I just asked my friend Gram Ponante to marry me for the following reasons:
* While reviewing Japanese porn, he writes things like “When not living in fear of their ancestors’ vengeful, crab-walking ghosts, girding their underpants against unwanted tentacles, or giggling at poo, the Japanese delight in singing to monsters.”
* In a mini-interview with me recently, he tells me his sexual shame is the source of his power.
* His bio is completely made up.
* Yesterday on Fleshbot he crowned me as the OG Badd Bitch Violet Blue by attaching a TM to my name, while simultaneously including me in a review of a porn movie actually called Dirt Pipe Milkshakes #2. Yo — I’m now the gateway drug to a felching video. My work on this planet is done.
* When I sent him the marriage proposal and demand that he carry my satan-spawn into this world five minutes ago, he replied with a nod to my expertise as a sex educator, saying, “Thank you for teaching me, just now, that I could squirt into the fabric of my office chair.”
I cannot lay claim to discovering Dirt Pipe Milkshakes all on my own — oh no, the credit here goes to my esteemed colleage and best friend Thomas Roche, who when I helped him move out of his apartment gave me the world’s most horrid box of VHS porn. Either as a gift of deepest friendship or a curse on my libido for the rest of my life. But drunk together a month ago, he confessed to me that there are some titles he just can’t let go of.
It’s a slippery slope, dear reader. Now I can only wonder where “Beef in the Night #3” will take me.
