Who Wants to Marry a Porn Star?

I I was born like this. I had no choice. I'm a lifelong romantic. That was true even when I was in the crib. I just can't help it, and you shouldn't hate me for it.

Even as a toddler, the sight of a beautiful woman had a profound and undeniable affect on me. Whenever, say, my second grade teacher passed by desk, I'd take a peek at her bangin' little ass, ensconced as it was in her tight 70s slacks, and grip my crotch until my knuckles turned white, lest my Cry of Love escape my loins in the middle of a penmanship lesson. And that remains the case some 35 years later.

Some folks, feminists and she-males mostly, try to insist to me that there is some kind of a difference between love and lust. This is not unlike fables about alligators living in the sewer and awaiting the opportunity to lunge from the toilet and bite your junk off. It's an old wives tales, and not something that Serious People entertain.

Every great romantic knows that it's possible to like a member of the opposite sex a great deal, but it's self-evident that you cannot love them if the very sight of them doesn't compel you to punish your genitals into a swollen, distended and irreversibly distended mess of chafed skin and leaking bodily fluids. That's just how biology works, and who am I to question it? To quote the late Billy Preston, "That's the way God planned it, that's the way God wants it to be!"

From time to time, I'll research developments in the world of Modern Love and - I'm not going to lie to you - I'm often shocked at what I find (link NSFW.)

The latest Vivid Entertainment-XCritic.com "Sex Tracker" poll indicates that 61.4 percent of men would consider marrying a porn star and 85.8 percent said they would be happy to date one. The online survey of sexual preferences also revealed that 86.7 percent of respondents consider adult entertainment to be "a positive part of our culture."

Why was I shocked by this? I had no idea that so many men were such indecisive beta-male assholes, that's why! Saying that you would only "consider" marrying a porn star couldn't be a stronger indication that civilization is falling into a bottomless pit of wanton stupidity and faggotry. It shows how cosmically wrong we are becoming as the moorings of society disintegrate beneath our feet.

Ignore everything that social conservatives and religious types tell you. They believe all kinds of crazy shit that is utterly incompatible with living a Good Life. Those people wouldn't know Joy if it put on steel-toed boots and kicked them in the balls until they bled from their fucking eyes.

Those people embrace superstitious and silly notions about a better life after this one that tend to leave men angry, sexually stunted and inclined to blow one another in awkward public places.

Absent any evidence to the contrary, you should grab life by the goodies and rub them until it falls in an exhausted heap at your feet and lovingly calls you "Daddy." Because it's more likely than not that it all ends here. The only heaven that any of us are likely to know is between one another's thighs.

I know that my readership consists of thoroughly modern ladies and gentlemen. So if you ever find yourself asked whether you'd consider marrying a porn star, you know that the correct answer is "Consider it? I'd engage in a genocide to do it! Who has to go? Where's my machete and mustard gas?"

I marvel at ordinary women to the point that I fall in love with them at least 37 times a day. Some might think that shallow, but you and I know that they have no concept of what time it is, don't we? I don't want anything that follows to minimize the profound aching that they create in both my chest and my crotch.

But porn stars are just naturally superior people. I'm not convinced that they weren't created by an ancient scientist named Yakub from the Tribe of Shabazz to rule the world and subjugate lesser beings until Ezekiel's Wheel takes us all into space. I don't know if that's true, but I like to believe that it is.

As a general rule, porn stars are better looking than their civilian counterparts, definitely more flexible (as evidenced by the popularity of the piledriver in their fine films) and generally more given to adventure. They're an unstoppable force of nature, not even fearing the dreaded rectal prolapse in their quest to rule our hearts and minds.

Moreover, they face down adversity with a degree of courage not even found in the professional military. If you don't believe me, just ask the great Briana Banks.




I'm pretty sure that if you were subjected to an entire business day with Max Hardcore, you'd do a lot more than disappear for two months and change your name. That dude is wrong on so many levels that science is not yet capable of properly counting them. If you've never seen a Max Hardcore movie, don't. I did it so you don't have to. And it creeped me out, so I have no doubt that it'll leave you weeping in the fetal position.

But Briana persevered. Not just because she's a professional, my good friends. And not just because she's a hero. She struggled through it because she's the greatest hero of our age.

Miss Banks was pretty much perfect when she began her epic quest for Art and Romance, but she always knew that she could be better, so she had her (already more than nice) breasts enlarged twice. She's blessed with a supermodel's face and the self-declared "longest legs in the business." And I've seen her do things with her asshole that defy description. I'd just be cheating you if I tried describing them anyway. But one of them involves a bowling pin.

Even the sands of time won't stop her! At the professionally elderly age of 34, she's moved on to the MILF side of the business, where she continues to make my wonderous wang spit with a combination of adoration, wonderment and frustrated fury.

And if you think that her epic quest for adventure ends at the conclusion of her business day, you couldn't be more wrong.

AVN Hall of Famer and star of the films The Cougar Club 3, TSA: Your Ass Is in Our Hands, and Sodomania Slop Shots 9 & 10, among many others, Briana Banks, was recently arrested and charged with DUI at an L.A. McDonald's drive-thru. A witness contacted police after Banks hit another car at about 9 AM on Wednesday, alerting them that she looked to be under the influence of something. The police pulled her over at the McDonald's drive-thru and gave her a field sobriety test, which she failed leading to her arrest. Banks was then booked and shortly after released.

People who don't appreciate the finer things in life might try to tell you that 9 AM on a Wednesday morning is hardly the time to be under the influence, and that a McDonald's drive-thru isn't the place for it. Not only should you ignore them, you should crush their airway with a finishing hammer.

I've given this a lot of thought over the last three days, and I just can't think of a better time or place to be filled to the brim with pills, powders and amber liquids. And as you all know, I'm a pretty intelligent fellow. If there were a more appropriate way to approach a Wednesday morning at a McDonald's drive-thru, it surely would've occurred to me over the last 72 hours. However, I' ve done the math and science and there just isn't.

I've also considered what advice I would have offered to Briana, if given the opportunity. And the answer is none. By the looks of things, she handling things exactly the way that I would.

And to top it all off she even takes an adorable mugshot! Those aren't meant to be especially flattering photographs, but Briana couldn't be cuter in hers, even without proper lighting, full make-up, a gaffer and a Best Boy. If you need any more evidence that Briana Banks is just genetically better than you are, look no further than that booking photo. That's just good science, people!

Somewhere out in the Great Beyond, Yakub is proud of his good and great work. I can't prove it, but that doesn't stop me from knowing it all the same. I guess that makes me religious - although, in my own special way - after all.

Would I marry Briana Banks? I'll answer that question with a question.

Who has to go? And where is my machete and mustard gas?