Section: Lip SerVICES

We can all get awfully busy between work, chores, having a life, and the mountain of entertainment and social media to pore through every day. Like many things that are good for us, keeping up with what’s going in the news (the real news, not the latest hijinks of whichever celebutante is the hot mess of the moment) is often the first to-do to get put on the back-burner. Consequently, we can miss a lot of important clues about what the future may hold in things that matter, namely, Sex and Drugs and Rock n Roll.

Now that we’re in an election year, the stakes are higher and decisions more critical than ever. You wouldn’t think so in this modern age, but there are looming threats to all three of our favorite sinful pleasures. As the pendulum of debauchery swings decidedly to the conservative right, pick your political poison well but, bear in mind, virtually all of the choices can do the very same thing …

KILL YOUR BUZZ DEAD.

Looking forward, there is hope, but be careful out there, because the land mines are getting harder and harder to spot until they blow up in your face. What are the setbacks we’ve hit and challenges we face for the year ahead? There are a number of probable battlefields in the world of vices; here are but a few.

Rock N Roll

The world of your music probably has the lowest probability of policy shenanigans. But, if you’re one of the “lucky few” to attract the Eye of Sauron RIAA, you should probably just go ahead and consider yourself screwed.

Some of you reading this article grew up in a different time, back in the Vinyl Age, when file sharing amounted to recording from albums or making mix-tapes. Sure, taping music to give to friends was, by letter of the law, still considered the much-dreaded piracy (*arrrr*), but the physical realities (not to mention taping being a time-consuming pain in the ass) limited the reach of illicit copies. Thus, the scope of so-called “damages” was too small for anyone to give a damn about; record companies were too busy screwing their artists to mess with your penny-ante ass.

Not so much anymore, eh?

Digital formats and internet communication have revolutionized music in virtually every way, particularly format. Music, like most media, is no longer limited to an actual physical form, so also unlimited in how and how much it may be shared. Unlike our more *ahem* sage readers, some of you have grown up with a dizzying variety of options to rip and share music. Some have been even more generous with their sharing-is-caring philosophy, going well beyond just sending a few ripped files to friends. Instead, they post music and other media on huge file-sharing sites where anyone and everyone can download and enjoy them.

While this may be groovy as hell for you and the folks getting free tunes, the RIAA is not in the least amused. Looking at it from their perspective, the glut of file-sharing has made it so that most people never need to pay for music (as well as movies, books, etc), if they don’t feel like it. This is, of course, a bad thing for them and anyone else who makes their money from sales of recorded music.

Cue the creative accounting.

To make up for crappy profits, most of which likely stem from media over-saturation and a shitty economy, the folks at the RIAA would rather blame you and your (*arrrr*) piracy and take their pound of flesh from your hide. Here’s where it gets good (for RIAA). Because there’s no concrete means of counting what might have been lost, no determining the damage done to profits (if any) by personal file sharing, they’ll just pull a number out of their ass. It’ll be a really big number, too. And, guess what? They’ll have a cadre of accountants and other random flacks come up with all manner of snazzy, convoluted algorithms to back it up. They’ll also have a seemingly endless supply of lawyers and researchers, who’re going to keep digging and bury you deep enough in lawsuit hell you can never get out.

You, on the other hand, have an excuse that didn’t even work with your mom when you were three. “But, everybody’s doing it!” you exclaim. Meanwhile, back in reality, you lose.

The important thing to keep in mind is, it doesn’t matter whether the RIAA is right or wrong. What matters is how much the people who make laws and enforce them want to kiss RIAA’s ass and, as a result, screw anyone in the recording industry enforcer’s crosshairs. Just ask PhD student Joel Tenenbaum, who was ordered to pay $675,000. (that’s $22,500. per song) to the RIAA or Jammie Thomas-Rasset, who’s been mired in a legal mess since 2007 while various judges decide whether he owes a shitload or fuckton of money to RIAA for sharing 24 songs.

The inconvenient truth is, if you think the internet is a free and open place to share all the stuff you like with friends all over the world, and because downloading and file-sharing sites exist, you have free rein to send, receive, listen, and watch as you see fit, think again. Your favorite hobby (along with many avid music fans on the web) is an invitation to trouble, the big, expensive kind.

What’s the prognosis? It’s not good. Both sides of the political spectrum have proven themselves willing to cowtow to corporate demands time and time again. During an election year, when those big rich-guys-in-suits checks are at their most important to corporate lackeys candidates, you can expect no lobbying group (particularly rich ones like RIAA) to be left behind.

Want to stay under the radar? Don’t get caught with your hand in the online piracy cookie jars. Share the old-timey way, with people you actually know, and avoid the mass-user sites (where the next crop of suckers to get the RIAA bitch slap will surely be found). The shutdowns of some of the biggest file-sharing sites were just the first shots over the bow and there’s a long war ahead. The only way to avoid being a casualty is to avoid the battleground altogether.

Protecting yourself boils down to one simple thing: Don’t steal copyrighted work.

Drugs

Unless you live a straight-edge lifestyle, drug policy is one of the areas of law more likely to bite you in the ass. If, when you pick your poison, the answer is booze and smokes, you’re not likely to come against much trouble* (unless you want to get your party on in any one of the many US “dry” areas where the sale of alcohol is banned or, heaven forbid, buy a bottle between the proscribed “drinking hours” in most others). Of course, now you can get a nasty slap to the wrist for daring to *gasp* light up in verbotten places, but that’s about all.

*Obviously, we’re not talking about dangerous and idiotic behavior like drinking and driving, just the drinking part.

If your mood-enhancement tastes run a bit more eclectic (and not from Big Pharma), you’re mostly out of luck. Drug policy is one of the places politicians and policy-makers across the board like to show their strict, authoritarian sides. For the most part, drug policy amounts to our government telling us we can’t be trusted with what they see as “the strong stuff” (meaning everything but the very, very wealthy and thus influential alcohol, tobacco, and pharmaceutical industries). Big Mommy and Daddy government are pretty sure they know what’s best for you, as well as the very lucrative business interests raking in profits via the farce called The War on Drugs™. Lots and lots of people (and by “people”, I mean wealthy corporations in the policing, drug testing, prisons, and pharmaceutical industries, among others) need drug policy to remain a useless and never-ending battle (since Prohibition) to keep the staggering profits coming in year after year.

The guys who make lots of legal money from drugs being illegal tend to give lots of money in political contributions to keep it that way. That money fuels campaigns. Do the math.

Granted, some of you might live in one of the states which have legalized medical marijuana. Think your 420 is safe? Don’t count on it.

Though 16 states have voted for and approved legal medical marijuana, the Fed (like the honey badger) doesn’t give a shit. The Man™ has kept busy pulling rank, using your tax dollars, law enforcement, and the courts to persecute intimidate prosecute medical marijuana growers and dispensaries, despite the will of the people and state law. So, yes, you can get your green on … for now … if you happen to live in 16 of 50 states and have a doctor’s prescription/recommendation and the dispensaries haven’t been shuttered. The Fed doesn’t seem to be interested in pursuing individual cases, at least not yet. The year’s still young, though, so it’s probably best not to get too cozy with easy MJ, because she could change her tune at any time.

Here are a couple of examples of the Trials of Mary Jane:

Since it’s an election year, we’re being treated to lots of pandering about “getting tough on crime” (which, of course, means going after the low-hanging fruit of easy-to-nab penny-ante drug users). Anything is possible, even from our supposedly “liberal” Obama administration, which has made lots of political hay out of making pot a federal case, literally, by targeting California dispensaries for harassment and closure and raiding and prosecuting Montana growers, distributors, and care-givers.

The only thing you can count on for 2012 is more bullshit and no end to the thriving black market drug trade.

Sex

Last month, we talked a bit about sex and online commerce, the raging campaigns by credit card companies and payment processors (like Paypal) to starve out edgy erotica by refusing to handle the cash trasactions. This is a drop in the bucket compared to what lies ahead for our lust lives, should we choose poorly this year. Think we’re in the modern age with no threat to your sexy fun?

HAHAHAHAAHAHA! Tell that to the major contenders for the GOP ticket and their cohorts, who would have us party like it’s 1859.

We are, most of us, born in the post-feminist era. This means most of the important battles for women’s rights were fought and won long before we were born. We thought the victories would stand forever.

We were dead wrong.

Our freedoms of sexuality and even self-determination are being challenged in ways we never considered possible, at least in an advanced society. But how advanced are we in our thinking, if you include all of us, really? Here’s a clue: We’re so “free” of old-time superstition, the papal encyclical “Humanae Vitae” was read into the official Congressional Record. For those not raised with a whole mess o’ Catholic dogma, this is official church directive on matters of human life, particularly the eggs in your reproductive basket kind. It’s all about relying on The Man (Upstairs)™ for your birth control, timing your (only within a church-sanctioned marriage with the lights out in missionary position) sex around those pesky stretches of fertility. Though the Big Guy is notoriously unreliable with the whole not making you preggers when you don’t want to be thing, Humanae Vitae also reinforces the absolute ban on birth control of any and all kind. It’s puckishly contrary like that.

Listen closely to many of the shining lights of the New Right and you’ll hear the strains of Humanae Vitae, just in the folksy aw-shucks-speak conservatives use with the rubes. If they could make birth control virtually impossible to get, they would. Tres modern, eh?

And that’s not all! Not only will they try to limit your options for birth control, they’ll also make it harder to make your own decision, should you find yourself “in trouble” (which, of course, is far more probable when they take away the fucking birth control). For decades, the joy-killers of the Bible-buffing right have been slowly chipping away at your reproductive rights, state by state. Read it and weep, check out all the ground we’ve lost, in a list of the chips taken out of your reproductive rights and freedoms by state, as compiled by the National Women’s Health Network.

The retrograde right is getting closer to its goal of, once again, forcing women to carry to term as a “consequence”. “Consequence of what?” you might ask. Why, of acknowledging and exercising their sexuality, of course. We can’t have ladies being so damned uppity, don’cha know. Where would it lead? Equality! *pfft*

We may have a wry chuckle at the right’s expense, but it’s gotten bad out there, especially in what we urban dwellers often refer to as “flyover country”, which could also easily be called the front lines in the War on Sex. Particularly troubling are the “personhood” laws which, if you’ve not heard of them, imbue legal personhood upon a fetus at any stage of gestation for a litany of overreaching decisions. These can include charging a woman for not having a life-threatening caesarean section, forcing victims of rape and incest to carry pregnancies to term, and empower both government and medical professionals to seize a woman’s body in various ways as protection for the fetus. (By the way, if you live in AZ, you might be interested to know that your legislature just established that “life” begins TWO WEEKS BEFORE CONCEPTION.) It’s so bad, women have started campaigns to initiate new legislation to reinforce Personhood for women, since it seems a lot of folks need reminding that we are, indeed, people after all (not brood mares).

Think you’re free and clear on this guys? Not so much. Guess who’s likely to wind up next to us when we’re on the hook paying the “consequences” for sex? That’s right, Mister, if you guys think of this shit as “women’s issues” and let we womenfolk stand alone, you and your prolific penises are in for a rather unpleasant surprise.

Oh, here’s what might get you guys’ attention … THEY ALSO WANT TO TAKE AWAY YOUR PORN.

Will the right ever succeed in stamping out porn? *snort* Of course not. But, they can make it much more difficult to get and create all sorts of restrictions and limitations. They can block swaths of the web or revoke access to domains, they can even start arresting and harassing smut-peddlers in droves like the Good Old Days™. Even if the cases never actually go anywhere (which is virtually always the case), it scares others who have no taste for persecution and show trials. No pornographers equals no smut, so this shit should matter to you, whether you’re a professional pervert or not.

Before we wrap it up (in an appropriately plain brown wrapper), let’s have a moment of respectful thanks for Larry Flynt, the patron saint of porn, who fought all the way to the Supreme Court to prove that smut deserves First Amendment rights, too. Let’s not allow his generous efforts on behalf of our libidos to have been in vain. Free expression is just that, free, and if we don’t pay attention to the one-handed writing on the wall, we’ll find out just how the loss of freedom can look from the business end of repressive policy.

There are unlimited warnings that could be given for the world of sex ahead in policy and governance. For all our preening airs of being so free-thinking and modern, we’re just as much a nation of self-hating perverted puritans as sexy degenerates. There’s been an ongoing battle over what’s proper and acceptable since the dawn of mankind and it’s not about to stop anytime soon.

The best we can do is keep on keeping on and don’t let the bastards get us down. And, of course, watch those fuckers like a hawk, because it’s a dangerous election year for sin of all kinds.

Fly low, avoid the radar, and keep your powder dry.

About Mich

Mich Masoch is a writer, photographer, professional pervert, and co-Ringleader of the Circus Hooker Smut Regime, an independent design, marketing, and content producton studio in Los Angeles, CA. Her photos can be found in the naughtier corners of the interwebs, as well as her erotic fiction stock photo store, EroticaStock.com. Now, you can also buy the first available work in her erotica short-story series through Amazon.com and Smashwords.

In recent months, the professional world of sin and debauchery has seen major challenges from its not-so-naughty counterparts in the mainstream. As our culture moves toward a more free-wheeling online Wild West of sex, the aspiring censors of all things fun have lined up to charge in with guns blazing in a misguided attempt to ‘clean up Dodge’ and make all we see ‘safe’ (or at least SFW). On several fronts, creators of erotic works now face the possibility of rather dire consequences in their legal, professional, and economic lives.

 

The situation which has gotten the most attention, at least here in L.A., is the new regulations for porn production jammed through by the City Council.  In sum, the law requires porn productions working under a shooting permit to use condoms during all sex scenes. Since Los Angeles is estimated to host about 90 percent of porn shot in the U.S., how this situation plays out is considered to have significant long-term ramifications for the future of adult entertainment.

 

No matter which side of the condom fence you’re on, the reality is the regulations, as written, are flawed law with even more flawed logic and execution. So, even if you’re all for required condoms on all porn sets, the new requirements do virtually nothing to make that happen. A huge logic gap looms which makes the law all but useless, as well as patently unfair, built into the mechanism that sets the wheels in motion. For the law to apply, a production would need to have filed for a shooting permit.

 

Here are some numbers to put perspective on how ineffectual the basis for the law is … though up to 50,000 dirty movies are made in L.A. and the San Fernando Valley each year, Los Angeles only issues about 200 permits for porn shoots per month, less than 5 percent of production. A lot of porn is shot either in studios, which don’t require permits for shooting, or, in the case of small/indie shoots, can often be done guerilla style. Let’s be realistic, most porn shoots are not major technical and logistical undertakings like a mainstream location set might be. One can generally shoot on the fly in any random house without ever alerting or disrupting the neighbors–and that’s precisely what the law is encouraging to happen even more than it presently does. Large to mid-sized productions can afford to rent studio space and even larger ones can have their own studios, so they skate on the law, too, albeit legally. The permit requirement to trigger the condom law amounts to quite a big loophole for porn to slip through, even under the best circumstances.

 

Ask yourself, if one can either afford a studio or get away with guerilla shooting, why in the name of all that’s dirty would porn producers want to hassle with permits, especially when doing it by-the-book paints a target on their back? The only logical answer is, they don’t and probably won’t.

 

In all honesty, at this point the law is sketchy at best, anyway. As it crawls into its first months of existence, no decisions have been announced regarding what exactly will be required or how it would be enforced. If condoms are required, will dental dams and other barriers be required, too? Will there be substance requirements for the condoms (as some options are not effective in preventing HIV transmission) and, if latex were to be required, wouldn’t that effectively ban all performers with allergies from practicing their profession? Once past these issues, there’s the not-so-small matter of precisely how the law will be enforced and who will pay for that enforcement?

 

Even if all these issues can be sorted, which is a bet with very slim odds, what’s the plan for bringing the rest of the adult industry of Los Angeles in line? Surely, there must be one, if all parties involved are acting in good faith and in line with their public positions. The matter has been presented as a “health and safety” issue, so how can it be perfectly fine for performers working in studios to keep riding bareback? At that stage, would it even matter, since expansion of such regulations would most likely instigate a mass exodus, making the whole thing a moot point? If push indeed comes to shove, why wouldn’t porn simply up and leave L.A., taking their substantial pile of money with them, to a location where it’s easier to do business without undue interference?

 

Reviewing the situation logically, the whole matter seems little more than a massive boondoggle.

 

Obviously, somebody (*cough* L.A. City Council *cough*) leaped before looking, didn’t they? All in all, the way the thing has been shaking out, the law has all the threat of a toothless lap dog yapping at you from behind a screen door. Though it’s one of the more publicized issues, it’s probably the least potentially damaging, regardless of how much porn complains. It’s a slap, to be sure, but a principally symbolic one. The story is worth following, to see how it all ends, but the world of smut doesn’t have too much to worry about for the time being.

 

On the other hand, those who’ve performed in or written adult entertainment have plenty to fear. Just ask former adult performers Tericka Dye (who was in some porn about 15–YES 15!–years ago), Kevin Hogan, Shawn Loftis (who has by time of publishing finally been reinstated–hooray Florida), and an as-yet-to-be-named teacher right here in Southern California. Even with a stage name, former performers have found themselves at the business end of witch hunts and public shaming, not to mention loss of their jobs, when they’ve had the temerity to move on with their lives and choose to give back to their communities through the often-thankless job of teaching. How dare they live and work, like normal people, parading around like they have a right to not face constant ridicule and shunning, right?

 

If you think producing smut with neither name nor face in the public eye is safe, ask erotic romance writer Judy Buranich. Buranich, a high school teacher of almost 25 years in Middleburg Pennsyvania, was threatened with the loss of her job if she continues to write smutty novels (under the pseudonym of Judy Mays). By all reports, Ms. Buranich is an excellent teacher and never let her saucy side-line intrude on her day job, but that’s apparently not enough for the meddling moms of Middleburg. They went on the warpath, even going so far as to allude to accusations of pedophilia … just because the nice middle-aged lady writes some sweat books. Fortunately, Ms. Buranich has a huge base of support, led by former students, so should come out of this ridiculous episode relatively unharmed (and perhaps with a nice mountain of dirty book sales, too). But, we should all be given pause by the implications of this sort of case. Now, even just imagining wild sex can get you fired … if you’re too good at it.

 

Speaking of erotic fiction, the erotica category at your book store has come under a bit of fire, as well. The trouble began with Bookstrand. The smallish independent/traditional publishing platform caught itself in the focus of the Eye of (Sauron? No, but equally vile and heartless.) Paypal. Those who live and work inside the wonderful world of smut are no strangers to the Paypal corporate censorship playbook and their most recent shenanigans follow the usual S.O.P. The payment processing giant swooped in, hurling all manner of threats–mainly that they’ll freeze Bookstrand’s accounts and take their money–if their demands–mainly to remove certain erotica niches from their content–weren’t met, immediately. Bookstrand, wanting to keep their own money, caved to every Paypal demand and, as a result, demanded that their independent authors remove any and all books in the erotica category with the now-taboo subjects.

 

What were they? Most of the no-nos will shock no one, as they’re the usual rogue’s gallery of illegal sex. Bestiality, pedophilia, incest, rape, non-consentual BDSM, blah, blah. The biggest and possibly only surprises were the inclusion of absolutely legal (or at least, in the one case, not actually possible in reality) fetishes: supernatural bestiality (my phrase to describe sex scenes where shape-shifters are getting it on, but not in human form) and pseudo-incest (think Greg and Marcia or, more to the point of the lion’s share of pseudo-incest titles, imagine an all-grown-up Marcia and not-quite-her-Daddy Mike Brady, family in some sense but not actually blood related).

 

Many authors tried to comply, while others let Bookstrand do the work of pulling their titles. Either way, it was a shock to the system and, when push came to shove, it wasn’t over with erotica. Shortly after Bookstrand announced they would be reopening after the purge, they completely eliminated the entire Independent section. Yes, you read that right. Bookstrand followed up the corporate censorship by Paypal by cutting off all indie authors, erotica and mainstream alike.

 

But Paypal wasn’t done yet, not by a long-shot. After their staggering victory against Bookstrand, the official killers of sexy buzz felt their oats and were ready to aim their next campaign at a larger, more visible target.

 

Gathering up all their (unofficial) monopoly juice, the merry band of censors turned toward Smashwords. As a publishing platform that doubles as an e-book distributor to other giants like Barnes & Noble, iBookstore, and Kobo, Mark Coker’s brainchild was a major “get”. Paypal pulled out their usual song and dance and, in the first flush, won as usual. But, there’s a little wrinkle, a fly in the smut purge ointment; Mark Coker, the man behind Smashwords, is an independent author himself and has enlisted a veritable Who’s-Who of free-speech heavy hitters to keep the fight against censorship alive and thriving. He may have had to keep his business fluid, so needed to capitulate in the short-term, but it’s obvious Coker is not taking Paypal’s karmic rape laying down.**
** See note below! **

 

Paypal may have finally pushed the wrong button. If you want smooth obeisance to censorship in any form, the last guys you want involved are writers. They take that sort of shit personally … and very vocally. They may have won the skimishes, but Paypal has inspired a continual stream of eloquent calls to arms … against them. All one needs do is search Paypal + Smashwords to find a virtually endless supply.

 

The war over free expression in commerce is far from over.

 

Bear in mind, the subjects being sliced and diced out of entire swaths of the online publishing universe might not be your cup of tea. In fact, these niches might squick the hell out of everyone reading this article, but that’s kind of the point. It shouldn’t matter. In a free society, it can’t matter. That’s what Smashwords and its founder believe, and rightly so.

 

We don’t need to agree with the material being censored but, if we do indeed put our ‘tolerance’ money where our ‘freedoms’ mouth is, we must agree to let it be published and distributed with the other erotica niches, all the same.

 

** GREAT NEWS! Just after this article was published, Smashwords’ Mark Coker sent an email to their authors to share the exceptional news that THE WRITERS WON! Paypal ceded entirely, prompted by an online media and social network shitstorm of protest against them, and Smashwords’ content guidelines will return to what they were before the whole Paypal debacle. Hence legal acts will no longer be banned from their published content. Congratulations to The Good Guys! **

What’s ahead for always-embattled sin and debauchery? Time can only tell. As we head into this contentious election year, there’s no telling what chicanery the enemies of sexy fun have up their sleeves. We can only man the barricades and prepare for the siege.

 

Keep your powder dry, friends, because it looks like we’re going to need it.

About Mich

Mich Masoch is a writer, photographer, professional pervert, and co-Ringleader of the Circus Hooker Smut Regime, an independent design, marketing, and content producton studio in Los Angeles, CA. Her photos can be found in the naughtier corners of the interwebs, as well as her erotic fiction stock photo store, EroticaStock.com. Now, you can also buy the first available work in her erotica short-story series through Amazon.com and Smashwords.

I could not muse on ideas of love this fine February day without interrupting the regular nonsense for a happy-dance or three. Ding, dong, Proposition 8 is DEAD! What better way to come into the silliness of Valentine’s Day than with something serious to celebrate? Huzzah and congratulations and mazel tovs all around for everyone! Love won.

* * *

Now, back to the regularly-scheduled feature!

* * *

Are you part of a loving, stable, romantic relationship? Good for you!  I mean that, no snark attached. It’s not easy to find a real partner in life and love. So, when should you celebrate said love? Whenever the hell you want.

You heard me … whenever. If a universal random day mid-way through February works for your romantic savoir faire, go with it. Any time is a good time for an excuse to show appreciation for the one you love. Why not February 14th? For that matter, why not February 13th, too, and February 15th and, color me crazy, but why not July 28th? You see where I’m going with this.

 

I’m not really writing this for you people, anyway. You’re, for the most part, covered. No matter which way you go, you’re still treated like a normal person regardless of how you spend your day.

 

Not so, our not-so-neatly-paired-off brethren.

 

Before we begin our wrap-up of our culture’s insulting treatment of un-coupled people, sometimes referred to as –I shit you not– “singletons” (Doesn’t that sound suspiciously like “simpleton”? Just sayin’.), I’d like to share a few fun facts I came across on the interwubs.

Fun Fact: According to the condom company Durex, condom sales are highest around Valentine’s Day which are 20 percent to 30 percent higher than usual.

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Other Fun Fact: More at-home pregnancy tests are sold in March than in any other month.

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What We Can Infer From This: Perhaps Durex might not be the best condom choice?

 

Let’s just come out and say it, shall we? If you are not part of a “loving” couple during this time of year, our media is apparently convinced you need help, lots and lots of help, dealing with this unbearable lack of pair bond. Mind you, if said media weren’t so busy stuffing VD down our necks, they’d perhaps realize the obvious.

 

But, when push comes to shove, the hype machine is going to churn out whatever gets the most money out the the most people. It exists to make you feel like the worst, most miserable person in the world because you don’t have a mate, so it can sell you on pampering yourself to feel better about being constantly told you’re the worst, most miserable person in the world because you don’t have a mate. It’s most convenient for the folks at the end of that money train, but awfully crazy-making for the rest of us.

 

 Are you (pity, pity, scorn) ALONE for Valentine’s Day (pity, pity, scorn)?

 

First off, the media would like you to know, you’re a SURVIVOR. Seriously, that’s the language they use when writing VD pieces for “singletons”, survival. You’re addressed as if it’s an unendurable trauma to not be paired up for this one day, versus all others.  Of course, we won’t go into WHO is shoving the idea that being on your own for VD is akin to the worst possible torture and shame again. Oh, the irony! (Hipsters, please make note.)

Here are a few snippets from some seemingly well-meaning guides to not appearing to be quite so pathetic, “singleton”:

From the school of waaaaahmbulance at  chiff.com “Valentine’s Survival Guide”:

“Think of all the money you’re saving.” + “Get together with people who do love you [read: if you can find one, you loser]” + “Find ways to work on becoming the person your dream partner would fall in love with. Start therapy.” Seriously, they include that in the VD list just like that. Start therapy. Nice. Feeling like a Survivor yet?

 

Or, you can go with an “I don’t want any of that stupid love stuff, anyway.” strategy, according to iVillage UK’s Reasons to Be Single this VD:

“…you don’t have to pretend to like the cheap chocolates, flowers or teddy bear that your other half coughs up.” + “It’s cool to be single.” [Yes, they really pulled out "cool". Sad, right?] + “You can get up when you want (having spent the whole night asleep because you weren’t lying next to a snorer)…” + “The love you give to and receive from friends will last longer than most romantic love or lust. Arrange a single’s Valentine’s party with a group of single friends, male and female. You can bet that there’ll be at least one new couple by the end of the evening. [because you desperately need that not-quite-so-good-as-friendship love anyway]“

 

And, just because you’re a supposedly-carefree teen, doesn’t mean you shouldn’t care about Surviving VD. Just ask GirlsLife:

“Be grateful that it falls on a weekday this year. Seriously, who wants to go out on a school night? Not me.” + [misery loves company] “Spending the day scoffing solo at cartoon cupids and mushy PDA in the hallways won’t make ya happier. Trust me. Find a buddy who feels that same way you do, and giggle together.” + “Instead of thinking of Feb. 14, 2012, as “Valentine’s Day,” think of it as … “the day I made Granny’s cheesecake all by myself” [I could make so many jokes here, the sheer volume of options exploded my brain.].

 

Don’t get too smug, guys, because according to AskMen, you are not immune:

“Blow off some steam and forget all about the love-and-hearts crap. You also don’t have to worry about any of the holiday talk creeping into the conversation unless it’s: “Man, am I glad I don’t have to waste time on that Valentine’s junk.” [Because, evidently, men magically become petulant 5 year-olds in the absence of VD plans]” + “You don’t even necessarily have to leave the country (though it wouldn’t be a bad idea considering most countries don’t celebrate such a dumb holiday)” + a little slice of quiet desperation “Big. Farking. Deal. …  Just pretend it’s a normal day … and do all the things you’d do on a normal, boring day. It only lasts 24 hours, and you spend the majority of that time in bed or at work. It will all be over soon.”

 

All in all, only you can decide how and in what state of mind you spend next Tuesday. Hopefully, whatever you choose, it bears no resemblance to what the media shame-and-guilt-and-consumption machine would have you do. Acknowledge or don’t, celebrate or don’t, just make the day a little less about society’s expectations and a LOT more about what makes you happy.

 

Speaking of which, no matter what your romantic situation, I think everyone can get behind 95-year-old Ernest Borgnine’s favorite way of wiling away the extra hours.  (Thanks to the lovely Aly Sinclair for the link.)

There are few holidays as fabulously drenched in sinfulness as Halloween. Most of the Seven Deadlies are out there to be enjoyed and taken to excess. What about when the Halloween goes too far? Here are a few H’ween maladies and mistakes to avoid this year.

 

How’s that working out for you?: Skirting the fine line between clever and stupid

 

We’ve all done it. Those of us with any passing familiarity of bongs of either sort have come up with what we think is The Best Fucking Costume, Ever!™. Sadly, it rarely is. Instead of being the toast of the party, fielding compliments on your clever, clever costume, you wind up parading around all night in the physical manifestation of a bad pun (the lowest form of comedy – considering ventriloquism, that’s pretty low). Just say no, kids.

 

Seriously, do you want to be the douchecanoe wearing the “Party in My Pants”? Yeah, I didn’t think so.

 

Tops in the bottom of the barrel of bad taste and appalling lack of cleverness has got to be the shitty costumes (it works on a lot of levels) by Fantasy Toyland. I’m not kidding. They are costumes of shit … wow, just wow. Here are “Holy Shit”, “Tough Shit”, and “Hot Shit”. There is also “Bullshit” and “No Shit”. I’ll just let the folks who decided these were a good idea tell you all about them … take it away, cashing-in-on-you-not-being-as-clever-as-you-think-you-are costume makers …

 

“These Adult Shit Costumes ensure a stinky evening to be had for all! Never has something so gross been so utterly appealing [or ... ummm ... not], as a group costume idea and as a solo outfit. Each Shit Costume is designed with your clever sense of humor [or, more likely, lack thereof] in mind.  …  Seriously, what could get more hysterical and ingenious than one of these shit costumes [would you like an itemized list of virtually everything else in existence or can we simply stipulate?]?

 

For adults who are mature [yep, that's the very first word I'd pick *snort*] enough to handle these offensive costumes (or immature enough to appreciate them), each poop costume is bound to be a huge, stinkin’ hit! [You keep saying this word "stinking". I don't think it means what you think it means.] Your friends and family might have seen pun costumes before [One might pre-suppose on whom, mightn't one?] , but have they seen poop costumes as clever as these? [Are there even less clever poop costumes out there? Dear Pesci, that's a disturbing fact to be sloshing around the ol' brain pan!] Now’s the time to enlighten [Once again, the very first word I'd pick ... are you guys psychic? *gyah*] everyone you know with one of our shit costumes, each of which comes with appropriate props to complete the message. [Holy crap! There's a "message" lurking within the shit costumes? How fabulously meta. Are they non-ironically ironic, too?] And if you forget to pick one of these Poop Costumes? Tough shit, man! [Oh, I see what you did there! Haha! Man, that cleverness never runs out, does it? *facepalm*]

 

In fairness, the fine people at Fantasy Toyland do have one costume which could actually be considered within the boundaries of cleverness. Feast your eyes on the Mike Hunt’s Diving School costume, with  shirt saying, “Mike Hunt’s Diving School – ‘Experience Counts when Going Down.” Okay, even cynical ol’ me got a chuckle out of that one. Unfortunately, whoever was responsible for every other shitty costume (and, most likely, shit costume) had to poke their grubby fingers in and add “Muff Diver” to the tank. Damn. We knew they couldn’t help but drag the one bright light of clever into the crappy muck of the obvious. *feh* You kids today and your shitty literalist humor … sigh.

 

When “Sexy” Goes Horribly Awry

Yes, it is a sacred tradition of Halloween; even the most normally straight-laced ladies have leave to … well … not be so lady-like. Of course, being a part of the Lippy family for some time, I am no stranger to the fun of strutting about in a slinky, short costume. I’ve also had a lifetime of observing the familiar pattern of “_____ + sexy = Best Fucking Costume, Ever!™”, even done my own versions of “Sexy ____”. I have boobs, right? I’m pretty sure there’s a law of some sort along those lines.

 

Anyway, after season upon season of Sexy Cop, Sexy Cat, Sexy Bunny, Sexy Maid, blah blah blah … instead of innovating the classic, a few costume makers have decided to get, shall we say, adventurous with the “Sexy + ___” equation. But, I must say, aren’t there some things which are just not meant to be “sexy” … ever? Maybe we need to set some ground rules to prevent the disturbing moment of coming across “Sexy Oscar the Grouch” or “Sexy Tin Man (as a … wtf … hot chick in a micro-mini)” or *ewwwwww* “Sexy Teenage Mutant Ninja Turtle”. Seriously people, do we really need sexed-up versions of icons of our childhood? Sexy Flower the Skunk? Really? It must end before it results in the appalling possibility of “Sexy SpongeBob” … ahhhh fuck.

 

 

One other thing … when did serial killing make the roster of “sexy”? Sexy Leatherface costume? (Yes, there is one.) Apparently, a new equation has been written to declare weapons and death as part of the sexy by the costume providers of Amazon. I, on the other hand, call shenanigans (and lock the door).

 

 

While these various examples of sexy gone awry are somewhat disturbing in their own special way, one must admit they’re inherently harmless. So what if a not-normally-wild girl decides it would be fun to rock her curves as a Sexy Cowardly Lioness or Sexy Seed of Chucky (real costumes, by the way)? Slightly silly, yes, but no harm, no foul.

 

This last costume, on the converse, is not only in bad taste, but potentially harmful. Every wrongheaded asshat who decided this costume was a good idea and drew it up, created patterns, greenlit the product, or displayed it for sale should be deeply ashamed of themselves. Further, it doesn’t seem excessive to round them up to chase through the streets with villagers brandishing torches and pitchforks (well, at least metaphorically).

 

Ladies, gentlemen, and degenerates, I give you the “Anna Rexia” costume (hopefully to the sound of booing and the pitching of rotten fruit).

 

Can I get a communal *eewww*?

 

Bonus Round 1: Costumes to Get Your Son Beat Up on the Playground

Parents, I beg of you, when you’re tempted to get any of these sorts of “adorable” and “clever” costumes, just say no. Your son will thank you later, when he’s not permanently tagged with a bullying bullseye for countless wedgies, swirlies, and whatever tortures of the damned those crazy kids are up to these days. And think of the future therapy bills you’ll save!

 

 

 

Bonus Round 2: Costumes to Hasten Your Daughter’s Trip to the Pole

Are strippers born or made? The very existence of this group of costumes begs an answer to that question; can the clothes make the girl or, rather, instill a desire to remove them in public? Don’t get me wrong, as an erotic photographer, I adore strippers and naked people of all sorts. This is not the question at hand. The question you should be asking yourself, ideally before picking up that costume for little Amber or Tyffani, is how you feel about potentially providing your little girl with what could be the first step on the journey to the pole.

 

It takes a special person to be the proud parent of a stripper. First, there’s the creative use of language in naming conventions and *erm* lots of other stuff, I suppose. Right up there is selecting a costume for your little darling which is nothing more than a shrunken-down version of the “Sexy ___”. Of course, being part of Lip Service as well as a company which proudly includes “Smut” right there in its name, I think sexy is a very good thing – unless, of course, you’re talking about “sexy” on a 3rd grader.

 

Mind you, there’s disagreement about the age when it starts to be appropriate for the word “sexy” to apply without the *eeewww* creepy uncle factor being involved, but I think we can all agree that the 6-12 year old group is where it definitely does not (or at least shouldn’t). Every last one of these costumes were marked for either children or tweens. You can judge for yourself whether pre-pubescent girls have any business wandering around in the dark in these on a night all about getting candy from strangers.

 

 

I must offer a special “Dishonorable Mention” to whoever produced the range of Monster High costumes for the most consistently inappropriate gear for little girls since Bratz (or, as I like to refer to them, Whorz). Are there really parents out there who don’t find it disturbing to put 8-12 year old girls in miniature versions of sexy clubwear?

 

I suppose I should be happy to not have found a companion girl’s “Ho” costume to go along with the boys’ “Pimp” costume (yes, there is one).

 

Well, that wraps up the pre-game Don’ts for this Halloween season. Enjoy your candy of all sorts *wink*! Lip SerVICES will be back with more sin and debauchery next month.

About Mich

Mich Masoch is a Co-Ringleader of the Circus Hooker Smut Regime, taker of naughty photos, lifelong sinner, and occasional writer of filthy prose. She is a member of the seedy underbelly of the Los Angeles creative underground and unofficial camp Mom of the Naked People Industry™. Her work can be seen around the interwebs on CHSRegime sites, including Vampryrotic and the upcoming EroticaStock, as well as on various alt and fetish sites and models’ portfolios.

This month, I’ve got a lovely treat for you fabulous degenerates. I don’t often put my culture cap on when writing these monthly dispatches from the world of sin and debauchery, but the buzz in the creative underbelly of Los Angeles is offering more unexpected pleasures than usual lately. Last weekend, that buzz was all focused on the exhibition of blood artist Nick Kushner at Studio Servitù.

Servitù Presents Nick Kushner ‘Les Crimes De L’Amour’ Sponsored by Lip Service

Every so often, Lip Service has the opportunity to be part of celebrating cutting edge artists who put themselves into every aspect of their works. In the case of Nick Kushner, this act of creation is not a mere matter of symbolic dedication, but a literal act of karmic alchemy. Using his own blood as medium, he literally bleeds his art onto the canvas.

 

I am happy to report that Lip Service sponsored the first solo exhibition of Kusher’s works, ‘Les Crimes De L’Amour’, held this past weekend at Studio Servitù (which is swiftly becoming the home to all things interesting and beautifully twisted in the LA underground). He premiered new, as yet unseen, works (in the gallery below), alongside a retrospective of his prior catalogue, set off against a backdrop of sanguine-stained walls and aural pleasure provided by Twiggy Ramirez. Nick even took time out to sign a few works, in his own blood, of course.

 

Oh  … and Marilyn Manson took over as DJ to world premiere the new album, “Born Villain”

 

You see, my fine degenerates, when we say it’s going to be an event … we mean it. Please do keep that in mind when I start telling you about 11.11.11 … just sayin’. You can read more about the event and check out photos here in the LS ‘zine.

 

Just an FYI for you art lovers, Nick’s latest works will be available for view by appointment at Studio Servitù and prints are also available through his site, TheThirdAngelSounded.com.

Nick Kushner and His Art

Fascinated from an early age in the transformative quality of art, Nick Kushner noted the use of the act of creation as a catharsis and expression of growth. Later, as his keen interest in the occult grew, along with a sense of isolation and disconnect with the commonplace world around him, he drew parallels between the hero’s journey and its necessary sacrifices as a catalyst of inner growth and the motivation behind the creation of art. In September of 1998 he used his own blood to create a self-portrait, envisioning himself crucified and bleeding. He says, “It was the first time I’d used the medium and it was a signification that should I be martyred for manifesting my individual Will then so be it.” Over the years since, his use of blood as medium has deepened in significance, an instrument of both his catharsis and the intent which charges his works.

 

Art, Kushner believes, can also have a profound effect on the viewer, communicating the will and motivation instilled by the artist. This effect is critical, the final half of the process of creation. It brings the affection born in the creation back, full circle, to its creator. Kushner credits this magical aspect of art with making his connection to those he loves most possible, his unique works bringing them together.

 

With his recent works, Kushner has infused more of his love of Classical ideals. Along with the surreal themes of his early pieces, he adds a greater emphasis on the meticulous delicacy and detail of Renaissance art. The often traditional themes of the Classical period are turned on themselves, given a degenerate and chaotic bent where artist is creator and base desires are ennobled. The effect, as in earlier works like Borgia: The Pope Entering Pandaemonium or more current pieces such as the self-portrait The Immoralist, is stunning. At once dreamy and utterly lifelike, the visuals evoke both the mystically erotic and stark reality of dark obsession. They reflect the evolution of their creator and inspire us to seek cathartic magic in ourself.

 

To view The Degenerate Art of Nick Kushner, visit his website at TheThirdAngelSounded.com

 

Expanding his scope beyond the visual, Kushner created the popular website, Nachtkabarett. Dedicated to the occult, it contains his well-researched writings on the esoteric as well as creative and mystical facets of the work of his only living hero, Marilyn Manson. Featured on MTV Germany, the expansive site inspired a book of Kushner’s writings, soon to be released by a notable independent publisher.

 

To read Nick Kushner’s written works, visit Nachtkabarett.com

Interview with Nick Kushner

I had a chance to sit down and ask Nick anything; this is what he had to say.

 

- What inspired your first use of blood as a medium, back in ’98? How did the idea evolve to become such a major facet of your work?

 

The motivation behind the use of blood in my art, which is all my own blood, from the beginning was the literal insertion of myself into my works. Where the line between the creator and creation is indivisibly blurred. I choose to approach my art, as well as my life, on the same level as alchemy where the path the magician undertakes is a transformative process. When one devoutly pursues that which is his true will, it’s the journey as opposed to the end result which is the rebirthing process that takes one where he needs to go and the use of my own blood as a medium, though has varied in complexity and volume significantly since I first applied it deliberately to paper when I was 15, was the most personal and symbolic method with which to portray this concept. Using blood, and the pain which is involved with its acquisition, acts as a cathartic process to unleash an inner transformation within oneself.

 

- The very early works on your site have a greater emphasis on the surreal and modern. When and how did your style begin to shift, involving more Classical ideals into the style and theme?

 

Dali, in his later career began to explore his own interpretations of classical Christian imagery. Its these classical eras of art that contain themes and subjects that carry with them grandeur and efficacy which much of the art of today seems to deliberately veer in the opposite direction from. It’s not a question of scale, detail or particular subject matter but rather the manner that art is approached – that it’s documentation of a living entity that inspires awe in the viewer, as opposed to being benign and flat. Blood reflects this while I paint as the cells themselves are living but begin to slowly die, darken in pigment and ultimately crystallize into the final vision.

 

Exploring the inversion of classical themes also carries with it a powerful statement. I decided to “brand” my work as degenerate, not as a gimmick or triviality, but rather as an homage to those artists which have inspired me to create. Artists such as Otto Dix, George Grosz, Hans Bellmer, Salvador Dali and others whose are was works were stolen, confiscated and vandalized by the Nazis, to then be mockingly hung for ridicule in “Entartete Kunst”, of “Degenerate Art” museums as a testament of what the Third Reich deemed as inferior and unacceptable forms of expression. Many of such artists had their lives and careers ruined and I believe this acts a microcosm for the manner by which those who are individuals are singled out and persecuted for refusing to live and think in the limited confines which the societies they lived in had dictated to them. Art is a very tangible thing and throughout history has effected change, or conversely incited outrage, on a scale far exceeding religion or politics. Artists, writers and musicians are the ones who truly change the world and make life exciting and worth living. It’s this lineage that I cut myself open to follow in to continue the cycle – approaching in an almost spiritual manner, which classical imagery most often evokes.

 

- Your work often employs symbology. Is this a facet of the individual visual theme of a piece, or a deeper ongoing message carried through your body of work?

 

Each piece carries with it many dimensions and facets which can be explored. The use of blood itself is intended to be symbolic likewise even if the subject matter painted isn’t overladen with metaphors or symbolisms.

 

Blood is the lifeforce of the individual, both literal and allegorical. Though it admittedly has something of a “shock” value to it, my first usage of the medium was quite far from the that as a goal. But art that is powerful in essence is also shocking, in the same sense that the Dadaists and Surrealists were initially viewed as terrorists in the art world as they represented deconstructed conventions of art and the abrasive subconscious brought to the forefront, which was largely untouched upon so overtly until their arrival, with themes of death, sex and the extreme.

 

Art should be multi-dimensional though and inspire a myriad of interpretations in the viewer as it’s a reflection of the sincerity of the artist creating it to employ symbology, even if it’s self referential.

 

- Some artists use the medium to look inward and reveal themselves or their aspirations/fears. Others show the world outside them as they see it or wish it to be. What perspective do you most often expose to the viewer in your work and why?

 

I think each artist can only document and reflect the world in the manner they see and live it, which extends to fears or the idealisms they wish to see manifest. Both are valid and not necessarily separate pursuits but rather that the art is a direct extension of the individual and his experiences within the world – which is why I chose to directly put myself into my art to make this connection more powerful, both to myself as well as the manner it reflected back into the world. Making art a magical act in a sense where it’s imbued with properties which are visible beyond the literal and physical plain as something sacred. The world only exists in each individual’s head so whatever manner it’s made visible is a reflection of the inner self and likewise each piece is an exploration into these inner realms, however benign or cathartic they may be.

 

- Over the years, how has your study of the occult and esoteric informed the direction of your art?

 

Studying the occult and esoteric, as well as its practical applications, has led to a deeper understanding and appreciation of exactly what can be achieved through the pursuit of art. Both in terms of imagery and subject matter but also how art itself can be the medium to instigate transformation. That when a concept is painted in a ritualistic manner, even if not done for the sake of achieving a particular gain, each piece documents how the forces & energies that pervade throughout the universe will test the artist’s capabilities to persevere.

 

In essence, the word ‘occult’ simply means ‘hidden’ or that which is beyond plain sight. Whether they’re intricate symbols or simply knowledge which is held from plain view, the pursuit of the impossible and deeper meanings behind everyday synchronicities and the desire to know everything has been my motivation for most of all I’ve pursued since childhood. This extends to my own art (and the ways that I personally record this) as well as the affinity I’ve had with my heroes such as Marilyn Manson where regardless of what level of comprehension of understanding is held, there are an infinite number dimensions which still remain to be explored and pillaged. Looking at classical imagery and mythology, even the Bible, the manner they’re viewed is that the past was mystical and the gods existed then but not now. The miraculous and beatific visions are no longer possible, and if one claims to have experienced this he’s denigrated as insane. I think that the present is just as mystical as anything which is outlined in ancient texts and that it’s up to the artist to show that the now is the most magical because you’re alive to live it and make it happen for yourself to experience.

 

- When you’re working on a piece, do you focus on particular words, emotions, or mental images during the process? How do you bridge the gap between physical form with the spiritual/emotional inspirations behind the creative process?

 

It can vary from piece to piece. I keep lists in sketchbooks of painting concepts I plan to work on in addition to the dozen in my head at any given time. Sometimes this can range from a general  idea or mental visual down to a phrase invented which feels necessary to explore and create the visual to a word that doesn’t yet exist. That is sometimes the title of a piece comes after it’s complete and other times the piece forms after the title is coined beforehand.

 

One piece which is part of exhibition, ‘God, I Forsake You Because Of Your Silence’, came from a guided meditation session. It was during a period of great uncertainty and personal disarray, after vocalizing everything which was afflicting me at this time there came a point where I was supposed to “listen to the voice of the god within me”. It’s always possible that at the time I may not have been attuned enough to be receptive to an actual response, but the void which I heard instead of an answer to the one time I was humbly beckoning this entity to give me some sort of calm enlivened me to the point of an even more fervent disgust than what I’d been accustomed to. It was from this standpoint which I’d begun this piece, as a visual departure from most all previous in that there was no preconceived vision and rather it was a slow building of these sentiments that flowed into it and formed from the subconscious, and actually began to resemble a particular occult sigil which I was resonating with at the time.

 

Whenever working devoutly on a piece and when fully immersed within it, particularly when the medium is of such a personal nature, there’s an inherent “channeling” of creative energy that flows through the artist and that when truly inspired (from the root meaning of ‘inspire’ which comes from the spiritual application of being guided by divine forces) that the artist is subconsciously giving existence to the innate qualities within him, that are allowed to take form when they’re acknowledged. It’s why I view art, and he pursuit of it, to be the alchemical path where the artist/magician is changed and transcends through the act of creation – and that if you believe in fate, the existence of “god” or whatever you’d like to reference to the concept as, that each experience is paramount and integral to leading you to the next stage needed to be attained if its part of his true will. Art isn’t simply spiritual because much of the art throughout history has been of religious subject matter, there’s an intrinsic and fourth dimensional link that moves through the artist’s hand when creating, and what he channels of himself into the completed work.

 

- In general, how do you think the creative process transforms the creator? How has the creative process spurred further growth in your personal life and vice-versa?

 

My own theory of art is approaching the pursuit as an alchemist would pursue his spiritual journey for his own soul’s advancement, done through the work which he devotes the entirety of his being to. As part of this transformation process, the greatest motivation behind virtually all works of art, music and literature which are considered to be sacred by society today (aside from love and greed) has been catharsis. That is, taking an experience which is tortuous and devastating but instead of allowing it to overcome you, the artist assimilates it and uses it to his advantage by expressing it within his art to subdue the affliction which threatens to destroy him.

 

Be it from destitution, isolation or emotional abuse and neglect from someone you’re in love with, that infliction will force a schism and ultimatum ; either let it destroy you or else (literally) create your own world using your art. Enduring this forces a change and growth by using the negative energy which has been thrust upon you. It’s a matter of the choice to live and fight which determines whether you allow it to overwhelm you or whether you direct it and use it as a force to create with.

 

The ability to evolve and undergo transformation or advancement is the only non-physiological attribute which humans possess that differentiates us from the animals. Many choose to throw this advantage away and forsake it. Artists are some of the few people who embrace and pursue this as a virtue rather than an inconvenience.

 

- Compared with the past, artists today have almost infinite freedom of expression. With no limitations, do you think art, in general, has suffered a lack of subtlety aimed at shock value or has it successfully picked up the challenge to express and evoke the unspoken parts of our nature?

 

I think the evolution of art has changed drastically by the manner by which artists of today (as in the time period post-Nineteenth Century) are no longer bound by the confines of viewing art as a “trade”. That is, artists are able to create out of their own volition, unhindered by the demands of patron commissions alone, which is why most art up to this point revolved predominantly from the standpoint of religious iconography. As society began to evolve and grant the individual free will we saw surrealism, dada and the most progressive expressions of the creative human mind which have ever been recorded. In this current day and age where the ability for those to create “art” is augmented by technology, as well as the immediate exposure/accolades of online social networking it makes it difficult in one sense to stand apart from one’s peers. But this works as a potent reverse motivation that with the inundation of art and imagery it forces the artist to hone his/her own inner vision in a manner which sets the artist apart from the herd. I don’t believe that subtly is a detriment but rather if the vision behind it can speak for itself as a timeless example of personal expression of the individual. If those who choose to create imagery which is appealing to solely their friends of social demographic it inherently limits the capabilities of the imagination to be liberation to create something that no one has ever seen before – rather than an inundation of extreme imagery which only desensitizes the viewers and makes the extremity meaningless in this pursuit.

 

- Speaking of the unspoken, what shocks you?

 

Because of the potency and meaning behind it, if the usage of blood as a medium shocks then it does accomplish a certain purpose by the nature of what it represents as well as to differentiate by context of the majority of benign “art”.  A favorite quote of mine in this regard comes from Marilyn Manson in that, “you have to be provocative to even be an artist [otherwise] what’s the point? If you don’t get someone’s attention you’re not doing anything that’s interesting.” Shock and disgust are very conducive methods to garner a reaction and incite the viewer into paying attention, which is important as art which isn’t seen can’t effect any change. However without anything beneath the surface there’s equally no point as without vision and inspiration it isn’t “art” to begin with. A crime scene or sex act isn’t “found art” ; it is simply what it is. If art truly has a vision with power and efficacy behind its creation, this can be shocking in itself and move the viewer. Most of those artists whom I admire didn’t create  incendiary works for the sake of being shocking but rather when art is progressive and truly making a bold statement which doesn’t fit within the limitations of the viewer’s acceptance then it’s a work which is shocking by virtue of how unique its vision and execution is.

 

Following, again, in the standpoint of an alchemical approach to art and creation, putting all of oneself into a piece of art has the power to effect not only the creator but also those who view it, particularly if they happen to be receptive to it. I’ve always considered my works to be like children to me, and just as one raises a literal physical child and endows it with knowledge and experience and sets it out unto the world as its own independent entity, a work of art is similar in that it embodies all the residual energy, pain and inspiration that an artist endows it with throughout the creation process. Similarly to the way a powerful song or movie and be “felt” and drive one to anguish, ecstasy or tears. Blood for me has always been the most potent method to charge a piece with this residual emotion and the way that it effects the viewer has the ability to find those who are able to resonate on the same level as you. Again, unleashing a work of art into the world like a child and seeing who that child befriends and comes home with to play. It’s this approach that I’ve met everyone in my life today whom I love and am friends with and who have taken me to where I’ve needed to go. The fact of the medium being blood has the ability to amplify the reaction within the viewer. As can be expected, I’ve had those who have taken the use of blood to enhance their resonance to a piece and likewise those who have admired a piece up until the point of learning the medium involved. Either way it’s a powerful reaction which is most important above all.

 

- If there is one piece of work, already existing or not, you’d like to be remembered for, what would it be?

 

Overall, I would like to be remembered as an artist, not unlike those I admire and revere, who created with outright fearlessness of being misunderstood or ostracized for what they believe and have the innate desire to create. For taking a symbolic medium (unbeknownst to me at the time that any other artist had employed in their work) and evolving it to a level which those who can see the pain, efficacy or isolation reflected in each work can resonate with. It’s beyond meaningful that I’ve reached a point in my life, pursuit and career that I can consider those who I’m in absolute awe of their talents as actual peers and the surreal feeling that something I create or pursue and can return the favor and reinspire them in a similar manner which they’ve motivated me to never abate from my path.

 

If I were to pick a literal favorite work of mine as my legacy it would be my portraits of Marilyn Manson and Rudy Coby which are premiered in my exhibition as well as my painting of Maldoror – named for the malign protagonist in the eponymously named book which is considered to be the first ever surrealist novel.

 

- What new works (and possible surprises) can we expect to see at your solo exhibition?

 

Aside from the full bar stocked with Jade Absinthe, Evil Wine and Monster Energy Drink, the exhibition will be premiering seven out of the nine brand new works completed since the beginning of 2011 – most of which were produced deliberately for 9.10.11. It’s an art exhibition but it’s much more than simply paintings hung on blank walls.

 

The show compromises 15 original works as well as several installations throughout the space which are complimental to the works they accompany. Additionally one of my best friends, Anthony Silva, who co-wrote and co-produced Marilyn Manson’s trailer for the film Phantasmagoria, assembled a video montage of original motion and still shots he took of me between New York and LA while I worked – both painting and collecting my medium, which will be on loop throughout the evening. Circa midnight there will be a live blood signing for those who choose to purchase prints exclusively available for the evening. Not as a shock tactic but rather a method of gifting art which is so personal to me to those which it resonates with. And of course, TWIGGY RAMIREZ as DJ for the evening.

 

- Any other places, beside the sites listed, our readers can see more of your work?

 

Check out my work, where it’s possible to purchase prints, postcard, posters, and more at TheThirdAngelSounded.com. And also check out my site Nachtkabarett.com which is forthcoming in book form about the occult & esoteric symbolism behind the art of Marilyn Manson, which is also the home of the Official Marilyn Manson messageboard.

 

- What’s next?

 

A few prospective shows are lined up but namely for LA fans, keep your schedule cleared for 11.11.11. I can’t give away too many details but it will be an even more exclusive (and theatrical) event & collaboration that should not be missed. The stars are maligned for this one.

 

- Anything else you’d like to add?

 

Always a huge Lip Service fan and patron so it’s really an honor to be featured, as well as to be sponsored by. Would be happy to strip down and cut up for the next catalogue shoot any time.

 

Thanks again to Nick, for taking the time to come out and play with us.

See you next month with another vice-filled account of the goings-on in the sexy underbelly of LA.

About the author:

Mich Masoch is a writer, photographer, and co-ringleader of the Circus Hooker Smut Regime, an independent production and design studio in Los Angeles. Her works can be viewed at the CHS Regime website or the public blog of her online magazine, Vampyrotic. You can also find her weekly Meatless Monday recipes for reluctant omnivores and dedicated vegetarians and vegans (and, of course, foodporn), here in the LS Webzine.

We’re hearing a lot lately about the (damned) economy and, if you’re like most people, I’m betting you already feel the pinch in your cash flow. Do not despair, my lovely degenerate hordes, there is hope. Being the benevolent person I am, I’ve put together ten clever tips to keep your fabulous lifestyle, most with little to no real work needed. Of course, there is a little effort required, but at least it beats having to get an extra job, especially in retail (also known as the tenth circle of hell, so depraved and awful, even Dante lacked the words to adequately describe the horror).

 

Get your thinking caps ready and prepare to rake in the cash and prizes!

 

Bleed for it!

We all want to be lovely people and donate to the Red Cross but, when push comes to shove, your blood (and its plasma and platelets) is a potential source of cash to keep feeding those chronic habits, like eating every day. Virtually every city has research labs, blood banks, and platelet centers, that will offer you regular cash to suck your blood. Sorry California, you’ll have to pass on this one, since it’s not legal to sell blood product there, but other places should be fine.

Your Fertility is (for a change) Your Friend

You know that inconvenient fertility thing? The source of your occasional case of panic attack can be your best friend when you need some cash. Plenty of folks are not so fertile and would love a little bit of what you’ve got – the magical building blocks of babies, your sperm and eggs. This is, of course, much easier for the guys to do, though you ladies stand to yield far more for the longer and more intrusive process of donating eggs.

 

Like blood banks, sperm banks are a given in virtually any major city, so a ready source of needed cash close by. Guys, you should be young, healthy, and ready to cut out the sex between donations and can expect anywhere from $50 to $200 per squirt. You can generally donate a few times a week and may be expected to commit to up to six months of regular donations.

 

Donating eggs is, as one would imagine, much more involved than rubbing one out into a cup. Granted, an egg donation can be worth up to $5000 so, if you need a goodly amount of cash, it’s a nice way to get it and also help out an infertile couple in need. The process usually takes about two months and does involve intrusive procedures, so make sure you ask a lot of questions and know what to expect before you commit.

Science!

Oh sure, you think medical experiments and, immediately, the image of a mad scientist type pops up, complete with evil *mwah hah hah* laugh. Okay, some researchers may be a little out there, but I don’t think you need to fear Dr. Moreau or anything so dire. Research needs its guinea pigs (*erm*, I mean “subjects”) and you need cash. What else do you need to know?

 

If you look on the bulletin boards of virtually any college, you’ll find calls for research subjects for behavioral and clinical studies. This, of course, can get a bit more dicey for your dollars then giving blood or bopping the bishop, but needn’t be anything extreme. Of course, the more involved (read: risky) the thing is, the more you can expect to be paid for participating. Granted, this is your body and mind so, if the pay-day looks too good to be true, it probably is. Research and clinical trials are designed to measure reactions, whether emotional/psychological or physical. In clinical trials, in particular, you’ll be helping discover side-effects (by having them). Is it worth it to you for a few extra bucks? Well, maybe you’ll get the placebo … there’s that hope, right?

 

—————
So ends the Big Three of Quick Cash. From here, it’s more about the icing, extra spending cash, freebies, and the like to make life a little more fab. You can amp some of the following up to make more, but then it wouldn’t be “easy” or “quick” cash, would it?

Closets = Cash + Clothes

Your closet is holding, right now, the seeds of your future fabulous wardrobe. Really. I’ll bet there are at least ten to twenty things in your closet you barely wear, may never wear again, which are in practically brand new condition. Maybe you’ve got some vintage Lippy that, after a weight loss, doesn’t have a prayer of fitting again (unless the unthinkable happens). Why not use them to get yourself a hot, new wardrobe?

 

Get thee to a fashionable vintage shop and haggle until you get a price that satisfies you. If you have more than one shop nearby, use the quotes from one to get a bit more from the other. Work in trade, if they’ll give you more store credit than cash (only if they have groovy gear, of course), or walk away with cash in hand to buy whatever you want.

 

bonus points: Have parents or grandparents with classic old-school gear boxed up that hasn’t seen the light of day since gawdknowswhen? Offer to “clean out” their closet/attic/storage and return to the shops to haggle over some rare goodies. It’s a win for everyone (especially you and your wardrobe)!

Look, Listen, and Read … then get new ones!

Sick and tired of the same old movies, tunes, and books? Use your old stuff to trade out for new ones. Fortunately, lots of other people probably traded the stuff you like, so you can shop for new/used goodies right in the same place (and save on gas and time, too … yippee!). Or, if you have fellow mediawhore friends, start up a trading circle with them to keep new stuff flowing into and off of everyone’s shelves.

Everything Must GO!

There is one constant in the universe: people love to buy crap. Extending that, people love to buy crap on eBay because they think they’re getting the ever-elusive “deal”. Do you have crap you don’t want or need? Odds are, somebody out there does and will be willing to give you the cash you want for the crap you don’t. Seriously, it doesn’t really matter what it is; people buy the most ridiculous things when they think they’re rare or collectible. Hell, people buy plenty of crap, even when it’s not. You never know, right?

 

bonus points: See “clean out” suggestion above. Old people have tons of old crap they have no idea what to do with, so why not help them with that. Obviously, proceeds from bigger items and collectibles should be shared but, if the payday is good, it’s a drop in the bucket. Besides, you still have more money than when you started, so it’s all good.

Gimme gimme gimme – The Fine Art of Demanding Crap

If you are familiar with certain quirks of the interwebs, you have probably come across a wishlist or three. If you surf smut, you’ve probably seen more than you’ve had hot meals. Why not make one of your own and give the world the opportunity to generously lay offerings at your feet, as you richly deserve? Make sure you post it from your various social media accounts regularly (but not too much or it looks pathetic). When your b-day is coming up, fill that sucker with stuff you’d never actually have the chutzpah to ask for in person. You never know. Somebody might just get it for you. For free. Go you!

You CAN Actually DO Something, Right?

If you live near any major city, you have a ready source of cash available: random strangers on the street. You might ask why the hell these people would just hand you money – because you probably should (unless you’re an entitled douche). I’m not telling you to panhandle (though this is, for all intents and purposes, a nicer version of it). Charm them into handing over their cash as a street performer, instead! Play an instrument? Sing? Dance? Do anything cool (obviously, mime not included)? Do it out in the world where people can see and be impressed (with their dollars), making sure to have a handy receptacle on hand to hold donations to the cause (you). Always put some random bills and large coin in there, to give the impression people have already showered you with offerings.

 

note: Always make sure to check for any required permits and such in your local area. Many places are chill about street performers while others, like Santa Monica’s 3rd Street Promenade, are pretty gung-ho about busting non-permitted street performances.

Get Crafty

While I would usually be talking about the evil-genius variety of “crafty”, this time I actually mean crafts. Yes, that’s right, arts and crafts. Is there something you make for yourself that everyone always compliments or asks where they can buy one? Why don’t you make that place YOU? There is always a market for clever, useful, well-made crafts and accessories. Little purses, decorated shoes and corsets, jewelry, painted jeans and jackets – the list could go on and on.

 

Yes, I know, it’s work and stuff. That’s why you stand to make much more than just sitting around doing nothing. The more effort and ingenuity you put into it, the better you can do. That means, the more money you can make for doing something fun and creative. Pretty crafty, no?

Odd Jobs with a Twist

Yes, yes, once again I have the temerity to suggest *gasp* work. But, do read on because, if you do it right, it should be a whole lot of fun, too. And, of course, there’s money! Yeah, thought I’d get you back on that bit.

 

Lots of people will tell you to try “odd jobs” as a way to make extra cash. But, as we all know, lots of people are already thinking of it from the straight angle, so screw that! Try getting a little out-there, get freaky with it and turn a common chore on its ear in a fun way.

 

What do you bring to the party that will make that odd job groovier? Are you hot? Take any random odd job (car washing, lawn mowing, housecleaning, etc) and just add the word “bikini”. Add a few hot friends and make it a group effort. Are you part of a theater or performance group? Take babysitting to the next level by grouping up together and keeping the little monsters occupied and entertained with a kid-friendly performance in one larger location. This works great for parents who are part of a regular club, social group, PTO, etc and will have lots of other friends needing their brats – *erm* little darlings – looked after, too. Are you clever? Have other clever friends, too? Offer tutoring with a difference, a more fun way for kids to study by making up cool games and activities to do as a group.

———————–

Well, that’s the lot, at least for now. With a bit of thought and planning, these tips should let you live your fab existence in style, at least for a while. Have fun beating the doom-and-gloom and we’ll see you next month with the usual sin and debauchery.

Do you sometimes really want to smash the living hell out of your computer with a badass 20 lb sledgehammer? Would love to stomp your printer until it’s nothing but chards on the floor? Feel like throwing plates and glass as hard as you can at the wall, just to hear them shatter to bits?

 

Crash and Jane at Studio Servitù figured as much and devised a delightfully angst-purging night of mass destruction, Je M’en Fous (which I will now assume means “breaking stuff rocks!”).

 

Being a huge fan of breaking stuff, I was ALL IN, baby! I mean *ahem* it’s always nice to go out and support Lip Service sponsored events, so The Boss and I thought we’d give this whole “breaking things” a try. *haha*

 

We arrived and were ushered into the huge freight elevator and through the hall toward the signature striped entry of Servitù. Immediately, our ears were greeted with the glorious din of a killer DJ set, accented with the buzz of conversation, punctuated by increasingly rapid smashing and shattering followed by whoops and shouts from the crowd. What a great way to kick off a night out!

 

It wasn’t long before we were right in the midst of the action. Crash pulled Jimi behind the layers of chicken wire into the smash zone, toward a PC tower all teed up and ready. Now, those of you who know my lovely partner in crime know what a chill, low-key sort of guy he is. Well, ha ha and ha! Not with a big ol’ sledgehammer in his hands, he’s not! With his long hair flying, my otherwise gentle husband laid waste to that damned thing, slamming away and dragging it back into place to beat on it some more.

 

When he was done, his ear-to-ear grin was all I needed to see. It was time to make some breakables pay!

 

Waved into the zone, I donned some safety goggles and was given some plates. Fastball pitch, straight at the wall! SMASH! Oh yes! More smash and crash! Glorious! I can tell you, the sound of porcelain hitting brick at high speeds … seriously satisfying! Practically the moment I was done, I wanted MORE!

 

Everyone, please meet my Inner Berserker.

 

One by one, everyone in the crowd got to take a turn getting their rage on. New faces were steered by friends toward the table of breakables, shown the impressive array of bigger, badder targets. They, in turn, brought more friends to the wire.  It became the standard greeting of the night. “Have you broken anything yet? … Oh, it’s soooo goooood!” You could tell, even if you were in the lounge area or bar, who had just made the most recent smashing noises by the relaxed, blissed-out expression on their face. Some people came in a bit dubious, thinking, “I don’t know. It seems a bit violent.” but, before long, they reappeared with the same post-smashy grin.

 

My hero of the night had to be Chopper Dave, a fellow photographer and all-around great cat. It was his birthday and he wanted an epic weapon to swing. So, he crafted The Thor Hammer, a solid steel, twenty pound sledgehammer which packed quite a wallop. I know this because I got to wield this badass tool of berserkerdom, hefting it over my head again and again to utterly demolish a temperamental printer.

 

Take that, paper jam!

 

Apparently, I seemed to be having too good of a time to quit yet, so Crash handed me a PC laptop, informing me and the crowd that the provider had (and I paraphrase) “a shitload of porn in there and wants the whole machine utterly destroyed.” Starting with the beast called Thor, I made short work of the bulk of it. But, there was detailed demolition called for here. I was doing a solid, right? Had to be thorough. *heh heh* So I was provided with a claw hammer to go batshit on every last bit of the thing.

 

I guess I really got into the breaking, because I managed to slam the laptop so hard, I also broke the bloody hammer. Umm, oops sorry? *heh heh* That’s right, suckahs, don’t mess with this degenerate camera jockey!

 

As I mentioned, there were quite a lot of big items one could select, stacked up high against the wall. These were easily the most fun smashing sessions to watch and, by far, the most impressive-sounding. Every time a computer monitor or TV received its first strike, the boom was resounding, almost shaking your insides, the shattering screens bursting like a miniature preview of the fireworks to come later in the weekend. Superb!

 

Beside the obvious, the ladies of Servitù added some rather ingenious touches of wit in the targets and arsenal.

 

My favorite weapon? Easy. It would have to be the guitar Jane used to massacre a TV that needed killin’. Hell yes! If Elvis didn’t have that gun, that’s how he’d have done it. “Uh, Red? Man, gimme that guitar. Thank you very much!” Check out some video of the lovely Ms Jane getting down with her bad self!

 

Favorite beat-down of the night? Eat this, Easy-Bake Oven! That’s what you get for making shitty cakes that taste like paste!

 

All in all, it was a crazy, fun night beating the hell out of pesky bits of technology, along with some of our favorite freaks of the LA underground. I hope they have another one really soon because our TV decided to stop working and, damnit, I’m pretty pissed off to have missed True Blood. I think it needs a dose of Thor Hammer, don’t you?

 

Thank you to Jane and Crash of Studio Servitù for being such remarkable hosts (as always). Thanks, too, to Michael Vegas for providing great photos (to see all Michael’s photos from Je M’en Fous, check out his FB albums here and here).

And, of course, thank you Lip Service for sponsoring such a fun and unique event.

After giving the Muthas their due, I only thought it fair with Father’s Day just around the corner to give a nod to the Daddies. Not Dad with ties and brunches and that crap, obviously; I mean Daddies in a “Who’s Your” kind of way. These are the guys who make us feel sexy, willing to dive into the depths of dirtiness at their request. Some rockers just have it, sexiness exuding from their every utterance, while sometimes it just takes the right song to bring it out. It’s what I like to call SMOOOOOOOOOV, a pimptastic level of confidence set to music. It might be some straight-up macking, a bit of caveman bravado, or just a song so hot your panties make a break for it all on their own in response. It’s all good and it’s definitely all smoov.

Hold onto your panties and ask yourself, “Who’s your Smoov Daddy?”

10 Elvis Presley “Treat Me Nice”

You knew Elvis was going to make an appearance in here somewhere. I just thought it best to remove the anticipation and kick off with the the Daddy-est Elvis song ever conceived. Elvis, you see, already owns you sexually and he knows it. He doesn’t have to do all that mooning, sappy romantic crap, because you’re coming a-running anyway, aren’t you? Come on, this is hot, young Elvis we’re talking about here. Being willing is just not going to be enough; he’s got to cut down the mobs begging to bang him somehow. You had best dote on the man or, as he is happy to tell you, he’ll “walk right out on you.”

9 Nine Inch Nails “Closer”

Sometimes a Smoov Daddy comes in the form of an angry, short, perverted guy and, in this case, that guy is Trent Reznor. He’s not satisfied with your usual sort of sexy come-on, no not Trent. As you might expect, he takes it to a kinda weird, dark, creepy place. Stunning, right? But here’s the thing, when he starts off with wanting to “violate you” and “desecrate you”, then sings he wants to “Fuck you like an animal”, you know those panties don’t have long in their current upright and locked position.

8 Bruce Springsteen “I’m on Fire”

“Hey, little girl, is your daddy home, did he go and leave you all alone? I’ve got a bad desire.” I don’t care who you are or what sort of music you fancy, if you hear the opening to this song and your girl-type naughty bits don’t twinge at least a little, you are probably borg. Bruce may be singing like the man on the outside, but we know that’s all just bullshit, don’t we? Who’s your Daddy? Bruce is, that’s who. Any man who wakes up in a sweat just from wanting you is going to get in there and, when he does, he’s going to blow your fucking doors (panties) off with the sheer force of his lust. Yum.

7 Van Halen “Ice Cream Man”

Who thinks David Lee Roth is actually singing about frozen dairy treats? Anyone? Anyone? Nah, me neither. Let’s face it, Diamond Dave is one of those guys the term “Golden Rock God” was created to describe. He could sing you the phone book in his smoov, gravelly voice, throw in a few yelps and moans, and we’d all be wet and covered in sweat. So, when Dave wraps his sexy around a proposition? Panties will be dropped! And that’s good because, “Dave’s got something for you …”

6 Boomtown Rats “Skin on Skin”

Maybe some of you are a bit too young to remember the Boomtown Rats’ Bob Geldof before he aged and became a saint of the world’s hungry masses. Back in the day, Bob (also known as “Modest Bob”) was a bit of a bastard. But he was our sort of bastard, mouthy with a bad attitude a mile long and an endless supply of swagger and bravado. Oh, and he was white-hot sexy, too. You could imagine, with his boundless energy, you’d need a rubber room or bounce house to fuck him. So, hearing this punk rock god singing about the scrape of skin on skin and sweat and *oh my* to that insistent jungle beat – imagine how you’d have to go at it to keep up with the rhythm – yeah, that’s pretty fucking hot.

Sadly, Skin on Skin was not able to embed, so I couldn’t include more than a link. Skin on Skin video Instead, I’ll include a favorite of mine from the Rats with some equally sexy Modest Bob. Enjoy!

5 The Rolling Stones “Under My Thumb”

Who is so hot they can refer to their woman as a “squirming dog”? You got it, Mick fucking Jagger! Watch some video of Mick from back in the day sometime, especially you young whippersnappers. The man may be looking eerily like Don Knotts nowadays but, in his heyday, he was a god of sextastic, androgynously slinky beauty. Still photos just can’t capture the oozing sexy emanating from Mick’s every pore. And, now that “the change has come” and he’s on top? He’s gonna make you bitches work for it! He’s not going to stop there, either; he’s going to turn the tables and see how you like the squeeze. You dig it and you know it. Very smoov, Mick.

4 Elvis Costello “I Want You”

Okay, you might not think about this Elvis and get steamy in the drawers, but Elvis Costello is about to change all that. He wants you to know the extent of his deep obsessive (almost stalker-like) longing, the ache he has for you. Now, if this weren’t one of the sexiest, slinkiest (and intelligently poetic) songs ever written and performed in the history of sexy songs? It doesn’t really matter, because it is. It’s a panty-dropping song of the highest magnitude. I challenge anyone to listen and not immediately want to find him (or the closest reasonable facsimile) and get down to it immediately. It takes some deep smoov to turn getting dumped into pure raw sexiness and Elvis most definitely has it. (The video has an extra treat for the guys, with clips of the delicious Rachel Weiss. Rowr!)

3 Billy Idol “Be a Lover”

Okay, you might look at ol’ Billy today and just think “washed-up geezer with really bad Chicklet caps” and I can’t blame you. He’s kind of a perfect human metaphor for the ultimate cost of the excess of the Reagan 80s. But, back in the day, Billy Idol was the epitome of fuckable. He was hot, had a low, sexy voice with a body that wouldn’t quit, and represented something irresistibly edgy and dangerous. Delicious! So, when he followed up his first solo hits with a punk-a-billy beat, singing about wanting to spend his time making love to you? Panties were dropped! Lots of them!

Have mercy!

2 AC/DC “You Shook Me All Night Long”

“She told me to come but I was already there … ” Oh YES! By the strictest definition of the list, AC/DC probably shouldn’t be up here. I’ve never listened to You Shook Me All Night Long and wanted to fuck any member of AC/DC (though Led Zeppelin’s “You Shook Me” definitely breeds a need to jump Robert Plant, if that counts for anything). But, this song has so much panty-dropping magic, it causes otherwise perfectly demure women to turn into the most lewd stripper you’ve ever seen, right before your very eyes. There is great power in this song, which should be used wisely and with spotters available for beginners.

1 Def Leppard “Pour Some Sugar on Me”

Dirty girls of the world unite in salute to the greatest panty-dropping song of all time! I think Joe Elliott said it best in an interview with VH1 (which I paraphrase). When asked about this song, which is universally considered the Official Stripper Anthem, he offered, “You got the peaches, I got the cream … we’re not talking about dessert …” This is unmitigated dirtiness organized into stanzas and chorus, a musical celebration of animal fucking, and it is GOOD. Joe and the boys have a sweet tooth … Ladies! To the poles!

All-Time Smoov Daddy Champion: Prince “Sexy Motherfucker”

Prince is a dirty, sexy beast. We know this, but he likes to elaborate further, sharing all the unspeakably filthy things he’d like to do to and with us. Prince is the sort of guy who will get you to wallow all manner of advanced perversion, just because he likes it nasty. He revels in the greasy funk – not mere sex, but orgiastic carnal writhing that makes you find a new religion in his pants. Because, let’s be honest with ourselves, Prince might be a little, scrawny, awfully feminine-looking dude in lacy blouses and heels, but when he whispers with that little moan, “Come here, baby,” we’re there with no panties in sight. He’s not only a Sexy Motherfucker, but the smoovest of Smoov Daddies!

Just TRY to play this song and not wiggle around and gyrate like Prince likes, I dare you.

Well, that’s my collection of smoovness to take with you over the Fathers’ Day weekend. Wishing a happy day to all you Dads and especially you Daddies!

Until next month, happy sinning!

Oh sure, there’s Mother’s Day … we love Mothers here, too. Thanks all you Moms for making us!

But, that’s not what we’re talking about here, my friends. Not by a long-shot.

Mothers are nice and all, but when do we give a day to the unsung not-so-nice? When do we give propers to the Muthas, the exemplars of badassery and overall deadly cool. This week, I’ll rectify this heinous oversight to honor:

My 10 Favorite Movie Muthas! (in no particular order)

John Shaft

From the instant the funktastic Isaac Hayes theme begins, you know you’re dealing with a stone Mutha. John Shaft takes no beef from the Mob, ‘hood gangster Bumpy, even The Man. He’s always got a few fine ladies on the hook, maybe a working girl or two, as well. And, most importantly, if you mess with his shit, he’s going to mess you up.

Can you dig it?

Foxy Brown

When Foxy Brown comes to town, all the brothers gather ’round. She’s a one chick hit squad out to do a job on the mob. Sweet brown sugar with a touch of spice, she’s out to make sure there ain’t no hope for dudes who sell dope. Yes, Foxy is one sexy Mutha with a grudge … and a funktastic 70s wardrobe! All hail the Queen of blaxpoitation badassery, Pam Grier!

El Mariachi

El Mariachi is such a badass Mutha, he doesn’t even need a name. You probably won’t be alive long enough to repeat it anyway. With a guitar case chock full of violent death, this romantic-crooner-turned-vigilante is looking to settle the score with Bucho, the crime boss who took his love and his playing hand. I wouldn’t recommend getting in the way.

Miho and Gail (Sin City)

What do you get when you mix a mute Japanese assassin with a deadly gift for steel and a dominatrix with an attitude and a big gun? You get two of the most badass enforcers in the world of comic book ultra-violence. When you cast Devon Aoki and Rosario Dawson to flesh out the Muthas of Sin City’s Old Town? You have some of the most gloriously sexy comic book badassery ever captured on film. They are vicious, stone cold killers wrapped in a tantalyzing package.

Han Solo and Indiana Jones (Harrison Ford)

Since both parts were packed full of badassery by real-life badass Harrison Ford, I thought it appropriate to bring them all together in one slot.

Han Solo: Han is the epitome of badass Mutha. He’s a space pirate, hangs out in seedy pirate bars like Mos Eisley, a “wretched hive of scum and villainy”, pals with a wookie, and strings along warrior princess Leia – even when he thinks he’s about to die. The man is frozen in carbonite, yet manages to kick ass almost immediately afterward, while still virtually blinded. And, oh yeah, Han shot first and he doesn’t give a fuck what you think about it.

Indiana Jones: Indy kicks the crap out of Nazis, creepy Thugee Indian dudes, random Arab guys, and S&M alien fancier Cate Blanchett’s henchmen and soldiers, plus survives the wrath of the Lord, nuke testing, and finding out Shia La Beef is his love child. He also manages to be brilliant, tough, supernaturally sexy, and never without a scathingly witty quip. He is one bad Mutha!

Oh, and he REALLY doesn’t like it when you waste his time with showy sword tricks.

Ellen Ripley

You can’t even think about badassery in space without imagining Ripley in that raggedy tank shirt, kicking the shit out of aliens. Ellen Ripley was not only a Mutha, but a mother of sorts, even while she was raining hell down on a giant Mama alien. She held her own against testosterone-charged soldiers, corporation flacks, and creepy androids – all without losing her unshakable composure or an iota of roaring female power. She is the lioness of the pack and a bad Mutha, kicking ass from inside an exoskeleton killing machine!

Rick Blaine

Rick is by far the most slick, debonaire, and lizard-cool cat on this list. This Mutha just doesn’t give a fuck. World War? So what. Corruption? Whatever. Human trafficking? Not his business. After gun-running and who knows what other chicanery, he’s settled into a nice pattern of graft so he won’t be bothered at the Café Americain. He’s got his place and that’s all he needs to care about. Nothing gets to this Mutha … that is, until she walks into his gin joint with her underground hero husband asking for favors and having Sam play some of the old songs. It’s kind of a problem for Rick, but not one he’ll let you know about. Because he’s too badass to let you see his underbelly. He’s also too badass to let the ex, Ingrid Bergman in her prime no less, stick around. Instead, he does the noble thing while still pretending to be an unfeeling dick, so she’ll get out safely. That’s just the kind of stand-up guy he is.

Tank Girl

Unlike most of the other Muthas on this list, Tank Girl is anything but cool. Unless, of course, you mean cool with picking her nose, farting at you, and maybe getting good and fucked up before she fucks you up. Make no mistake, Tank Girl will fuck you up. Where to start? This chick’s first words were “cauliflower penis” and she just got more outrageous and don’t-give-a-fuck from there. Her boyfriend is a mutant kangaroo, her friends have a jet, sub, and torpedo boat and she’s heavily armed and usually drunk. Even though the movie gathered a pretty badass cast, the feel was fairly lame and pop, but there was enough spark of the original Tank Girl anarchic punk rock weirdness to make even the movie TG a badass Mutha.

Tyler Durden

When one gathers together the ultimate list of don’t-give-a-fuck badassery, one name shines like a beacon of hard-core Mutha-dom. For chrissakes, ***********spoiler ahead*********** the dude doesn’t even actually exist, yet fucks up virtually everything in his path, anyway. Tyler is a major-league shit-disturber at an epic level. Not content to merely beat the crap out of the lost souls who show up for Fight Club, he turns them into his personal anti-culture prankster army. He splices porn into Disney movies, brings about the wholesale polution of restaurant food, organizes Project Mayhem, blows up the credit card system and still has time to make soap and inspire Marla Singer to proclaim she “hasn’t been fucked like that since grade school”. Plus he has the most badass wardrobe of any certified Mutha since Shaft.
So what has YOUR insomnia done for you lately?

Mallory Knox

Speaking of bat-shit crazy …

It might seem odd to list just one half of the Natural Born Killers, but there is a difference. While Mickey was having weird visions of bloody bunnies and the like, Mallory was most likely off somewhere kicking the crap out of somebody.

Unlike many of the badasses on this list, I find nothing positive or admirable about Mallory Knox. Unless, of course, you count her steadfast dedication to good head. Perhaps that’s enough to constitute a lone bright spot in an otherwise black-as-fuck abyss of crazy violence and regrettable fashion choices. I know at least three or four women who count the infamous garage scene among their favorites movie moments of all time, for obvious reasons.

If you aren’t familiar with the movie, I’ll sum up. Mallory walks into to a garage and enlists the young man there to give her some head on the hood of a car. Apparently, he was deserving of something a bit more harsh than “The Tap™”, because she shoots him dead. Then, she yells at his corpse with a solid kick, “That’s the worst fuckin’ head I ever got in my life! Next time don’t be so fuckin’ eager!”

So, okay, many of us have probably thought a bit too fondly of that scene at one time or another. Cunnilingus enthusiast cred aside, Mallory is still an utterly despicable, bat shit crazy psychotic, but that can’t take away the fact she’s a stone cold, bad Mutha.

Happy Day to all you Muthas!

Let’s face facts. It’s often a pain in the ass to live an independent artists’ existence. Sacrifices, though, usually balance out with the perks, at least enough for otherwise-mainly-rational adults to stay out of the cubicles and keep at it. Sometimes, those perks tilt the scales so much they make even the most arduous sacrifices for the life of a full-time creative degenerate seem minute.

 

This spring is one of those times.

 

There is a feeling of renaissance in the air in the Los Angeles creative underbelly, but not your history books’ sort. This is a new breed of artistic expression cast in leather and latex instead of bronze and etched in flesh, not marble. Seething beneath the surface, there has been a growing lust among mainstream artists to explore their deviant sides. While they pined for the darker side, erotic artists touching on the beauty of deviation came to the fore.

 

Where these two creative communities meet has been an explosion of collaboration between parts of a very diverse underground. Revolutionary ideas are meshing in strange and unexpected ways. Even the recession has pitched in, playing its own strange part in the karmic shift. Just that little stretch of economic panic gave a lot of artists the last excuse they needed to pack in the suits and commute to commit to their craft. It also gave many of us a taste for taking creative risks, as well as an innate sense of camaraderie among artists of all stripes. In the end, we’ve discovered, we’re all one big band of brothers who have survived it together rather than competing creative philosophies or mediums. We found common ground and started exploring it.

 

For a while, all these factors were growing, multiplying. The only missing link was a place such diverse communities would be attracted to and, thus, be able to come together on a larger scale.

 

Then, last August Jane Jett and Miss Crash opened Studio Servitù. From the moment they welcomed the first guests to their still-talked-about Grand Opening, Servitù became a major creative hub. Not only was it a go-to location for mainstream and erotic photographers and filmmakers, it was also the site of everything from gallery benefits and fetish events to art mainstays like Dr. Sketchy’s Anti-Art School. One couldn’t go to an event at Servitù without meeting a fascinating range of artists and creative minds and leaving with a head full of fresh ideas.

 

In no time, the studio was getting press in LA Weekly and major blogs (not to mention a certain alt fashion legend’s webzine *ahem*). The sheer crush of popularity threatened to overcome the (admittedly) small space. The promise of “what could be” compelled the co-owners of Servitù to do something a little crazy. Less than six months after opening the original Studio Servitù, the doors were temporarily closed to build a bigger and better space from scratch. Luckily for everyone in the LA underground, Crash and Jane were game to take on this seemingly Quixotic quest.

 

If the original Servitù was a labor of love for the creative underground, this new space qualifies as an undying pledge of devotion.

 

Honestly, I am trying rather hard not to lapse into gushingly adoring tones but, in all fairness, I’ve seen the new studio. Every time I’ve walked into it and seen the latest progress in build-out and décor, Shakespearean thoughts of “we lucky few” spring to mind. After all, I am one of the lucky few to be able to call this place a creative laboratory and playground.

 

As you might (or might not) be wondering by now, there is a method to my madness, a reason this creative degenerate’s fancy turns lightly to thoughts of Servitù and creative collaboration.

 

The new Studio Servitù hosts its Grand Opening this Saturday night!

 

It doesn’t take a genius to know this promises to give the artistic underground a goodly rumble, possibly the kickoff of a seismic shift. It also doesn’t take a lot of brain juice to know Jane and Crash will make the first official act of Servitù to dazzle, amuse, and shock us just a little in unexpected and (of course) sexy ways, altering our perception of where the line between mainstream and underground lies, if it exists at all. We kind of like that about them and, apparently, so do a lot of other creative Angelenos.

 

Including Lip Service, who is an event sponsor (Did you have any doubt? Really?).

 

I said it the last time and those who may have scoffed or doubted missed one hell of a memorable event. I will merely repeat myself …

 

This is an invitation you really want to get.

 

From what I know of the night’s plans, it should be huge … a  thoughtfully naughty amuse bouche, a viewing of the documentary “The New Erotic”, will launch into a full-tilt red carpet party with VJ sets by Ginger Fish, as well as appearances by magician Rudy Coby and emcee The Lizardman. Knowing Crash and Jane, I assume there will be tasty surprises beyond the announced … that’s just how they roll.

 

Granted, entertainment is the icing … the REAL draw of a night at a Servitù event is the crowd.

 

Beyond the cream of the creative crop of photographers, filmmakers, artists, and models, there promises to be an even more eclectic crowd on hand at the new studio. Not to mention, some famous faces are expected as well. Plus, there will be coverage from various segments of media. Like the studios, the new Grand Opening is set to a bigger and better scale. If my intuition is any judge, which it usually is, it will be an event you don’t want to miss. To cheezily paraphrase one of my favorite movie quotes, this opening is going to go to eleven.

 

Just trust me on this one.

 

We are living in very interesting times, my dear degenerates, and they’re about to get even more so this weekend.

 

Hope to see you there!