Judge Wade Mccree wins the “Settin Niggas Back 50 Years Award” O’ The Week much to the delight of Detroit’s Fox News. His honor is out chea sexting bishez and finds nothing wrong with it.

It’s Cold In Teh D.

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The key to scoring pussy on Craigslist is having the ability to create a great title line. You have to be on some Madison Avenue marketing shit to be an effective cocksmith on Craigslist.

What’s the tag line that will entice a complete stranger to open her vaginal canal to another complete stranger?  Something that says witty, intelligent, manly, non-threatening, and confident.  For instance, my most successful title line to date garnered me twenty five responses. By twenty five, I mean from actual women…I’m not counting the other forty five responses coming from gay dudes, trannies, bots, and straight dudes who want to bro up over a “straight” jerk off session.

Before I get to my title line o’ the century, consider this; Craigslist’s Casual Encounters is the reception area where the freakiest mufuckaz in your hometown gather. To some degree, everyone up in this bitch is a sexual addict seeking some sort of fix.

Look at it like attending a house party where you might want to cop yourself some trees. As you ask around, someone may say, “I aint got weed, but I can hook you up with some coke.” The next man may have some shrooms for sale. You may have to go through five oxy salesmen before you find yourself what you’re looking for. In the same way you shouldn’t get offended by someone offering you cat tranquilizer when you just want some ganja, you shouldn’t be offended by someone who wants you to stick your dick in their ass whilst seeking pussy. You’re at the party and everyone is invited, just worry about coppin your piff.

Here’s a breakdown of who will be responding to your ad and how to sift through the bullshit.

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Sorry for party rocking

via UH

A Royale employee’s apparent indiscretion in dealing with a woman who really, really wanted to get back into a concert there on Jan. 18 earned the Theater District club a trip to the Boston Licensing Board to explain itself this morning.

Police say the woman, attending an 18+ show that night, told officers she was being escorted out of the club on Tremont Street for being too rowdy when a doorman suggested that if she “performed oral sex on him,” he’d slip her back in.

The employee insisted to police no such offer had been made, let alone fulfilled, but police Lt. Stephen Meade today gave the licensing board photos from the nearby Marriott showing the employee and the woman entering the men’s room there – and spending four minutes inside, along with an unidentified second man. “They then leave from the men’s room and walk in the direction of Royale,” Meade said.

A District A-1 sergeant and officer told the board their investigation – which included a detective from the sexual-assault unit – showed no force or coercion, that the woman freely told them she agreed to blow the guy in exchange for readmission. They added she appeared “very intoxicated,” but that she repeatedly declined their offers to file an assault complaint or get her medical attention.

Unfortunately for the woman and the worker, manager Brig Dauber met them in the lobby and wouldn’t let her go back inside.

Dauber testified that when he refused to let her back in, she got irate and said she was owed readmission because of the oral service she’d just provided the worker. “You need to let me in the concert right now,” he recalled her telling him. Dauber said that several of her friends joined in and began demanding she be let back in. Dauber, however, said he held his ground and called 911 as soon as the woman began talking about the trip to the Marriott men’s room.

Dauber said the worker, who did not attend the hearing, left Royale’s employ of his own accord not long after the incident.

The board decides Thursday what action, if any, to take.

#scumbaglife

From the desk of General Stoor, JTTS Los Angeles Bureau Chief

“Everyone’s got herpes.”

That right there is my go to response to anyone who asks me about getting into porn. Every guy out there so desperately wants to believe that they “have what it takes” to be “talent” in the (un)glamorous world of adult entertainment. I get it. I really do. To those uneducated to the inner workings of the business, getting paid to fuck must seem like the greatest gig in the world. Well it’s not. For every 10,000 dudes like On & On who like to brag that they’re packing to anybody that will listen, maybe one will get a shot. Long story short (see what I just did there?), it’s not gonna happen. And if it does happen just be careful what you wish for.

After the disaster that was my first day working porn production, I was anxious to get back to work and continue my meteoric rise to the top. The schedule for the day was the same as before. Solo masturbation scene, break for lunch, boy-girl scene. I spend the first couple of hours setting up lights and sound. Then our female “talent” shows up. Woof.

I won’t call her out by name because she was such a sweet girl, but I’ll be damned if I haven’t pulled hotter girls out of the Silhouette at last call on a Tuesday night. It upsets me to call her a pizzaface but only because I hold pizza in such high regard. Additionally, she had a grill only a dentist trying to buy a vacation property could love. I will say that our make-up girl that day should win an AVN award as she was able to pull off a miracle. It was like Avatar levels of special effects uppinis piece.

Today's "talent"

We shot the masturbation scene in a jacuzzi and it went a lot faster this time around. I’m not sure how much of homegirl’s bacne was visible but I’m sure we can edit it out in post. In addition to sound, slate, and lights, I also produced the rubber ducky used in the scene and presented our “talent” with a pristine glass dildo. You want a dildo cleaned and cleaned right? Look no further than General Stoor.

Solo done. Lunch done. Time for the boy/girl scene. This is where I would get my education. Enter affable yet dim-witted male “talent”. Right off the bat he goes to shake hands and I have a Twix moment where I’m trying to figure out how to avoid this handshake. I stammer something about lube and dildos and give the ol’ elbow-based variation on the pound. I will never shake a porn dudes hand. Ever. 

The boy/girl scene starts with the male and female “talent” in a pool and he’s feeding her strawberries. She must really like strawberries because she’s sucking him off in no time. This had to be the worst, seeing as how it was a cold day in the valley and the pool was far from heated. The poor “talent” was visibly freezing between takes and turning all kinds of blue. For the record, a porn blowjob isn’t like a blowjob in real life. A porn blowjob is a series of starts and stops. Cameras have to move, lights need to be adjusted, etc. What will become a few minutes of fellatio onscreen took over an hour to film. And homeboy’s job in all of this was to sit on the edge of a cold ass pool and stay hard the entire time. No thanks.

The sex scenes aren’t much different. What I found most fascinating was that at no time during the filming of the “in-and-out” did our “talent” get to establish any momentum. It’s one big, naked game of Red Light Green Light. I got no sense of any chemistry between our “actors” but as “actors” they did good enough job faking it for the camera. Bravo. But my one biggest takeaway from watching all this is that these people aren’t really having sex. There’s a reason that within the biz they’re referred to as performers. I get it now. Also, unless you’re a major star within the industry you’re not making that much money and the guys always make less than the girls. Plus, everyone has herpes. Me? I’m content to wash dildos and lug equipment knowing that I’m not gonna wind up with bumps on my dick from lugging around a 50lb HMI light.

The moral of the story?  I’ve decided that I’m better off being this:

Than this:

En lieu of General Stoors’ soon to be followed up first epic poast, I did the knowledge on Gracie Glam. She’s no Ms. Michelle, but in all fairness, I’m very critical of S.W.V. (Slutty White Vaginas). My fave yt toilet seat of all time is Gauge. Not a fair comparison, but Gracie knows what it is…hatas gon’ hate. As far as my barometer of professional slores, Mimi Allen is the standard. Let’s get to live action.

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From the Desk of General Stoor, JTTS Los Angeles Bureau Chief

There’s a right way and a wrong way to clean and sanitize a dildo.  Perhaps more than anything, that is the single greatest lesson I walked away with after my first weekend working in porn production.  Before I continue with my tale, allow me to set the record straight for all my JTTSetters.  I knew going in that life on a porno set wasn’t glamorous.  I just had no idea how unglamorous it could get.

Since moving out to LA a mere six weeks ago, I’ve lived the good life.  I get my unemployment check direct deposited weekly, so finding work hasn’t been exactly what I could call a priority.  I’ve picked up some small acting gigs, but my days are spent mostly writing rhymes and scripts at my local bar (a.k.a “the office”).  I’ll occasionally volunteer at the wolf rescue or go to the beach to mix it up, but after a while boredom began to settle in.  Enter Alan E, a childhood friend who a decade ago moved out to Hollywood and went on to become the #1 still photographer in the skin game, his work being featured in such literary institutions as Fox, Cheri, Penthouse, and Finally Legal.  Alan, as it turns out, has just got his big break, having been asked to direct scenes to be used as online content for Brazzers.com.  With my experience having worked on mainstream movie sets, it was a no brainer that he’d hire me on as his director’s assistant.  I’m thinking “Bet.  Good money that’s under the table and some valuable experience, Why not?”

I’ll tell you why not.  Because in an instant I went from this:

To this:

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Matt Barnes got into a furious war of words with Game’s crew on Twitter over claims that she has slept with the rapper and one of his friends.

Coming soon to sock drawers and under the mattresses of pubescent kids everywhere–Ms. Kate Upton.

sleezytrees Says:
February 13th, 2012 at 7:10 am   

My Whitney story goes something like this:

Never have I been real close with my dad. I love the guy, but we would go hours in a car together and not say a fucking word.

My dad is pretty much emotionless, unless he is screaming on me and my family.

One day, I think it must’ve been whenever the Bodyguard came out.. not sure what year, I was riding with him somwhere. At this point, the song was on the radio 24 / 7.. I mean, I knew every lyric, every note, every single piece of the song. Everyone did. It was like months after the release..

So the song came on in our old 1990 Dodge Caravan – which I think was brand new at the time, I was riding shotgun with my dad and I tried to change the station when the song was on. I mean “I will always love you.. ” It’s not exactly a song you want to sing along with your dad too.. He was more of a Doobie Brothers, Neil Young, Simon and Garfunkl type dude.

I never saw my old man go into such a fit of rage as I turned the dial. “WHAT THE FUCK ARE YOU DOING?”

“Huh?”

“TURN IT BACK, TURN IT BAAAACCCCKKKKK”.

“You like Whitney Houston Dad?”

“TURN IT FUCKING BACK, I DIDN’T TELL YOU TO CHANGE IT”

Fear inside me welled up and I quickly turned it back to the station. I looked at my dad’s face and for the first time – I didn’t see my dad, I saw a man in love (no homo). Something about Whitney’s voice touched his soul. Whitney brought out the human being in my father.

That was the power of Whitney Houston. She could melt ice.

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Europeans may have none of our own American issues with ass-n-titties in public, but that’s probably because their soft core porn is a bit classier, none more so than in the famous Pirelli calendar. The Italian-based tire company (also sponsors of FC Internazionale Milano…just saying) put out this calendar once a year, featuring a world famous photographer shooting nudes of famous models in exotic settings with a ridiculous budget. Being the unclassy American that I am, upon learning this I just assumed I could go to Amazon and pick up one of these mass-produced flesh spreads for $9.99 plus free shipping. Quite the contrary; only 20,000 copies of the calendar are produced and are given to select people–as in the Sultan of Brunei, the Vatican (..!?!) and the British Royal Family–while the rest of us make do with our Maxim Hot 100 girls…how pedestrian (you can buy one on eBay for the reasonable sum of $999.99). But seeing how the Internet continues to destroy all barriers between the truly rich and those who want to act like they are truly rich, you can check after the jump to see some of the pics from this year’s calendar–featuring Milla Jovovich, Kate Moss, Lara Stone, Isabeli Fontana, Natasha Poly, Saskia de Brauw, Joan Smalls, Guinevere Van Seenus, Malgosia, Edita Vilkevicute, Margareth Made and Rinko Kikuchi, shot by Mario Sorrenti–after the jump. If you have the willpower and iPhoto, you could probably just make your own calendar and print it out. Now that’s classy.

via Frank151 x BKRW

more pics + documentary clip after the jump

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I’ve said it before and I’ll say it again.

The internet is a savage beast.

NSFW

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