baggit, taggit, sell it to the butcher in the stooooore, baggit, taggit, sell it to the butcher in the stooooore!!!

John Wayne Bobbitt. god damn. 1993? fuck no. really?

seems like an eternity ago that my parents and teachers were trying to keep the gruesome facts of this case from the grasp of my young, unspoiled awareness.

their efforts were in vain.

in homeroom, we were already on the up and up, constantly speculating, giggling like idiots at this man's agony. Bobbitt was our favorite fucking word back in the those carefree elementree school days. rumors ran amok in our tiny little heads. did the dog eat it? did she eat it? did she really put his joint in a FedEx envelope and mail it? will they ever find the fucking thing?

back then, our young minds were under the impression that severing a penis would go down rather like slicing a raw hotdog. quick and painless. but to be certain, the corpus callosum's not goin' without a fight. i'm no fucking doctor, but i'm thinking that some sort of vigorous sawing motion would have to be employed. grisly stuff.

so imagine my recent shock (and elation) upon finding out that not only was Bobbitt's penis re-attached (respeck to Dr. David E. Berman), but that it was enlarged and that he's starring in porn flicks.

"In 'Frankenpenis,' Bobbitt played a character who was made with spare parts (like the monster in Mary Wollstonecraft Shelley's 'Frankenstein') and whose penis inexplicably comes off during a rousing session of intercourse. Bobbitt then moans, 'Oh no, not again.'"

FUCKING PERFECT! is this a great country or what?!?! crazy Ecuadorian wife chops off your dick, lies on your ass on that domestic abuse tip, and gets acquitted. but you end up getting your dick back and fucking pornstars (i.e. Vivid Girl Taylor Haze). fuck yeah.

so for all the kids out there feeling down on life, the lesson would be this:
if a dude who got his cock sawed off by his sketchball immigrant wife can manage a comeback, then there's hope for you yet. there's a little Cardiac Kid in all of us.

and as for Lorena, apparently she picked up an assault charge in '97 for punching her mother. came away with another not guilty on that one. now she's a hair stylist in VA.

another message.

ladies, battered or not: if you think you can chop off your man's dick without some sort of long-term cosmic punishment, you've got another thing fucking coming. the universe is watching you Lorena. stay sharp.

try getting an erection if you've been decapitated. just try.

having rejected aspirations for a humdrum suit-and-tie future some time ago, the wackiest possible career paths cross my mind as i ponder the trail ahead of me. after a conversation with dylan recently, it's become rather clear what my calling will be, my legacy to planet earth for centuries to come. horror porn.

makes sense really. i was raised on horror movies that scared me shitless and probably scarred my psyche significuntly. freddie krueger, jason, critters, leprechauns, candyman, aliens; these were my ernie and bert. lots of horrific, vivid nightmares (in technicolor) involving clowns and tarantulas and faulty carnival rides, among other things.

and besides, producing/shooting porn is definitely on my things to do before i go list. has been for years now. right up there with starting a police chase in la.

and it's not like there's not an audience for this niche. all these precious kids who think they're vampires or the devil or fucking charles manson, with the make up and the platform boots with lots of straps and buckles? they gotta beat off too ya know. and a flick with some hairless juicer jock and his bottle blonde, silicon infused, cokehead fucktoy doesn't really get them going i'm sure.

now while, like frank zappa, i can admit that i'm pursuing this alternative art form (yes, art form!) solely for money, i might concede that there's some personal fulfillment in this as well.

this genre is super visceral my friends. the guttural feeling you get while watching one of these is unforgettable. the one tape i've happened upon i don't recall the name of, but the center of the action was a decapitated body getting head from this gorgeous vampire in a barn (presumably a barn in transylvania), with blood squirting out of a sole artery like a water fountain with a faulty valve. in sync with his undying heart.

nevermind that an erection would be impossible with such profuse bleeding. but if you're thinking about that at all, you're not a customer.

so if you're out there looking for a start in the biz, but the san fernando valley makes your skin crawl, touch base with the anthropophagous beast. let's start an empire. maybe have you blow a zombie while he puts cigarettes out on your face or eats your brain or something. maybe play some industrial music in the background, dim the lights, spark some candles, throw down a pentagram or two. maybe shoot with a super 8 for that snuff film feel? let's do it. i'll make you a star.