LUKE FORD'S SCOTT FAYNER KNOWS WHAT'S GOOD FOR HIM AND MAKES THE FUCKING HOOK UP
EDITORIAL: At MACK AVENUE SKULLGAME it's frequently said that our balls are so big as to be regularly confused with well, really, really, really fucking big things. Things so big that you'd break your fucking neck if you fell off of one. And so it is with this id-driven Big Ball-itis that we called head honcho motherfucker SCOTT FAYNER at the goddamned Rosetta Stone of porn websites, LUKEFORD.COM.
BIG PIMPIN': G's UP, HO'S DOWN, THAT BITCH CAN'T SWIM, SHE GONNA DRIZOWN
We used to work with Scott when he was at HUSTLER and we were mostly just wandering the halls drunk with guns in our briefcases but I digress. After three years at HUSTLER under the genius of all geniuses' SkullGame's own ALLAN MACDONNELL, Scott jumped into LUKE FORD ("One hour of work a day and twice the money") to fill a post vacated by the real LUKE FORD and has run with it turning his daily dose of vitriol and dry comic observation into a veritable Pussy Generating Scheme (TM).
And so it is when two giants meet we TORE SHIT UP. Read it and weep, you fucking sissies, you.
SKULLGAME CELEBRITY FUCKING PROFILE: SCOTT FAYNER
SkullGame: Jesus, man. What the hell's the story?
Scott Fayner: Just about to have lunch with TAYLOR RAIN.
LET'S PLAY HIDE AND HO SEEK
SG: Yeah. Un hunh. And I'm just about to have lunch with fucking ABE LINCOLN.
SF: No. Seriously. She's in the bathroom.
SG: Who's buying lunch?
SF: She is.
LUNCH'S ON ME!!!
SG: Fuck if she is. What do you think she's doing in the bathroom, goddamn it. She's pulling a D&D [dine and ditch--Editor]. YOU should be in the bathroom. You must learn to love the bathroom window, my friend.
SF: She'll be back.
SG: So will Abe Lincoln. Okay, how about this though: you hook us up so we can fuck the shit out of her? I mean she's never had any dick like the dick we can give. Jesus, you gotta help us out here, man. We live in Nor Cal, which means we got to do a lot of talking about POETRY and ART and shit before the broads will fuck us.
SF: Damn. I'm sorry. LA chicks can't even spell those words.
SG: My point exactly. Hook us up. We'll fuck her. Change her life.
HOW GAY IS MR. BOTTOM THERE? JESUS H. CHRIST.
SF: Hey. If I did shit like that people'd start calling me a suitcase pimp.
SG: You don't do it and you're likely to catch a beating from us. Speaking of which now that we've fucking beat AL BORDA's ASS, we've got some time on our hands. Is there anyone you need beaten?
SF: Not that I can think of right now. I mean everyone is really nice to me. Maybe they're kissing my ass because of the power of the press or something but I have no complaints.
SG: Siegfried or Roy?
SF: What?
SG: It's a very simple fucking question, Scott. Just answer it goddamn it: Siegfried or Roy?
SF: Definitely Roy. I mean the dude was attacked by a shark for chrissakes.
SG: A shark?
SF: Yeah. I mean wasn't he?
SG: Not to change the topic or nothing Scott but can you get us the hook up on some good CRYSTAL METH? I mean I ask because you're obviously hopped up on SOMETHING. On what planet exactly do you live where TIGERS magically, mystically become SHARKS?
SF: It was a tiger? Well it was a tiger hopped up on drugs then.
SG: But back to this other drug-induced hallucination of yours, that TAYLOR RAIN is going to come out of that bathroom: what's she doing now? I mean outside of dreaming about our cocks? Or trying to squeeze out of that bathroom window?
AND THEIR TIRAMISU IS JUST TO DIE FOR
SF: Well she's just about to do her last scene before she goes under contract at LEGEND, which is cool because it means she'll be working less.
SG: Don't go fucking falling in love on us here, Scott. We fell in love with OLIVIA and it, it, well it was fucking great but don't do as we do, do as we say.
OLIVIA?!? YA GODDAMNED RIGHT!!!
But, in your opinion, is PORN in the process of making itself obsolete by turning us all into sensation junkies whose fix will only be satisfied when, in the porn of the future, we're all just doing crazy shit like shooting each other to get off?
SF: We're sort of doing that now.
SG: True enough. But can porn stay as boring as it is and still make the kind of bank that it does without totally cannibalizing itself in the next 20 years?
SF: Look, this is a tough business. Simple, but tough and therefore sort of complex. But it's got this thing going for it which is that if it's great it's a waste of time and money because it doesn't need to BE great. There's nothing new to be done anyway and since in the future LARRY FLYNT will own everything and CLIVE McCLEAN will be like the art director of the entire PORN world who fucking cares? It's all about getting in, getting off, and getting out again and if it dies, which it won't, who the fuck cares?
SG: Smart guy, hunh? We kick smart guy ass over here. Listen enough with your fucking pontificating. Isn't MACK AVENUE SKULLGAME the most genius thing you've ever read?
SF: Did I just say that there was nothing new out there? I stand corrected. MACK AVENUE SKULLGAME is genius. I read it all the time and it's just breaking new ground and and, well, what more can I say?
SG: You're a prince and a man and you've said more than enough, sir. We fucking SALUTE you.
ALL FUCKING THINGS CONSIDERED: ITALIAN SAL'S FIRESIDE RUMINATIONS ON DEEP....DEEP. DEEP. DEEP THOUGHTS
Ever wonder what it would be like to be a monkey? Man that would be cool.
How about what that smoke is that comes out of a peanut when you open it?
Yeah.
Sometimes I’ll be sitting around MACK AVENUE just thinking of crazy shit like that. Like that one time, I was thinking about: what if I passed out while taking a shit. You know you're better off hitting your head and dying if that was to happen to you. Unless you are fucking ELVIS or JOHN BELUSHI, because there is no way to look cool laying there pants-less on a tile bathroom floor with a growler hanging out of your ass like a tail. That is just a traumatizing experience for everyone involved, including the person who found you.
ELVIS: IN DEEP....DEEP. DEEP. DEEP THOUGHT
Could you imagine what that call to 911 would be like: “Yes, he seems to be breathing, and it looks like, it looks like, he, well, he has a tail. No wait, that’s no tail.” I am convinced that for the most part, people who move cross-country are people who have passed out on the toilet, while taking a shit. Cause you know it happens, and strangely enough, there is never anyone around that it's happened to.
Yeah, there are lots of crazy thoughts swirling around in my head.
Like whistling dogs.
Why is it that dogs don’t whistle? Crazy huh? They got lips but, get this: they don’t fucking whistle. It would be cool though. You know? To be a whistling dog. Or how about if you were a monkey, get this, who rides a whistling dog. Man that would be the tits!
FUCK WITH US?!?! THIS IS WHAT YOU GET!!!: ONE MAN'S STORY OF AVENGING REVENGE AND MOTORCYCLE MURDER
EDDIE COATES, a great director and all around good guy, is also an A Number One goddamned prick. Second only to that wonderful humanitarian AL BORDA in his total commitment to an almost criminal level of fuckheadedness. We mean in our OPINION. So it is with a vengeance and furious anger that we tracked down his little rice burner and fucked it with a note that said
WHEN YOU SEE US NEXT JUST LAY DOWN ON THE GROUND. BECAUSE YOU ARE DEAD.
This time it's your motorcycle, next time it's your mother in a wheelchair, half-man.
HI. NICE TO MEET YOU.
I mean if you think you can run and hide from the long arm of MACK AVENUE ANGER, you are as insane as your movies are BAD.
WE'RE MAKING OUR MOVE
C'mon, c'mon, you didn't think we were serious did you pally? C'mon, we're just a'funning you, you fucking cocksucking prick. Relax goddamnit.
And don't call no cops neither.
IT'S A JOKE. JUST A GODDAMNED JOKE IS ALL.
