After dark reading . . . . .	Dennis Daigle's Room 212
More fun reading can be found here		A Strip Off the Old Block Strippers? In movies? Well, that sounds like a Friday night in with the beers and the boys. But, hold it just one second - have you ever stopped to think that exotic dancer films may serve a higher purpose? Have you ever paused to consider that these flicks have an important impact on cinema and the way we watch? If you answered 'no' to any of the above questions then fear not - as I've done the worrying for you.
Top Shelf Some people say watch the skies... however sleaze-hound Jack Russell always says look to the top shelf of your local video store if you want answers. So, you want answers? Oh - you want the truth! Well, you can't handle the truth!!! Okay, here it comes... 'TITTYTANIC' - Jack sinks into his chair (chortle! chortle!), exhausted from flexing his tippy-toe muscles at Videorama, and raises the anchor. Full steam ahead! Joining the ranks of 'White men can hump' and 'When Harry ****ed Sally,' the soon to be released 'Tittytanic' is proving to be the most controversial porno rip-off of a Hollywood blockbuster ever. With a cast of porn stars including Leonardo DickAprio and Kate WinSlut, 'Tittytanic' has everything that James Cameron's Oscar-winning epic does - and more! The plot is followed to a tee but director Jon Samuels (writer of 'F***enstein' and 'Cockzilla') also manages to combine erotic sequences with the historical story line. Kate and Leo "do it" pretty much everywhere. On the iceberg, in the cabins and even on that little raft at the end. Although, what does director Cameron and more to the point the survivors of Titanic (i.e.: that old lady with the big diamond) make of this sexploitation version of events? Well, James Cameron is reportedly fuming about the film which bears the rather obvious tag-line of 'The ship is going down... and the passengers are going down on each other!' but has no plans to sue. Historians have already criticised the renaming of certain key characters, such as 'Captain Bigun,' and a scene where the crew and passengers decide to have an orgy "before we all drown." The film is set to be released in the UK in 2001 but already has a cult US following. However rumours circulating about a line of dialogue in the film being "I'm the King Dong of the World!" are completely untrue. Nevertheless, it remains to be seen whether, despite the hype, 'Tittytanic' will be as successful as past pornos based on real life, like 'Malcolm XXX' and 'J.F**K.' Porn stars out of five **** A Jack Russell Report Generation Sex For millions of years, man has lived with his primal urges; love, hate, lust and envy are as present in today's culture as they have ever been. Cave men once searched for sex by roaming ancient lands armed with a big club fashioned out of tree bark. In the age of the Internet, horny people search for relief using Yahoo or Lycos. In a mediocre 80's movie called Electric Dreams, a computer falls in love with it's owner. In the 00's, the owner has undoubtedly fallen head over heels for his P.C. E-mail, the World Wide Web and Microsoft Windows are no longer accessories but essentials. A concept that was originally considered as lacking the 'human touch' of the phone call or letter is now a very popular way for people to communicate. Even technophobes have bit the bullet and jumped on the technogeek-train to Futureville. However, what is Futureville like and what will happen to those who are happy to stay in Yesterdaytown? Well, Futureville is a beautiful magical place where the entire population of planet Earth can chat instantly via e-mail (some of the time they may even send important stuff instead of the usual chain e-mails and rude jokes). Using e-mail and the Internet, Futureville residents can flirt with potential soul mates and arrange dates and marriages with complete strangers (or more commonly write to a forty year old balding man posing as a teenage nymphette called Candy for cheap thrills). The confirmed bachelors of tomorrow's world can surf through the billions of porno images available until their bits fall off (or, more likely, until their bank funds run dry). Yes, Futureville is like Yesterdaytown, but with wings. The only barriers that stand in the way of this Utopic dream are myths that are spewed out by the befuddled Yesterdaytownians. People have always been afraid of what they do not understand and in this case the new technology is a virtual Freddy Kruegar to the computer-illiterate who are still living in the past. Yet, the myth that lonely and ugly people hop on the web for a bit of 'nookie' courtesy of biguns.com is completely and utterly true - still, it keeps them off the streets. Nevertheless, so does everyone else. Let me be the first to admit my regular patronage of sites like barelylegal and putitwhereitdontbelong.com. After all eight out of ten cat owners' net searches are sex related and one in three men have logged on with the specific aim of finding topless pictures of Billie Piper or 'that one out of Friends.' Although, it is not just men (as the myth-makers would have us believe) as women also secretly cruise sexy sites. Some insatiable types scan their lady bumps and download them for the whole world to ogle. In fact, the only real breasts you are likely to see on the Internet probably belong to your own mother or even your little sister - how sick and tragic. Anyhow, it's not all rumpy pumpy, as luck will have it, love always gets in the way. Many couples have met on the web and some go back on-line to tell other users about their new faith in cyber dating. Henk and Sher ten Hoope (sadly their real names) hooked up in a chatroom and, despite living in different continents, managed to tie the knot thanks to the US Immigration Department. Now Dutch-born Henk and his betroved are living in Sher's hometown of Frederick, Maryland and have set up a home page declaring their love (www.fred.net/sher). Some people may be convinced that the WWWeb is an invaluable dating tool for finding their dream partner after checking out 'Sher and Henk's Love Page.' Others may feel like vomiting after enduring such a high concentration of soppy, sappy pappiness from the happy-dappy couple. Since the increasing popularity of such dream-come-true sites, others now warn of the dangers. Homearts.com advises that internet-lovers should follow their 'On-line Dating Tips' before meeting with strangers. The rules are kind of common sense, like be cautious of lies about marital status and appearance and separate the fantasy from reality. Laura Banks, author of Love On-line, also points out that "a person who writes great e-mail is not necessarily a great person." However, I presume that a person who writes crap e-mail is still a crap person. Nevertheless, everyday hundreds of desperados get caught up in the illusion of intimacy that e-mail offers. One of the biggest and scariest myths surrounding the Internet and all this high-tech jiggery-pokery - apart from e-mailing a Fred who says he's a Freda - is the possibility that our bodies may one day become totally redundant. There will be no need to travel, no need to meet in person, no need to leave the house and no need to have sexual contact - thus, there will be no need for physical existence. This has been a popular sci-fi concept for years and the fear is that the technology may consume us and take over leaving the living world to decay. A bit like Johnny Mnemonic but less shit, you know, like The Matrix. Therefore, without our bodies, it is Cyber Sex all the way. To many the proposition of cracking one off on your own while chatting up gender-ambiguous unknowns or clicking through pics (realising after five minutes that the blurry images are actually farm animals not beautiful men/women) is kinda sad and definitely no substitute for the real thing. Yet, in this age of safe sex, how much safer can you get? Besides in Futureville, there will be Virtual Reality helmets (!) and gloves for those who fancy their relationships strictly fantasy. Just think of loving in cyber-space as being like the video game Doom,but you only get one round of ammunition then the game is over. Still, the most infamous myth of all those circulated by dense, narrow-minded Yesterdaytowners is that the Internet is not a useful, informative and entertaining tool but is in fact a load of cack and a forum for ten year old nerds who love nothing more than hacking the Pentagon and stealing the bank details you put on-line when you decided to check out that kinky porn site for 'a laugh.' What can I say, it happens. But, where does Ug, our caveman ancestor, fit in to Futureville and would he love a computer like his Electric Dreams-reversal cousins? Well, Ug is still here today - he wears a suit or drives a car and there is no barbaric club in sight, yet Ug's relatives are destined to continue following their deep-rooted sexual urges. There is something eerily refreshing in the knowledge that things never change. DD	Tricks of the trade - #TOP SHELF# EXCLUSIVE Jack the Ripper didn't like them, Charlie Sheen does and they say things like 'Me love you long time' and 'Hey there, big boy.' Yes - prossies and that's exactly what the next 50 lines are all about, as Jack Russell calls the call girls and sleazy low-lifes to get the low-down on the oldest profession in the world. 'How do you find one?' is probably the first question uttered from the lips of big, sweaty men with a wad of cash between their tubby, rotund finger tips. Well, the desperate individuals concerned would do best by asking their local massage parlor or tanning salon for a 'bit of you know what (wink wink). ' After a good hiding, Fatty and his chums realise the immense benefits of the telephone over one-to-one first contact. That way, lardy-boy can assess the type of ladies who work there and whether they sell their bodies (rather than harassing innocent tanning specialists). But why not use the wads of moolah to ply girlies with booze at the local discotheque, like everyone else? A desperado replies, 'Because they expect a lot more from you. With hookers there are no strings attached and you can leave afterwards without any guilt. No fuss.' Are you concerned about catching a sexually-transmitted disease? 'No, I use a Johnny and the girls I pay are nice anyway.' Indeed. Nevertheless, do these whores 'love you long time' as they often declare from street corners? 'We don't actually love the blokes who come in. Not like in that way, like flowers and Valentine Day cards. But we do love them, if you know what I mean. As for a 'longtime' that depends on them,' said street-walker Coco Hernandez (not her real name). She is aged around twenty five with long blonde hair. Her nails are pink and glossy to match her lip-stick colour. She wears thigh-high PVC boots and a tight T-shirt with the logo 'Just screw it!' Coco Hernandez gets paid to ride the pink banana. Coco may appear confident and cocksure but, she admits, she is not happy. The sad fact is that she is just one of hundreds of young women who sell their booty on the streets of the United Kingdom every night. And for what, I ask you? MONEY, I reply in a weird, rhetorical-answering my own question kind of way. Whoever wrote that the best things in life are free had better watch out, as he is owed a couple of punches courtesy of all the uglies in the world. In the case of mistresses of the night, johns can expect to fork out at least seventy pounds for a little nookie. Does that sound free to you? Coco once gave it away for free until she realised her loose ways could be paying the rent. 'I wish the job didn't pay so well as it conflicts with my religious beliefs. I need to buy food and clothes just like everybody else.' Although, sensible folk can see that offering their bods to gentlemen with bank credit is not a safe way to pay off debts. 'I wouldn't recommend my lifestyle to anyone. It can be dangerous if you don't know what you are doing. I would never recommend risking your safety for money, it's not worth that!' concluded Ms Hernandez before ambling back to her street corner to wave and 'yoo-hoo' passers-by. As the so-called oldest profession in the world, it shows no sign of going out of business soon. The only likely changes in the future is legalisation, bringing the prostitutes out from behind blacked-out massage parlor windows and guaranteeing a safer ride for all.  DD	The University of Life with Professor Daigle Lesson topic - Drinking "Listen up, light-weights, and learn the ways of The Master - chundering in secret has never been so easy..." Simply follow my teachings and you too may drink like a squaddie in Ibiza:- 1. Before even pondering a night on the beers, have a hearty meal to line your stomach. Preferably something colourful with a lot of texture - a bowl of pasta will do - just to keep things interesting later when you are driving the porcelain bus. 2. Drink slowly at first. It's a marathon, not a sprint and, let's face it, you are neither a marathon man nor Lynford Christie. This is the only way you can guarantee that your rectal passage will glimpse your pre-boozing feast. Also to slow things down even more, try thinking of football, wait. no, that's for something else. 3. FINALS - Some piss-head suggests that everyone "necks tequila to sort the men from the big girl's blouses." Sorry, but your cover has been blown. Drastic circumstances call for drastic measures, ie; sticking your index down your gullet. Although, the biggest dilemma is how to escape to the loos without arousing suspicion amongst your drinking buddies. Try excusing yourself due to an irritable bowel condition or tell your friends that you are so sober that you are nipping off to take a sneaky slug of whiskey out of the view of the management. Sorted. Please revise the definition below (I will be testing you later): tactical chunder vb 1 to manually vomit before alcohol-induced vomiting is necessary; 2 last resort for a big girl's blouse, 3 latin foodeus upeus throateus When returning to the table, beware of tell-tale signs that will give away your secret, eg: sick around your mouth, down your shirt, spread all over your shoes, that kind of thing. 4. Remember - drinking is not a game... It's a sport; a man's sport. Go home, little man and stick to slurping 7UP through straws with your lady-boy mates. You heard. Professor Daigle's final thought - Shandy drinkers rarely take part in the technicolour yawn. DD

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