Thursday, March 14, 2013


I don't how many of you out there have a ROKU or maybe some of you don't even know what the hell a ROKU is - it's a little plastic device about as big as a hockey puck that streams online content to your TV - but I picked one up at Best Buy and I just love the little bastard.

Anyway, I streamed a great flick on there from NETFLIX called INSIDE DEEP THROAT. It's a documentary made back in 2005 about the porno classic DEEP THROAT. The damn thing cost only $25,000 to make and to date has grossed over $600 million bucks. 

DEEP THROAT was made long before the VCR hit the market so you had to go to the theatre to see it.  It was the first porn flick that went mainstream and had lines that went around the block at the theatres it was shown at and movie stars and other celebrities in major markets would often be seen standing in line. I guess it made it cool to been seen at a porno theatre although that didn't work out to well years later for Pee Wee Herman. 

Banned in 23 states it was basically owned by the mob and theatres who screened it would have a couple of shady characters show up once a week demanding half of their weekly take in cash. Refuse and risk getting your legs broken or your establishment burnt to the ground.

The plot was assinine - Linda Lovelace was a hot chick who supposedly has her clit down in the back of her throat  thus giving her the excuse to give deep throat head to all the dudes in the film - but that's beside the point. I always thought in her day old Linda was quite a babe and how many skin flicks have you ever seen that had a good plot?

Anyway, this film is highly rated and well worth checking out - make sure you get the NC-17 cut.

Linda Lovelace and DEEP THROAT actually helped inspire a chapter in SNORTING THE DEVIL'S DANDRUFF - I've included a chapter sample....  

......Bobby responded by opening his mouth and
barfing a geyser of beer and bad Mexican food all
over the old queer. We both vaulted off of our
stools and ran out the door screaming and laughing
like hyenas and tore down the block until we found
ourselves, like a vision from God, in front of the
legendary PussyCat theater. Deep Throat had
played non-stop there for years. It was a double
feature, the second show was called I Cream On
Jeanne. I was hoping that Barbara Eden was really
in it. She had been the subject of many of my stroke
dreams. Thinking back, how in even my LSD
addled mind did I think that Barbara Eden would be
performing in a porno film?
“I gotta see this flick,” Bobby said, “I heard
this chick Linda Lovelace can go down on a mule
and not bat an eye.”
After getting our tickets I went to take a leak
while Bobby went to the concession stand. Like I’d
eat anything that was sold in a porno theater. The
walls of the bathroom were covered with graffiti
and with the phone numbers of men who either
wanted me to call them so they could blow me or
visa versa.
“What in the hell is wrong with this
goddamn town,” I wondered as I pissed all over my
shoes looking at all the amateur porno scrawled on
the walls. The majority of them poorly done
renditions of stick men with massive cocks, balls,
and exposed assholes. If the theater was showing
just regular old porno flicks - guy on girl, girl on
girl - why was all the graffiti homo related? Another
question for the ages.
Bobby was waiting for me in the lobby,
rocking from one foot to the other. He had bought a
box of World War II era malted milk balls and was
eating them with his mouth wide open. I had to
swallow back my gag reflex. What a disgusting
The theater was one of those old time places
that had gone to shit and now showed only skin
flicks around the clock. Fucking place must have
held two thousand people at one time in it’s glory
years and now there were about fifteen in the whole
joint. Me and Bobby, eleven single men, and two
either really ugly women or two transvestites who
were wildly making out.
I didn’t give a shit though! Man, once I
started to watch that Linda Lovelace, who was short
in the tit department but fine in the ass and bush, get
down with old Harry Reems, I was sporting a piece
of wood that Rod Carew could have used to knock
out a homer at the old Met stadium. The urge to
jerk-off off was intense. I just had to beat my meat,
just had to, but I couldn’t with Bobby next to me.
What shitty luck I was having.
“Look at them ugly chicks swapping spit,”
Bobby yelled out. No one in the audience as much
as turned around. “Goddamn that ain’t right! What
would Jesus do if he saw that?” (If that dumb
asshole had only been able to see into the future he
could’ve thrown a trademark on that one.
Advertising firms could have dosed Bobby with
acid and he would envision future marketing
slogans). Suddenly without warning he stood up and
stepped out into the aisle and hurled a milk ball as
hard as he could at the two spit swappers. It shot
over their heads by fifteen feet. The place was
cavernous, no one even heard it hit. Or cared for
that matter.
The next time he wound up like he was
trying out for the Yankees, even going through the
whole wind up with the kick and everything, but his
throw was way over their heads. Eventually
throwing the box empty, Bobby turned and ran up
the aisle for more ammo. Eureka! I took the
opportunity to un-zip and pull out my crank. I'm
sure this was illegal but since I had noticed about
everyone in the place appeared to be either beating
their hogs or someone else’s it must not be too well
enforced. I was really getting into it when out of the
corner of my eye I spied Bobby moving down the
center aisle firing malted milk balls like a submachine
gun. His hand would dip into the box, he’d
fire, and then take another step down the aisle. The
acid in my brain gave the milk balls the visual effect
of being shout out of a bazooka along with a bright
orange tracer. Very cool looking. But he was still
way off the mark and I was about on mine when
“What the fuck?” someone shouted. The two
transvestites were out of their seats and running up
the aisle towards Bobby. Obviously he had finally
hit his target. The sons of bitches were a lot bigger
than they looked sitting down. They charged up the
aisle looking like linebackers wearing nylons, wigs,
nightclub dresses, and high heels. The three of them
went down in a pile of punches, curses, and kicks.
I don’t know if it was the combination of the
acid, sweet Linda up on the screen giving it her all,
or the adrenaline of the fight - but I shot to my feet
and shot a wad that arched
over at least two rows and landed right on this old
dude’s neck!
He stood and shrieked like a wounded deer,
with his pants hanging down to his knees, his white
ass glowing in the dark as white as the moon.
“What the hell was that?” He screamed out again as
if battery acid had been poured on his neck.
Without stopping to look, I bolted up the
aisle as I jammed my prick back into my jeans at
the same time. I ran straight through the lobby and
out the left side lobby doors just as two cops came
in the right side of the lobby. I sprinted like an
Olympic track and field star packing a full load of
steroids, all the way back to the hotel.......