The Other Day. Driving to the printers to pick up some DVD inserts. Merging into the stacking lane so I can turn left from Fountain onto Fairfax in West Hollywood. Suddenly, a car driving in the opposite direction speeds up and cuts off the car behind them, forcing the second car to swerve into my lane directly in front of me, then swerve out again with seconds to spare before a collision, as I hit the brakes. We both slowed down long enough for me to look at the driver of the second car. Her face was still coated with shock and she didn't look at me, but I recognized her: Trishelle, from The Real World: Las Vegas. The very same chickie-poo that drank and humped her way through Sin City last spring and is now burning her way though every heterosexual male she can outrun on The Real World/Road Rules Challenge. Yoinks! No, it wasn't her fault; she was swerving to avoid another driver who'd cut her off. But still… Death by Trishelle? [Shudder.]

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It's All True

I have to get something off my chest. I know this will make me very unpopular, and I might in fact be risking my repuation or perhaps even my ability to socialize among my peers, but I feel it's time to settle something once and for all: We homosexuals are, in fact, working to undermine marriage. It's true. No, really. We are. We've all been recruited into The Cause by so-called "pedophiles" (another misnomer we invented, thankyouverymuch) who plied us with wine and drugs and then "brainwashed" us with the Homosexual Agenda. Seriously! There really is a Homosexual Agenda. Gosh, there's so much in there I could tell you about (the Hide in Plain Sight codicil is an absorbing read), but I'm here to tell you all about the ongoing effort to undermine heterosexual marriage. The Effort is spread over numerous fronts; most of us are working to seduce as many heterosexual men as possible into a lifetime of sexual confusion, thereby planting seeds of doubt and paranoia among their wives and girlfriends. You'd be shocked at how many relationships we've destroyed this way! Most of the wives and girlfriends then jump into "rebound relationships" with men who are completely inappropriate and typically have 3.2 children within five years. Because these households are 78-percent more likely to contain abuse and domestic battery, proponents of the Homosexual Agenda thus assure that the cycle of fear, paranoia and distrust continues with the next generation. God, it's such a fucking brilliant plan!

This whole gay marriage fight is really just a smokescreen. Some of you are catching on to it, which is why I feel safe revealing these secrets, although I am taking a huge risk. If I suddenly die, and my obituary refers to a "stroke" or "opportunistic infections" or an "AIDS-related disease", you'll know they got to me. AIDS totally doesn't exist; there are all these little diseases and viruses in test tubes that get used when some of us get out of line. Ever wonder why some gay men with AIDS never get so much as a cold, or why some of them miraculously recover when they'd been at death's door? It's because they were snapped back into the party line. The whole AIDS Victim thing is simply a complex ruse to win over the liberals.

But I'm getting off track. We are attempting to undermine heterosexual marriage. We do want the divorce rate to keep skyrocketing (success!). We are relentless in our quest to lure straight men to cheat on their wives and girlfriends. Aren't you ever confused as to why a straight man, married for decades and the father of a large brood, would suddenly and inexplicably divorce his wife for a much-younger tootsie? Especially if that straight man is a politician or religious leader? We are responsible for that. We're responsible for it all. And now you know. The truth is out there. Thank you for listening.

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Rejoice, all ye lads and lasses! For upon this approaching Sunday, 23 November 2003, Opus returns!

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Greetings to whomever has landed on the site recently, whether it's because I've mentioned Fame winner Harlemm Lee or for some other reason. Amid the daily e-mail offers to enlarge my dick, send me on a tropical vacation and sell me HotttPixxx!!!! of "teenage" girls, a few legit questions have come up. To wit:

Who are you? Benjamin. Call me Ben. See also: Posted By.
Where do you live? West Hollywood, California, USA.
When did you start this blog? Two years ago next week. See also: Archives.
Are you really a working writer? Yes.
What do you write? Porn reviews, interviews, columns, articles. Also: screenplays, books, plays.
Hey, there was a porn writer named Ben who was quoted in New York last month! Was that you? Yes!
Hey, was that you who was the porn guy mentioned in Savage Love a couple months back? Yup!
How do you know Harlemm Lee? We used to work together at a paying-the-dues night job.
What does Sword Blades and Poppy Seed mean? Do a Google search on poet Amy Lowell and you'll find out.


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Hey, all you Harlemm Lee fans! Here's a chance for you to lend a hand to the guy who won Fame last summer. (Constant Readers will recall that Harlemm Lee and I are Former Coworkers, a fact I brought up frequently around here when he was competing in the reality show.) I ran into Harlemm this morning, and congratulated him on the release, this week, of his debut album. Well, kids, it turns out the Powers That Be aren't supporting the album. Harlemm has a few publicity gigs, but the label isn't releasing a single and they don't have Harlemm lined up for any press. He's essentially been abandoned. So go to your local record store and look for Harlemm's album. If it's not there, per Harlemm, "Ask them to stock it!" Every time I mention the guy's name on this blog, traffic shoots up. So let's help Harlemm get the word out, eh? The only thing the label will listen to is the cha-ching of cash registers. BTW: He doesn't have an e-mail yet for fan mail, but he promised to get one. I'll run it here when he does so.

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Today. The Office. Line three—set aside for telemarketing cold calls—rings:

Perky female voice: HelloIneedtospeakwithMr.OwneroftheCompany.
Me: He's not available. May I take a message?
Perky female voice: Whenwillhebeavailable?
Me: He'll be out all day.
Perky female voice: CanIleaveamessagewithyou?
Me: Yes.
Perky female voice: I'm calling for Republican Senator Tom DeLay and the Republican National Party. We want to present Mr. Owner of the Company with the National Leadership Award—
Me: I'm sorry to interrupt. But you've called here before. This is a Democratic house in a heavily Democratic neighborhood. You are really calling the wrong place. In fact, we are actively working to make sure Tom DeLay and the Republican Party are thrown out of office.
Perky female voice: [silence]
Perky female voice: [heavy sigh]
Perky female voice: [dial tone]

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Right this second in Hollywood, thunder is tumbling across the sky. We never get thunder around here. I love it. Reminds me of growing up back east. It's gonna be pouring cats and dogs any minute. Just went out into the yard, and to the west, you can still catch a glimpse of bright blue sky. Directly overhead, grey clouds. To the east (cue ominous music) vicious black stormclouds. What is the scientific name for storm clouds again? Office Dog is very excited; she can sense the impending deluge (and isn't freaked out in the least by thunder, something she can't have heard very often in her short life.) Time to get myself home...

Oh, and if you happened to be listening to the "Derek and Romaine Show" on OutQ/Sirius Radio at 4:15pm PST, that "J.C. Adams" talking about pornography was moi, my first radio interview.

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Have been feeling slightly off-kilter all day today. Last night, someone knocked loudly on my door and then dashed away, at 2:30am. I awoke instantly of course, my heart pounding, and heard someone skittering away down the hall. I live in a single room apartment (separate kitchen and a large walk-in closet) and from my bed I can see underneath the door; no one was standing there. The building itself is enclosed, with a locked front and back door. It's quiet, too, without much coming and going at odd hours. Everyone pretty much does the nine-to-five thing, and there is very little door slamming or loud voices during off hours. So this was unsettling, waking me as it did from a deep sleep. Was I snoring too loud? I do that sometimes. Did someone bang on my door to quiet my snoring? I slept fitfully afterwards and woke feeling kinda loogy. The whole day, everything has felt just a touch—sideways. Damn punk kids!

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First the entire bottom half of the state bursts into flame days after the fiasco known as the California Recall. Then, Halloween gets rained out. And now it's cold (for Los Angeles). One of the things I adore about California, particularly SoCal, is that we do nothing lightly. Go big or go home, that's our motto. We don't have a few canyon fires, nosiree. The Fires of Hell and Damnation are unleashed upon us, in the process scorching nearly a million acres and torching 3000 homes. We don't just enjoy a light rain, uh-uh. Noah's Nightmare washes away homes and holidays in a mad deluge. Earthquakes, fashion trends, award shows, riots, you name it, we'll overdo it.

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