabra, motherfuckers! and turn everyone into frogs?
And once their oppressors stroke would-be murderers, had been turned into frogs, then what? Did they just leave them as frogs? For how long? Forever? Or maybe just like an hour or two? Just long enough to go home and get their stuff and hitch up the horse to the wagon and be movin on. Again.
Or did they scoop them all up and take them home and skewer them and cook them because frog legs are delicious? Imagine eating the people who just tried to kill you. Is that sweet revenge? What if you put a bunch of Sweet Baby Ray’s extra-smokey-extra-sweet barbecue sauce on them?
Anyway, welcome to Show 14. Show 14? Yes, Show 14.
Oh, no, wait, it’s 15. We said that earlier.
Here at the classy-and-it-knows-it Alien Night Club.
I am your host – I almost said Toast – or toad, with barbecue sauce — I am your toast, Captain Blank. Welcome and all aboard the sodomy train.
And that reminds me: I came up with another funny catchphrase I thought we could try out. But I forgot it.
Oh well. Maybe it’ll come back to me.
How about my shirt? Shall we do the shirt? Tonight’s shirt has a lot of very small writing on it. I’ll read it to you. It says: I’ve got a tongue like an electric eel on speed and I can hold my breath a long, long time.
That’s not mine, I didn’t write it. When I was a kid, we had a dog and we found a pin that said that and we put it on his collar. There was another one that said Hi, I’m from Mars and my dick glows in the dark!
We took him to the vet once and forgot those were on there. The lady vet read them and she LAUGHED. Out loud. It was very funny.
And we are laughing. We are laughing. Milk was a bad choice.
So, if you work at home, imagine you’re ready to begin your work day.
You have to work now, like you have to go to your computer, wherever it may be, and you’ve been thinking about it since you woke up this morning, trying to decide what time you want to start. Because you need to work. Obviously. And you’ve been taking too much time off lately. It’s not really time off but it’s time away from THAT thing, that thing you call quote unquote work. Usually so you can work on your own personal projects that are, in the long run, far more valuable and worth your time. That’s why they’re called Passion Projects: because they require and create more passion. And passion, in the oldest sense, means suffering. So, yeah, you suffer for your passion. Because you love it and you know you’re good at it but because the world is so big and crowded with content now, the chances are that no one is ever going to see your stuff. And you know that. And you’re okay with it enough that you keep going.
Point being, you’re opening the lid of your laptop or you just sat down at your keyboard and your significant other approaches you and is all sexed up, with one hand down the front of their pants.
What do you do?
I’m terrified of losing nuggets, by the way.
Because I did lose one today.
But I got it right back.
Actually, it wasn’t right back. It took about 15 minutes. I tried to literally retrace my steps after I’d forgotten it. I did not succeed at the time. But about 15 minutes later, it popped in there.
But, at the moment, I can’t remember or recall what it is.
Shit.
See? Forgot it twice.
But it’s okay.
Because we have show nuts.
Not Notes; nuts; Captain Blank’s all-new Show Nuts. They’re super delectable and totally tasty. They’re available now on the table or bar right in front of you. Or wherever nuts are sold. And if you have a nut allergy that could kill you if you smell peanut butter from five miles away the same way a shark can smell blood in the water, don’t worry, we’ve got you covered. Because Captain Blank’s Show Nuts are bioengineered to be totally allergen free. So you can eat as many as you want! Captain Blank’s Show Nuts; pick up a bag today.
I may bring a dry erase pen into the shower, by the way. I almost did it today. But when I was in there, the glass was very steamy and dewey with condensation and I really didn’t see anyplace that I would be able to write on. All the glass was wet. So I was like, Well, that takes care of that. It won’t work!
Wait! I just remembered the nugget from today.
The one I forgot. The one I was talking about. The one I tried to retrace my steps in order to remember. It’s motherfucker.
Motherfucker. Pardon my French.
Just the one word. By itself. You guys want to hear what it means? Now? Or should we save it for later, after we finish the work at home on your computer thing? The one where you’re sitting there, laptop literally in your lap. And you are opening the lid. So…the hour is nigh: your ass has to work. Passion project or no, you still need reliable income.
So by all means, chase your dreams. Spend time every day or pretty much every day working on your passion project and seeing that dream come true.
And someday it very probably will, depending on how hard you go after it. If you spend more time on the process and just love doing it, like painting or playing an instrument or writing or doing something physical like biking or running or whatever, then it’s going to take longer as well as be less likely that you’ll realize commercial success out of that.
If, however, you go after that end result HARD, you make THAT your focus, and everyone who knows you knows that’s what you’re going after, because it’s THAT prominent in your life, because it is very much your identity, commercial success is more likely to come and to come sooner. Because if you want people to buy your stuff, you have to go out and sell your stuff. The greatest treasure in the world is worthless if no one knows about it.
Cue Sexy Black Voice!
SBV: And now, my friends, and friends of my friends, and perhaps a few acquaintances, perhaps a select few family members, I am almost ready to weep for this one. Because I know the title, y’all. I am just about to say it. I am going to say it when I tell you what it is. I haven’t even heard the song yet. Not an opening beat or riff or chord or anything. Nothing. I have zero idea what it’s going to sound like. But I already know I’m going to love it. Because as soon as I read the title, I knew what the song is about. And it just about dropped me, y’all. Like, I’m here taking a moment. I got one arm on my table and I’m standing up…but bent over a little. In the classic position of a person trying to catch their breath or take a moment. For whatever reason. Well, I have a good reason why this one is hitting so close to home. So I’m not going to go on and on about earholes on this one. We need to just get right to it, so our earholes can bring it all inside, where we can process it. And it’s going to be different for each of us. And that’s okay. It’s not only okay, it’s the premise for existence. It’s the reason. For existence. It’s THAT consequential. It’s THAT huge. So here it is, no more bullshit and no more dickin or screwin or messin around. With their brand new song… — Sweet Lord Baby Jesus Barbecue Sauce, I am already about to cry — here again is The Hot Fudge Sundaes delivering unto us…The Greatest Treasure in the World.
{musical interlude}
Yes, yes. The Greatest Treasure in the World. What does that mean to you? Where does your mind go when you hear that phrase?
Does it seem like I’m shouting?
I feel like I’m shouting. I think it’s because I feel like no one can hear me. I always do my best to speak the truth in honesty and fairness to all involved.
And yet it seems like no one is listening. Because I keep finding myself saying the same shit over and over again.
Why is that?
Well, let’s have a closer look at it. Let’s pinch and zoom on that shit.
Don’t actually pinch and zoom on actual shit, by the way. That’s kinda oogie.
Unless that’s your job, like maybe if you work in a lab. You’re a kickass biologist and you’re ferkuckin proud of that shit. Because most people don’t have the balls or the guts to actually become a biologist. Even though it’s one of the most important jobs on Earth. But yeah, you’re a badass biologist – that’s a new tee shirt: badass biologist! 3%, please. You’re welcome! – you’re a badass biologist and you have the shirt and everything and you wear it everywhere you go. Pretty much every day. It’s just a black shirt, a tee shirt or a polo, or a tank, or a whole line of clothes you need to have and wear when you’re in a jungle. And by the way, I’m not sure what ferkucken means. It just slipped out.
Point being that you’re a badass biologist and you wear the black shirt with the bright pink fuckin – ferkucken? – fuschia crazy neon pink letters on it that say, largely, and thus proudly: badass biologist.
And it lets everyone know what you do. It’s like a judge wearing a black robe. We all respect the fuck out of that robe.
Don’t we?
Because that robe has POWER.
Right or wrong, that robe has POWER.
It imbues its wearer with an almost-crazy amount of power. They can do almost anything they want. Another judge might overturn it later. But in the moment, they can do almost anything. They can send a person to prison for every waking moment of the rest of their life, they can sentence them to be killed, to die, and they can also let a person who deserves that go.
They can let em go.
I’m dropping the single parentheses – parenthesis? – no, wait: apostrophe — from em, by the way. It takes too long.
Anyway, a judge can have a person in their courtroom who is an evil, like bona fide evil murderer, a person who legit should go to prison for the rest of their life because their ability to play well with others is THAT bad.
Anyway, the point is that the judge’s robe gives them power and a biologist’s badass biologist tee shirt gives them power.
Because everyone secretly respects a biologist.
A biologist is a person who actually UNDERSTANDS photosynthesis. It’s not a minor chemical process. It’s the basis for life on Earth. And elsewhere.
I’m sure that, like me, you took Biology several times throughout your schooling. And there was probably a time when you had a pretty good handle on photosynthesis. But not anymore. You really haven’t thought about it for many years and if you had to sketch it on the back of a napkin at a bar, or at the Alien Night Club, while enjoying Show Nuts, you know you would leave some stuff out and would cover your ass by saying, There’s more but it’s a bunch of smaller stuff that happens between the basic steps in the process and it’s really tedious and I don’t feel like getting that granular right now. It’s water and sunlight are both taken in by the plant and the plant grows. That’s basically it.
And we’ll be all like, Yeah, yeah, totally. That’s awesome. Thanks.
And every time people see you in THAT tee shirt, people act with deference toward you. They’re more polite and curt and less blabbermouthy. Because they know that you are a scientist and are an important person. So they are going to stop doing what they were doing and devote their attention to you. The biologist.
Why did we start talking about biologists?
Oh, yeah, it was the pinching and zooming on poop.
So…my friends… – does this seem sinister yet? – let’s pinch and zoom…
Pinch and zoom on WHAT?
Pinch and zoom on the fact that I’m finding myself repeating myself. I find myself having pretty much the same conversations with many people. All independently, by the way. It’s talking with people and listening to them speak and hearing them tell me that they have a problem. I then tell them the solution. And I explain why that solution is the solution. And I do a deep dive. Because I care. I actually care. So I give them everything I’ve got on it and provide a solution I am pretty sure will work.
And some implement it.
Most don’t.
Whatever.
But the fact that the same problems are coming at me across many years and a large geographical swath suggests, to me, that these are things which aren’t being taught in schools.
Anywhere.
Granted, I haven’t been EVERYWHERE so there could be places where it IS being taught and I simply have not conversed with people from those areas.
But let’s get back to The Greatest Treasure in the World.
Because I think it has merit. And it therefore deserves more of our attention.
Sam, what is your greatest treasure in the world?
SV: My family. But it’s a toss-up between them and finally achieving the actual eternal freedom we were promised over a hundred years ago, of finally getting to the promised land. Because things are better, we’re not in chains anymore, but we’re still not there. Believe me, I’ve got a pretty high vantage point and even I still cannot see it. And we shoulda fuckin been there a long time ago.
SB, how about you?
SB: That. Everything he just said. I want us all to see it, too. But it seems like we’re never going to get there. It seems like we’re all just standing around at the train station, waiting for the train that’s never gonna come. It is literally NEVER going to come. Because it doesn’t exist. But we’re all standing here in the afternoon sun, hot and sweaty as fuck, dressed in our best clothes because we want to be respectful, and we’ve been standing here a really long time. And that motherfuckin train still has not come. And we’re all STILL…STANDING HERE. How stupid are we? We have two options. One, we build that train ourselves, and that is the best way but it’s gonna take fuckin decades.
SV: Decades.
SB: But it’ll be worth it once we have it. The other option is to hop down off the platform and onto the tracks and let’s just all start walking. And if enough of us walk long enough, we WILL get there. Eventually. They might finish the train and have it up and running before we get there, but at least we will clear one hell of a path for that train. And we’re proud to do it. Even if it means dyin on those tracks. Because our death will not have been in vain. It will have been to clear the way for the folks behind us so that THEY can get to the promised land. Free. At. Last.
SV: At last.
Wow.
Wow.
I’m not even sure what to say, fellas.
SV: Don’t worry about it. You don’t have to say nothin.
Okay. I hope a little awkward laughter is okay. I’m laughing at myself, by the way. For how sheltered I am and how shitty it is that that exists – everything you guys just said – and it’s something I’ll never be forced to endure.
SV: I would never wish it upon you but you are more than welcome to come and walk with us.
I would love to and I will absolutely walk with you. Anywhere you guys wanna go.
Deep breath, everyone.
Not sure where to go from here.
SV: Show notes.
Show notes? Sammy says show notes. Okay.
Show notes!
Had 3 or 4 good ones today. Including the one I forgot and re-remembered 3 times now.
The first one is about social media. Specifically tik tok.
I had a thought about tik tok.
Sammy?
SV: Motherfuckin tik tok.
And then the whiny voice goes, Oh my gah! You just made him your puppy!
I’m sorry, my what?
Your puppy!
My puppy?
No! Your PUPPET! With a T!
Oh. It sounded like you were saying puppy. Sammy, are you my puppy? Would you like to BE my puppy?
Sure, Cap, I’ll be your puppy.
Awe, that’s so sweet. Can I be your puppy, too? And SB’s, too of course?
Sure.
SB?
Of course.
Awesome. Great. I’m glad we got that settled. Not settled, necessarily, but agreed upon.
But no, he’s not my puppet. He’s my–
What are you, Sammy?
I’m your partner?
Partner? Really? You’re not my sidekick?
No, man. You’re MY sidekick.
I am?
Of course. Why do you think I’m over here sitting down while you’re standing up? Because for centuries, it’s been the other way around. So it’s nice to be the one sitting down for once.
Got it. Okay. Well, please do be comfortable. You, too, SB. And I’ll do my best out here.
So.
Show notes. Tik tok. I had a thought.
And the thought is this: tick tock, motherfuckers.
That’s what they’re saying to us. You think that name was some random thing? Fuck no. That is state-sponsored tech. The smartest people they have came up with it. And it’s brilliant. Western tik tok is shit. Their tik tok is geniuses teaching STEM.
And they are absolutely 100% laughing their asses off at us. It’s information warfare, you guys. It’s countermeasures, really. If you think about it. It’s like a fighter pilot flying in a combat zone and someone shoots a missile at them so they launch burning flares out of the bottom of the airplane, hoping this new heat source will attract the missile and it will hit the flares instead of the airplane.
America has been shipping out content for so long, since the 30s and 40s, since the advent of radio by Marconi, and then the gradual evolution into television. And then the internet. And here we are. And they’re having the same problem we’re having: their culture is being taken over by weird shit that is not shit because it’s weird and different and new. It’s shit because it seems to be killing industriousness and we’re seeing more and more people overweight or obese, leading sedentary lifestyles, and spending too much time masturbating. And this is slowly becoming a global problem. Wall-E was spot-on. Everyone is going to be floating around in a really comfortable hover chair. And that’s where we’ll eat and sleep and work and consume content and we’ll never get out of it.
Did any of those people ever get out of their chair? I don’t recall that they did. But maybe they did. Doesn’t matter.
The point is tik tok and the country and culture that created it is on the rise. Big time.
Nugget number 2 – and this one I remember without having to consult show notes – : balance your openmindedness with a well-developed bullshit detector.
Balance your openmindedness with a well-developed bullshit detector.
I think that one’s pretty self-explanatory.
On to nugget 3.
And this is a big one. The one I forgot and then remembered and then forgot again.
But I remember it now:
Motherfucker.
I think I’m having a déjà vu. Are you having one?
Anyway, I figured it out: It’s not what you think it is; it’s not fucker of mothers. It’s the queen mother of fuckers.
In other words, something is happening to you and you say Fuck.
Because you just got fucked. And you just realized you got fucked.
Big or small, it doesn’t really matter. Maybe you dropped the corner of the sweetener packet in your coffee and it sank. Now what?
Or maybe you paid a boxer a FUCKLOAD of money to take a dive in a big fight Friday night because you’re betting against him even though he’s the favorite. But he welched and actually WON the fight. Because he knew you were betting against him. And that everybody else would be, too.
So, rather than do the smart thing and SIMPLY BET AGAINST HIMSELF too, he doesn’t go down. His ass doesn’t go down. As agreed upon. He bets ON himself, beats the holy shit out of the other guy, escapes, goes on the run, and collects his money from all the bookies in town, thereby making an enemy out of YOU.
And one morning you stop and buy a nice box of donuts because you love donuts. And you have the pink box in your hand and you’re crossing the street when, out of the corner of your eye, you see a car stopped at the light. So you look at it, to make sure it’s not moving and isn’t going to run you over with a box of donuts in your hand.
And behind the wheel sits that very same boxer who stole all your money by betting on himself and winning.
And you stop.
You stop.
In the middle of the crosswalk.
And you stare at him.
You recognize him. It’s clearly, definitely, one hundred percent him. The guy that double-crossed you.
And Sammy, what do you say?
SV: Motherfucker.
That’s right.
Mother.
Fucker.
But it’s not someone who, forgive me, fucks mothers.
It’s actually a fucker fucking you so hard that it’s a queen mother.
It’s a BIG one. The MOTHER of all FUCKERS.
So it has nothing to do with the verb. It is a noun. The mother of all effers. The biggest, baddest, scariest, most impressive one.
And as you’re standing there, in the crosswalk, donuts in hand, staring at the boxer sitting behind the wheel of the little Honda, the boxer floors it.
And tries to run you over.
With an actual car.
And he hits you with it.
And you go up the hood and over the roof, flying in the air. And you come down on the asphalt HARD. And you hurt all over.
But you see that dipshit boxer crash the car across the street. Like a fucking idiot. He probably would’ve gotten away. But he crashed the car. And he’s just sitting in it, with the front all smashed in.
So you get up, draw your weapon, and try to shoot him.
And then the chase is on.
And why is the chase on, Sammy?
SV: The motherfuckin chase is on because a motherfuckin White man done stole from a Negro…AGAIN.
Yup. Imagine you got fucked over, hard, by a White man, Sammy, and you bumped into him somewhere down the line, like maybe the next day, and you saw him while you were walking across the street thinking about how you were going to eat the glazed donut first, then the chocolate one, then the maple one, and then the bear claw, which would be last because it’s not as sweet and you want to really enjoy it with a fresh cup of coffee, because bear claws are huge and they need their own cup of coffee.
Tonight’s show is sponsored by Bear Claw Coffee. Really good coffee served in extra-large mugs for people with big hands who hate feeling like they’re drinking out of a tiny little teacup, all dainty and whatnot.
And, now, back to our regularly-scheduled programming.
Sammy, if you saw that motherfucker who robbed you the day after he robbed you, what would you do?
SV: Depends. I should kill his ass. Maybe even slowly. But the actual answer depends on the ramifications of my actions. See, I have to be smart about killing a White man. Otherwise, I WILL have that rope put around my neck, knot or no knot. And if it’s a woman, it’s even worse. They’ll probably put the noose around my neck, tie the other end to their motherfuckin trailer hitch on their motherfuckin truck, and drag my ass miles and miles on hot asphalt until I am dead. Which would take a really long time because you’ll probably bleed to death as your skin and flesh are shaved off by the pavement. Especially if they start slow so the rope doesn’t get too tight around your neck and cause you to pass out, thereby not getting to experience the gruesomeness of what that racist white fuck behind the wheel had in mind. Or, if he’s really fucked in the head, he won’t put the rope around my neck. He’ll tie it around my wrists or my chest, underneath my arms. So when he drags me, I have no choice but to stay conscious until I go into shock and hopefully die or bleed to death and hopefully die. When that motherfucker pulls over a few miles down the road, you don’t want to be lying there, with bloody stumps for legs, looking up at him and listening as he laughs, spits on you, gets back in the truck, shifts into gear, and sets out again. Slower this time. Because he wants to see how long you’ll last. If it’s THAT motherfucker, I’ll kill his ass. I will gladly sacrifice my box of donuts in order to kill his ass. And then I will go and purchase additional donuts. And on my way back across the street, I will stop and piss on his head.
And to raucous applause, I’m sure. Thank you, Sammy.
Sam, you should do a movie where you play Uncle Sam. Maybe it’s an alternate reality story like White Man’s Burden. And all the young White men are marching in their uniforms in a parade before they are sent to the front. And everywhere they look, they see you, Uncle Sam, pointing at them and saying I Want You! Dot dot dot to go over there, where you will try to kill as many of a certain type of people as you can, and then come home. But be super careful because they are going to try to kill you, too. And they will have some success. Just so you know. They’re good at what they do. Not as good as us, nor do they have as many numbers as we do. And our technology is better. So it will be a slaughter.
Sammy, what would you be thinking as you watch those young men marching, trying to act brave, knowing that many if not most of them aren’t coming back?
SV: I’d think, Better you than me. But allow me to qualify that. Better you than me, to me, means you are more capable and better prepared to succeed than I am. And we really cannot afford to get this one wrong. It has to go right. So, yeah, better you than me. You’re a better man than I am. So of course you should go. You actually have a chance of making a difference. I would be little more than cannon fodder. Or the cause of a friendly-fire accident. Totally on accident, of course. I just think that in the terrors of combat, when I’m lost in the fog of war, and all I hear is the sound of automatic gunfire and I can smell it, sort of like fireworks, and the air is filled with shouting, gunshots echoing, and fighter jets roaring overhead so loud their engines hurt my ears, even above all the gunshots and shouting. And I can’t see shit because there’s dust and smoke everywhere. And I’m on the ground, lying up against a very small berm or pile of dirt and I am exposed. But I dare not get up and run for fear of making myself an even bigger target. And even if I did, I have no idea where I am, where my squad is, or if anyone else is even still alive, so I wouldn’t have the first idea where I should run to.
Wow.
SV: Indeed.
So…maybe it’s like Starship Troopers and they get you to play yourself in a very meta, John Malkovich thing that is not at all derivative. Even though almost everything is. Because life begets life.
And the movie can be called Uncle Sam.
And it can be about your guilt over sending White folks to die in battle in order to assuage their guilt over having sent Black men to die in battle.
SV: Cap, that does not sound like a very happy movie.
No, it doesn’t, does it?
Let’s get back to the billable hours, shall we?
For those who work at home, when you’re sitting there at the computer, and you’re off somewhere watching some friggin cat video, since we know cats run the internet – cool cats! – and you’re SUPPOSED to be working, you KNOW you are billing them for this, but right now there’s nothing to do or, even worse, there’s tons of shit to do but you’re not doing it. Even though you are billing for them for the time.
What goes through your mind? How do you justify it?
Furthermore, as we began earlier, if you’re sitting there ready to work, hands pretty much on the keyboard and mouse, and your lover approaches you, half naked or maybe even all the way naked, or one hand in their pants, and they look at you and say, Baby, let’s go to the bedroom.
What do you do?
Sammy, SB, what do you do?
SV: I hit it!
SBV: Me, too.
I like to think I’d do it, too. Close the laptop. Or just set it on the coffee table and go to the bedroom.
Point being, when is the last time your significant other did that to you?
And, more importantly, when is the last time you did that to your lover? Your partner? Your spouse? Your significant other?
Because there’s no need to wait for them to do it. And then get all pissed off at them when they don’t. They’re just as busy and exhausted and crazy as you are. Waiting for them to tell you they want to have sex is like waiting for that train. Good luck.
It’s better to take action yourself, be the change yourself, and lead from behind.
And if that means going online or to a store and buying some lingerie and sex toys and whatever it is that you know turns your partner on, then you should do that.
And then follow through.
Find a day and time when it will work, when you two can be alone for a while.
And sex them up.
Be their fantasy.
Be the best piece of ass they’ve ever had.
Why is it that we forget the importance of this? We figure, Ah, we’re married; who cares? Let’s get fat and sloppy.
No.
Wrong.
In marriage, that’s the time to put your foot on the gas. Stay sexy. Stay fit. Stay healthy. Keep yourself in a state where with only a few minutes’ or hours’ notice, you’re ready to get it on.
And then get it on. Regularly. Schedule it if you have to. Like grocery shopping or tae kwon do or your mani pedi or the game Thursday night.
Because three hours of sex is better than three hours of football. Or any sport.
Three hours of sex is better than just about anything. Except maybe four hours of sex.
Which is better? Three hours of sex or four hours of sex?
And so the battle of the sex tapes ensues. With each desperate celebrity one bad release away from being a has-been forced to release a sex tape. Which sex tape will reign supreme? Will it be the 8-minute sex tape? The one-hour sex tape? The three-hour sex tape? Or the four-hour sex tape?
Or the five-hour sex tape?
When does it end?
THE 100-HOUR SEX TAPE. 4 days of frollicking and fucking. Try to stay awake.
Okay, enough about that.
You know how, in porn, certain videos have that guy wearing a black ski mask because he doesn’t want to be recognized? He’s willing to have sex on camera but only if no one knows it’s him. He doesn’t want his family or friends or coworkers or employees, or, imagine, citizens of his country, to know it’s him.
Imagine if that became a thing. His partners really liked him and recommended him and then other sex enthusiasts to quote Jeremy Clarkson began asking for him by name.
Imagine if that was the name of a category at the adult video awards.
Best Masked Performer.
That could be the name of the movie.
Maybe he comes to set wearing the mask and never takes it off. And he doesn’t say much because people will recognize him by his voice. And then it turns out the meat of the sandwich in Tranny Orgy Gangbang 7 is….
We’ll never know.
Because he didn’t want to be famous.
Some people do. Some people chase it harder than anything.
That one single thing.
Fame.
Perhaps the most fleeting of attributes. More fleeting than looks.
That’s our show everybody! Thanks for coming! See you tomorrow night! Remember to tip your waitress!
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