In Porno Land there exists two creatures: “The Mope” and “The Stunt Cock”…at least on the male talent side of the game.

Stunt Cocks never refer to themselves as such; in fact, they relish their stage names, cause it’s their identity. Most Stunt Cocks think they’re “porn stars” and just as important as their female co-stars. Nothing, however, could be further from the truth. Oh, sure, there’s Peter North, and John Holmes, and…and…well, that’s about the only real male porn stars I can think of off the top of my head. All the others are just that: stunt cocks, and are almost indistinguishable from one another, and their sole purpose is to fuck the girl and blast on her, and that’s it. No one cares beyond that…even though Stunt Cocks think otherwise.

Then, there’s The Mopes. I like to call Mopes “Load Dumpers”, cause that’s all they’re good for on a porno set. A Load Dumper can’t carry a scene. A Load Dumper can’t fuck a girl hard for 30 minutes, cause he’ll cum in 2. A lot of times a Load Dumper can’t even keep his dick hard for 30 minutes. All that’s required from him is the load.

A Load Dumpers main purpose in life is to try and jump into bukakke scenes — or any other type of scene in which a whole lotta dudes are required — just to dump a load on The Porno Princess. They hope and pray they’ll be noticed on a bukakke set and hired by a director as a Stunt Cock.

Many try — few succeed.

Most Load Dumpers can never be a Stunt cock, either cause a Mope’s dick is too small, or they’re out of shape, or they’re super creepy, or they can’t perform a full sex scene — or any (or all) of the aforementioned.

A Load Dumper wants to be a Stunt Cock more than anything else in the whole wide world. He’ll even walk around and refer to himself as a “porn star” and brag to people how he bangs girls for a living…maybe even showing pictures of himself on actual porn sets, with his arms draped around a Porno Princess. They show these pictures off for the world to see. It’s their validation. A Mope’s mySpace is loaded with pics of them on porno sets with porno girls, and they value these pics almost as much as their own existence. The same can be said for a Mope’s Twitter account.

Just like any other sort of group, there’s the stand-outs, the mediocrities, and the bottom-of-the-barrel. This is true with Stunt Cocks and Mopes; for example, Sean Michaels is stand-out as a Stunt Cock, as is Steve Holmes, or James Deen. I won’t bother to mention the mediocre or bottom-of-the-barrel Stunt Cocks.

My pal Face Blaster used to be a stand-out Mope — but he’s retired. Most of the dudes I shoot in Cumbang and Brobang are great Mopes.

A few weeks ago a Mope told me one company that shoots bukakkes quit, cause there was a Mope on the last few sets threatening to kill people. I didn’t bother to ask the Mope who the other, Angry Mope was…cause I didn’t really care.

The “porn star” you’re reading about in the news who used a samurai sword to kill one person and inure two others was a Mope named Steve Driver. And yep, he’s the one that was threatening to kill people on the bukakke set that was recently closed.

I use the past tense, cause Steve Driver’s days of being a Mope are all over. As of this writing, Steve Driver is an outlaw — a Mope on the run — and he’s accused of killing another Mope by the name of Tom Dong.

I never met poor Tom Dong, and I think it’s a shame and a tragedy his life was taken.

I met — and shot — Steve Driver once, and he was such a worthless Mope I wouldn’t hire him again. The one thing he wasn’t — even though it’s being reported — is a gay porn star. Make no mistake about it, he was a bottom-of-the-barrel Mope, and it looks like I wasn’t the only one who thought so. Mopes can make a couple hundred bucks a pop; combo that with a part-time gig, and you can pay for a decent apartment. He was living in the distribution office where he took Tom Dong’s life. After being asked to leave and facing homelessness, he killed Tom Dong and injured another person so badly an amputation might be required.

With the Internet Pirates and Cal OSHA and the AIDs Foundation and Pink Cross, the last thing this business needs is a samurai-sword wielding killer on the loose. I hope they catch Steve Driver right away. I hope he confesses to killing Tom Dong and goes to jail where he belongs. I hope he doesn’t waste the court’s time and the tax payer’s money playing stupid games.

Then, we can forget about Steve Driver and deal with all the other problems that are killing this industry.

I’m thinking about getting a vasectomy. The only thing that worries me is someday I’ll find “The Right One” and I’ll actually want to procreate; I’m also worried about losing my pop shot, which, over the past three years, has already diminished to a depressing level. But I don’t really believe in The Right One and I’m not male talent…so who cares.

How bad does it hurt?

My pal Eric Swiss — who I often exploit as a Stunt Cock for my dirty movies — has a blog. It’s pretty good, too. Eric’s much more than just a stunt cock, too: he’s AVN actor of the year! He’s also world-traveled, and, for the most part, a good dude. Just don’t let him hang out with your 17 year old niece.

My McIntosh tube amps blew up the other day. If that isn’t bad enough, they decided to blow when I was showing them off to Proxy Paige. This was the night of our slumber party. I was switching out tubes, and I guess that’s a bad thing to do. Something about bias settings and shit like that. Anyways, I switch out tubes, fire them up, and BAM! The End. So now I gotta get them fixed. Funny thing is I don’t really even fancy myself an audiophile; in fact, I think it’s total snobbery, and that’s something I try to avoid. My ear isn’t even that good. For example, I can hear a difference between my Super-Duper Stereo and my iPod on the Bose deck…but not that much of a difference. And certainly not enough to warrant having my Super-Duper Stereo. I might sell it. The only problem would be I wouldn’t have a way to listen to my records.

I have lots of personal porno pics on my hard drive. I refer to them as such cause they’re pics of me hanging out with porno princesses after I get to know them a bit. They’re kinda personal, but not so much I can’t share them, right? I never really have before, but I think I’ll sell myself out and post them here from time to time in an effort to get some more traffic. I’m such a whore. Especially for internet traffic. Who knows…maybe no one will care anyway. So here’s Addison Caine at Farmer’s Market in LA going over their “To-Do List” while shopping there. Addison found her favorite thing, and she’s pointing it out for all to see.

I’m not a fan of Conan at all, but since he got fucked like a bitch by NBC and Jay Leno, I decided to watch his final show, and I’m glad I did. The only thing that topped Will Ferrell doing “Free Bird” with Billy Gibbons and Beck backing him up was Neil Young’s performance. Neil was so great It almost made me wanna cry — by No Way Am I Gay. Moving forward, we should all boycott Jay Leno, which I’ve been doing since he took over Johnny Carson’s spot years ago. Letterman’s way better, anyway.

And none of them even come close to Elvis Costello’s new show, Spectacle.

Sally Law, Science of Sex columnist, reports the 9 most provocative sex studies of 2009; Billy Watson, hi-brow sleaze-bag pornographer, responds.

1. Sex smells: A man’s sweat smells different when he’s sexually aroused — and women can tell the difference between the smell of sexual sweat and the regular stuff, according to a study in The Journal of Neuroscience.

My ball sweat smells like a winning Lotto ticket after a good session; a stunt cock I used to hire for Blacks on Blondes smelled like Hamburger Helper…out of the 60 (or so) different flavors, I’d say it was closest to the Cheesy Jambalaya.

2. Pulling out works: Well, most of the time. In a paper published in the June issue of Conception magazine, researchers claimed that withdrawal was “almost as effective as the male condom” when it came to pregnancy prevention (a failure rate of 18 percent, vs. the 17 percent failure rate of condoms).

If you want to be even more sure about your pregnancy prevention, pull out early enough to have that special someone spin around, drop to her knees, and take it on the face.

3. Child’s play: An Iowa State University study found that 25 percent of children — ranging in ages from 11 to 16 — in low-income households reported having sex. The average age of first intercourse for that group was 12.77.

In a follow-up study conducted by yours truly, 82% of them ended up in Porn Valley soon after they turned 18.

4. Growing pains: According to a study from the University of Turin, penis extenders might work — a particular brand that used traction to gradually stretch the penis over time was found to increase flaccid members’ length by almost one inch.

WTF? What good is it making Mr. Softie bigger? And only by an inch? Does this mean I need to toss the rest of my Extenze?

5. The pursuit of pleasure: Men who are very sexually active in their 20s and 30s — especially those who masturbate frequently — are at higher risk for prostate cancer, said researchers at the University of Nottingham. But that risk decreases as a man ages, and once he’s in his 50s, even small levels of sexual activity can help protect him from the disease.

Considering 100% of dudes aged 20 – 30 beat off all the fucking time, this fact has to skew their qualitative research methods, rendering them almost useless. (You can always count on an educated pornographer for The Truth.)

6. Pill popping: In February, the Federal Drug Administration mandated that Bayer, the manufacturer of Yaz birth-control pills, fix their commercials that promoted Yaz as a weapon against acne and PMS and downplayed its potential health risks.

Huh?

7. This is a test: The American College of Obstetricians and Gynecologists released new guidelines for cervical-cancer screenings: Women should wait until age 21 to get their first Pap smear, and should be checked every three years (instead of annually) if they have a history of normal test results.

Halloween 1995 I dressed up as a gynecologist and offered free pap smears; 100% of the women at the parties I attended were not amused.

8. Not yet: According to research published in the Journal of Theoretical Biology, women who hold out on sex are acting on a biological impulse to find more suitable providers — and men are waiting to prove that they’re up to the challenge.

And almost all women today define “suitable providers” by both their income tax returns and credit score.

9) Role reversal: Men feel guiltier following sexual infidelity, while women feel worse after an emotional transgression—and both are incredibly self-involved. “If an individual assumes that everyone, regardless of their sex, is most concerned with the same form of infidelity that they themselves are most concerned about, this person would consequently make false inferences leading to feelings of guilt,” said researcher Maryanne Fisher, a professor at St. Mary’s University in Halifax, Canada.

If only Maryanne Fisher could take a few seconds to pull her head out of her academic ass while speaking, 85% of the people reading this might understand what the fuck she’s talking about.

It’s cold and rainy in Amsterdam, and I just paid 12€ for 90 minutes of internet time at the airport before I leave. Does that make me an Internet Junkie? That’s $17.60 at this exact moment, and that’s enough to get me a nice slab of vinyl at Amoeba. But what the fuck am I gonna do for the next hour and a half?

Well, I’m charging my iPod. I forgot to plug it in last night; I wanna finish up the movies I rented: I Love You Man, King Corn, Me and You and Everyone We Know, and the director’s cut of Watchmen.

I watched Factotum on the way over, and if you ask me Mickey Rourke does a way better Bukowski (Barfly) than Matt Dillon. And Faye Dunaway outdoes Liv Tyler’s Jane, too. (Jane was Bukowski’s #1 Partner- In-Crime for the 10 “lost years” (pretty much the 50’s) Buk claims to have done nothing but booze (he probably wrote a lot of bad shit that couldn’t be published — cause, as William S. Burroughs so brilliantly noted, the hardest part about becoming a good writer is all the bad writing you’ll do first)). I watched Super High Me, too…but it was more a documentary on a so-so comedian than a documentary on what happens to you after you smoke / don’t smoke weed for 30 days. I don’t recommend either.

I must sound like a dope fiend, huh?

I’ve already seen Watchmen one and a half times. The first time Tara Lynn Fox came by my place to have a Popsicle and watch a movie. We ended up getting stoned, too, and the movies kinda freaked me out. Especially the very well-endowed Dr. Manhattan. Then I passed out 1/2 way through, so I watched again a day or two later — sober — and I ended up liking it enough to stick it out one more time. Let’s see what the 24 minutes or so Zack Snyder found so special.

I’m gonna e-mail Mr. POV and suggest he hire Dr. Manhattan to be one of his pals. His giant blue cock impaling a hot Porno Princess should be good for a few sales.

Kudos to the wireless Dutch ISP at the airport — true to form about everything else here, I get 100% unrestricted access to the whole fucking internet. How great is that? I can watch some Sim Beastie Porn next to the nice couple on their way back to America, too.

I spent two or three hours at the Verzets Museum yesterday. That’s after the hour I spent walking through the tiny living space that Anne Frank called home for a couple years. The Verzets tells the story of the Dutch Resistance to the Germans, and I think I liked it way better than the Anne Frank House — although that was pretty intense.

Not as intense as the Power Diarrhea I’ve been suffering through the past three or four days. I didn’t get food poisoning; it’s just that weird assimilation to strange places and food your stomach goes through whenever you leave home. Power Farts, too — so loud and stinky they make me laugh. Then I gross myself out. Fun, huh? And you wonder why I don’t have a girlfriend.

I am not looking forward to 10 hours of plane time. God forbid my stomach turns. I’m pretty sure I’ll be OK — but what if? Ever blast off in an airport lavatory? I dunno whether to go try and find some Ammodium in the airport (a tough find I’m sure) or go with it and laugh all the way back to my seat after I destroy the place.

Let’s go see what I can find…

Don’t blame me for ignoring you guys lately. Sure, it’s my fault…just don’t lay the blame on me. If I’ve said it once, I’ve said it a million times: I really don’t have anything to say. At least not off the top of my head, and a lot of times I write best when I’m doing it off the top of my head. Well…sort of. So sit tight as I ramble about nothing particular at all.

I scored Dylan tickets. He’s playing at the Palladium next month. My date shall none other than The Fabulous Mz. Berlin. She’s already warned me she sings along loudly whenever she hears Dylan, and she double-warned me that she sings poorly, but that’s OK, cause Dylan’s no Pavarotti. She’s also warned me that if I don’t behave during our date I shall be caned, slapped, spanked, flogged, and humiliated in various ways.

I haven’t decided how I will behave that night, but if I was a betting man, I’d lay 7 to 2 odds I’ll wake up bruised the next day.

I told The Producer I was going to Dylan, and he told me Dylan was arrested recently after wandering around a neighborhood in New Jersey. Of course the officer didn’t know Dylan, but she’d heard of him, and it took his roadies pulling out his passport to suffice Officer Friendly.

Which reminds me of dinner the other night. I hate dropping names, but what the fuck? I had dinner the other night with Abbey Brooks and her agent and Mr POV when Agent tells us his dad “used to be a rock star” and he passed recently. Of course this piqued my interest, and I asked who: Pappa used to be a Raider.

As in Paul Revere and The Raiders.

I spun “Cherokee Nation” about a zillion times when I was 11 years old. I have no idea why I liked that song so much, but I did, and I had the 45, and I’d listen to it over and over, just like I listened to The Agent’s super duper stories about Pappa and all the Rock Stars he’d met over the years: Kiss (sans make-up when no one knew what they looked like without their make-up); Makenzie Phillips was his babysitter (and he had fun baby sitter stories); and he met just about every touring band in the 70’s and 80’s: Led Zeppelin, The Who, even Dokken! His dad just passed, and Paul McCartney even sent his condolences via e-mail. “You wouldn’t believe McCartney’s e-mail address,” he said. You wouldn’t either.

That’s about the time when Abbey said she had no idea who Paul Revere and The Raiders were, and then I went off on some tangent about time and how it only takes a generation to forget just about anything Pop Culture has to offer. Who survives? The Beatles?

Cause only about 50 people lined up on 09/09/09 to score a Beatles mono box at Amoeba. I was #9. How fucking cool is that for this geek boy? I’m #9 on 09/09/09 and yes, I got a monobox. Turns out we all did! I also got a stereo box, cause if I bought both I got the limited edition litho (1/10,000…which means there’s nothing “limited” about it, but I had to have one), and I even scored 2 Beatles 09.09.09 tee-shirts. Then I went home and listened to the box in chronological order. I got as far as the White Album. Those guys always amazed me. Not cause they’re so great; it’s the way the evolved over those 6 years and all the music they made during that short time frame. Never again, my friends. Not over 6 years.

Which is one year short of the time since I started shooting porn. I clocked year 7 last month. This is now officially the longest I’ve been at one job. I dunno even know what to think about that. Except The Minion is back in my corner — this time as an editor — and I’ve hired two new, part-time PA’s to replace him: Ricky and Mr. POV. Ricky used to be a gay porn star, and Mr. POV is on his way to becoming a porn star. So far things are fine & dandy (note the use of the ampersand…one of the most underrated punctuation marks). Mr POV even Twitters and Facebooks from time to time.

I have to draw the line somewhere.

Alex writes:

hey billy, i just thought of the funiest virus ever! heres my genious idea

image a cmputer virus would hide on everyone computer and it would update all you facebooks, myspace, twitters and so on status messages. only it would not write how you are or what you are doing, it would write the title off the porn movie you have watched last!!

what do you think of that billy?

btw i made green dragon and am really baked
—————————————————

Hey Alex —

I like your idea very much…but I think it would be tough to write a virus that knows what porno is in your DVD player or what dirty site you last visited or what image is burned into your brain from the last time you jerked off.

How about this: jerk off to the beautiful Miss Tara Lynn Foxx blowing a XXXL-sized ween. She was one of the latest of might fine dick suckers that have graced my BJ site. Here’s some free Tara Lynn Foxx blowjob movies.

Oh, and while I’m at it, here’s Tara Lynn Foxx’s Twitter page. Why not follow her? She loves to let her fans know what she’s doing. I know this cause the other day she came over to my house for a Popsicle, and while she down on her knees enjoying it, she told me all about how much she loves her “Tweeps” — whatever the fuck that means.

Oh, my digressions! Back to your “genious idea”: I would probably like your idea much better if we would have shared some of that Green Dragon.

And I’ll admit I had no idea what Green Dragon was until I looked it up in Wikipedia. Funny thing is, I just left Prague, and they had Cannabis Vodka all over the place. I didn’t partake in that, but I did buy some Cannabis Iced Tea. It was tangy! It was even more of a hoot to watch my mom try a little. My dad refused the drink until I quadruple-dared him…and he only took a swig after Mom downed 1/2 the bottle.

Oh, my European adventures!

Your pal — Billy

PS: Who the fuck designed the toilets in Austria? I mean really…have you ever taken a dump here? There’s this weird shelf where the water is supposed to be, and your turd just kinda lays there until you flush, and then it’s sucked down into this smaller bowl of water just below the shelf…so flushing is akin to blending up a chocolate protein drink. Do I need to tell you how well this facilitates the poopy smell?

I swear it all has to do with the German’s obsession with poop. How else do you explain away their porn?