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Mr. Mitt Romney Takes A Dump

Call me perverted but I’m fascinated with Mitt Romney’s execratory practices while he was on a Mormon Mission to France. I know quite a bit about defecating in that country. I went to school there, got a degree, married a French woman and took many a shit in that fair country.

When Romney was knocking on doors informing dubious citizens that God had left golden tablets in an upstate New York parking lot, I was the coordinating producer for the world wide telecast of the Winter Olympics in Grenoble France

But so much for my bona fides now back to Mitt who says that while he in France he often went to the bathroom in a bucket or a hole in the ground. It’s true that during the Middle Ages the French often deposited their intestinal remnants in a bucket which they often threw out the window— but that practice stopped about the time they beheaded Marie Antoinette. In fact The French became habituated to the glories of indoor plumbing at roughly the same time as we Americana did.

However the French did have something that lasted well into the twentieth century—which like their ubiquitous bidets—shocked many a visitor. It was called Un Cabinet Turc or Turkish Cabinet. (The French do have a tendency to blame foreigners for some their unsavory practices.) But the Cabinet Turc wasn’t too bad. It was a room lined in porcelain which indeed had a hole in the floor instead of a toilet, but the cabinet had amenities—including grunt bars to hold onto and toilet paper. Of course sometimes they ran out and one was forced to use yesterday’s newspaper but when Mitt was fruitlessly proselytizing and badgering the mostly atheist French, Turkish Cabinets were were pretty much a thing of the past. At most Mitt may have shit in them once or twice, other than that he had it pretty damn good. Here’s why; for most of his time in France he lived in a mansion in one of the ritziest sections of Paris. His digs were owned by The Mormon church and according to Christian Euvard, the 72 year old director of the Mormon-run Institute of Religion in Paris, who knew Romney, “The building had beautiful, gilded interiors and a Spanish chef who cooked delicious meals five days a week.” In today’s money the building is worth 12 million dollars. For money like that besides bidets which the virginal Mormon missionaries undoubtedly thought were for washing your feet, you get flush toilets.

Romney may know all the stanzas of America The Beautiful. He can believe in The Angel Moroni and the powers of magic underwear—but he admits to something which the French, who are on the whole one of the most animal loving people on earth would never condone. They take their pets wherever they go– to restaurants, bars, cafes, markets—but they don’t stuff their dogs in a crate tied to the top of their car as The Romney Family did when they went on vacation….

Mitt Romney, man of the people, payer of 15% income tax that is immoral and disgusting. I have nothing against your giving millions of dollars to The Church of Latter Day Saints but for God’s sake man, pull up your pants and give a yearly tithe to The ASPCA as penance for what you did to your dog. It was far more revolting than then depositing your cordon bleu, catered dinner into a hole in the floor which I doubt because I like I said I bet the manse in France had toilets….and probably ones with heated seats.

 

How To Make A Porno For Dummies

When I wrote my porno, I was an average TV writer, living with an average girlfriend in an average neighborhood. Next door to us in an average house lived America’s most successful pornographer, “The King of Smut,” as he was known, had been arrested numerous times. But that didn’t stop him. He considered that as a citizen of The United States of America, he had certain inalienable rights, with the main one being the right to film people when they fucked.

I admired him a lot.

One day my friendly neighborhood pornographer asked me if I wanted to write a porno for him. I leaped at the chance! I was between assignments, a position I frequently found myself in, and I grabbed an old Kojak script and morphed the formidable, homicide detective into a horny, old goat who had Priapism. Priapism is a debilitating disease in which the sufferer sports a constant hard-on. Because of this ailment, Kojak demanded all kinds of sexual favors from everyone he busted. But after he finally achieved orgasm—which always took extensive foreplay—he was a good guy and let the person go.

Over all, I was pleased with my work.

And my pornographer neighbor was ecstatic about it; but asked for a change. He wanted me to add a break in the action exactly two minutes before the end of the picture. When I asked why, he said it was so the audience could zip up.

After I handed in the script with the “zip up” break, everything fell apart. The pornographer neighbor told me there had been a change in plans and that he was no longer going to make my movie! I was crestfallen, but reasoning was he had just gotten the receipts from his latest venture and it was breaking records! The King of Smut said his picture, TABOO, would soon out gross Deep Throat! The year was 1982 and people were flocking to pussy cat theatres and he needed a sequel to fill the seats. So instead of Kojak Visits A Whore House, I began writing TABOO the sequel.

Before I started, I screened the first TABOO. It was immediately apparent that the pornographer had ripped off the classic Greek tragedy, Oedipus Rex. But instead of a mother inadvertently making love to her son and then plucking out her eyes in horror, the mother in the TABOO 2 was well aware of who she fucked. Moreover, she kept her eyes wide open during the process so she could see her son’s eleven inch dick. Then, after exhausting every possible sexual act with the kid, she batted her deep brown orbs and went after the rest of the family.

Over all, I thought it was a pretty good script.

And the pornographer neighbor loved my work, but there was a problem.

“What?” I said. “I put in the zip up break where it should be.”

“You did great.” He answered, “But I need a location. I haven’t had time to scout for one. How about we use your house?”

“My house! My girlfriend’s got two teen-aged kids livin’ there.”

“It’s spring break, I’ll send them to Palm Springs . . . on me.”

“I dunno. I’ll ask my girlfriend.”

“There’s an extra two grand if we can use your house.”

I repeated that I’d ask my girlfriend.

Luckily my average looking girlfriend had a more than average sex drive. She was also very curious and on top of that, she was overjoyed to get rid of the kids for a week. A deal was struck. I made my porno. It was a while ago but the rules are the same. Here they are:

Rule #1: Give your porno a professional look. Scratchy iPhone shots of your girlfriend getting hammered by a police dog are a thing of the past. They are now shooting porn in 3D and Cinerama is on the way. So when you shoot your porno use the latest techniques.

Incidentally when I did mine, though it was years ago, it was state of the art. TABOO 2 had the same production values as anything shot at a network, and that’s as it should be because my crew came from Little House on The Prairie.

So put a good crew together. During these uncertain economic times everybody’s moonlighting.

Rule #2: Stagger the start times. Women in high heels with pierced nipples, guys in tight jeans showing their pack, and strings of honey wagons being pulled up to your door; have a way of attracting attention. Always schedule production people first, then cast and make sure that both groups park down the street.

Rule #3: Have moisturizers handy. Male stars have to be ready at a moment’s notice. On TABOO 2, there was always a gaggle of guys playing with themselves while they waited to go on. Of course some dudes use fluffers, but for the most part, keeping dicks stiff was a personal affair. Incidentally, the favorite emolument was Nivea cream, it was best for the glide.— as one of the male porno stars informed me. So, to avoid halting production, be equipped with a lot of the stuff.

Rule #4: No amateurs. Though you have buddies who want to be in the movie, DON’T DO IT! Being a porno star is a calling, a knack, a God given talent. Amateurs come too soon, or don’t come enough or are unable to come at all. Using your friends is a waste of time, money, and your female stars’ patience.

Rule #5: Use very little dialogue. The average porno star can’t handle it. They’re ok at grunts and groans but anything more than “Fuck me in the ass!” is beyond them.

Rule #6: If you have young daughters, don’t film in their rooms. When I made TABOO 2, we shot scenes in my girlfriend’s daughters’ bedrooms and they were horrified when they saw what was performed there. Especially because it all happened under The Osmond Brothers, whose poster was hung over their beds.

Rule #7: Don’t fuck the porno stars. I made that mistake. A buxom brunette seemed to like me—especially after I took the time to coach her through two and a half lines of monosyllabic dialogue. When she finally got the lines straight, she blew me out of gratitude.

Unfortunately, my girlfriend caught us and she raised holy hell and shut the production down. “The King of Smut” was beside himself and never spoke to me again. But worse, he refused to pay me. But he finished the project someplace else and when I got around to watching it, I noted with dismay that he listed my name in the credits. It came up right after the zip up break! And it was s full screen!

The King of Smut had gotten his revenge.

Rule # 8: Don’t use your real name in the credits. You may go on to great things in life. You could solve the debt crisis, come up with the cure for cancer or bring peace to the Middle East—But if your name is associated with a porno you won’t be the person who brought prosperity to America, cured cancer or brokered a peace deal. Instead you’ll be known as the slime ball who made Butt Plug Afternoons or April’s Golden Showers.

Of course if you’re the kind of person who wants to see his name in lights no matter what—make sure your name is at the end of the picture. The audience is more attentive then….they’ll be zipped up.

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