Things Get Disturbing

Almost as soon as I’d started working for her, Donna started leaving various industry trade magazines on my desk.  She’d hand me two or three magazines and say, “I figure the more you know about our business, the better your work will be,” which, actually, I have to agree with and give her credit for.  So I started reading magazines like Adult Store Buyer (ASB), Adult Video News (AVN), and XBiz on a regular basis.

ASB and AVN were both almost entirely worthless, with an interesting and/or import article appearing every four or five issues.  The vast majority of the pages for both magazines were dedicated ad space for various online content providers, all of them promising “the biggest and fastest payouts in the industry”.  XBiz on the other hand, considers itself an actual news publication, reporting on any number of issues directly or indirectly related to the porn industry.  And actually, in that capacity, it’s not a bad publication.  It would be better if they paid closer attention to spelling and grammar, but that’s also true of several “legitimate” news publications.

One afternoon I was procrastinating reading XBiz and stumbled across an article about Joe Francis.  Joe Francis is the guy who created the Girls Gone Wild video series.  I used to think the person who created Girls Gone Wild was a genius for figuring out that you could film college girls getting naked, not pay them, and then sell the footage on late night television.  Turns out he’s just another frat-boy piece of shit who hates all women because a girl made him cry once, a long time ago.  That’s my theory, anyway.  The article I was reading was regarding Francis’ inability to file taxes properly and possible jail time as a result.  Being the curious person I am, I did some research on him and quickly found several articles and/or police reports involving various incidents of Francis verbally abusing, threatening, and flat-out assaulting women.

“Jesus,” I said, “This business definitely has a dark side to it, doesn’t it?”  Alex and Joss, who were the only two co-workers I enjoyed talking to, had been talking to each other near my desk when I said this.

“Why’s that?” asked Alex.

“Oh, I’m just reading about Joe Francis, the Girls Gone Wild asshole.  I guess he’s a serious piece of shit,” and I went on to tell them what I’d been reading.

“That’s nothing dude,” said Joss, “One time we were at a show with Donna and the table across from us had this super-realistic looking sex doll that was built to look like a child.”

“Oh fuck, I remember that shit.  Didn’t it talk too?” asked Alex.

“Yeah I think it did.”

“Dude, that is fucking appalling,” I said, disgusted, “How did you not beat the shit out of him?”

“Oh, we reported him to the people who were putting on the show.  They made him put it under the table and he started freaking out and pointing at our booth and screaming that we had horse cocks on display and why were they picking on him blah blah blah.”

“They were picking on him because he’s a fucking pedophile!”  I was starting to get angry.  “What happened to him?”

“After a few minutes he just shut up and after that he wasn’t a problem.” Alex said.

“Goddamn, someone should have murdered him.”

“Yeah, probably,” said Joss, “Anyway, if you want to check out someone really fucked up look for anything by Max Hardcore.  That guy is fucking sick.”

“Oh, God, I can’t handle Max,” said Alex.

“Why, what’s he do?” I asked.

“I don’t even want to talk about it, just look him up on Limewire or something.”

Later that night I downloaded a Max Hardcore torrent while Anne and I had dinner.  After she went to sleep I went into the office and watched it.  The video was ripped straight from a DVD.  There were four scenes but I only watched one and even then, I had to skip through a lot of it.  Max is a creepy old fuck who wears a cowboy hat.  The girl in the first scene appeared to be somewhere between 18 and 22 years old, but she was made up to look younger.  Her hair was in pigtails and her vagina was completely shaved, and she said things like, “I haven’t started growing hair down there yet, mister.”  I was close to being done right there but I kept watching because so far I hadn’t seen anything so horrible that I’d be incapable of talking about it.

The sex that followed was the standard arsenal of positions that you’d expect, but what set it apart from other porn I’ve seen was the over-the-top misogynistic shit that was coming out of Max’s mouth.  As he was having anal sex with her, he’d yank her hair back and tell her she was being, “a good little fuck hole.”  A bit later she was going down on him and he was telling her, “that’s it, jack me off with your skull,” which was a sentence that, for about thirty seconds, made me wonder if it was possible that someone had actually managed to elevate their hatred of women to a form of art.  Honestly, the sex was boring to watch.  What made this so horrible was the unadulterated evil that was coming from his mouth.  Still, as horrible as it was, I couldn’t help but wonder why Alex had such a hard time with it.

And that’s when Max pulled out the speculum and shoved it into the girl’s ass, opening it up like a jar of olives.  Among other things, Max then proceeded to urinate into the girl’s open ass and then, after inserting a clear plastic tube, had her drink his urine out of her own ass.  She was sort of moaning and sort of crying.  I suppose she could have been acting.

I’ve spent a lot of time with a thesaurus and trust me, our language simply doesn’t have the words for me to appropriately express how loathsome and vile a person Max Hardcore is.

A few weeks later, I read in XBiz that Paul F. Little aka Max Hardcore had been indicted by the Justice Department on 10 counts of Federal Obscenity from five of his movies.  The movies were all named in the article and none of them were the movie I’d watched at home that night.  If what I’d seen didn’t qualify to be listed in a federal obscenity charge, I don’t ever want to see what did.

Later that day at work I asked Donna if she’d heard about the indictment and she responded with, “Yes, and it’s a bunch of fuckin’ bullshit,” which I was learning was her favorite expression.

“Have you ever seen one of his movies?” I asked.

“No, but it doesn’t matter Tim, there’s still such a thing as freedom of expression in this country you know.”

“Yeah of course there is, but there are also obscenity laws that-”

“And I’ll tell you another thing.  If we start arresting someone every time we get offended, people aren’t going to be able to say or do anything after a while.  And the fuckin’ Christians in this country are going to rise to power and they’re going to fuck all of us in the ass.  And that’s not the kind of country I want to live in, do you?”

“…No, I wouldn’t want to live in that country, that would suck.”  I’d learned several weeks earlier to not point out when she was being irrational.

“Good,” and she walked off triumphantly.

I spent the rest of my day wondering how someone could defend a person’s work when he or she hadn’t ever seen any of it.


Tim Hatch lives in a secret volcano headquarters somewhere in the South Pacific, where he controls the world economy and writes confessional poetry about his disappointing childhood.

His poetry has been published in MungBeing, East Jasmine Review, The Pacific Review, The Vehicle, Touch: The Journal Of Healing, Apeiron Review, and he is the recipient of the 2014 Felix Valdez Award.

He finds writing about himself in the third person to be an overtly seductive invitation to tell lies.

He once captured a French Eagle at Talavera.

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