| I’d just like to remind you that you’re holding a large, highly visible periodical with the words "Special XXXmas Issue!" in big, bold letters on the cover. Not to mention a gaggle of naughty headlines, and that picture on the front. As you read this, people are staring at you and judging you. Peek over the top of the page, and see for yourself.
Oops. That did it. Now they’ve all seen your face! Your old Grade Six math teacher Mrs. McCallister recognized you and is going to tell your mother that you read smut in public! You’ve been exposed as a pervert in front of a clutch of shocked onlookers, most of whom are community leaders and nuns!
Ha ha, just kidding. Only some of you are being watched and judged. The rest of you are probably reading this extra-sexy, holiday-themed issue in the privacy of your own homes. In which case, all those people saw you take this magazine indoors, and assume that you’re now masturbating.
Well, now that you’re blushing like a cooked lobster, I might as well come forward and tell a few embarrassing stories about writing this column over the years. For example, in 2001 while reviewing the steamy Lina Romay vehicle Female Vampire (a.k.a. The Bare Breasted Countess, 1973), I discovered that pornography actually cures nosebleeds. Naturally, I shared this important discovery with my readers. Try it – it works!
A lot of the movies I write about are pretty weird and obscure. Sometimes just tracking these puppies down can be a major event. When I was just getting started in 1997, I decided I needed to locate a rental copy of Curse of the Queerwolf (1988). My topic that week was weird contagions, and I figured that "Contagious Lupine Homosexuality" had to be in there in order to cover the subject properly. Unfortunately, there was only one copy of the video in town, and it always seemed to be rented out. This led to lots of embarrassing trips to the video store.
"Can you tell me if a certain movie’s been returned yet?" I’d ask.
"Sure thing. Which one?" replied the guy at the counter.
I’d mumble something slightly too softly for the human ear to pick up.
"Sorry, what was that?" asked the guy.
"…mmrph of the …eerwurmph…"
"What?"
Screw the embarrassment – I needed that movie. In a loud clear voice, I announced "It’s called Curse of the Queerwolf! I’m looking for Curse of the Queerwolf! Have you got it in?"
I’m pretty sure everybody in the store heard me. The clerk stifled a chuckle as he informed me "It’s not due back for another two days, sir. Would you like me to call you when it comes in?"
"Yes please!" I bellowed uncontrollably; "My name is John Tebbutt, and I’m looking for Curse of the Queerwolf. Please call me when it arrives." I gave my phone number and walked out of the store with the forced dignity of someone who has decided not to care about the embarrassing thing he’s just done. Eventually the movie came in, I completed my research, and all was well.
A lot of my earlier columns dealt with some pretty smutty themes, so my first freelance assignments for Fast Forward tended to be quite racy as well. My first film review was for the outstanding porno documentary The Girl Next Door (1999) (not to be confused with the 2004 romantic comedy starring Elisha Cuthbert) and my first interview was with local porno directors "Rob and Gus." Softcore icons like Uschi Digart pop up in my column all the time. I’ve even reviewed one actual hardcore movie, albeit, an extremely gimmicky one. It’s called 2 Funky 4 U (2002) and its bizarre claim to fame is that it’s a XXX-rated flick that is entirely computer animated. The performers all look like blocky PlayStation 2 characters, making the sex scenes unbelievably grotesque. Cost-cutting measures include the continual re-use of footage, much like those old Spider-Man cartoons that had five minutes of Spidey swinging on webs over and over again each episode. Imagine that technique being used on crappy CGI ejaculation scenes. Ewwww! The finale involves a fat woman and a midget having a Matrix-style shootout in a warehouse for some reason. Ummm… yeah. Happy Holidays! |
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