This story appears in the December issue of VICE magazine.
Dir.: Jules Jordan
For years my friends in the porn industry have told me of the twisted things some of their Cro-Magnon "fans" write them. Threats of rape and violence are more common than one would think. Many fans attempt to erase the line between a fantasy and a sexual occupation, causing me, on many occasions, to fear for my friends' lives, begging them to tell me they're just exaggerating the stories. I have a difficult time understanding why more girls don't tell these people to simply fuck off or at least block or, in the worst cases, report them to the authorities. I thought perhaps it might have something to do with our society's dismissive handling of sexual abuse victims that makes the girls gun-shy on exposing social media sexual terrorism, but I was rather surprised to hear one porn star tell me that "reporting them is bad for business. They're harmless fans, and fans spend money." To which I said to her, "Well, there's nowhere to spend that money when you're lying in a shallow grave."
After getting clean and sober, I realised I was in need of a new addiction, and I found it in the form of laughter. I make it a point to wake up each morning and mainline some dark comedy, and for the past six months since discovering Summer Brielle, the buxom blond Amazon bombshell in the French-maid outfit on the cover, she has been my daily supplier of hearty laughs and comedic entertainment. Unlike my other porn friends—who would reply with a thumbs-up emoji to a DM message like, "I wanna rape u in the bathroom so you can't scape. After i fucked u under shower im gonna slap u to cry then I will kiss u. and then I will FUCK U until my life comes to its end" – Brielle instead seizes power, screenshotting the message, reposting it with some witty retort, and shaming the fan's intellect while correcting typos and grammar and mocking his penis size for all 544,000 Instagram followers to see. When one creep demands her to "cum suck my dick, bitch," she responds with, "Tempting if I were a bitch, took orders, or abhorred my own mouth enough to besmirch it with your laughably inconsequential, cute, little peepee." And when another tells her, "I want u to suck that cock like u suck popsicles rawrr," she writes back, "I bite popsicles in half and deposit them into food processors before force feeding the resulting slushy to other popsicles."
Despite her daily receipt of tragically dim DMs such as, "I want to eat your farts" and "Don't be so selfish. Your going to have your body your whole life. I just want it for 1 night," she is still able to laugh at herself. When one follower told her she was made by the gods, she answered back, "Yes, the gods made this thing called peroxide. They also made my hairdresser, Botox, and whoever the hell invented MAC. Praise to the gods." Brielle has an absurd level of engagement with much of her fan base, which more than likely gets off on the abuse. For Instagram, she took a screenshot of one of her tweets, which reads, "If I ever start feeling too optimistic about the inherent goodness of humanity all I have to do is open my Instagram DMs."
I urge you to start following this woman immediately. Aside from the obvious perk of seeing a beautiful lady in constant states of undress, you'll get daily joy from her fielding of backhanded compliments such as, "I don't watch [porn] videos anymore because it morally makes me feel queasy but I often find myself checking your page because you're incredibly beautiful and funny," with no-bullshit comebacks like, "There's nothing morally queasy about sex, one of the most natural basic and pleasurable things in the world. Or about me choosing exactly what I do and when. You sound like you have a Madonna/Whore complex; hope you get some professional help."
I could go on quoting her for days – she's like my nude Jerrod Carmichael; I have all of her material memorised. If you aren't already sold, then allow me to present one final piece of evidence: When the mood suits her, she does some detective work, finding and tagging the messenger's girlfriend, wife, or even parent in her reposting of his DM. My hands-down personal favorite post she's ever made, the one I always use in my sales pitch to get my friends to follow her, is the time when a scruffy and stoned-looking kid named Cesar sent her a selfie with a pink arrow pointing to his mom, passed out on the couch in the background. His message read: "I'm 25 and I live at home with my parents. Can we screw. They are out of town this weekend. That's my mom on the couch." Brielle then reposted his photo, tagging his mom with the comment, "I asked your mom for permission. Lydia? What do you think?" Months later my heart still sings at the thought of how that played out for ol' Cesar...