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Dude, get over it: Businessman buys, distributes hundreds of movie tickets to impress ex-girlfriend
07:22 am


Mark Wahlberg

It takes a truly unusual event for Dangerous Minds to take notice of a movie like Michael Bay’s Transformers: Age of Extinction, but a certain Chinese businessman named Wang has supplied a worthy pretext. 

It seems that seven years ago, this Wang guy was dumped by his girlfriend, and ever since, he’s been consumed by the desire to make her understand, in no uncertain terms, that she made a mistake. At the time they were both living in Nanjing, and he was so broke he couldn’t afford to take her to the movies. In the meantime he has become a successful businessman in Beijing (news reports don’t indicate in what capacity), and thought of the idea of buying out all the tickets at several IMAX cinemas for June 23, the first day Transformers: Age of Extinction was available to be seen in the city. Since his former girlfriend had moved to Beijing after their breakup, Wang was fairly certain she was in the city even though they were not in touch.
movie tickets
One of several receipts Wang posted on Weibo
Wang took to the Chinese version of Twitter, known as Weibo, to offer a free ticket to a screening to users as long as they shared his post about it, which was directed at his ex. In the post, Wang wrote, “I just want to say that you may have been wrong to make that decision.”

Soon Wang’s post had been shared 110,000 times and had garnered more than 35,000 comments. And approximately 1,590 people had scored a free ticket to see Bay’s stupid mega-blockbuster. The escapade cost Wang the equivalent of $40,000 (he supplied receipts on Weibo to prove that he had actually bought up all the tickets), which represents about half of his monthly income.

Understandably, Wang’s resentment-fueled project has sparked tons of commentary. RocketNews24 explains, “Understandably, plenty of people were angered that the businessmen had snatched up so many tickets for himself, and commented that thanks to his antics they were unable to see the film as they have planned. But equally many others have commended him on the move and are sure that his ex girlfriend is now kicking herself.”

I think most of us can relate to those feelings of wanting to show a former ex what a blunder breaking up turned out to be. I feel like any decent therapist would be likely to advise Wang that you can’t have your cake and eat it too, the only way you can make contact is by signaling that you are still obsessed with her; Weibo isn’t some loophole you can use to get around that.

Personally, I think she made the right call.

Here’s some random footage of the stars of the movie (Mark Wahlberg et al.) visiting Beijing in case that shit interests you:

Posted by Martin Schneider | Discussion
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A Fleshy Alchemy: Passionate lovers fused together
06:11 am


Rik Garrett

During that moment of orgasm the bodies blur and blend like unrealized figures in sculptor’s clay. Rik Garrett’s series of photographs Symbiosis captures the bodies surrender to that shared physical bliss.

Garret created these works between 2010 and 2011, and was inspired by falling in love. He compares his work to “alchemy” where he transforms his photographs with thick brushstrokes of flesh-colored paint, as he explains in his book Symbiosis:

An integral concept of Alchemy is “Solve et Coagula” – dissolve and combine.  This is the secret key to manifesting the Philosopher’s Stone, Elixir of Life and immortality.  This ideal is represented with the image of the Rebis – a two-headed hermaphrodite that holds the assets of both genders.

I have worked with this as my goal, erasing the boundaries of the human body. By applying paint directly to the surface of photographs, I have actualized an impossible dream – a physical union made tangible through desire.  Through this process I have been able to visually and symbolically merge male and female into one body – the perfect being.

Once printed these pictures are small enough to fit in a wallet, measuring a mere 3.25 x 4.25 inches. The size induces the viewer to lean closer to examine the photos creating another intimate union between spectator and spectacle. See more of Rik Garret’s work here.
More of Rik Garrett’s incredible photos, after the jump…

Posted by Paul Gallagher | Discussion
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The Museum of Sex’s bodacious boobies bouncy castle
09:40 am



When I first saw this post on Nerdcore, my immediate reaction was to start mentally “singing” The Mighty Boosh’s “Bouncy Bouncy Crimp.” Seriously, the song totally works with a giant boob bouncy castle, too!

Anyway, the big ole’ bouncy boob castle by London-based duo Bompas & Parr will open today at the Museum of Sex in New York City.

This is actually one part of a larger interactive exhibit which will allow museum visitors to…

...scale a wall of orifices and appendages in “Grope Mountain,” and lose themselves in “The Tunnel of Love,” a mirrored labyrinth that leads patrons on a climactic journey to the Gräfenberg (or “G”) Spot, all while listening to a custom carnival soundscape by composer Dom James and tempted by edible treats designed by Bompas & Parr.

The exhibit will be open through 2015.

Posted by Tara McGinley | Discussion
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Bridesmaids, show us your asses! The latest trend in wedding pics?
06:39 am



Some wedding photographer had the bright idea to add a little spice to the dreary and stilted wedding pics of time immemorial—and apparently it’s caught on! Because who doesn’t like being a little bit naughty at what often ends up being an inherently antiquated and conservative ritual ... aw hell, I can’t work up any interest in that perspective. Look at the nice tushies!

I suppose you can’t spell honeymoon without “moon”.....
via Elite Daily

Posted by Martin Schneider | Discussion
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‘Bijou’: Wakefield Poole’s pioneering gay art film, a sensual and sensory experience
05:18 pm


Wakefield Poole

Montage in Wakefield Poole's Bijou
The early 1970s was an electric time to be an artist. All of the currents of change and cultural revolution were crackling, helping create a creative atmosphere that was the perfect hothouse to challenge and re-route convention. A filmmaker that emerged in this era that broke ground both for the LGBT community as well as the cinematic community was Wakefield Poole. He’s a southern boy with an enviable resume in the theatre, including working with the Ballet Russe before becoming both a respected choreographer and Theatre director. By 1971, he broke new ground with his film Boys in the Sand, a pioneering explicit gay film that achieved mainstream crossover success and was positively reviewed in Variety. Following up the huge success of Boys, Poole created something truly unexpected, unique and dreamlike. He made Bijou.

Bijou is less of a structured, narrative film and more of a living, breathing sensual and sensory experience. The human center of the film is a young construction worker (Bill Harrison), who looks both masculine and boyish. He finishes his shift and starts to head home. On the way, he ends up seeing a lanky woman (Cassandra Hart) getting hit by a car. Her purse ends up flying in the air near him and impulsively, he grabs it, but not quite for the reasons one would think.
An invitation to Bijou
Instead of dashing for the cash, once home, he examines the contents, all basic items like lipstick and keys, almost like a curious child. Curious is the right word for it since the one unique item he finds is an invitation to a place called “Bijou.” He showers up and heads to this mysterious place. As soon as he arrives, the starkness of the concrete jungle on the outside, not to mention the muted tones of his teensy apartment are replaced with bright, vivid, Italian-style lighting set against black walls. He hands his invite over to a ticket-taker worthy of a Fellini film. He enters the main area.
Get your ticket here
Lit up theatrical style signs instruct him to remove his shoes, then clothing. He is flanked by a Dan Flavin-inspired lighting design, then descends deeper into a surrealistic landscape where sculptures and objects are framed in a way that makes them transformatively huge and take on a new life. He then stumbles upon a nude man, lying face down and supine on the ground. They start to make love. More men enter and instead of the aggressive, slap and tickle orgy antics that such a scenario would normally entail, especially in explicit film, what follows is a sweet, intimate and yet, a 100% artsy experience.

Poole’s theatrical directing background shines sweet and strong. He frames the human body like a trained painter or sculptor. Every physical act is there not so much to arouse pure pleasure, but more to invoke a quizzical but sweet mood. Our protagonist is basically cocooned in a languid landscape of love. Like any proper dream, there are hints of darkness, including one gorgeous, but troubled looking Steve Reeves look-a-like who wanders around brandishing a whip like Chekhov’s gun that never, ever goes off. He never gets directly involved, except at one point loosely wrapping the whip around the lead’s neck. But that never quite goes anywhere, as if the affection of the other men exorcises the violent threat away before it can bloom into anything truly sinister.
Angst with the muscleman.
Poole has very carefully weaved everything together here, with every element, whether it is the lighting, composition, the use of audio (including one of the best incorporation of Gustav Holst’s “The Planets” ever) or even the dearth of dialogue, which is basically relegated to the tiny handful of lines the human pastiche ticket taker utters, creating an experience like no other. Even more important, though, is is his body of work, with Bijou being a huge part of the picture. This film was a revelation for the gay community. Gone are the stereotypes, especially the “self-loathing” homosexual and in its place are human beings of different physicalities being expressive in a way that conveys the message that hey, not only is it okay that you are gay but in fact, it is beautiful. This is some life altering and occasionally, life saving, stuff, especially when your realize that the specter of the Stonewall riots were only three years behind the film. Even more importantly is that Bijou was made the year before the American Psychiatric Association removed homosexuality from its list of mental disorders.
Reflection and Self Love in Bijou
Luckily, Bijou has recently gotten a very nice DVD release courtesy of the great folks over at Vinegar Syndrome. The print looks lovely and there are some terrific extras, with the absolute highlight being a director’s commentary with Poole himself. He reveals himself to be incredibly sharp, funny and quite warm. Hearing him talk about how he intentionally crafted Bijou to be obtuse, leaving everything wide open for any and all interpretation, is a gem. There are no right and wrong answers, granting all the power to the viewer. Which is a ballsy move, all the more fitting for such a bold movie.

Posted by Heather Drain | Discussion
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Animal Farm: The tragic and disturbing story of Bodil Joensen, ‘Queen of Bestiality’
11:07 am


Bodil Joensen

Get beyond the obvious sensationalism of this documentary on Bodil Joensen and you will find a tragic and disturbing tale of the woman who was dubbed “Queen of Bestiality.”

Born in rural Denmark in 1944, Bodil Joensen was raised on a farm where she had an horrific and brutal childhood at the hands of her religious nut-job mother. Regularly thrashed and denied any emotional comfort, Bodil found solace with animals. The suffering of her childhood became worse when she was raped while waiting for a train home from school. Her mother blamed her daughter for the rape and punished her for her sins. This brutality only pushed Bodil to identify more closely with animals than with humans, leading to her first teenage sex act with the family dog.

At fifteen, Bodil ran away from home and began work on a neighboring farm. She took great interest in the insemination of pigs, which eventually led to Bodil starting her own successful porcine insemination business.

In 1969, Denmark became the first country in the world to legalize pornography. The change in the law led Bodil to approach pornographer Ole Ege, offering to make a film, originally a “documentary.” This led Ege to co-produce Bodil’s first film A Summer’s Day a documentary on her sex life with animals, directed by Shinkichi Tajiri.

A Summer’s Day was the first bestiality film ever made and (surprisingly) it won Grand Prix at the pornographic film festival Wet Dreams in Amsterdam 1970. Amongst those on the judging panel was feminist Germaine Greer. The award made Bodil an underground porn star, and she went on to make 40 bestiality movies.

These films had a limited market and it was not until the arrival of home videos in 1980’s that the porn industry made a fortune out of distributing and selling back catalogs of hardcore films.

With strict pornography laws in the UK, these films were smuggled into the country and distributed via sex shops and by mail order. In 1981, four of Bodil’s films were edited together along with a similar film called Animal Lover to create Animal Farm (also known as Barnyard Fun.) Being caught in possession of this movie in Britain was punishable by a prison sentence.

As the film made money for its producers and distributors, Bodil herself was in a painful and tragic decline. By now a severe alcoholic, Bodil was addicted to painkillers, and was supporting her daughter and maintaining the upkeep of her farm by working as a prostitute and performing in live sex shows with animals.

Though in a relationship with a man, Bodil still took emotional solace from her animals, especially her favorite dog Spot. In an 1980 interview, Bodil talked about her life and love for her dog:

Things went completely out of hand when Spot died. I started taking sedatives. But when someone referred to them as “loony-Smarties” I threw them in the fireplace. Instead I started drinking and eating excessively. I gained 30 kilos. Doesn’t look well on something that was going downhill anyway.

Spot was a real German shepherd that I got from an animals hospital ten years ago. She had been beaten. She never became anything but a little, weak dog. I’ve never been able to talk to other girls. I’ve always been with men. Spot was my female friend. She understood what I said. Was happy when I was happy. Was sad when I was. When we were alone in the house without light and heat we went to bed together. Shared a biscuit. And then we talked, until we fell asleep.

Spot is the only living creature that has loved me for being just me. She didn’t expect to get anything back. She soothed me when I was ill. I’ve experienced a lot with Lassie [one of her other dogs], and like him a lot. But it’ll never be the same as with Spot.

Lassie has been unfaithful to me. He’s an every-girls-dog. Spot was mine. Completely mine. That’s why I had such a shock when she died. And started drinking, and eating myself fat in no time. I live with my man for 10 years and my eight year old daughter. Still I feel like the loneliest human being now that Spot is dead.

In those days I earned easy money in a tough line of work. I fell and fell. “When will I reach the bottom?” I often ask myself these days.

In 1985, after being traumatized and exploited for most of her life, Bodil Joensen died of cirrhosis of the liver.

This documentary made for Channel 4’s The Dark Side of Porn season is certainly not suitable for everyone. It is a dark and disturbing film, but one of the worst parts relates not to the subject matter directly but to the seeming callous indifference of those producers and friends who used Bodil but let her life crash so tragically. Those who reflexively think porn is “healthy” should have a look at this film and see what the reality of a career in lower depths the sex industry can be like.

Although this documentary did run on broadcast television in the UK, it still contains images that some may find offensive or disturbing. You have been warned.

Posted by Paul Gallagher | Discussion
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This cute and cuddly teddy bear is actually an incognito sex toy
11:02 am


Teddy Love


“Our novel and discreet product can be displayed anywhere, inconspicuously, without fear or embarrassment.”

The video starts out with, “Hi, I’m Dawn Harmon.” Let’s all say, “Hi Dawn Harmon!” She’s the inventor and CEO of Teddy Love. Dawn then asks, “Have you ever seen someone in an airport or restaurant or through a place of business with a large adult toy visibly protruding from a handbag or a briefcase?”

No Dawn, sadly I have not had that particular experience. But if YOU dear reader have ever tried to hide your vibrator at a restaurant or in an airport (or anywhere really) but been caught out despite your efforts at discretion, then this is the product is for you!

It’s Teddy Love! The adorable incognito sex toy!

Teddy Love is, “a unique, discreet, sexual toy that provides pleasure through dual, vibrating mechanisms in Teddy’s nose and tongue.”

There’s even this awesome tagline, “You’ve grown up. Now your teddy has too.”

Childhood ruined. You’ll note that she boasts about the manufacturer of Teddy Love being “Disney-certified.”

There’s a huge flaw in this concept: The more popular Teddy Love would become, the less discreet it would be, right? Popularity itself would work in inverse proportions to the “discreteness” of Teddy Love, which is the entire point: If everyone had one, everyone would recognize who was masturbating in an airport! Who’s really looking for something like this in the first place?

The video below is mildly NSFW due to language. 

Via Daily Dot

Posted by Tara McGinley | Discussion
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The Orgasmatron is here at last! Chinese hospitals install hands-free sperm extractors
06:00 am



The Orgasmatron was a device in Woody Allen’s classic comedy Sleeper. It was a cabinet one (or two) could enter to induce instant orgasm, a necessity in the film’s fictional future were everyone is impotent or frigid, except Italians. And, like videophones and space travel before it, this sci-fi conceit seems to be coming (sorry, I had to) closer and closer to reality as technology marches on! Well, for men, at least.

Via ScienceDump:

Chinese hospitals are introducing a new machine which can extract sperm for donors.

According to China’s Weibo social platform the automatic sperm extractors are being introduced in a Nanjing hospital, capital of Jiangsu province.

The pink, grey and white machine has a massage pipe at the front which apparently can be adjusted according to the height of its user.

Kissless creepers with more money than allure will surely be having this technology installed in their harem of RealDolls by the time I’m done typing this sentence.

Previously on Dangerous Minds:
Scientific American explains jerking off

Posted by Ron Kretsch | Discussion
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Screwed in Times Square with Josh Alan Friedman

Vanity Fair’s Mike Sacks is one of the world’s great comedy nerds and he’s got the published bona fides to prove it. Funny in his own right (his book of comic essays, Your Wildest Dreams, Within Reason had me laughing out loud on nearly every single page) Mike’s proven himself incredibly adept at getting top humor writers to open up about what they do and how they do it. His 2009 collection, And Here’s the Kicker featured interviews with the likes of Buck Henry, Stephen Merchant, Dick Cavett, Larry Gelbart, Merrill Markoe and even Marx Brothers writer Irving Brecher (which floored me, because I am fascinated by the man who Groucho called “the wickedest wit of the West”). The book is filled with gem after gem of good advice on how to write funny and how to think funny. If you are at all interested in the craft of comedy, it’s an absolutely indispensable book.

In just a few short days, Mike’s new book of interviews, Poking a Dead Frog: Conversations with Today’s Top Comedy Writers will arrive (June 24 to be exact) and this nearly 500 page volume features contributions from Amy Poehler, Patton Oswalt, Adam McKay and even the great Mel Brooks. The Irving Brecher equivalent for me—there had to be a Brecher this time, too, of course or the reader would be disappointed—well, he got several Brechers this go round (I’m talking about other unexpected leftfield participants, to be clear). There’s a fascinating interview with New Yorker cartoonist Roz Chast, for starters. He’s also got Daniel Clowes, WFMU’s Tom Scharpling and Bob & Ray’s Bob Elliott. That’s some pretty rarified company, right? But that’s what you’ll find here. [As an aside fellow comedy buffs, my beloved pal Philip Proctor of the Firesign Theatre once told me that his extremely distinct comedic delivery was more influenced by Bob & Ray than anyone else. Once you know that, it provides a fascinating lens with which to view Phil’s contribution to “the Beatles of comedy.”]

One of the interviews that was cut for space from Poking a Dead Frog was a conversation with Josh Alan Friedman, co-creator with his brother Drew (the one who draws) of the all-time, until the end of time classic Any Similarity to Persons Living or Dead is Purely Coincidental and on his own of the classic in a different way anthology of his Screw magazine essays on the 42nd Street milieu, Tales of Times Square. To say that I am a big, huge, unabashed fan of those books is no exaggeration. I even gave out copies of Tales of Times Square for Christmas presents back when Times Square was still a sleaze pit. I found a stack at The Strand bookstore and bought all of them. I put plastic wrappers on my own copy of the first edition and it sits in a place of pride on the bookshelves behind me as I type this. When Mike offered us the opportunity to run the Josh Alan Friedman interview on Dangerous Minds, I was only too happy to accept.

Josh Alan Friedman, right, with his brother illustrator Drew Friedman, late 1970s

Mike Sacks: When I first asked if you were willing to be interviewed, you said that you “find nothing funny about anything, anyone, anywhere, at any time.”

Josh Alan Friedman: That might have been off-the-cuff, but there’s a kernel of truth in there. Most of the time, what strikes me as funny doesn’t strike others as funny. And vice versa.

When did you publish your first cartoon with your brother Drew? What year was this?

It was in 1978, but we had been recording reel-to-reel audio sketches and doing comic strips for ourselves over the years. I would kind of write and produce, Drew did voices and illustrations. We never thought about publishing or releasing them.

Drew began to draw constantly. He would draw his teachers naked on school desks. When I went to visit him during his freshman year at Boston University, the public walls of the entire dormitory floor were densely illustrated. Maybe I imagined this, but I seem to remember finding him upside down, like Michaelangelo laboring under the chapel. He spent months doing this, and although the frat boys loved it, Drew hadn’t been to class in months. So I wanted to focus the poor boy’s talent on something, and I began writing heavily researched, detailed comix scripts.

What was that first published comic called?

“The Andy Griffith Show.” It ran in Raw Magazine. Drew illustrated the entire script very quickly. I loved how it looked. I said, “This is an amazing piece of work you’ve just done here,” and he told me he could do better. He ripped up that first version and then re-drew it—that’s the version that now exists. When I saw how startling the strip looked after the second pass, I knew we were onto something exciting.

To this day, the “Andy Griffith Show” comic strip remains slightly shocking. It features a black man wandering into Mayberry, North Carolina, and getting lynched by Sheriff Taylor and some other locals. This was not your typical misty-eyed look back at small-town life in the 1960s.

That cartoon has since been reprinted many times—and we caught a lot of flak at first. Certain people accused us of being racists.

If anything, you were mocking the nostalgia that surrounds a time and place that was anything but happy and perfect—at least for many people.

Yes, of course. I wanted to provoke the heady sensation of fear, and also get some laughs. That, to me, was—and still is—a potent combination. The so-called comic nightmare. It’s like mixing whiskey with barbiturates. It becomes more than the sum of its parts.

Over the years readers have told me that they can’t remember whether they actually read some of our cartoons or dreamed them. People have asked, “I might have been dreaming, but did you once work on a comic strip about such and such?”

You were writing about television shows and celebrities that no one else seemed to care about in the late ’70s, early ’80s.

I’ll confess that during childhood I never realized I Love Lucy was supposed to be a situation comedy. I thought it was a drama about the misadventures of this poor New York City housewife, which happened to have a surreal laugh track that made no sense. Years later, I was stunned to learn it was considered comedy.

I was always riveted by the lower depths of show business and sub-celebrities, maybe as an alternative to the dumbing down of American culture. The common man had higher standards in, say, the 1940s. And Drew’s fascination went even deeper, as he depicted fantasies of Rondo Hatton, the acromegaly-cursed actor who starred in several freak horror flicks in the ’30s and ’40s. And, of course, Tor Johnson, the giant wrestler turned actor, from Ed Wood’s Plan 9 from Outer Space [1959], who practically became Drew’s alter ego.

There was something about The Three Stooges, after their stock had taken a dive in the ’70s, that became more compelling than ever—even deeper than when we were children. Three short, ugly, but really beautiful, middle-aged Jews who slept in the same bed together, refused to separate, yet beat and maimed each other senselessly without end. It almost ceased being comedy, but you couldn’t stop watching. 

What fascinated you about sub-celebrities at the nadir of their careers?

If I were to speculate, I would say that worship of America’s celebrity culture was becoming a mental illness without a name. It was the sickness of celebrity. It’s only gotten worse: the false icons, the obsession with celebrity over substance. It demeans all of humanity. It’s terribly unhealthy. So why not take it a quantum step lower—to its natural resolution—and worship Ed Wood, Joe Franklin, Wayne Newton, or Joey Heatherton, a Rat Pack–era actress in the ’60s? Or serial killers posing with celebrities?

When Drew and I were doing this in the late ’70s and ’80s, there was no Internet. Information about old shows and movies and celebrities were difficult to come by back then. Now there are hundreds of websites devoted to The Three Stooges or The Andy Griffith Show or Rondo Hatton. You can now look up [the actress and model] Joey Heatherton’s name and immediately find that her first husband, the football player Lance Rentzel, was arrested in 1970 for exposing himself to a child. Or that Wayne Newton once threatened to beat the shit out of Johnny Carson for telling jokes about Wayne being effeminate.

You had to search out arcane clippings’ files in local libraries or newspaper morgues back then. For years, I kept accumulating photos and news clips on numerous subjects like Newton, Joey Heatherton or Frank Sinatra, Jr.

More of Mike Sacks’ interview with Josh Alan Friedman after the jump…

Posted by Richard Metzger | Discussion
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Vintage smut from the 1950s-70s

Once upon a time, porn was kept on the top shelf, or under-the-counter, in discrete brown paper bags, or sent by post in anonymous manilla envelopes. Nowadays, porn is everywhere catering to everyone. And always remember kids, with the Internet, you’re only just one click away from somebody masturbating.

Compared with today’s no holes barred imagery, these pictures of vintage smut from the 1950s-70s, look almost tasteful—the kind of thing that wouldn’t look out of place in ads for Dolce and Gabana, or American Apparel.

The cover for Men Only seems more like an invite to cocktail party, while the S&M mags have more than a hint of today’s latex catalog, rather than something that might frighten the horses. Even the “pin-ups” range from arty sketches to forty-year-old guys sucking in their stomachs.

These magazines were photographed by the best-selling horror-writer, film critic, journalist, blogger and photographer Anne Billson, who for reasons that now escape her, photographed her friends porn collections in the 1980s.

A lot (though not all) of the publications were vintage even then, though nowadays magazines that were published in the 1980s are themselves considered pretty much antique. Perhaps I thought I was performing some sort of public service, or compiling a historical record, or (more likely) vaguely imagining the pictures would come in useful for research purposes in some sort of never-to-be-written article that would one day definitively establish me as a brilliant journalist who dared tackle subjects that writers more prudish than me would never have dreamt of touching with a bargepole.

Apart from all her superb writing and photographic work, Anne has a damn fine Multiglom blog, where she posts about films, art, and photography—check it out.
More after the jump…

Posted by Paul Gallagher | Discussion
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