And she's so generous, she's wiling to let us all see the magical moment for free! Catch a teaser above, then move on over to Mandy's site for the full (free!) video.

· Mandy Morbid (mandymorbid.com)

· Recession Sex Workers 2: Mandy Morbid's Sex and Death Funhouse (therumpus.net)
· Photo by Ellen Stagg (staggstreet.com)

And, because we are lucky, Mandy Morbid is also the kind of girl who likes to take her clothes off in public...and do it for free, to boot. We're currently sighing over her latest striptease video: view a sneak peek here, then go over to Mandy's plethora of porntastic goodness for the rest.

· Mandy Morbid (mandymorbid.com)

We Did Porn

"Then I would call it 'Who Killed Tina DiVine?' or 'Who Killed Max Clamm?' and all my observations about porn could be wrapped around that death and loaded with the sexy intensity of true crime," Smith writes.

Tina DiVine, who shares certain characteristics with Joanna Angel, is one of dozens of second degree pseudonyms Smith employs in the book. He uses this method, he explains, to remind readers and himself that "there is probably more to them than I managed to see or record."

But, save for some anonymous porn performer in Berlin, no one dies in this book, and so the reader struggles with Smith (nom de porn: Zak Sabbath) on an as-it-happens examination of this "detour" through the pornimondes of Los Angeles, Brooklyn, Vegas, Berlin, and Barcelona, as the narrator serves up judgment on what he's figuring out.

Smith's perspective as a porn tourist (we are all porn tourists unless we are Jack Fuchsmore/Max Hardcore) is one of such precision, wit, and education that one can coast through most of "We Did Porn" before realizing that it can be as heartless and passionless as an episode of "Family Guy" or a fucking machine.

Take this observation of attendees at the annual Adult Entertainment Expo:

These bumblers in lines, programmers, two-handed clutchers, these bloggers with their pictures near breasts, these meatstacks, sad-sacks, these weezing mouth-breathers, nodding Cro-Magnons, ghost-costume-sized hip-hop shirt roamers, these collectors, these enthusiasts, pederasts, Ozzytees, these waist-touchers, wasted brokers, jokers, grinners, tit-seekers, watchers, these bulky humans and beanpoles processed in bulk, these barn-door-sized target audiences, these red bosses and red employees and simultaneous electronics-convention attendees, these men, these fat-ass motherfuckers in their bloatiness and massy fat pants. Whatever, civilians.

Smith spends most of a wildly entertaining discourse on porn and art and pornographers and/as opposed to artists masturbating over the heads of masturbators with deft references to Cthulhu, Boba Fett, and "Blade Runner."

It is only as Smith/Sabbath encounters - and falls in love with - Candy Crushed/Mandy Morbid and Osbie Feel/Benny Profane, and learns to admire the work of Gina Giles/Kimberly Kane and Rob Chuckle/Bob Coulter that we find a little humanizing joy in that (as Smith describes a late night Vegas Coco's discussion with fellow travelers such as Auspicia Clay/See If You Can Guess) "sauna of listless hate" that might have been this book.

Not that a memoir of a pornographer's life should be touching. "We Did Porn" accurately describes America in the Zeros for a lot of people, and Smith can go from macro (the 2008 election) to micro (naked girls on his collapsing bed suggesting goddesses of a 1500-year-old sculptor's wet dream) as fast as the burst of pleasure and relief that is the backbone of an industry that employs thousands and serves millions.

"We Did Porn" is a satisfyingly weighty 500 pages of Taschen-textured text and art that name-checks (sort of) many people beloved of Fleshbot readers ("Tasha Rey," "Monty Pentagram" - I was there for Smith's first movie) and does a great job explaining Zak Smith (and his friends; remember the "We" in the title) to himself and their world to you.

· Zak Smith (zaksmith.com)
· Buy "We Did Porn: Memoir And Drawings" (amazon.com)

Straight from the red carpet of the AVN Awards, here our some of our favorite (and not so favorite) fashion choices. We'll let you decide which is which.

· AVN Awards (avnawards.com)

. . .

· Mishka NYC (mishkanyc.com)

· Mandy Morbid Vs. Crazy Tentacle Sex Monster (free QuickTime video @ mandymorbid.com)

. . .

Despite the exhortations to "rise up" contained in the title being feted, those present at "The Doll Underground" release party seemed to openly mock the very suggestion of class warfare and sexual redistribution of capital as they nibbled on truffled foie gras and quaffed liberally from Waterford crystal flacons of 1995 Chateau Margaux. After showing up to the party in his custom Hummer stretch limousine, McKai exerted a Svengali-like hold on starlets Lexi Belle and Reagan Maddux throughout the evening, never allowing reporters to approach them directly and openly dictating their responses to them instead.

Also spotted at the gala were such prominent members of Old Los Angeles society as Ed Fox, Dave Naz, Ashley Blue, Zack Sabbath, Mandy Morbid, Kimberly Kane, Carlos Batts, and April Flores, all of whom listened in rapt attention as McKai described the splendor of his new palatial estate in Cap d'Antibes while feeding mouthfuls of gold leaf-encrusted cake to three or four waifish models inked from head to toe in "rebellious" tattoos and splayed at his feet. Later, after a shower of $1000 bills descended from the ceiling of the Little Cave upon the heads of the delighted guests, a Vivid Alt-branded personal helicopter spirited him away from the festivities. What will he think of next?

· Vivid Alt (vivid-alt.com)
· Order: "The Doll Underground" (Adult DVD Empire)

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Previously: Rise Up: Eon McKai's "The Doll Underground"

Carlos Batts' "Young Hollywood" is a little like the Grover's Corners of "Our Town": everyone knows each other, there is a kindly narrator and, as the spirit of Death is ever-present in Thornton Wilder's New Hampshire hamlet, so does Glenn Danzig hover above young Hollywood. The similarities end there, though, because you'd never expect Emily Webb to flash her tits to get into a music video the way Mandy Morbid does. Read our review after the gap.

. . .

Young Hollywood

Studio: Independent Adult Cinema
Director: Carlos Batts
Cast: Kimberly Kane, Mandy Morbid, Lystra, April Flores, Lindsey Meadows, Adrianna Nicole, Ashley Blue, Alex Gonz, Jerry, Steven St. Croix

Review by Gram Ponante

Actually, Mud's narration is more reminiscent of Samuel Jackson's omniscient DJ in "Do the Right Thing."

Like last year's "Boys' & Girls' Guide to Getting Down", "Young Hollywood" takes a snapshot of the short plain of city blocks south of the Hollywood sign, and makes no real distinction between porn performers and struggling actors (because there isn't one).

Morbid and Lystra fuck on the Mustang parked in Danzig's yard (it is actually Glenn Danzig's yard; the Satan-appreciating "Mother" vocalist lives in Hollywood) and later spend some topless time talking about cosplay and Comic-Con. This is a slightly more believable kind of unreality than what is found in traditional porn videos; it is only because the camera was on that their conversation seemed so awkward, because that's how the two of them actually talk.

It's not a rule, but porn shot in the San Fernando (Porn) Valley often looks different from porn shot over the hill in Hollywood and downtown L.A. We meet Kimberly Kane on the set of a movie. She fucks Steven St. Croix on an art installation chopper and makes plans on her phone for going out later. No Porn Valley McMansion and no chirpy starlet: just the angular, frank, and badass Kane in a room festooned with Atari art.

A lot of porn movies come with behind the scenes footage, and it is there where any consumer can become well-versed in what it is like to shoot a porn movie. Often this footage is ten times more entertaining than the movie it accompanies. "Young Hollywood" takes a different angle and seeks to dramatize the backstage logistics. In that way it is like an X-rated reality show.

Adrianna Nicole looks particularly sirenesque in a bathing cap on a Hollywood roof. Downstairs she gets fucked in the shadows of the venetian blinds in an empty apartment. Something about the light identifies Los Angeles - that and the fact that, if Adrianna Nicole lived on the east coast, who would ever leave?

Natural light plays more of a role in Ashley Blue's segment with Alex Gonz. It's twilight in Los Angeles and they're on the rooftop pool. This is a really good look for Blue, a very cool light.

The movie culminates at a party in Beverly Hills with fire dancers and carrying on; this scene is poorly lit and anticlimactic. But overall, "Young Hollywood" succeeds in its music, its sense of place, and its very loving photography. The statements it seeks to make about celebrity and hanging out would be more effective without the narrator telling us what we already picked up from the action, though.

Still, "Young Hollywood" paints a nice picture of Our Town; everybody gets along and looks good. It's a much better postcard for the area than the Christmas parade on Hollywood Boulevard.

· Carlos Batts (carlosbatts.com)
· Adam & Eve (adameve.com)

· Mandy Morbid (mandymorbid.com)

Spice Networks, a filthy little division of Playboy, threw a party for the release of Zenova Braeden's "The Taunting" last night in Hollywood. On hand were star Lystra and the multitalented Aiden Starr, who served as costumer for the movie.

Lystra was made up (in the film) to look like Sadako from "Ringu" and she was so frightened by the poster that she said she was going to hang it facing the wall. Lystra is intriguing. Last time we met Lystra, she was in a cage.

Reenacting a scene from "Evil Head" were Gia Paloma and Tommy Pistol. "Your hair looks different," I observed. "I wore a wig!" she pointed out. Last time we met Gia, she was in a cage.

New Los Angeles residents Zak Sabbath and Mandy Morbid share a kiss by the candelabra. It's like I wasn't even there. "Hey John and Yoko, give peace a chance!"

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Previously: Popshots Archive