Well, Apple is making my life a living fucking hell. They 'updated' the software that we use to compress our video into the various formats for your eager consumption, and in the process they fucked things up good. Even though lots of people all over the globe are all reporting the same show stopping problems, they called me today to say they still couldn't verify the problems were real. WTF!

Anyway, it has been on our schedule for a month now that we would release today Sadie Lune's latest episode where she has a bloody, Pee-wee Herman kind of masturbation event, to promote her totally fun, totally hot event Paul Reuben's day. Well the episode has been edited for over a week now, but Apple made another 'update' to Quicktime which I hoped might fix their other problems. Boy was I wrong. I spent all morning trying to figure out how to role back my Quicktime version. I mean these problems are so bad they are worthy of Microsoft. So, I am hoping to bring you the latest episode tomorrow, just in time for Sadie Lune's Pee-wee Herman event: Paul Ruebens' Day!

The Pee-wee Herman Masturbation Adventures

Any of you who have watched an interview with Sadie Lune know that she is not just sexy, she is smart, political, practical and grounded too. So, when I heard that she was one of the founders and the main organizer of Paul Reuben's Day, I was reminded of a quote that the KPFA radio activist, Caroline Casey often espouses. It goes something like this: "Times are too dire for the luxury of reality." Yes they are. Absurdity, fiction and bizarreness make the world a saner, truer place. And according to Sadie very few do it better than the genius Paul Reuben in his work as Pee-wee Herman.

Paul Reubens has also been unhappily stigmatized with indecent exposure (in 1991). Yup, he was busted for masturbating in a porn theater ... where everyone should be masturbating right? Isn't that what the venue is about? But if you are the star in a sophisticatedly absurd children's show, you are supposed to be celibate. I think it is appropriate to point out at this point that priests who do commit themselves to a sex-free life, have been receiving a lot of notoriety for breaking their vows in the worst possible way. I would sooner trust a child with Paul Reuben than your average priest, because the oppression of sexuality only leads to explosions of inappropriateness. If Reubens was getting his rocks off on "Nurse Nancy" he is not much of a pedophile.

So, just what is this Paul Reubens' Day? For the last five years Sadie has been organizing the event where 30-60 people, dressed in all manor Pee-wee, visit toy shops and porn shops, humping each other on street corners while being absurdly fun. They pass out red bow ties and harass passing adults. This year they are returning to the SF neighborhood of North Beach. If it sounds like a good time it is. Check it out this Saturday, July 28th at noon. Details can be found at Paul Reubens' Day. Also, after the neighborhood romp, Sadie has organized a playhouse fundraiser for the St. James Infirmary and The Center For Sex & Culture.

The Lady Monster Radio Pod Spot

Somewhere in the course of talking to Lady Monster during her shoot, she mentioned that she does pirate radio. So, today I got an email from her stating that she was doing a radio show dedicated to Sadie's Paul Reuben's event and her related episode for us, which was bloody. I guess I forgot to mention that. Sadie popped our cherry with the first ever menstrual masturbation. It wasn't like the mild red taint of wetness either. She was full on gushing by the end, and characterized her pussy as a bloody destroyer.

So, tomorrow, Lady Monster will be interviewing Sadie Lune. The station is Pirate Cat Radio, and podcasts can be downloaded at Lady Monster's Podcast Lair. Apparently, we are honorary sponsors, somehow. Rock on! Speaking of which ...

Masturbation Musicians

Hey, so remember how I talked about the queer dude, Juba Kalamka, who got yanked by Nina Hartley at the Masturbate-a-thon. Well, it turns out that masturbation and having a fine young cock aren't his only talking points. He just released another album: Deep Dickolective's "On Some Other". His promo says: "Nerdy, wordy homiesexual hip hop. don't be scurred. Queer Is Black." I tend to be musically hard to please in my eclectic desire for ... something, so it means a lot when I say I like these songs: Go buy the album after check out the samples below:

For Colored Boys:

Other Countries:

TMI:

But, wait there is more! When we were just baby pornographers trying to make a little film from our first episodes to submit to various film festivals (who all rejected us), we were looking for music to put with our film and one group, The Mouthfulls, rose to the amazing challenge. It was part of the deal that we shoot them some publicity. I have wanted to put their music up for some time, but I couldn't convert the album (yes they made a whole album for us) to mp3. I am still working on it, but I hope that my very next post will be a bunch of mp3s of their masturbation album.

Northwestern University recently reported on a long running and clearly flawed study they have been sadly conducting for many years. It is about sexual response in men vs. women. The general conclusion of the study is that women regardless of whether they identify as lesbian, bisexual or straight merely have a sexual preference. Men on the other hand have an orientation set in biological stone. They figured this all out by tracking arousal patterns of different subjects who were being stimulated by images of men, women, and various types of couples. Women apparently responded to all types of sexual imagery whereas men just responded to the images appropriate to their designated orientation.

To explain why this is such a fucked up approach and ridiculous conclusion I am going to have to resort to Harry Potter. Sadly this is not the first time that the aura of Harry Potter has lingered in porn, but for those HP fans, I promise Harry is not going to be having sex in this blog.

When I first heard about Harry Potter, I was living in the cultural hole of engineering school and J.K. Rowling was already through her third book. All the hip people were reading the books prominently on public transportation in preparation for the release of book four. The very thought of Harry Potter put me into feminist waves of revulsion because (and I quote myself) "For god's fucking sake, why does every hero have to be male? Why do women always have to contort their sense of self into the confines of a male body? You know women think, believe, feel and have adventures too. Not everything is muddled up and colored pink by our genitals." Sorry to rant like that; I should remind you that I was in mechanical engineering school where my teacher would stiffen with discomfort when I, a womanish thing, walked in for office hours. That kind of crap really irks the soul.

Anyway, the point I am trying to make is that most good and "universal" stories are told from the point of view of a male (and usually a white, middle-class male, but now I am making myself sick with political angst). Any story about a woman (or ....) is automatically contaminated and not worthy of housing the greater stories about human struggle and triumph. This preponderance has developed a great flexibility amongst women. We can and we do put ourselves into the minds of men and boys every time we turn on the tv, watch a movie, ready a book. Men on the other hand rarely have to make those journeys.

It is a foregone conclusion in my judgmental mind that this is true for general stories of humanity, but does this translate into the world of sex. Well, now I have to tell you about a Yom Kippur story. There is only one other Jew in the harbor where I live. This year we just happened to be leaving for service at the same time, she without a true destination, and me to the place that I go every year, like clock-work. I invited her along, and of course, even though it was the holiest day of the year, we ended up talking about porn.

She had seen a sex special on HBO about fuckingmachines, the site where I had directed a couple episodes. She thought it was really hot. I should interject here that I can't think of a straighter woman. She is one of those happily sexual women that gave women in old Jewish culture the reputation as the sexual beings of the two sexes. I was confused by her enthusiasm and I said, "But the women are faking it mostly. Why do you find this hot?" She said it wasn't the women that turned her on, it was that turned on reaction of the men who were watching that she got into. I thought, "How odd, no one on any set I ever worked had time to be turned on, we were all too damn busy. How did they work that into an HBO special?"

Fast-forward a couple months. Our site finally opens its reluctant doors, to be mostly ignored by the world. Um, I guess we are still waiting for some eager recognition, but that is another story. Over one sad and stormy weekend, my neighbor with the boat at the end of the world asked me to sit for his boat and cat. I agreed for his heat and view, but was pleased to have TV too. So I turn on the boob tube, and up pops the face of Peter Ackworth owner of Kink.com talking about fuckingmachines. I felt kind of like I was in hell, because not only was I worrying about the fate of my own porn site, but I was looking at the gloating face of the man who had failed to offer me a job on his porn site. This really wasn't the vacation from my life I had been hoping for.

It turns out, that this little assault was the special documentary my straight neighbor had been talking about. It was a pretty basic documentary showing a rated R rather than X version a fuckingmachine episode in creation. They did leave out all the bits where the machine vibrated out of the performer's pussy, and the staff's dire warnings that she stay very still while taking this ride lest she risk blowing out her cervix. Otherwise, it was just like I remember. I kept waiting for turned-on straight guys to appear on the stage, perhaps running by with full blown erections, but they never showed.

So, where were these phantom turned-on-men that my neighbor had seen .... Why, in her head of course. In the same way that girls and women place themselves inside the life struggles of the male-bodied Harry Potter, women have to create the pornography they need with what is available. If the industry gives you porn for other people, by god us women with our skills for transferring our identities will just imagine it into what we need.

So, what is missing from this Northwestern study? It is that translation between what is given and what is seen. More than likely when a straight woman is given a photo of "lesbian sex" she is thinking of how she has seen these types of images turn on her male partner. On the other hand when I (a dyke) see two guys fucking, I see two human beings getting it on, how hot is that? ... even if I would never want to have sex with either of them. Straight men who in theory have the same sexual preference as me, do not share this flexibility. In fact, it seems possible that straight men can't even stretch their perceptions to imagine what would be sexy for other straight men. I am in a very weird business, and I thank my lucky stars daily that we now have a marketing dude at our disposal.

Seeing how we are so well loved by miscellaneous queers, it seemed to me like a good idea to make a sale for the holy holidays of queer pride. So, a couple weeks back I contacted all our queer performers, which somehow amounted to all our performers and asked them if they would be willing to distribute postcards. People were amazingly willing, which is good because when I was faced with actual potential customers sitting on the grass at Delores Park all my issues of rejection came up. It didn't help at all that I looked as geeky and uncouth as I usually do. My freshly spiky hair as of four months ago had grown out into an unkempt shag carpet. I now look like a butch soccer mom, which is unfortunate since I am not butch and through this career path I am generally considered a danger to children. I guess it just goes to show that you shouldn't judge a butch by its cover. Yeah, I know ... that was bad.

The queer proceedings started on Friday afternoon with the Trans March. Z, a dude we haven't even had the opportunity to shoot yet showed up with his girlfriend and passed out a ton of fliers. Then Liz showed up in boy-wear and a short hair cut, accompanied by Lucia and Jodie. Almost no one recognized me because I look pretty different with short hair, apparently like a butch soccer mom. I also didn't recognize Lucia because she was glammed up into super-fancy-ladyhood with gigantic drag queen eye lashes and conical sequined pasties stuck to her nipples. It was a little odd to see those three people together because I wasn't aware that Jodie knew any of these folks. It made my world seem very claustrophobic until I looked on stage and saw lots of crazy exhibitionists that I didn't yet know.

Leading amongst them was the emcee who sported a thick and luxurious mustache with a bare chest and humongous tits. It was an interesting and enviable combination. I stood in jealousy until the emcees last stand where he ripped off his mustache and revealed herself to be Annie Danger one of the organizers of the "Lick My Kitty" memorial cabaret. At least from the promotional photos for the event, I can say that Annie looks as dragish in glamor girl clothes as he does topless with a handle bar mustache. Annie wants to do a shoot with us, and my world seemed to get just a little bigger.

Then on stage this hot, slender chick got up to take a bow for helping organize the event. The person's name was Jason and I had to hit myself in the head. Jason is Liz's sweetheart and a person that I had contacted via email earlier in the day about doing a shoot. Just as the walls were starting to close in, the politicians took the stage. I am happy to report I haven't yet watched a politician masturbate for money, although I am sure it will happen soon enough. Mark Leno was dapper and slick. As soon as he left the stage, I had forgotten what he said. Carole Migden on the other hand strutted around stage like a crazy person bringing to mind the recent news report that exposed her as careening wildly down the highway in a gigantic SUV. She claimed it is the leukemia drugs she is on, but as she confronted one of the sisters of perpetual indulgence from the stage in a New York slur, I couldn't help calling her affectionately a crazy, drunk old-bat.

The next evening was the Dyke March which of course was populated by an almost completely different set of our performers. The only uniting force was Sadie Lune who showed up both days in a mix of activist drag-wear. She wore a top-hat, a penciled-on mustache and red glitter lipstick with all manner of sexy, scandalous clothes. During the Trans March she stood by the stage cheering people on, and at the Dyke March she led many fun chants in a small contingent of sex workers.

When she saw me on the side-lines she asked me to march with her; I couldn't have been more pleased. While I don't take my clothes off in the course of my work, my connection to sex as a pornographer has made me a social pariah. People feel entitled to treat me like shit. Even when they don't treat me bad, they make everyone uncomfortable. I have gone to parties where people I have known for 10+ years were afraid to talk to me because they were afraid it would somehow lead to an explicit exhibition at the local VCR. So, thank you Sadie for making a butch soccer mom feel welcome for the sexual gender freak that I truly am.

Sadie was not alone, Violet Palmer was there and Gloria also made a fleeting appearance as she and her stud passed by in the dyke parade. I think Violet Blue also marched with the sex-workers contingent. She pretty much ignored me since I looked like a soccer mom, but Sadie handed her one of our postcards. It is possible that she has been disabused of the notion that we only make trans porn. Maybe we can even get some press about what we do. Of course, it is possible that it wasn't Violet Blue. If I got this wrong, I should say whoever it was that marched with us was very cute in her tiny blue mini-dress that barely covered her red lace panties.

On the way to the march Luci, the photographer (and my ex-girlfriend who just won't give up on me), was bemoaning the political nature of this march. She would prefer to just have fun. I can't imagine her horror when I insisted that we join a group of women chanting: "1, 2, 3, 4 ... I'm a queer and I am whore ... 5, 6, 7, 8 ... I get paid to masturbate!" She eventually gave in and held my hand while I chanted with everyone else.

As for the Sunday gay festivities, I missed it entirely. Episode #43 needed editing. Queer perverts everywhere really need to see a self-identified "Big Fat Diesel Femme" and it is my job to bring her to them. Sincock's wife, however, was busy in my stead. She sent a text message mid-day saying she scored me an interview on a podcast called Dyke Drama. That seems appropriate. I can't wait.

In other news, my efforts to get someone in to do marketing on commission were finally successful. John, an amazing entrepreneur and generally nice guy, has come to our rescue. He has been building web businesses for years now, and he also knows how to code. He may be contacting you sometime soon to find out what you think about all this porn and stuff. With any luck he will also be getting this business profitable in the next couple months. Hey, who knows, maybe someday I will even get paid a mere pittance for my daily grind.

In early May, Sexy Freyja of Humboldt County contacted us with orgasmic enthusiasm about having a shoot. Usually when we are contacted by someone from out of town, I have to respectfully decline because we don't make enough money in this endeavor of love to cover our basic costs, let alone travel. I usually tell folks that they should try to gather a batch of 5-6 people in their area, and that when we can afford to travel we will come. Due largely to my ignorance of California geography however, when Freyja wrote me, I thought ... why the fuck not. So, with amazing grace and speed, she found a gaggle of local exhibitionists, who oddly enough are all red heads.

Saturday morning me, Sincock and Luci (our photographer) piled into Luci's sister's very cramped car. In addition to being filled with people and equipment, it was also filled with luggage and food. As it turns out, Humboldt County is 280 miles from the Bay Area, but it is 280 curvy, slow miles. It took us 6 hours to drive up. Because time is also an issue of money, we had to drive right by the swim-worthy Eel River and the acres of redwoods just begging for a post-picnic stroll.

The Humboldt red heads were so worth the drive. When we arrived at Freyja's house 20 minutes late we found a massive greeting party composed of not just the three people we were shooting that day, but also their partners. They were standing in a somewhat nervous cluster by the couch, trying to evaluate us. When everyone involved was introduced and reassured that we weren't a traveling band of ax murders, we proceeded to film.

The first person we shot was the immensely cute Piper. She was raised in a conservative and religious family down in Louisiana, but moved to California for liberation and freedom. She is a true, grounded and centered bisexual having had serious long term relationships with both men and women. Her down South family was good enough to not say at her heterosexual wedding, "Thank God she ended up with a man." Bless their Christian hearts. We should all be so gracious and accepting.

After Piper's shoot, the whole greeting party reappeared. Now that the ice had been broken, one of the extra boys had a huge number of technical questions for us. So we geek talked about light kits and camera brands and HD vs. SD while setting up for Kore Goddess our next shoot victim. Kore Goddess could be the poster child for Red Handed Porn. Throughout her shoot she talked about how getting involved in porn had totally changed her sexuality. In the last year that she has been exploring through this medium, she has found her g-spot, learned about what it means to have a vaginal orgasm, learned to squirt and becoming multiply orgasmic. That is a lot to learn in a year, which is to say there might be short term solutions and lots of hope for all of us. This year I would like to learn to squirt too.

The last person we shot on Saturday was our gracious host Freyja. She was sweet and kind and down to earth. After playing with toys from our toy chest, she told us weird tales about fans on her Southern Charms site. I guess I forgot to mention that these chicks don't just share dazzling red hair, they also all participate in Southern Charms, an amateur porn website. One fan paid her two dollars a minute for a personal live cam where she gave a dildo a blow job. He paid for 15 minutes, but only needed 12. There is another guy who writes everyone on Souther Charms asking them to talk to a lobster before boiling it alive. She also gets a lot of giantess and vor requests. For those of you as ignorant as me, vor is a kind of fetish where you imagine you are being totally chewed up and consumed in a mouth. I am sure before long we will end up shooting one of these odd fetishes. Once you open the door of possibilities, everything walks in.

We retired that night at the Arcata Super 8, a place befitting the pornographer trash that we are. Luci claimed that the front desk guy was shifty. I think she has been seeing too many action movies because she cooked up this plot where he hijacked the motel for some purpose yet to be disclosed. As proof of her theory, she sited the fact that no one would answer the phone to tell us why the WiFi wasn't working. Eventually she convinced me that we needed to go down to the front desk to investigate. It was shocking. We turned to corner into the main lobby to find 3-4 retirement aged couples living up their vacation playing mahjong in the communal space. Then the shifty front desk guy said the WiFi just wasn't working.

At 6:30 the next morning we were awakened by our blessed neighbor who was yelling at his young daughter, Hannah. He was explaining in too graphic detail the kinds of things that could happen if she wandered away from the family. It made me want to go knock on his door saying, "Hi, I am the pornographer next door and I am here for Hannah." But I was good, and did not unleash my horrid sense of humor on this asshole. I didn't even bang on the wall.

We were only supposed to shoot one more person Sunday morning, but exhibitionists have a way of multiplying. Gatsby the last of our red heads lives with her genderqueerish, transish bio-guy and a whole host of gender bending freaks. One such genderbender is Almond. This is what Gatsby said about 'her', "She is a transboi." I really had trouble digesting those implications, although I am perfectly happy living in the gender middle grounds. I couldn't wait to hear what it is that Almond thought about his/her gender identity. It turns out that she doesn't give a shit about pronouns or identity politics. She goes out with a guy who identifies as straight. She wants to get top surgery and take enough T to lower her voice. Everything else is open to interpretation ... or so I thought until she started fucking. He fucks like a guy. He inserted a feeldoe cock and started jacking off with it, his boxers collecting at his boots, until he had to stop and kick it all off. I can't even imagine how Almond's boyfriend identifies as straight, but denial goes a long way.

Gatsby's show was entirely different and dynamically shy. Unlike most of the other people that we work with, the interview section did not make her more comfortable with our presence. She wasn't sure what to do with a room full of camera people, and on screen this all comes across as sexy and coy. She made a tent of her sheet and hiding from us when she got too embarrassed or nervous. She slowly revealing body parts in all manner of wiggliness, taking brief breaks until finally near the hour mark, she had an orgasm.

Having fulfilled our quorum of red heads we headed on back to the Bay Area. Still there was no time to stop and bask at the river, but we did drive through a tree as part of our car-bound redwood adventure. It cost $6 and we got a postcard with that too. We finally got back home around 8pm Sunday night. We were exhausted and poorer for our travels, but with lots of great footage.

If you want to check out these Southern Charmers. Here are their sites: Sexy Freyja, Kore Goddess, Gatsby aka Cherry Thu, 21 Jun 2007 15:35:09 -0800 http://www.redhandedporn.com/extras/cockNboot/page01.php#22 http://www.redhandedporn.com/extras/cockNboot/page01.php#22 Porn Sex Blog junk@redandedporn.com (Boots) Category: Shoots;

What is it that people say about the best laid plans? They lead to hell ... or something like that. The Masturbate-a-thon was a bit of a disaster all around. We had hoped that this supplementary content would be a fun bonus for regular members. We also wanted to put our name into the eyes of people already looking to watch real people masturbating. Well that really isn't the way it turned out. I have sent out emails to members apologizing, but I will apologize here too. If you had trouble viewing the stream, I am truly sorry. We hadn't meant to make this fun event a source of frustration or angst. I hope we can make it up to you when we are able to give you a downloadable version of that stream.

Trials

The biggest problem that people had accessing the stream was that they couldn't properly type their username or password. As it is now about 10% of our members display this type of incompetence. Often they are frustrated and angry, huffing via email until I point out that they are poor typists. Given that we were behind cameras at the event itself we weren't able to man the phones and inbox, dispensing advice and giving people character by character feedback. CCBill, our billing company dispensed some really poor login advice in our stead.

It also seems that the stream was not reaching people fast enough. Our Large members know that we download our video 700 kbps. Medium members are sent their video at about 350 kbps. The numbers don't mean that much, but if you can watch our episodes in a window without much pausing, skipping or stuttering then you are receiving the video at about that rate too, and your connection speed should have been sufficient to receive a stream from the event.

The stream was directed, managed and hosted by eluminated Media who is generous in doing this every year. They are however busy and this event, being a freebie, is less of a pressing issue for them. We didn't find out until the week before any of the specifics of the stream. Our testing showed that our office DSL which is capable of receiving our Large episodes without a hiccup had some trouble digesting even the smallest sized stream from them. I am still not convinced that their server was too slow, but I am convinced that if we want to preserve our high-quality standards, we should do it ourselves. I don't think we can offer content from other sources, even as an extra. If we can't control the content, it will just come and bite us in the ass.

But Rapture

The event itself was fun and funny. Volunteers segmented off a little area beneath the dungeon stage. It was littered with poofs and cushions, and the area was dedicated to those exhibitionist masturbators who wanted to be on film. Nina Hartley unable to contain herself immediately commenced in servicing the men in the area. I ran off to find her handler yodeling, "Nina Hartley is giving some guy a hand job!" The handler came and watched instead of intervening. The second man that she gave a hand job to came hard which just goes to show that Nina Hart has enough technique to bring out the straight in a queer boy.

Off in the other room, a passel of dancers sashayed on the top of a pool table to the music played by DJ Pusspuss. After two years as a pornographer, I have trouble understanding burlesque and go-go dancing. When you can watch a person really having sex and really coming, what is the appeal of watching someone not even getting naked. I love being teased, but if you know for certain that you aren't getting anything going in, the fun is gone. Teasing is all about that question. Anyway, the male members of the audience did not agree with my disinterest. They lined the benches pants down, stroking. At one point Fudgie Frottage joined their ranks dressed in a giant mechanics jumper exposing only his triple sized, thick as a thigh, silicone cock.

The more styled and staged performances were supposed to happen on the pool table too, but the DJ seemed to have issues with the presence of video camera's in 'his' space. So we moved Trauma Flintstone on to the dungeon stage where she sang us a song about getting titty fucked. There is nothing like watching a drag queen slide a mic between the two hamburger buns she has just pulled out of her cleavage. Lady Monster showed us her pasties all a-twirl before Fudgie's real performance began as he sang to his cock. The cock responded with a whistled solo into the mic. All in all the mic got a log of action.

There were BDSM bottoms abusing themselves in the barn next a hula-hooping cowgirl. Sadie Lune made an appearance as a short haired black cat. She had several orgasms for me and the reporter from the Chronicle before having to turn tail and go perform in a play across town. Towards the end of the evening, Gloria and Isobel Caprice stole the stage to have more orgasms than I could count. When we stopped streaming at 10:30 I collapsed on the stage next to them, camera in hand, surrounded by orgasmic moans.