For <i>years</i> I've wanted to make a barbecue-themed porn flick, and now Joanna Angel has completely ripped me off. This blatant plagiarism will not stand!
Dir: Joanna Angel
In my former life I spent 25 years mastering the art of heartlessness. I'm not proud of the fact that I've broken up with many women in the most abhorrent ways, and if I could undo my past I would. There was the false-positive HIV test in 1999 that led me to leave a dozen messages on lovers' answering machines saying they were probably infected. There was the blue-skinned OD in 2000 whom I left on the sidewalk outside the emergency room. There was New Year's Eve 1993, when I stood my girlfriend up to go skate and drink in New York City. There was the note to a girlfriend in my wallet (the place she'd always steal from) that told her to "get the fuck out." The laundry list goes on and on, but one thing I've never done is break up with someone in print—until today.
While I have never had physical contact with porn star Joanna Angel, she has been a close friend and confidant for more than five years. She was the focus of an episode of my online documentary series Skinema, and we hosted a radio show together. I've consoled her when she was down, and she nearly had to help me deliver my baby. And most important, since I am infinitely funnier and more creative than she is, I've been a sounding board for her numerous screwball-comedy porno scripts over the years. My comedic genius has, on many occasions, saved her characters from sounding like Neil Hamburger and, in my opinion, helped her win many awards. It's as if I were Bob Gaudio, writing the hits for a nympho Frankie Valli. But in their 55 years of working together, Valli never double-crossed Gaudio the way Joanna betrayed me with her film BBQ Titmasters. For many years I'd been pushing her to make my pet-project porno Pussy on Rotisserie, a barbecue-themed adult video that would culminate in a threesome with Joanna bound to a spit, with a wang in her mouth and ass, as she is rotated over coals. If you search VICE.com you'll see that the phrase "pussy on rotisserie" appears two other times, as far back as June 2009. It's a genius idea! It would have sold millions! What is more American than sex and food?
Every time I pitched it, Joanna would shoot down my idea with baseless reasoning. "No one wants to think about food during sex," she'd say, and then I'd respond by citing the Seinfeld episode in which George eats a pastrami sandwich in bed. She said the human rotisserie would make people think of cannibalism. I told her she must not be very good at sex if watching her fuck made people want to eat her rather than fuck her. It went on like this for years, until one day this bullshit video, BBQ Titmasters, showed up in my mailbox. I immediately texted my ex-friend and told her, "By making this movie you've admitted I had a brilliant idea, you loved it, were jealous of it, stole it, and subsequently ruined my great idea!"
"Your idea was bad, and mine was good," she said. "That's why I did mine and not yours. Who really has a rotisserie anyways? Unless you're Boston Market."
"Sophisticated folk!" I said. "That's who! You couldn't even spell rotisserie without your spell-check!"
She replied with a pathetic attempt to defend her plagiarism: "I'm sorry, but I think it's hot when girls grill meat. Something your idea lacked!"
"That was in my first draft! Right on page five! WTF?" I said.
"I never got a draft!"
"Right. Says the woman with the cavernous inbox..."
"Man, that is so low. What kind of person insults another woman's inbox?!?"
"A person who hates your guts and hopes you choke on boner marrow. We're through!"