It grieved me, in the darkest days of the Trump Virus, to hear the term “super spreader” used to describe some joyless, doomed affair or person bent on spraying COVIDroplets on some other benighted clown. “We must avenge Ange Venus,” I thought. Ange, who gave “super spreader” its original, good name. (And, come to think of it, you can’t spell Ange Venus without avenge.)
Here, then, are some super spreader events from when super spreader events were things to be celebrated, not tented and fumigated.
Ange Venus could not be marginalized, and she could not keep her legs closed. A mainstay of the late David Aaron Clark’s films, she also traveled in the sordid, terrifying, and wholesome entourage of Max Hardcore with ease. Not only that, but she was in almost-acceptable Digital Playground movies.
I don’t want to be glib about this. But I think everyone involved in this transaction between Venus and her AVN 2007 onlookers is at the top of their game. Good for all of you. Send it out into the universe, Ange. Get right up in there, fellows.
From the same year, posing in front of the Kink.com booth, is this happy person. Believe it or not, my camera is not shaky here, but the woman is vibrating at such a frequency that she herself is blurry. Blurry to the point that we might be approaching the super spreader event horizon.
And here’s my old friend Hollie Stevens, who’s no longer with us. January was her birthday so she’d celebrate it during the AVN convention. Oddly enough, it was on the show floor that she was most conservatively dressed.
This day in January, 2006 was, I believe, the day I met Kami Andrews. This was at one of “Cousin Stevie’s Pussy Party”s. At one point during the day I was sitting down and she walked by, accidentally brushing my head with her abdomen. I turned, thinking someone had elbowed me in the head. But no, it was Kami’s incredibly well-toned area.
“You could crack a fire hydrant with that,” I said. “How do you do it?”
“Gang bangs,” said Kami Andrews.
The alabaster Veruca James was shooting a scene for Tim von Swine in the Valley in 2014 and stepped outside. I like staging frank shots like this because all those ridiculous porn tropes, like women sticking a finger in their mouth to indicate their brimming inability to control their desire, or when dudes happen on the neighbor lady oiling herself up by the pool and stroke their chins contemplatively, just get lost on me. And don’t get me started on high heels.
I like poses like this because they say, “I don’t even have shoes on.”
Ditto, and finally, Kagney Linn Karter in 2009. KLK was the hardest working woman in porn, having crossed over from a very strenuous dancing career, which she still maintains.
Let me suggest something to you. You know when you’re walking through your neighborhood and you smell some delicious chicken soup cooking, and then are dismayed to learn that it’s not chicken soup but someone’s body odor? Same smell, different impact. Or if you delight in the fragrance of a Yankee Candle Company but wouldn’t like that same odor coming off your dairy products?
Well, Kagney Linn Karter wore a stripper-standard perfume that day and I can still smell it—it was glorious.
You’ll notice that I only made it through 80 percent of the senses in this brief survey. That is because these super-spreaders share one thing with coming down with the plague: you don’t get to taste.
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