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Was just browsing though a copy of SWANK magazine from Feb. 1981, and saw this ad for a 1cc vial of "Hot Pulsating Pussy scent", and thought the internet should know that this was a thing that existed.

You got five days in which to huff this pussy smell, and be "satisfied". If, for some reason five days of vagina stink didn't "satisfy", you got a full refund.

You can't make this shit up.
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You know why new porn isn't as good as the classic stuff?

Because they don't give it cool names like SATAN'S SCRAPBOOK and hand fucking swords out to the girls.

That's why.
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Haven't done this for awhile. Ok, here we go! Let's start with a rather interesting 1960s phenomenon in adult magazines: The cartoon mascot. Influenced by Playboy (which, for it's first years always had a cartoon bunny that looked like a rather dapper TRIX rabbit), many of the magazines that were trying for a classier motif would employ a dashing cartoon animal fellow who would inhabit live photos and leer at girls like a pervy Roger Rabbit. There are many examples of this, but here are a couple that I like:

Actually, I adore that lovely girl on the cover of that issue of Jaguar, so lets see some more of her.

Her name is Mandy Lou Darvis, and I have no idea what became of her, but at the time of these pics she lived in Allentown PA, was 23 years old, and worked as a dental technician.

Check it out. Motherfucking Snake Plisken, yo. Italian porn style! ^_^

I was about to make a John Lennon joke for this one, and then I realized he looked more like a guy in one of those the 1990's Manchester bands. I can't think of a good Stone Roses or a decent Inspiral Carpets joke, though. Oh well.

Holy shit. They sure knew how to get a guy to plunk down his $2.00 at the magazine stand back then, didn't they? Who could resist the "Lush Dames" of TORCHY?

Deer in the headlights.

This issue of Dian Hansen's LEGSHOW had a pretty boring cover, but I really liked this back cover she used! Haha! Radness. I know a few smartasses the "6'3 Amazon" could help me with.

I don't even know what to say about this. Kinda hot, though.

As usual, I'm gonna save the best til last:

Take note: "Pizza Ass" required $15 of your hard-earned 1981 dollars to take a copy home from the dirty magazine store. Adjusted for inflation, that is $35.00. But c'mon, it's PIZZA ASS! Who wouldn't?!
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Did a book drawing for someone. Was bored, so I colored it for the web, but you don't get color in your book. It's black and white.

You want one too? It's easy! Just order the "book drawing" edition in my store!
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Here's a drawing I did for someone who ordered one of my Cinema Sewer books. The request was "Sexy nurse".

You want one too? It's easy! Just order the "book drawing" edition in my store!
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Star Babe (1977 Dir: Ann Perry)
Pretty much everything you need to know about Star Babe arrives in the form of narration in the first minute as we hurtle through the depths of space:

“In the year 2080, god created three lovely space maidens. One was born on the planet Shook, her name was Star Babe. The planet of Eros gave us our second space lady named Twinkle Toes. Our third femme fatale was from the outer regions called Milky Way, and that also was her name. These three lovely creatures worked for the united world space agency. Their assignment was to take their space craft to the planet Phallus, rumoured to be plotting an overthrow of Earth. Our three ladies were instructed to interrogate the local government men in their various talented ways. Their ultimate goal: find and decode the plans for the earth overthrow… and stop them!”

This has to be the most welfare sci-fi film ever created for theatrical projection. Seriously, the monitors in their spaceship are just a few old tv sets, the walls are papered in tin foil, and creature FX on display consist of some douchebag in a dusty old gorilla suit. And don’t even get me started on all the boring NASA stock footage. Still, you have to respect the brass labias on director Ann Perry for this blatant Star Wars cash-in, especially after you witness the Cantina scene. In Star Babe it takes place at “The Anus Bar”, which is just a shitty run-down strip club populated by guys in ill-fitting rubber masks wearing bed sheets!

You have to see this crap to believe it, especially when Darth Vader and his stormtroopers show up to fuck on a hay bale (shhh, don’t tell George Lucas). And you know what? Lets just pretend we didn’t see the scene where Star Babe finally finds the plans in a guy’s asshole while she’s in the middle of tonguing it.

— Robin Bougie
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"Tourists can enjoy Pigalle's permanent show both indoors and outdoors, according to their pocketbook. For tourists, Pigalle is a sexual Mecca, a place to come in search of a brief sexual encounter. But for the sex workers and the police, it is the locale of their daily existence."

"Transvestites make up about 95% of the prostitutes that work the area, but the dancers are exclusively women. The dancers go from caberet to caberet and do 10 to 15 'passages' a night. It's a race to be on time for all of them, but the immigrant workers are there for every show. At night many of them attend several times. But even at six francs for six nudes, it's hard to afford it."

"The transvestites try not to get caught by the police, that would mean a 400 franc fine. Many clients come from far away to try this novelty, or are caught in it naively. The rates are 50 to 100 francs depending on the means employed."

"But there are other shows for higher prices still. Beautiful women bekon into dance halls, where bottles of champagne flow and the dizzying throb of the orchestra and lights carry one off. Lovely creatures gather around tables, offering their company for a night in exchange for the generosity of their customer. Both male and female customers find not only their laps full, but sensual whispers echoing in their ears that the night is still young in Paris."

"At the end of the night in Pigalle, one goes home to digest the fleeting images of bought love and sex."

(Writing and photos uncredited. Scanned from MACHO magazine, May 1983 issue)
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A friend of mine is going an assignment for school, and she is asking her peers in the industry about some of their process and tricks when it comes to drawing. Here is what I wrote, because I figured it was something that a lot of artists probably wouldn't talk about due to its negative stigma:


I utilize a lot of reference when I draw, because I like to do a mix of cartoony and realistic. So what I first of all is find a photo of the thing that I'm drawing (a car, a person with a cowboy hat, a house, etc) and I will bump up the contrast in photo shop and print it out. Then I take that over to my art desk, and I either eyeball or (more often) trace the general shape and elements of the thing so that I get the "realistic" part down. Then I go back through it and cartoony it up, change elements, and make it mine. Often the final work will look nothing like the original photo, but I really like having the initial reference to get my brain working and thinking about how that thing is shaped and put together. It's very helpful and a huge time-saver. It's a trick I learned from living with an animator, an artform that relies on tracing.

This process changes if I'm, say, drawing a character hundreds of times over the course of a comic book. Then I don't often use reference unless it is for a very specific pose (a crazy kung fu kick, or a baseball swing, for instance) and then it works well.

I think using reference and "tracing" have gotten a really bad name over the years because of artists who have misused it -- such as plagiarizing other peoples work. However, just like any tool in the artist's arsenal, it can be used for good or evil!

Here is one of my recent reference sheets for a 1970 Dodge Challenger that I'm drawing in an upcoming comic:
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Giggling Maria Tortuga and Jennifer West steal a cute yellow convertible jeep (like the one Daisy Duke drove on the Dukes of Hazzard) from John Holmes, and boot around sunny Southern California back roads while topless and rubbing their glistening labial folds. Before long they pick up a hunky douche (Marc Wallace) whose 10 speed has given out on him. The fun-lovin' gals get him to suck their twats In return for a lift into town, and Marc even gets a vigorous tongue massage on his nuts and taint before plowing his engorged eight inch dong-meat into splayed gully. Not a bad trade, except after he busts a nut they chuck him out on his ass and take off with his pants.

Other highlights: John Holmes fucking a girl with his big toe (??), an amazing sunburst-design rug in the middle of a green carpeted room, a hot honey wIth a sweet headband, and Holmes pumping a forty-something Pat Manning from behind with his fat crotch rocket, while filling her panting, gasping mouth from the front with his grubby junky fingers.

Heat of the Moment is virtually plotless, poorly paced, and coated with vapid elevator muzak in place of a soundtrack, and no, it unfortunately doesn't feature the song (by British supergroup Asia) that it was clearly named for. It's also oddly blank in terms of any form of production or directorIal credits, which never bodes well.

It is, however, a 59 minute dirty movie competently shot on 35mm stock with lots of lush outdoor sequences. You also get to see anal queen Misty Dawn a few years before she married John Holmes, not to mention scumbag Marc Wallace performs here years before he contracted HIV, faked DNA AIDS tests, and infected 6 female costars with the virus. The unfortunate victims were Kimberly Jade, Brooke Ashley, Jordan McKnight, Nena Cherry, Tricia Devereaux, and French performer Delfin.

- Robin Bougie

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One of my recent ebay scores is a set of little mini porno magazines from Paris that were published in 1973. A small independent smutty-book publisher named Transports Presse was run out of this small apartment in Paris at 21 Saint-Martin Blvd, just 8 doors down from another little shitty little apartment where Georges Melies was born in December of 1861. Melies is famous as the creator of special effects in movies, and made some of the most famous early examples of cinema, including A TRIP TO THE MOON (1902), and THE IMPOSSIBLE VOYAGE (1904). Look em up on youtube, they're spectacular.

Anyway, that little black door is apt 21, which is upstairs from those shops. This is what it looks like today.

Each of these little porno magazines is an illustrated story, and most of them are credited to Jeanine Le Pommeray. I don't know if she just wrote and published them, or also took the photos as well. What I'm thinking is that the photos might have been taken from a French sex film, and then she just added the story. Or maybe she did everything. I dunno! The other name on a couple issues is Serge Esnault. Maybe they were boyfriend and girlfriend and ran this little smut company, or maybe they were simply employees. It's fun to speculate, anyhow. This kinda stuff is why I love these kinds of finds. The discovery of it all.

My favourite of these issues is ARTSEX #5 - So you want to be in the movies?". Here is the cover:

It's a little color/B+W 32 page story, with only one ad for a local dirty book store called "Sex Shop Vergile". My French is really rusty, but I was able to gather the main gist of the storyline mainly because of the lovely photos. Basically it goes like this:

Ermes and Jovanka are an upwardly mobile Parisienne couple who want to break into the world of sexy filmmaking like their heroes "Pasolini and Bertolucci". So they find a young hippy girl on the street named Philipa, and invite her back to their place to take part in a casting session. Philipa has very few reservations, and even less modesty.

"What are you going to do to prove to us that you're worthy of our attention?" Jovanka says, as a challenge. Philipa, unblinking, grabs Ereme's black russian and makes it into a white russian.

Jovanka, unimpressed, continues. "We've got to pay 'les salaries' of 'les techniciens' and 'les operateurs'. Too much is at stake, here. Get down on the floor, 'salope' (bitch). Get down on the floor and show me how bad you want to be my star."

Then a bunch of hot dyke shit goes down for the next 8 pages. Ermes is digging it, and starts to orchestrate their positions. He likes to witness the actions of 'une fille vulgaire'. (a vulgar girl). "Le grand rite saphique commence spontanement!"

"I think we should make this movie about us" says Ermes, as he doffs his duds and starts penetrating some excited puss.

Then at some point there is a role reversal of some kind, and the girls turn on Ermes, and force feed him a bunch of booze.

This fucking thing is great. ARTSEX rules! I'll post some scans from another issue soon
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Love this bit from this Olivia interview about Betty Page:


After their first meeting, Bettie Page immediately became a fan of Olivia’s work and was delighted to hang her portrait of ‘Crackers In Bed’ in her own boudoir. “Better than Vargas and Petty combined,” said Bettie in an interview. “Olivia, she makes me look so beautiful, her pictures outshine the rest.”

Years after their first meeting, Joel and Olivia escorted Bettie to the Playboy Mansion for a screening of The Notorious Bettie Page, Mary Harron’s unauthorised biopic. Joel explains that the legend was unhappy. “She said to me, ‘Notorious Bettie Page? That’s not good. Why am I notorious?’ She didn’t like the title and she really didn’t enjoy seeing some of the things they put on screen.”

“She kept yelling, ‘Lies! Lies! All lies!’” says Olivia. “It was like a public spanking being administered. I remember the people next to her getting up and shuffling chairs. She was just groaning and mumbling throughout the whole picture. And I don’t blame her. After the lights came up, she headed out, upset. She was about to beat to a pulp anyone that got in her way.”

Olivia watched as Joel took Bettie to her waiting limo. “She was wailing and I just didn’t have a clue what to say to her,” she recalls. “Then someone told Hef that she’d left crying and he came out and started whispering in her ear. In a perfect moment of Hefner behaviour, he knew exactly what to say to her. He calmed the situation, she started to smile and everything was fine.”

When Bettie passed away last year, Joel was one of the pallbearers at her funeral. The icon was suitably buried about 20ft from Marilyn Monroe. “It was sad to see the old girl go,” sighs Olivia. “But the last year or two of Bettie’s life were so miserable that I was happy for her. We never got to see her that much, but she’d phone about once a month. It was so cool to hear, ‘Hi, this is Bettie Page,’ on the end of the line.”


More here:

Olivia's website is here:
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Pretty stoked about something I just got on ebay from a seller in baltimore. He says:

"These photos have an interesting history. A guy in California bought out the archives of several major adult publishers about 25 years ago that included negatives, photos, magazines and much more. These ones were used by Parliament publications. This guy sold them through catalogs and then later on eBay. That is how I got them."

Here is the cover of one of my 1970s Parliament mags, so you guys can get an idea. They were really nice slicks that usually had good quality photos, and even nicer quality glossy paper. They were based out of LA, and were a little more hardcore than the other mags on the newstand at the time, as they were doing spread beaver shots when other more mainstream magazines like Gallery and Swank were just getting around to showing pubes.

And here is what I won in the ebay auction for $60 including shipping. They are 8X10s, and original silver gelatin prints -- not like the resin paper they print on today. I love that they still have the cut lines and notes to the art department on them. Really really jazzed about these photos! ^_^

Now I just need to find the magazines "Eve's Rib", "Line and Form", "Night Gals", "Action Wives" and "Skirts Up" to see what they looked like in print! I think that would be cool to compare. Man, I'm such a nerd.

Here is an amazing essay all about the man who started Parliament Publications, Milton Luros! Check it out!
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Did a drawing for a book. Here it is:

You want a drawing like this? They are insanely cheap. I do them when you buy a copy of my book, Cinema Sewer Vol. 3. You can buy it with or without the drawing, but for an extra $20 I bust out some filthy poop like this for you on the inside cover of your copy. Order yours here (with or without a drawing):
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Here's a little blast from San Francisco's torrid past, circa 1980.

Open 7 days a week, 24 hours a day (god, I hope they let the girls go home sometimes) at 90 Turk Street was a combo live peep/live dance/XXX movie sales den of iniquity named, appropriately, THE FILM DEN.

For one token, which cost you a buck, you could watch in a small room, as they talked dirty to you on a phone. Or, if fucky-talk wasn't your bag, you could watch the lusty ladies nude go-go dance for you.

The Film Den proudly boasted in its advertising that it had, on staff, women from the various ethnic backgrounds that corresponded with their customer base.

I like the big pink rule board you were expected to read before you entered the booth. I notice it's pretty scuffed up too. This shit-pit seems like it was really dank and filthy.

Whole lotta wood panelling too.

Here's what you could expect for your go-go dance.

"WORK IT. WORK IT. Make love to the camera, honey!"

You can almost smell this place, can't you? Smells faintly like sweat and mold.

And here we are, finally, in the dirty-talk room. I guess this was where you would go and say stuff that you wanted to say to a woman, but that you wouldn't DARE say to your wife. Because, you know, dudes were repressed and guilty about their sexuality and stuff.

I looked up the address on google maps, and what do you know -- there is still a strip club occupying the location of the Ol' Film Den, but now it's called The San Francisco Dollhouse. It may or may not be closed down now, by the looks of it, but can one of my readers go down there and check it out? I'm curious if they still have the same shitty wood panel furnishings.

Found these in the Nov. 1980 issue of CHERI magazine, by the way. Photographer is uncredited. Subjects are uncredited.
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No idea who the people in the photos are (HELLO Mr. Yellow pants), as they are uncredited, but the location is a sleazy strip club in Montreal called "Nick's Palace", circa early 1983.

Scanned the pics from LIVE! Vol. 3 No. 2
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One of my favourite mangas, Motofumi Kobayashi's "Apocalypse Meow", has been made into a series called CAT SHIT ONE, and it is a very faithful adaptation. Skillfully produced, as well!

Skip ahead to 1:40, because the first part is simply a trailer for what you are about to watch, and it gives away some stuff.
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Haven't done this in a while. And everytime I do it, I start off the post with "haven't done this in awhile", so I guess that is the tradition. Anyway, here are the best photos I saw on the internet this week. As per usual, no one fucking gave anyone credit when they posted them (I always complain about that too) so I can't either. If you know where the pics came from, post it in the comments.


Death shows up for cat's soul. Cat seems bemused.

This is my favourite kind of porn. Which is why I draw stuff like this all the time.

That must have smarted around the pooper. This girl is TOUGH.

Another one of my fave kinds of porn: The kind that references sexual politics.

God, the 1980s were great.

God, fishing is great.

Hee hee! Bunnys are small under their furs!

I was gonna post this at valentines day, and forgot, so here it is now. Love someone, kids!

"Rainbows into ecstasy!"

Holy shit, that is solid ice.

So true, although only on a subliminal level. Only drooling morons actually think that disney movies and porn are real life.

Speaking of "real life"

See you next time, everybody!
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You know who RULES? UK artist Andrew Hickinbottom. Case in point:

I've got to admit, CG-created art isn't my fave. I'm predisposed to not like it very much, but brilliant and amazing artists are simply that, and it doesn't matter what medium they use.

Andrew has a great blog here, where he shows off his stuff, and where you can buy an amazing statue based on his "Trixie" character.
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