Mr. and Mrs. Watson rolled into town this Labor Day weekend. I’ve never really talked about my family, but that’s cause this is a porno blog, and if there’s one place your folks don’t belong…well, that’s in your porno blog. In case you’re wondering, they know what I do for a living, and while they’re not ashamed at Their Son The Pornographer, I’m sure they would have been much happier with Their Son The English Teacher. Although they were much more disappointed with Their Son The Stockbroker, that’s for sure.

When I told my mom I was getting my Series 7 and getting on the phone to peddle stocks, she scowled…and said nothing.

When I told my mom I was getting behind a camera to document people engaged in various sex acts — some of which may be deemed obscene in certain parts of our great nation — she just sorta shrugged her shoulders and said something like, “just be careful.” And then she asked me, “do you have a porno director name?”

“Billy Watson!” I said.

She asked, “Where did you dream that up?”

“Well, I just wanted to call myself something unassuming and corny. Cause there’s nothing cornier and dumber than, say, “Johnny Madness” or “Tommy Big Guns” or any variances thereof. And I certainly wouldn’t give myself a one-name name, you know? That territory is reserved for the weak and worthless.”

My mom thought about it a sec and said, “that’s strange. I never told you this, but your grandmother dated a man named Billy Watson before she married your grandfather. I think that’s the first time I’ve heard the name Billy Watson in maybe a hundred years.” She said it so nonchalantly that I dunno what surprised me more — her non-expressive reaction or the fact that I randomly chose the same (porno) name as a dude who my granny dated about the same time The Great Depression was winding down.

Weirder yet? This weekend at one of my flea markets, Dad walks up to me and says in this sort of hush-hush whisper, “the fat lady sitting in front of the van has the kind of dirty pictures you like.” I looked up and over at the lady, who was really fat and had parked herself right next to her ’89 Dodge van. Someday I think I’m gonna take portraits of flea market folks, and yes…I got my dad scouting flea markets, but he still hasn’t figured out the difference beween “cheesecake” pics and hardcore ones. But in this particular instance, that was quite alright. Cause in the folded-up envelope the fat lady kept in a small glass case on her plastic folding table was more of the Three Nuns.

Oh, while I’m talking about that post, I was pretty amazed only one reader called phony on the Nazi fags; more amazing yet was the following e-mail that landed in my in-box from Europe: I am born 1975 but my grandfather already told me that the Sturmabteilung (SA) was the known “gay-wing” of the Nazis. (He was your typical “been there, done that” former not-anymore-Nazi…) So, these Nazi gay-pics do not surprise me at all. This prompted me to dial in my Google machine, which immediately returned Ernst Röhm.

Back to The Three Nuns: First off, the half-dozen or so pics I scored at the Flea Market are tiny, and each single picture contains a bunch of even tinier pictures. They were small, but not so small I didn’t immediately recognize the large photo of the three nuns I scored in New York City last month. “How much?” I asked the Fat Lady.

“Fifteen,” she said, flatly.

“Give ya ten.”

“Fifteen,” she said, flatly.

I turned and walked. And then I turned and started looking for something else I could bundle into the buy. The only other thing that remotely interested me was a black americana label featuring a black kid eating watermelon, which, when I think about it now, is more offensive than the image of the 3 nuns getting banged. And which is why I used to collect that stuff. The only problem with the label was it was already stuck to a piece of cardboard.

I handed the fat lady $15 and went on my merry way, back to my studio…and my scanner. Take a closer look at these, would ya? How about the nuns getting put into pile-driver! Would woulda thought girls were getting slammed in pile driver back then? Not me! And the dudes are butt-fuckin’ bi-boys, too, which totally cracked me up.

And to think the porn getting churned out today is labeled “bad”.