Porn Star Karaoke didn’t have a sponsor Tuesday night, and Sardo’s met federal sausage party standards for the first time since I’ve been attending. The gang from XBiz was there, and thought enough to bring the latest issue of their Variety-esque trade publication, in which resided an article recounting lovingly unpleasant things about Keiko’s singing. Hence the evil look I got from Herself as I walked in, despite our tearful reconciliation just one month ago. It’s not like I wrote the article…
Later Keiko sang “Black Velvet” by Alannah Miles. It was so exquisite that I think she should change her name to Yay-ko. She was deep in secret counsels with Tod-Hunter all evening, like the Ents with Saruman in better times before the power of the Ring waxed anew.
I saw Robyn, the woman who has made Self-Hating Lew reevaluate his role in the world, as a man, as a man of faith, and as an ethical journalist. She recently broke his heart with her golddiggery. She was with another man. No wonder Lew wasn’t there.
I was talking with someone who wanted to buy my site (saying “blow me” to a porn star doesn’t have the same effect as when you say it to anyone else) when Dick Smothers Jr. took the stage. I admit I wasn’t paying much attention, but I think the self-described Orson Welles of Porn twice said something like, “If you don’t agree with me, you suck cocks by choice.”
If anybody reading this was there and knows what the context was, please let me know.
I was tired and was getting ready to leave when Cytherea showed up.
As you know, working in porn is a life of the mind, and you can’t blame me for not knowing how to pronounce this woman’s name, despite everything I’ve read and seen about her ability to send her own ejaculate across the room and knock a cigarette out of a monkey’s mouth.
And it wasn’t like there’s any dialogue in her movies along the lines of
MAN: I would like to put my penis in you in a series of impractical ways, but then come on your face anyway, as if I’m masturbating using you as some kind of bio-sleeve.
CYTHEREA: My name is pronounced Cy-ther’-e-a, like diphtheria but with a sigh instead of a diph.
So I finally learned how to pronounce her name, and she sang a song, and she didn’t hose anyone down while pointing her labia at somebody, but that was fine, because one of my major goals in the adult industry had been reached.
Here is an ode to this special night:
There once was a girl named Cytherea
Whose Kegels were hardly inferior
Her long distance squirts
Could moisten your shirt
In Prague while she sat in Siberia
See gallery here.
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