You know what I do for a living? I write articles and lessons for adult webmasters. I don't make porn. Instead, I write about the business of making porn. For example, this week I am to complete three articles (700-1000 words) on analyzing exit traffic, expanding into mainstream and the realistic expectations of peddling smut on the web. I've been writing pieces like this for the cyberporn industry for almost six years. I contract to one company, based in Canada, and I have yet to meet my employer in person. I am a true telecommuter who blogs because she can.

You'll notice that the ads on my blog are mostly for adult sites. Mind you, I would love it if I got enough traffic to warrant attention from a broker like BlogAds but those porn banners are also there for another very important reason: Free Speech.

I have been in the Internet porn trade long enough to know who pays and how much. I also know that 99% of my adult sponsors don't give a damn if one day I write about politics and the next day I write about dildos. In fact, I find the standards of my industry rather honorable.

No illegal content or tangible goods.

No hate or violent speech.

No spamming.

No forced downloads of software.

Believe it or not, these are pretty much SOP rules for any webmaster that wishes to promote legitimate adult programs for money. There are crooks and bad practices in almost any trade but on the whole, most of us do our best to operate within the law. Keep in mind that adult webmasters are heartlessly competitive. If an affiliate webmaster is caught scamming, his/her sponsor and host will be notified. If a sponsor is found to be shaving sales, tens of thousands of adult webmasters will read about it on industry message boards. We are a self-regulating trade that operates almost completely online.

There are providers that sell nothing but sexually-oriented photos, video and animation to adult webmasters and paysite operators. There are designers that specialize in creating pages for adult-based free sites and membership sites. We have adult-friendly web hosts, third-party billers and traffic brokers. With virtually every paid access site comes an affiliate sponsor program. Those sponsor programs as well as the content providers, billers, hosts and designers, pay to advertise on trade-specific sites like the one I work for.

Like I said, I post adult sponsor ads because I know who pays and who doesn't. I know that Mr. Skin doesn't give a flying fuck if I write the word "fuck" on my blog. As long as I don't lie about their product or try to scam their program, they'll send me checks for every signup. I know that Adult Friend Finder has been paying me for the last nine years, even before I got my porno day job.

I own my own domain and shell out for my own bandwidth. I use an adult-friendly web host and if I post any nudie pics, I either bought a license for them or I am using them in agreement with my adult sponsor. I am beholden to no one but myself on this blog. I can say whatever I want and I don't have to answer to Blogger, BlogAds, Google or MySpace. I label my site with both ICRA and RTA and I follow the simple rules set forth by my supposedly heinous profession.

I make my living from people that want George Costanza to masturbate as much as possible. I blog for you because I can. If I make a little money in the process, I know nobody is going to jerk me around because I am the Master of My Domain.

When I was in my twenties, I worked at an amazing little supper club in Dallas, Texas. It was amazing because it was the eighties and most nightclubs were about dancing, bands, cocaine, ecstacy and attitude. Not this club. This place was a throwback to a classier era. Fine French food, intimate setting and a bona fide chanteuse sang twice a night. I got to know and watch some extremely talented women but none of them, not even Diane Schuur, could compare to Julie Wilson.

I can't say when the performance in the above YouTube was taped but Julie is in her eighties now and still performing. The song she sings in this YouTube is "I'm Still Here" written by Stephen Sondheim for his musical Follies. I think of this song and my wonderful memories of Julie. I love that she is still here and I am still here and you are still here.

I've run the gamut.
A to Z.
Three cheers and dammit,
C'est la vie.
I got through all of last year
And I'm here.

If you're interested in the Libby trial, then get thee hence to Firedoglake. Emptywheel is typing up a storm as well as Internet/Journalism history. Liveblogging in the courtroom is awesome! Marcy Wheeler/Emptywheel has crafted a casual, succinct reporting style that conveys the meat of the proceedings yet still manages to inform. She occasionally interjects with a personal view or gently snarky remark but she never veers from her duty, to cover the case as it happens.

Today is a damned good day to catch some of the magic. Former White House press secretary, Ari Fleischer, is set to testify and thanks to folks like Marcy we know Ari copped for immunity. Mr. Fleischer retired just around the time that Valerie Plame was outed as a CIA operative by somebody. Yeah sure, Armitage told Novak but somebody told Armitage and Scooter and Karl and Cathie and Judy and well, maybe Ari played it like a good Libra. He foresaw the outcome and bailed before the shit hit the fan.

Yep. Today could be a great day. A John Dean kind of day. I've always believed that Ari Fleischer was smarter than his bosses. Let's hope that he spills his guts in trade for his immunity status as a witness. Keep in mind, Fleischer is testifying FOR THE PROSECUTION.

Don't forget to keep up wth the trial over at Firedoglake. If you have a bit of extra money, consider donating to the Firedog crew. They're framing the future with this nutty, courtroom-liveblogging thing.And iIf you have a moment, send some love vibes out to Firedoglake progenitor, Jane Hamsher.

"Isn't it illegal to cut up the flag?" - Betsy Jobs

"Not if you sew it back together." - Arlene Lorenzo

"Dick" Columbia Pictures/1999

I love "Dick". Written before Mark Felt revealed himself as Bob Woodward's mysterious informant, this film is an overlooked gem.

The story opens on a close-up shot of a piece of paper in a typerwriter, only the typist isn't Carl Bernstein. It's Betsy Jobs and she is helping girlfriend Arlene Lorenzo compose a fan letter. Arlene lives in the Watergate Hotel with her mother. The letter is an entry for a "Win a Date with Bobby Sherman" contest and the thing must be postmarked by midnight. After the letter is finished, Arlene and Betsy sneak out to deposit it in a postal bin just outside the hotel. To prevent them from being locked out, Arlene covers the door bolt with tape. On the way back, in the stairwell, the girls encounter a creepy old guy who admonishes them for being up so late. The night is an historic one, June 17, 1972. The night Watergate security guard Frank Wills discovered a piece of tape disabling a knob-lock and D.C. Police arrested five men for breaking into Democratic Party Headquarters.

Later, during a school-sponsored field trip to the White House, Arlene and Betsy see the creepy old man again. They notice him because "that guy has a piece of T.P. stuck to his shoe"! Instead of thanking the girls for saving him embarrassment, the old man freaks out and informs the White House chief of staff that he saw the same two girls on the night of the break-in. The creepy old man is G. Gordon Liddy. The chief of staff is Bob Haldeman. Haldeman questions the young women and in the process, they meet President Richard Nixon. In an effort to keep his enemies close, Nixon bestows upon Arlene and Betsy the title of "Official White House Dog Walkers". Hilarity and political fantasy ensue.

I love "Dick" because in it, no Watergate-era player escapes the satire. Woodward and Bernstein are not the Redford/Hoffman dream team we saw in "All the President's Men". In "Dick", Will Ferrell is Woodward and his character is constantly trying to ditch tag-along puppy Carl Bernstein (Bruce McCulloch). Harry Shearer gives us a Gordon Liddy that is both paranoid and ridiculous. Saul Rubineck enacts a grumbling Henry Kissinger, unappreciated and pissed that L.B.J. left behind Vietnam. Dave Foley personifies Haldeman as the classic guy in a cheesy-dark suit, except with a flattop. Dan Hedaya gifts us all with a Nixon so perfect, so malevolently clueless that Dan Ackroyd and Anthony Hopkins should hang their heads in shame. In the end, the president and his men are defeated by one of the most powerful forces in nature: teenage girls.

I love "Dick" because as time goes by, people forget the details of history. Villains become two-dimensional. Heroes are reborn without sin. Bob Woodward and Carl Bernstein did not slay the Dick monster alone. The events that led to the resignation of Richard M. Nixon happened successively and progressively. From the fear sparked by Daniel Ellsberg and the Pentagon Papers, to the establishment of the secret slush fund, to the creation of the 'Plumbers', to the break-in(s) and all the way through the trials, hearings, investigations, resignations, firings and recorded tapes, Richard Nixon remained president. The full tale of Watergate shows us that fate decides the hand, no matter how well one rigs the game. To me, Arlene and Betsy symbolize fate, not Mark Felt.

The real, true reason security guard Frank Wills called the cops on that night in June wasn't because he found tape wrapped over a door lock. Wills had already found tape, wrapped over the lock, earlier that night. He removed it the first time, thinking that some Watergate tenant had done it. Wills called D.C. police because later, one of the burglars replaced the tape. Who replaced the tape? What went through his mind? Did more than one man discover that the lock fix had been unfixed? Was there a discussion and a decision made? If you had been a Watergate burglar and had come upon your jimmied lock, all clean and sparkly, what would you have done? There was no one around. The garage was quiet and dark. Would you have re-taped the door? Fate.

Yes, Woodward and Berstein toiled diligently to uncover the truth behind the burglary. Another truth is that they would never have been allowed to continue the expose without the support of editor Ben Bradlee and Washington Post owner, Katherine Graham. What gets lost in the short version are other integral occurrences, that had nothing to do with "Woodstein's" footwork.

After Judge John Sirica had found the five burglars guilty, one of them (Frank McCord) tried to give a letter to the judge in private. Sirica decided that he would not open the letter privately and would instead, have it read in open court. In the letter, McCord confessed that the burglars were acting on orders from the White House. See what fate did there? Not only did fate give Woodward and Berstein jobs at a paper owned by an amazing woman, fate gave America John Sirica - a man that knows how to play cards. Later in the game, fate blesses us with Alexander Butterfield. This poor sap was just an innocent schlub that ran security for the White House. Questioning him was an afterthought for the Senate Watergate committee. By this time, July 1973, Haldeman and Ehrlichman had resigned. John Dean had turned senate witness against Nixon. It looked like Tricky Dick might actually escape when out of the blue, in front of the senate, Butterfield mentioned that the White House had a secret taping system. Nixon stayed in office for an entire year, an entire year, after Butterfield delivered the mortal wound. Only fate could have been responsible for a Supreme Court willing to tell Richard Nixon to follow the law and turn over his tapes. When the recordings were released, the entire country heard a president that cursed profusely and was a complete bigot. One particularly damning tape starred Nixon and Haldeman in a discussion on how to pay off the Watergate burglars.

As Betsy Jobs (Kirsten Dunst) and Arlene Lorenzo (Michelle Williams) say in the film: "You're a bad man! We heard that tape! You kicked Checkers and you have a potty mouth!"

In 1974 I was Arlene and Betsy. I was a teenage girl who watched Richard Nixon resign and felt bad about it. I felt sad for America. The people they told us to trust had lied to us and let us down. I had been to Washington with my family. We toured the White House. Richard Nixon was our president and there he was, on the verge of tears, resigning in disgrace. I knew he was a crook. I knew my country had just been through a massive social movement and an unnecessary war. At that moment, during that speech in August 1974, I believed it was the worst day in the history of the United States. The people around me applauded and cheered but they were grownups. They didn't understand.

The line Betsy says during Dick's resignation is for me, particularly heart-breaking: "They'll never lie to us again." Oh, fate.

I'm not going to write anymore Year Zero posts. No more comparing Watergate players to modern-day administration counterparts. After writing that Joe Wilson is Daniel Ellsberg and Dick Cheney is Spiro Agnew, you and I both knew where it was going. There's only one comparison left and I just can't do it. I can't bring myself to match Richard Nixon with George W. Bush. Tricky Dick was a one-man machine. Everything that was done, was done for his sake. George Bush is part of monolithic cabal that doesn't just cheat, they practically own the casino. This time there are many Dicks and the game is rigged. People are getting fucked and robbed and tortured and killed. The President and his men were saints compared to this current cadre of crooks.

Dick almost got away with Watergate but not quite. Sure, Ford pardoned him and he never had to stand trial, pay fines or go to jail. In later life, Nixon reclaimed some respect. Pundits praised his trip to China and his creation of the EPA. Regardless of that, Richard Nixon will forever be the president who resigned because he ordered a third-rate burglary. Just the same, the man knew when to fold his cards and leave the game.

Don't think the similarities of Bush and Nixon have alluded me. Both men became entrenched in a losing war. Both had cronies manipulating the game behind the scenes. Both were caught carrying out petty vendettas against enemies. Both had criminal Vice Presidents and Attorney Generals. Both took money under the table from special interests. Both men lied to the electorate. But those are skeletal similarities. The motivations of these two men are as dissimilar as hearts and diamonds. For all his selfish insanity, Richard Nixon held reverence for America. George Bush is selfish and insane and holds no reverence for this country.

Once again, we have something we had in Nixon's era. We have a Democratic Congress. We also have a populace that is disgusted with the war, the waste and the greed of the Bush/GOP beast. George's job approval rating is plummeting down to Dick's worst levels. We've got a New Year with a new Senate and House. Hopefully, there will be hearings and trials and minor details that sway the fates in our favor. Watergate burglar, James McCord, titled his book "A Piece of Tape" because that minor detail decided the fate of Richard M. Nixon. Alexander Butterfield said two words (taping system) and the chips were lost.

Nixon inherited a country torn by war and civil unrest. He was an unlikable guy and a crappy kingpin but he was self-made, with decades of political street cred. George Bush inherited his fortune and the presidency of a peaceful and prosperous country. He is a likeable guy that started a war with a lie and a smile. He's emptied the treasury with a wink and a smirk. An entire city was destroyed and he kept on picking. Thousands of sons and daughters are dead and he just grins. Richard Nixon left office a broken man. George Bush is breaking America.

No more Year Zero posts. No more Dick. George is a dick but he is not Dick. George has a Dick and that dick used to work for the old Dick but George's Dick is a bigger dick than old Dick ever was. They're all dicks, really. I leave you to the fates, you dicks. For it is in the words of an imaginary teenage girl named Betsy Jobs, that I find my mantra:

"You can't let Dick rule your life."

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Ripley: Ash, can you hear me? ASH?

Ash: Yes, I can hear you.

Ripley: What was your special order?

Ash: You read it. I thought it was clear.

Ripley: What was it?

Ash: Bring back life form. Priority One. All other priorities rescinded.

When Bill Clinton won the presidential election in 1992, my friends and I danced, drank champagne and giggled like kids. The Reagan era was finally over. No more fearmongering. No more needless buildup of nuclear weapons. No more ignoring AIDS and the homeless. No more hate from the Moral Majority. No more pandering to greedy corporations. The people were in charge again. We felt like Ripley when she jettisoned that nasty Alien out of her spaceship.

"I got you"

And then we went to sleep. While we were sleeping they plotted and planned. They sent colonists out to inhabit our government, our media and our churches. The sent them out with one directive: Bring back control. All other priorities rescinded.

They didn't care who or what they sacrificed to obtain their objective. They paid no heed to honor or the rule of law. If an election was in question, fix the election. If an opposition candidate was too honest, make up a scandal. If a war is neither logical nor legal, lie about it. If a reporter gets too close to the truth, discredit him. If a former ambassador calls them on their bullshit, go after his wife. If a language translator uncovers treason, shut her up. If a warning comes of an imminent attack, pretend the warning never came. If dead soldiers don't play well on the TV, hide the bodies. If anything gets in their way, destroy it.

Take the religious fundamentalists. Much like poor crewmember Kane, they were drawn in, curious to the possibilities just beneath the surface of the shiny egg of political participation. Their leaders smacked them with the face-hugging monsters of homosexuality and abortion. They kept their believer's fears alive with promises to return America to an innocent 1950's utopia. All the while they fed off their money and faith. When G.W. Bush was elected, it was as if the face-hugger had dropped off. All was well. No more monsters. Let's have some dinner.

Then reality burst through the fundamentalist's collective stomach in the form of a bald-headed gay pretender by the name of Jeff Gannon. He was a hint of what lay ahead but he soon sped off into the bowels of the Internet, easily forgotten. The GOP continued to exploit the threat of monsters with assurances that they were on the side of God, the Christian God. They continued to profess their moral superiority while soldier after soldier died. They faulted God for their complete failure to conduct a proper response to hurricane Katrina. They boldly denied their corrupt purposes while their legislators came under investigation, were charged with crimes and sent to jail. And then, out of the shadows appeared a predator named Mark Foley. They claimed to chase him off but he came back, bigger and more horrendous and in the form of the Reverend Ted Haggard.

The George Bush/GOP/neocon machine doesn't care about Jesus or God. They don't care about protecting Americans. They don't care about stopping terrorism. They only care about two things: Money and Power. They will use any person, any cause, any fear as a host in which to hibernate. When they have sucked all the use out of a donor, they will move on to the next poor fool. They are as the android Ash described them: ...unclouded by conscience, remorse, or delusions of morality". They are perfect killing machines that drip acid for blood and they won't stop until they've completely destroyed everything this country stands for.

I won't pretend to be naive. Winning control of Congress for the Democrats won't slay the beast. I've seen the sequels. There will always be people that use whatever means possible to stay on top, be it terrorism or fascism or corporatism. Rogue countries possessing nuclear bombs don't frighten me nearly as much as the accepted practice of depleted uranium weapons. Terrorism is a real threat but global warming will end the human race. The real enemy is greed.

We are all Ellen Ripley. Forever destined to keep hunting monsters because "The Company" keeps letting them on the ship. We may never end them but as long as we are able, we must blow them out of the air lock because that's the only way, we the people, will survive.

Tuesday, November 7 is the big showdown. You may have no weapons and no training but you do have the power of numbers. Vote, damn you. VOTE

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I've been messing with the Flash again. I even entered this one at the Huffington Post Contagious Festival.

Go visit Shiny the 9-11 Pony. See him dance and sing! He's here so you'll never forget! Like you could forget. Like this is not happening. Like everything is all better now. Like...

"We all were sea-swallow'd, though some cast again,
And by that destiny, to perform an act
Whereof what's past is prologue, what to come
In yours and my discharge."

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