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A list of ten Sad Songs

There are times when you just have to listen to a sad song. Us westerners (by this I mean the western hemisphere) can be a blocked bunch. So we need some well-produced, expertly-written song designed to either hurry our emotions or rip the tears right out of us. A sad song is an emotional laxative.

But there is more than one type of sad song. Do you want a song has sad subject matter in the lyrics? That’s a sad song in the literal sense. Do you want a song that sounds sad, and makes you feel depressed? Do you want something to make you feel worse when you’re in a bad mood? Do you want a certain sort of music to listen to when you wallow in the your own filth and drink alone? Then you need a depressing song. A depressing song is that fifth double you’ve downed before noon, or that vat of chocolate Hagan-daaz you’ve stuffed down you’re throat.

So here are a list of sad or depressing songs. I’ll break them down, and provide a situation for which that specific song might be appropriate.

1. “Is that All There Is?” (Lieber and Stoller) – Performed by one of the last century’s finest singers, Peggy Lee, this song is a downer. “If that’s all there is my friend/ then let’s keep dancin’/ Let’s break out the booze and have a ball”. It’s got an almost German Kurt-Weil feeling. The slow, inexorable beat of death is deadly and present throughout. This song is to be played while drunk, preferably while the sun is shining and the neighbour’s kids are playing outside. But don’t worry about its message; while the song mentions suicide quite enthusiastically, “I’m not ready for that final disappointment,” as Peggy says. Listen to her most famous song, Fever, right after as an antidote. Listen to it here.

2. “Gloomy Sundays” (Rezső Seress)- Originally a Hungarian song released in 1935, it was then recorded by Paul Kemp, then the wonderful Paul Robeson. Then Billie Holiday got her expert hands on it and it was a hit. An urban legend has it that many people have committed suicide while it was playing. What a reputation! It’s usually number 1 in most lists of sad songs. Gloomy is Sunday, with shadows I spend it all, My heart and I have decided to end it all. Pretty bad, no? Another song for a wasted alcoholic afternoon. Listen here.

3. “All by Myself” (Eric Carmen) – Not quite a suicide song, or an alcoholic song. It’s a break-up song, not a death song. When I was young, I never needed anyone, and makin’ love was just for fun. Those days are gone. Livin’ alone, I think of all the friends I’ve known. But when I dial the telephone no one’s home. Written and first performed by a guy named Eric Carmen, it really took off thanks to Celine Dion, who added a power move at the end that drowns out the sound of your self-indulgent wailing as  you choke on ice cream and the salty taste of your tears. You’ve heard it before, but you can hear it again.

4. Andvari (Sigur Rós, from the album Takk) – Written and performed by an Icelandic pop group with a cult following, it is sung in a language called Hoplandic, which a dialect made up by the Jonnsi, the lead singer. It’s a stunning song that has no meaning to any listener, so you can attach any meaning you want. It’s best use is for when your kids start to grow up, go to school, and not need you that much anymore. A youtuber made a film-montage of his daughter set to this song, and it can be viewed here. This video once got me weeping uncontrollably, so keep a tissue ready.

5. Red Song (Tim Baker) This song by Newfoundland’s Hey Rosetta! is a haunting evocative song that I think should eclipse All by Myself but won’t. The lyrics are eerie and mythic. Coloured cloth in autumn grey, Coloured cloth covered in bloody stains, and without the pain we learn to love again. It’s about the end of love, of innocence, of growing older. To be played when you are feeling quiet and introspective. See it here.

6. The Ballad of Charlie Wenjack (Willie Dunn) Not depressing, but the saddest song ever. Ever. It’s about a little Canadian Aboriginal boy of six who was taken away from his family and sent to a government-run residential school. He escaped in the dead of a North Ontario winter and tried to walk home along a railroad track, four hundred miles from home, without a winter coat. As he begins to die of hypothermia, he hallucinates and sees his mother, and the Eagle of his people’s myths. Charlie Wenjack really existed, and he went to the Cecilia Jeffrey Indian Residential School. Crap, I’m in tears just writing this. It’s a unknown song that should be the theme of Canada’s greatest shame. It’s very hard to find.

7. Angel (Sarah McClachlan) This is a wonderful song, but it’s become the annoying go-to sad song just as Just the Way you Are has become the most over-done wedding song in history. But I figured I had to include it. It’s used in charity adverts for homeless shelters, humane societies; it’s played at funerals, you name it. However, I don’t think many people feel sad or depressed when hearing it. To be played when you want to hear something ‘meaningful,’ I guess. And you can hear it by clicking here.

8. Goldie’s Last Day (Written and performed by Pray for Rain) A completely specific sad song, but not particularly sad in sound. This song, by Christian rock band Pray for Rain, was inspired by the death of the bass player’s golden retriever. yes she gave all she had /not like a brother or sister more like a  mom or a dad/ we never asked her /never gave her a choice we just barked out commands /sit stay don’t beg stop licking my hand/ those days are gone now/ i wish goldie could come out and play. To be played when your dog has died. If you’re not into country music, it’s hard to find songs like that. I’m probably going to be listening a lot to this song sometime within the next two years. Listen to it here. As happy and Beatlesque as it sounds, I get a little misty when I hear it.

The next two, 9 and 10, are not songs, but people. If I were to cover the fine sad songs written by these two women, I’d have to write another twenty entries. Two women, specifically, who have lately cornered the sad song market. One has passed away and the other is still with us and not going anywhere. You know whom I’m talking about, right? They each fill different sad song niches.

9. Adele – She released her first hit album when she was 19. Now she’s twenty four. If you’ve been dumped, you play Someone like You, or Take it, or Right as Rain, or Chasing Pavements, or Make you feel my Love (which Bob Dylan wrote), and cry your heart out amidst a pile of sad tissues (as opposed to happy tissues. Most guys know what I mean), When you’re feeling better, and ready to face the world and find a new man, you play Rumour has it, Rolling in the Deep, or Turning Tables. Few people in the history of music have cornered the market on heartbreak, and she did it because someone broke her heart. Her audience is pan-racial, pansexual, and deeply committed.

10. Amy Winehouse – It was an awful day when she died. Anders Behring Brevik had killed 77 people in Norway, and the news was so unspeakably horrible and unguessable that the details emerged fully right around the time that Amy’s death broke in the media. Brevik killed people to express his hate; Amy Winehouse hated herself and wrote wonderful music to unsuccessfully deal with it. No matter how angry and sad you are, you can go the Amy way and create beauty. It is touching that during Brevik’s trial, part of Norway got together and sang a song of peace in defiance of that sane maniac. Norway got it right.

Amy’s music was ultimately the art of a tragic giant. That immense, black-hued voice; the immersion in alcohol and damaging public behaviour (which is a figurative form of cutting); the lyrics that never held out hope; the use of her shrinking body to wield over-sized feminine accoutrements and manners. Over futile odds and laughed at by the gods; And now the final frame: Love is a losing game. Or this: Even if I stop wanting you, a perspective pushes through: I’ll be some next man’s other woman soon. I cannot play myself again; I should be my own best friend and not fuck myself in the head with stupid men. 

When should you play Amy’s music? When you’re feeling sad, you’ll play her music in the hopes of some cathartic tears shed over you and your little problems. So you’ll listen, and hear that voice, and that talent, which was as ancient and powerful as an Egyptian cat-god, and then you’ll remember that she died alone. Instead of crying for yourself, you’ll cry for her. Such was her power.

A list of literary (by this I mean good) horror writers

   Literary horror, you say? Why, that subject just starts fights. And it can’t be answered. It simply can’t. It’s too subjective, and no one – not even ivory tower la-di-da literareh types – knows what ‘literary’ is. So piss off, asshole, and don’t rock the boat. Nickolaus Pacione just posted a personal ad on Craigslist, and we need to make fun of his mentally ill ass keep an eye on him for the safety of the community.  
I hear you. It’s not a fair question. You can’t expect a zombie author to write like Joyce or Nabakov; Koetzee or Lessing. You can’t expect a scene of interspecies rape and genital destruction to include conceits and metaphors that hearken back to Evelyn Waugh. You can’t expect to find VS Naipaul’s observations on history and post-colonial identity in Lovecraftian hackwork.
So let me start by saying I’m not looking for that. If I find something like that – and I have, and I’ll tell you about it later in this article – I’ll be very pleasantly surprised. 
You see, I would swear some horror writers think horror means ‘horribly written.’ The telling and never showing (‘Life was hard when he was twelve, but he was able to employ the defence mechanisms of childhood’) the passive sentences, the alliterative cliches (‘bulging biceps,’ ‘Bouncing breasts,’ ‘Beer and Bimbos’). I would be happy to read a horror novel that reads clearly and easily. And don’t tell me I just don’t ‘get’ Writer X, or I’m not open-minded enough to appreciate the dreck of Writer Y. Good writing shouldn’t be a genre, it should be a requirement.

So here it is: a list of good writers. A list of writers who know what the hell they are doing. In horror, this is what ‘literary’ mean; by necessity I make the term this broad. These writers make few egregious mistakes, and commit no boners that would get them kicked out of a first year university course. At least two of the writers on this list are undoubtedly and inarguably literary, and I’ll make no apologies for that. If there are a few of you who are new to the wonderful world of horror, but are artistically horrified by what you’ve read so far, then you can read this for a few pointers. 
1. Cormac McCarthy – Yup, you heard me. Blood Meridian is the best horror novel ever written. The Road is damn close to horror, and Child of God and Near Dark are unmistakably horror. Both Blood Meridian and No Country for Old Men feature villains that are the most frightening in literature. The heir to Melville, Faulkner, and perhaps even James Joyce (see Suttree for similarities to Ulysses), McCarthy can craft endless, labyrinthian sentences and then fill pages with taut dialogue. Judge Holden, the mighty, Gnostic, child-killing and poly-lingual lawyer, geologist, theist, and Ur-antagonist from Blood Meridian, seems to step off the page as we read the book, moonlight gleaming his bald albino head. Cormac is for neither the faint of heart or faint of mind, but he is a genius. As a bonus for the fan of extreme horror, his novels are more violent and gory than anything from the murkiest corners of the genre. 
2. Doris Lessing – Who, you ask? She won the Nobel Prize for Literature, that’s who. Actually, she’s won every prize worth winning. Her relation to horror? Her body of work is colossal, but among the tales of Africa and her science fiction, she wrote a wonderful horror novel called The Fifth Child, which was about a lovely family that gives birth to a murderous evolutionary throwback. Also, she wrote a five-novel series called The Children of Violence. I won’t insist you read it, because it is enormous; but it ends in perfectly-themed apocalypse. Her commentary on mental illness, communism, war, mutation, precognition, race, and class is second to no one. She writes like she is a minor deity cataloguing God’s creations. 
This is a small thing, but here it is. Some in the horror community defend bad writing, and instead call it ‘blue-collar writing,’ or ‘working-class writing.’ Lessing grew up rough and sunburnt in the African bush; she worked as a nursemaid and telephone operator. She’s as working class as it gets, and yet she somehow writes beautiful prose. Know who else was working-class? Herman Melville, Don Delillo, Phillip Roth, Saul Bellow. Stephen King, as well. There is no such thing as a working class or blue collar style. Writing is the great equalizer; all you need, at the very least, is a pen and a napkin, and you can write whatever you want.
3. Stephen King – Of course I’m going to mention him: the father to us all. Now sixty-four and still writing very well, he doesn’t seem to be slowing down. His last novella collection was some of his best work in decades. His writing is deceptively brilliant; one only has to read his early collection Night Shift to see the brilliant and effortless economy with words. He is the definitive horror master who has done more than anyone to bring the real into the horrible. Pet Sematary, one of his less successful books, is perhaps his saddest and most horrifying, and full of commentary on pride, gender, and the elemental in all of us. ‘Salem’s Lot, his take on the classic vampire tale, is also about the metaphorical death of a small town. Most importantly, when he writes something, you have to read it. You have no choice. Anyone who reads King knows exactly what I’m saying, even if few know why. Keep at it, Steve, and long may you live and reign, Your Horrific Majesty. 
4. T.E.D. Klein – he’s written two collections and one novel. Pathetic, really – he has writer’s block. But that tiny body of work is dark, frightening; he is one of those writers who can really unnerve a reader. Much like in Lovecraft, his character are helpless before faceless powers, great mysteries, terrifying coincidences, and vague threats. His short stories are elaborately crafted pieces, and his novel is one long soak in fear and unease. Petey, from the Dark Gods collection, is a technical standout. Look for his work in second-hand stores (in New York in particular), and online. 
5. Laird Barron – another Lovecraftian. His command of language, his obsessive descriptions of creatures that are somehow both cosmic and spiritual, make him a worthy addition to this list. From his first collection The Imago Sequence, read Hallucigenia. After you are done, google ‘hallucigenia sparsa’, and prepare to be creeped out. His stories are well-researched to craft that vague but intricate and intentional feeling of black science and insane genius. His characters are almost always male, alone, and struggling with insanity. I think Lovecraft was writing about insanity throughout his career but didn’t know it; that’s another post. 
Barron has written a novel, but it is available by mail, bound in the finest Corinthian leather, and it costs a small fortune. While Barron is a fine writer, I won’t buy something like that in a world where I can buy Lolita for a buck at the second-hand store.
6. Glen Hirschberg – A writer of lovely prose. His work isn’t that scary; The Two Sams, while affecting and wonderfully done, doesn’t grip the reader by the metaphorical balls. Struwwelpeter is suspenseful for a few moments and then only alludes to awful and frightening events in the future. I’d like to see more from Hirschberg before I let him become one of my favorites. But he’s good, no mistake. I want to check out his novels.
7. Tom Piccirilli – I’ve always liked his work, but The Shadow Season really knocked me over. It reads simple, but the threads of disappointment and regret mix in with the suspense to create a novel that is precise yet somehow hallucinatory as well. Picirilli is prolific, and always willing to chat on his blog and on message boards. I’m going to read a lot more of his work in the future. 
8. Joe Schreiber – The only writer I’ve ever encountered who comes close to Stephen King for breezy, easy, and yet incredibly rare ease of writing. His work is unquestionably horror, and I have no idea why he isn’t more successful. My favourite is No Doors, No Windows. His plots and set-ups, like King, are not original; it’s how he does it. Look out for this guy. 
I have a few more to add, or not add, to this list. I’ve got Glen Duncan’s The Last Werewolf waiting to be read, and I’ve also got Dave Zeltserman’s The Caretaker of Lorne Field. I’m looking forward to the Duncan, because it’s got some real literary cred. The Zeltserman – not so much. The cost of the ebook was ridiculous, and the reviews are suspiciously enthusiastic. 
More to come on this subject. 

Top Ten Male Porn Stars (Now with James Deen)

    Here’s the thing about porn. You can’t help notice that the women in porn are legion; the men not so much.
    It takes a special sort of man to be a straight porn star (I know nothing of gay porn). You have to be so potent that you can perform in a room full of people; only one or two people in that room are female. The rest are men who operate the cameras and the boom mike, who build the set. Could you get it up and off in front of three guys fat guys eating Mexican take-out? I couldn’t. Only a few men could. This is why you watch porn and say, That girl is hot, and oh and banging her is that guy with the gang tats and the mole on his dick. I’ve see him five times already. Five times today.
    So here is a list of male pornstars of note. They’re here because they’re iconic (yes, a few male pornstars have gone beyond being a life-support system for a reliable erection), long-lasting, particularly super-human, or, like Ben Affleck, they’ve become directors.
1. John Holmes. – Yeah, had to go there. PT Andersen and Mark Wahlberg made Boogie Nights, an epic movie about this colossally endowed star of 1970’s film porn. If you watch his stuff now, you become depressed – most of it’s grainy, with ancient cheesy music, and he usually sports his trademark 70’s porn ‘stache.
    His endowment was anywhere between ten and fifteen inches, but no one knows for sure: all the cocaine and rough living often made it floppy and unreliable. He was allegedly present during a gang-related mass murder, and towards the end of his career he did gay porn out of desperation. He died of AIDS in 1988 and he was the first porn star of any kind.
    By porn standards, he was a brilliant actor. His most well-known character was Johnny Wadd, porn detective, who was modelled after Phillip Marlowe. You can still find his work floating around on streaming sites and in the ‘classics’ section of the few remaining adult video stores.
Back, Ladies! Get ahold of yerselves!
2. Ron Jeremy aka ‘The Hedgehog.’ – This guy has almost single-handedly founded the old saying, ‘Why are the men in porn so gross?’ 
    He started doing porn in the late ’70’s, and by his own admission has never had a real adult relationship.A study in contrasts found only in porn, he came from a respectable Jewish family, has a Master’s degree in Special Education, and yet has been dogged by rumours of rape and terrible body odour. He looks a lot like the older, moustachioed, and heavy guy your mom inexplicably dates after she first splits up with your dad. Additionally, he can suck his own dick. It’s been filmed.
   I first saw Jeremy when my friends and I were renting porn flicks from the East Indian grocer across town, which was notorious for never checking if you were underage. Of course we noticed that all the men in porn were disgusting  and who at best looked like substitute math teachers, but Jeremy took the cake. Watching him plug beautiful women as his massive, kinky-haired butt-cheeks plunged back and forth was traumatizing, but he was ever-ready and good with the one-liners. Although to be fair, if you watch his earliest films he looks reasonably fit and almost handsome. Almost.
    He’s now a star in his own right: he’s done reality shows, starred in real movies, sung publicly with British Cabinet ministers, and been in countless music videos. He’s become a cultural condiment – if you need your TV show or movie to take a dive into the surreal and filthy, just add a pinch of Ron Jeremy.
3. Peter North – One summer when I was home visiting my mother in Halifax, Nova Scotia, I worked out at Gold’s Gym on Quinpool Road. One day Peter North was there. It turns out that he’s a Canuck, and he’s from my home town! He looked exactly as he does in his porn films: tanned, smooth, and sporting that familiar preppie wedge of concrete black hair. Every man in that gym was pretending they didn’t know him, but Peter North looked uncomfortable. It must be strange to be recognizable as Leonardo Dicaprio but for all the wrong reasons.
He got his start in the early eighties. He did gay porn at first (He doesn’t like to talk about this), and then went straight and has been at it ever since, although he’s more into directing now.
     Although he would be well-known enough for his musculature, his hair, and his resemblance to a brunette Ken-doll, he is most famous for his… um…. fluid volume. That’s right, folks, he shoots pints of splooge for great distances, while moaning like an action hero in a cheap sci-fi TV show. His female co-stars probably have to wear water-proof makeup or he’ll blast it off. He’s sold herbal formulas that ostensibly will give you his ability but I’m guessing his gift is God-given.
    4. John Stagliano aka ‘Buttman’ – Porn wouldn’t be the same without this dedicated visionary. As a porn actor, he was of strictly average ability and endowment. But as a director, he revolutionized the genre. He created a porn genre called ‘Gonzo’: shot from the camera’s POV, he made the audience into hormonal and obsessive-compulsive midgets who see women primary from a rearview upwards angle. As his nickname would indicate, he was about da butts. His viewpoint explored the female posterior like an astronaut traverses across a mysterious planet… A taut, tanned, perfectly round and fleshy planet.
   But that’s not all, as the salesman says. He chronicled his own house burning down in the Malibu fires. He took the buttman concept to Brazil, London, Prague, Rio, and Paris. He tested HIV+ and now stays behind the camera. He’s a staunch Libertarian. His entire schtick was simply being the mousy, normal everyman lusting haplessly after women who seemed to be too pneumatic to be real. Best of all, no actress needed silicone implants in his movies.
    He helped introduce the average North American pervoid to a handsome Italian guy named Dario, also known as Rocco Siffredi. We’ll get to him next.
    5. Rocco Siffred – Most male porn viewers, when watching porn, will think: ‘I’m just as good, if not better, than that ugly-ass roid-monkey up there on the screen.’
    Rocco Siffredi is the exception. Handsome, well-built, frighteningly endowed, and seemingly blessed with an Energizer battery up his butt, he excites and then completely exhausts his fans and co-stars. He’s had sex with ten women at a time, and in one infamous scene he forced a woman’s head into a toilet and flushed it as he was sodomizing her. One of his nicknames is ‘The Italian Stallion.’ One blogger referred to him as ‘Rocco… my true father.’ He’s starred in romantic roles, but when he directs himself he’s outlandish and violent.
    If you’ve thought of something sexual and cartoonish, Rocco has probably thought about it first. In his movie ’30 Men for Sandy,’  he sets the stage by directing the camera towards the eponymous female star. She writhes, looks pretty, and meanwhile, a busload of horny Italians are coming her way. Rocco gives them football scarves and actually packs them on a bus. He’s had gang-bangs on soccer fields, walked onstage during a concert as the band plays a song in his honour, and he’s been up more assholes than a Manhattan proctologist.
   Most importantly, he somehow makes the audience believe that the women in his movies want to be degraded in all the insane ways he envisages. It’s probably not at all true (How can it be true? Rocco isn’t a magician), with the sole exception of Kelly Stafford, an innocent-looking British porn actress who’s even more hard-core than Rocco.
    5. John Leslie – This guy started doing porn in 1973! He’s now 67 and has won a mind-blowing thirty awards for acting and directing. In the 70’s and 80’s he was a stalwart (if not particularly impressive sexually) performer, and in the nineties and the new millenium he was a director. In 1994 he wrote and directed a porn flick that was a deft and surreal mixing of Jacob’s Ladder and Thief. Dog Walker was an astounding meditation on consequence and death, and it was exceeded only when Baise-moi came out of France and shocked everyone.
EDIT  - It seems that poor John Leslie died of a heart attack in 2005 at the age of 65. I’m not sure how I missed that and I sincerely regret making that error. My apologies.
    6. Lexington Steele – Tall, bald, humungously endowed, and so hairless and smooth all over that he looks like a giant liquorice dick. He’s a real horn-dog, and you can hardly believe that he was originally a smart-pants financial analyst before he decided to grace us pervs with our presence. He seems like a nice, easy-going man, and it’s hard to take him seriously when he goes ‘OOOOOOGH! OOOOOOOGH!’ as he climaxes. Every time. Actually likes to dress well, with nice shoes, silk shirts and dress pants when he’s on camera, as opposes to basketball sneakers and gang-bang duds like some of the douches on-screen these days.
    7. Seymore Butts – His real name’s Adam Glasser, okay? Sheesh. Anyhow, Seymore’s another great Gonzo actor and director, but here’s how he’s different from Buttman: he’s gotten personally involved with the actresses he works with, lending his films a great warmth and sensuality that are missing from… well, just about every other porn film out there. He starred in a reality show called Family Business, in which he chronicles his problems with being a single dad and working in the porn biz. He seems like a smart and level-headed guy. I’m getting more modern in my choice of actors, and pretty soon we’ll be moving into the purely internet companies with no plot, and no acting required. Not sure how I’m going to proceed, save that I might be describing porn actors I dislike from now on.
    8. Manuel Ferrara – Nope, saved! This guy is a real dynamo, and the closest thing to Rocco’s heir apparent. Believe it or not, but he looks like a beefier Jeff Buckley. Super-energetic, with a massive cumshot that comes out in white death-rays, he also takes his time with foreplay and it pays off. Unfortunately, he’s gone the way of Rocco in other areas – he likes to choke and slap his co-stars, and abuse the nether regions so much that the poor girls probably can’t sit down for a week. But he’s one of the few actors on screen in the past thirty or so years that actually lives up to the myth of the super-human sex machine. Do  some women fantasize about being taken to their limit with men like Rocco Siffredi and Manual Ferrara? I’m not sure.
9. Preston Parker – The lead guy for the Florida-based Bangbros.com. He looks like the guy you’d see sitting in the corner at your university residence party. He’s got strange, high voice, and most of the time he’s behind the camera as he’s getting serviced. Posed for a lot of gay sites before he made a name for himself with Bangbros. But the equipment is truly impressive and the women he works with are sunny Miami hotties who could set everything north of the Mason-Dixon on fire. He’s part of a new breed of porn performer who stars in digitally shot sexual episodes, with no plot or acting. Just: ‘Here’s Maria. Whazzup? Could you bend over?’
  Edit: Incidentally, he shares a name with a NFL player with the Tampa Bay Buccaneers.
deen_a
10.   James Deen – A lot of people asked me why this young fellow wasn’t on the list. I didn’t think he was legendary yet, and he doesn’t possess unusual sexual intensity, endowment, or ability. So I wanted to wait and see if he could become legendary. Lo and behold, that’s exactly what happened.
     Born Bryan Matthew Sevilla on February 7, 1986, James Deen started out in porn at the age of eighteen.To my memory, the only past porn star to go the route of looking boyish, cute, and non-threatening has been Tom Byron. Byron, in his day, looked nothing like the fat and hairy moustached men of the eighties, and now Deen looks nothing like tattooed gangster wannabe frat-boys and steroid cases that clutter the porn landscape today. Why don’t more people think of this? Why don’t more make porn stars look like college boys, varsity rowers, or genuine male models? Porn would explode into popular culture! James Deen doesn’t necessarily have to be such an outlier.
     What really put him over the top and into this list for me was his ability to model in serious photography, his movie role alongside Lindsay Lohan, and the cultural significance of only one of his scenes: the infamous “Lemon-stealing Whore” skit. Google it. The boy has comedic chops.   Deen’s second strongest feature is his flexibility: he can play the young man seduced by a milf, or he can work it in a threesome. I’ve seen gifs (created by women) that encapsulate his foreplay, his oral, and his stroke technique. He is one of the few male pornstars to have a female following, and once more, much of that following is made up of young women. If anyone, anyone at all, is meant to play Christian Grey, it’s probably James Deen. Think about it for a moment. Deen as Christian Grey.
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