I’ve watched a lot of porn over the years. And I knew that a sizable portion of it was crap. Which isn’t to say I hated it. A sizable portion of all media is crap (go wiki Sturgeon’s Law) and my complaints about most porn were similar to my complaints about most books, movies, and network television: boring, uninspired, insulting. But there was always some genius director or brilliant stars that would take the genre by storm and show everyone what could be done. Whenever anyone would dismiss porn I would explain to them, patiently, that there was Good Stuff there if they’d only look for it.

Lately, I’m having problems finding it myself.

Recently I went hunting for an adult DVD to share with my wife, for the first time in quite awhile. We cuddled up, enjoyed our cake — if I woke my wife up in the middle of the night for just sex, she'd hit me; the wise husband brings chocolate cake to a seduction — and settled in for some hot and heavy action.

And spent the next 20 minutes alternately laughing, fast-forwarding, or just goggling at the screen. At no point was arousal an option.

When did porn become what anti-porn activists always said it was? I had to search high and low just to find a single DVD cover that wasn’t misogynistic or abusive. I finally settled for a historical one ("Robinson Crusoe on Sin Island," or something like that) because I figured any movie that put that much money into some truly impressive sets, costuming, and cinematography had to have spent just as much time on the squishy stuff. Fond memories of “2001 Erotic Nights” and “The Canterbury Tales” accompanied me on the drive home, but they died with the very first sex scene when all the artistry of the movie just turned off so the actors could hump. Badly.

My wife pointed out the underlying problem (we had plenty of time to talk, what with all the not-being-turned-on): the scenes are so obviously shot for the benefit of the viewer, and the viewer is presumed to be pathetic. Awkward positions that allow extreme closeups, guys never ejaculating where you can't see, guys always cool and in control while gals are unstoppably sex-starved, and so very few of the performers looking as if they a) want to be there or b) want to be there with that particular partner.

Well, this viewer ain't interested.

We may be the wrong audience for porn, at least this century. More and more I find myself hovering around the "classics" section, afraid to venture out where "Butt-Pirates of the Carribean" awaits. Look, I know the big bucks are in mindless sex, the nastier the better, and that’s fine. Buy it and enjoy it. But I'd be forever grateful if anyone out there can suggest some movies that don’t actually nauseate me. I don't even need a whole movie, gimme just one good scene and I'll buy the thing.

My needs are simple, I think.

– Normal looking people who at least look like they're having fun.
– No one looking at the camera.
– No movies that describe the women as sluts, whores, or bitches, or use the words "molest" or "gang" on the cover.
– No anal, please. Nothing against the act itself, but it's not particularly aesthetically pleasing. Not a big fan of the camera-between-the-legs shots anyway, or the extreme, can’t-get-any-closer-or-she’ll-swallow-the-camera closeups. Show me the whole scene, let me remember there are people there and not just body parts.
– Woman-woman scenes that looks like they might be enjoying it. You know, with kissing and maybe even some foreplay before they whip out the 20-inch double-headed dildo or try to go up to their elbows.
– An entire movie without silicone or implants of any kind. Try it, I dare you.
– Women who don't feel obligated to stick their entire tongue out of their mouths whenever they kiss or lick anything.
– Look, if you show me a guy pulling out of a woman’s butt and moving around to her mouth, which seems to be the trend these days, you’ve lost me. Forget it, I'll turn the thing off and go watch cartoons. I mean, eww.
– Women that aren't groomed and made up to look underage.
– Guys that look like someone you might not run away from on a dark night. Or a sunny afternoon.
– Lighting that makes the actors look soft and sexy instead of plastic and poorly shaved.
– Sounds that weren't dubbed or forced.
– People grateful to get oral sex instead of standing there looking haughty and all conquerery.
– Movies that don't have the same sex acts, in the same order, every time.
– And, hardest to find of all… playfulness! I have absolutely no interest in watching people fuck who look too fake, too insensitive, too shallow, or too scary. Don't fun people do it? In front of a camera, I mean?

I admit it; I’m starting to despair. Someone out there has to be making movies that make sex look exciting and enjoyable for everyone involved, right? Someone? Anyone?

"Are you into casual sex, or should I dress up?"

"Bend over and receive your destiny."

"But in countless alternate realities, I’ve already slept with you, and it was the greatest experience of our lives. Can you afford to take the chance that this reality might not be the one?" – Chris Bridges

"Can I run my toes through your hair? "

"Don't eat that. Eating that can cause very large breasts. Oh my God, I'm too late!" – Val Kilmer, Real Genius

"Care to join me in a barbaric mating ritual?"

"Come over tonight, I’ll show you the position they named after me."

"Don't resist me, Mama. It's boogie time." – Wilmer Valderrama, That 70's Show

"Eventually, your standards will lower enough to include me, and I'll be waiting."

"I would my horse had the speed of your tongue… " – Benedick, Much Ado About Nothing, by William Shakespeare

"Go ahead and touch me. You deserve it."

Guy #2 – "So… where you girls been all our lives?"
Daria – "Waiting here for you. We were born in this room, we grew up in this room, and we thought we would die here… alone. But now you've arrived, and our lives can truly begin." – Unknown and Daria, Daria

"God really won't mind if you do me."

"Hey, where all the white women at?" – Cleavon Little, Blazing Saddles

"Hi, I’ll be your entertainment for the evening."

"How do you look when I'm sober?" – Ring Lardner

"Is that a gun in your pocket or are you just happy to see me?" – Mae West, Myra Breckinridge

"I don't dance, but I'd love to hold you while you do."

"I have some tricks.
I will show them to you.
Your mother will not mind at all if I do." – Dr. Seuss, The Cat in the Hat

"I'm drunk, and right now I'm SO in love with you. "

"I'm feeling like we oughta take off all our clothes, grind our genitals together for twenty or so minutes, then hop in the shower for a rinse and some cunnilingus, then jump back in bed, eat some Ben & Jerry's Cherry Garcia and then maybe have another go at it. How are you feeling?" – Dan Savage, Savage Love

"I'm just a victim of my genetic caveman heritage. C'mere."

"Is that a ten-gallon hat, or are you just enjoying the show?" – Madeline Kahn, Blazing Saddles

"I’ll let you think you can change me if you’ll let me think I can fuck you."

"Let's fool around. Let's do it some strange way that you've always wanted to, but nobody would do with you." – Mariel Hemingway, Manhattan

"I’m not begging, I’m flirting."

"It's nights like this that drive men like me to women like you for nights like this." – Bob Hope to Hedy Lamarr, My Favorite Spy

"I’m not cheap, but I am on special this week. "

"Hi! I’ve been sent to give you a singing mammogram."

"I’ve evolved into the clitoris’ perfect predator." – Chris Bridges

"I’ve heard only the most sensitive and artistic women still swallow."

"Joey, do you like movies about gladiators?" – Peter Graves, Airplane!

"Letitia: How tall are you without your horse?
Coyote Bill: Well, ma'am, I'm six feet seven inches.
Letitia: Never mind the six feet, let's talk about the seven inches." – Mae West and Andy Devine, Myra Breckinridge

"Lick me ‘til I cry. "

"If you need me, just call. You know how to dial, don't you? You just put your finger in the hole and make tiny little circles." – Rachel Ward, Dead Men Don't Wear Plaid

"Listen to my voice and look deeply into my thighs."

"Look, as long as you’re going to keep opening your mouth anyway… "

"Oh, you look lovely this evening. Have you decreased in mass?" – Kang, The Simpsons

"Once I get my tongue on you, you’re mine forever."

"Quick, cling tenaciously to my buttocks!"

"Seriously, baby, I can prescribe anything I want." – Dr. Nick Riviera, The Simpsons

"Joey, have you ever been to a Turkish prison?" – Peter Graves, Airplane!

"Would you prefer to be conscious or unconscious during mating?"

"Vhy don't you woosen your buwwets?" – Madeline Kahn to Cleavon Little, Blazing Saddles

"You can’t go wrong with me, but you’re welcome to try."

"You'd look so much better in whipped cream and sprinkles."

If you ever been in a state of such utter manic boredom that you were curious about what it might be like to spend time with my wife and me, all you have to do is run right out and rent "The Birdcage". The movie with Robin Williams and Nathan Lane as a homosexual nightclub owner and his lover and star attraction. We're identical.

Not exactly, of course. Robin Williams' character (Armand Goldman) was a much better dresser than I am, and he was in better shape. But aside from a minor difference in sexual preference, watching his basic style and his deadpan, sarcastic delivery is very much like spending an evening with me. Sad, isn't it? Their home decor is even close to ours, although we have more nekkid lady artwork and way more laundry laying around. And every time Albert (played by Lane) yelps, I look at Teres. She just smiles and looks puzzled. Who, me?

It's true. She shrieks, at every caprice of fate, real and imagined. Spilled soup. Yellow traffic lights. A ringing phone. Abrupt oral sex. Flash bulbs. Getting a question right while watching "Win Ben Stein's Money". And if you combine all these, it gets worse.

Just judging by her fashion sense alone, she belongs up on the strip. 4'11" and a 41 DD, she's already realized that dressing sedately ain't agonna make a bit of difference, so why not be wild? Purples and pinks, scarves and leopard-print tights, low-cut tops and strange hats. Nothing trashy, more like a short, buxom Stevie Nicks. Or maybe a gypsy fortune-teller in 1/4 scale (although she refuses to admit that she might be short — instead, she feels sympathy for those of us she considers "freakishly tall").

"…and when a gay man has way too much fashion sense for one gender, he is a drag queen."
– Wesley Snipes, "To Wong Fu, Thanks For Everything. Julie Newmar"

But the most telling aspect is the hardest to explain – the attitude. It's hard to pin down exactly what it is, exactly. It could be the way she can wear 5 articles of clothing that were never intended by God to go together, and make it work. It could be the way her mind works, such as when our friend mentions wanting to get her car painted and Teres immediately ran out, bought a case of spray paint and organized an impromptu open-air painting party. I think the phrase is "over the top", and that's the way to live. One of the presents she got for me last Christmas was a mannequin torso she had bought from a store that was going out of business. She painted nipples and tanlines on it (I like tanlines) and added just a few soft brunette curls in the appropriate inappropriate place, then dressed it in the incredibly tacky orange nightie I gave her the year before (I'm assuming that was a coincidence). The mannequin sits atop my filing cabinet and makes a nice little conversation piece, especially after we added the stuffed woman's leg (with bright red stuffed high-heeled pump attached) she found for me in a thrift store a year ago. Bit by bit, she's buildng me a woman.

Our bedroom is the lair of a drag queen. Since I had no preference, the walls were painted purple at her request. Then sponged pink. Then sponged a different purple. Oddly enough, it works, giving the room an old Victorian feel. Scarves cover every flat surface, a dresser she didn't like got painted hot pink, my bookshelves became a dark wine, and the waterbed is a huge soft heap of cloth — we never throw out blankets or comforters, we just pile more on. Doesn't bother me, it's extremely comfortable and there's always scarves handy when you need to tie something down…

Flamboyant. Excitable. Outrageous. And possessing that feminine quality that seems to come easier to drag queens than to actual women, the style that separates drag queens from transsexuals. Poise. Dignity. Playfulness. Constant hand gestures. The eternal state of Grace Kelly and general Rita Hayworthiness. Life is rarely boring.

If you have never attended a drag show, go. Seriously. Check around and find a good one, one where the ladies involved spend time and attention on their acts, their looks and their styles. You'll have a ball, no matter what gender you prefer to take home. Signs of a good drag show:

The place is clean, and there are very few undecorated bits. If it looks like a regular bar with some tinsel tossed over the moulding, skip it. You want a dedicated place.

Look for clubs with regular performers. All great drag shows have at least one diva, the star that repeat customers keep coming to see. She probably won't be the prettiest one there, and almost certainly won't be the youngest, but she'll be the funniest and most personable performer you'll ever see.

Make sure they've got a good stage and a great sound system.

Look for professional shows. Amateur nights can be a hoot, but it can also be the scariest thing you've ever seen. Go with the pros.

Find a club that doesn't discourage straight patrons. You can only find this by experimentation, but you'll know right away. Even if you are gay, you want a club that's primarily there for the party, not for the pick-up. You don't want to be afraid to go to the bathrooms. Note – you know, this also applies to straight clubs.
And as this is the month of Valentine's Day, now is the time to celebrate this attitude and encourage it. Take her to a show. Buy her an outrageous outfit that would only go unnoticed in a disco prom, then take her to dinner. Dress a little outré yourself, why not? "Over the top" is a necessary component of Valentine's Day, and we'll offer you some specifics next week. But for now, I honor my wife the luscious Teresa, draq queen extraordinaire.

"Told ya I'd make it. Did you order yet?"

"No, just got here. We always order the same thing anyway, not a major challenge."

"Okay, order for me."

"No problem. Here, let me look at you. Hmmmm. Chicken sizzling wor bar, won ton soup, hot tea."

"I could also use a cute brunette, if you happen to see one."

"I'll check with the cook. What's in the bag? Is it a prezzie? You'd be amazed how fast I can produce a cute brunette if there's a prezzie."

"Sort of. I dropped the movie off on the way in and they were having that two dollars off the pre-viewed price again, so I picked up some cheap crap."

"What'dja get? Let's see… The Mask of Zorro, wasn't too bad. You've Got Mail, we haven't seen that…"

"Chick flick."

"Well, you're pretty girly. Godzilla? You bought Godzilla?"

"Chick flick."

"What?"

"Chick flick."

"Explain."

"C'mon! Godzilla's a mother, looking for a safe place to raise her young. Plus it's got Matthew Broderick. Chick flick."

"Sorry, love, just because it had Matthew Broderick doesn't mean it's a chick flick."

"What about Ladyhawke?"

"That wasn't a chick flick."

"That was totally a chick flick. Tights, romantic stuff, lotsa sword-fighting but no gore. Chick flick."

"And Zorro? Lotsa sword-fighting, no gore. Chick flick?"

"Dick flick."

"And the difference?"

"In Ladyhawke the guy got the girl in a romantic, medieval setting after a tense emotional moment. In Zorro the guy got the girl after a whole frigging mountain got blown up. Dick flick."

"Are there any movies that don't fall in either category?"

"No."

"Bond movie's a dick flick?"

"Most definitely. Anything with a minimum of three explosions is a dick flick."

"What about Eyes Wide Shut? Chick or dick?"

"Chick flick about a dick."

"How about American Pie?

"Tricky. It starts out as a dick flick, and ends up as a chick flick."

"Porn movies?"

"Straight or gay?"

"What's the difference?"

"Straight porn is 95% dick flicks. Gay female porn is 100% dick flicks, despite the absence of same. Gay male porn is 95% chick flicks."

"Got it. What you up for tonight?"

"You've Got Mail. I understand I'm pretty girly…"

I favor comprehensive sex education – although I’m not sure how “comprehensive” it could be when there’s no lab work or humorous skits involved – but I could reluctantly accept abstinence-only teaching as being better than nothing. I can even see an upside to it since my children, being better-informed, will have clear advantages over lesser-trained teens when it comes to putting the moves and layin’ down the velvet hammer.

But teaching our kids inaccurate information driven by agenda rather than science is reprehensible and dangerous. Out of 13 curriculums studied, 11 of them had factual errors and suspicious wording. Some examples:

Despite the claims of such crackpots as the Centers for Disease Control and Prevention and the Department of Health and Human Services, it turns out that contraceptives are remarkably useless in preventing sexually transmitted diseases and pregnancy. One curriculum says that “the popular claim that “condoms help prevent the spread of STDs,’ is not supported by the data”; another states that “in heterosexual sex, condoms fail to prevent HIV approximately 31% of the time”; and another teaches that a pregnancy occurs one out of every seven times that couples use condoms. Also, condoms are less effective as water balloons or bachelor party decorations as previously believed, and the ribbed ones actually provide no pleasure for her whatsoever no matter what the package says.

This is even more terrifying when you read further and find that HIV can be spread by tears, sweat, buying someone a drink, or blowing someone a kiss from less than 25 feet away, even if you pull a condom over your face first.

The only sure way to prevent sexually transmitted disease or pregnancy is to avoid any and all sexual relations forever, ideally by moving to another city, changing your name, and wearing loose, non-trendy clothing.

As everyone knows, 5% to 10% of women who have legal abortions will become sterile; that “premature birth, a major cause of mental retardation, is increased following the abortion of a first pregnancy”; and that most women who have had abortions go on, tragically, to vote Democrat.

Some of the curricula also present as scientific fact the religious view that life begins at conception, when scientists know that life really begins at 30. For example, one lesson states: “Conception, also known as fertilization, occurs when one sperm unites with one egg in the upper third of the fallopian tube. This is when life begins.” Yeah, baby, unite that egg!

Did you know that women need “financial support,” while men need “admiration?” Scientific fact, apparently! Forget all that feminist crap, and remember that “women gauge their happiness and judge their success on their relationships. Men’s happiness and success hinge on their accomplishments.”

Some other teachings in the abstinence-only curricula:

Over 45% of teenage girls who have sex before marriage, despite their family’s financial status, ended up living in a trailer. And not one of those nice double-wides, either.

When you have premarital sex, your forehead breaks out in a reddened “A” shape that is plainly and permanently visible to your friends, teachers, and parents. You don’t want to know what happens if you have oral sex, trust me.

Sex really isn’t that interesting. Just ask your parents.

Engaging in unhealthy sexual relations before marriage can cause irreparable psychological damage that could haunt you for the rest of your days. Far, far better to wait until you can have unhealthy sexual relations after you’re married so you can pass your twisted neuroses on to your children.

You can get AIDS from toilet seats, sparkly lipstick, and Playboy.

Condoms make your dick look smaller. Honest. And then it drops off.

Birth control pills are Satan’s candy, according to a four-year study by the American Family Association.

Touching another person’s genitals can give you warts.

Merely flashing your firm young breasts at a teenage male can cause permanent damage to his retinas. Watch where you point those things, ladies!

Passing out eggs for assigned couples to “parent” in Health Class is no longer allowed unless the students are legally married first. What kind of future do you expect to give that egg if you’re riddled with disease, huh? Huh?

Masturbating makes Jesus cry. Teabagging just pisses him off.

Penises have minds of their own and can encourage their owners to make grave errors in judgment. In fact, penises actually possess tiny brains of their own, the same way dinosaurs had extra brains in their tails. Except of course that dinosaurs are part of that “evolution” crap, so forgot I said anything.

You really don’t want to have sex at all. You just think you do because of the constant emphasis on sexuality present in all forms of media. All those near-naked bodies in commercials, in TV shows, in movies, just wiggling around and jiggling right in your face, bouncing and swaying and bobbing and… class dismissed.

If your child is receiving abstinence-only sex ed, I suggest you augment this at home with additional information about healthy sexual relations. You don’t have to go too crazy, simply slipping your youth a copy of “Hustler’s Barely Legal” or letting him or her read through a few days worth of your e-mail ought to do the trick.

Or you could be responsible, I guess, and send them to worthwhile sources of accurate information such as scarleteen.com. They’ll get all the facts, learn a lot more about themselves and how to have a safe and responsible sex life (married or not), and they’ll be able to talk to other kids to find that they’re not alone in their feelings or problems.

In fact, you might want to hurry.

Or you've seen dice that always seem to be bright pink, with words on them instead of numbers (one die has verbs, the other invariably lists body parts). And you've thought to yourself, "Wow, you can really have a lot of sexy fun when you have a playful lover. Now, if only I had a goddamn lover!"

Hey, hey, imaginary person! You don't need anyone else to have fun, unless you're trying to seesaw. Any game ever designed or twisted for adult purposes can also be used for some solitary pleasure. And why not? Why should you limit yourself to quick, furtive wanking when you can enjoy the same sorts of playful, competitive, gonna-end-in-sex fun as anybody else?

I don't mean just playing naked Solitaire. That's pathetic and boring, especially after the first twenty-five times. No, you want something lively and sensual, something designed to tantalize and arouse so as to bring about greater and more powerful sexual satisfaction. Sex games are also a good way to ease yourself past your own shyness. Maybe you're not sure if you want to take the relationship you have with yourself to the next level. Maybe you're uncomfortable with your body, and you're not sure if you're ready to let yourself see it. Sex games are a great way to break the ice and get yourself into a relaxed, excited mood, especially when used in conjunction with vodka. So give it a try! Here's some examples.

Jack Poker – Like the strip variant, only with a few less people. You can play it the old fashioned way, by dealing out two or more hands and playing them all in turn, losing bits of clothing as each hand loses, but it gets complicated trying to hurriedly dress and strip again as you change hands. Positions. You know what I mean. Much easier to go online and find a virtual poker game to play against (Yahoo has one). Play against the computer and bid as directed, but lose articles of clothing every time you lose a hand. Naughty, isn't it? Can you feel the excitement building as you unbutton your shirt? Do you find yourself hunching to conceal a raging erection from yourself? Damn, this is hot!

Twisted – Naked Wesson Oil Twister is tricky to play by yourself, but don't give up. Keep the spinner near whichever hand isn't currently load-bearing. Then just spin the spinner and call the shots! The oil gives your body a slick and sexy feel, and playing in front of a mirror allows you to catch surreptitious glances of parts of your anatomy you don't ordinarily get to see, such as your own perineum. But the real fun of playing Twister is the close contact. You’ll never know if you're going to direct yourself to move your hand or your leg in such a way as to come into contact with yourself. Will you get offended? Will you get aroused? Will you get lucky? Get Twister!

Truth or Dare - Now we're talking! Get in your pajamas, make some s'mores, huddle up on the bed and play. Each turn you have to either answer your own question, no matter how personal or embarrassing, or you can choose an intimate task for yourself to perform. Hours of fun, and you'll be much closer to yourself afterwards. Feel the heat rise as you wait breathlessly to hear what erotic task awaits!

Role-playing - It can get boring doing it the same way, time after time. Hop into bed or slink into the bathroom and do what needs doing. Where's the excitement in that? Liven it up by trying different costumes, be different people. Every sex guide, even the respectable ones, suggests role-playing as a way to spice up your sex life, so give it a try! You can dress up and be a masturbating priest, a pirate, a president! Whack off the way Humphrey Bogart would, or Madonna, or the Secretary General of the United Nations. Pretend you're a babysitter pleasuring herself, or Cleopatra after an unsatisfying date with Marc Antony.

Please note I am not referring to the Dungeons & Dragons type of role-playing. I'm sorry, but figuring out your masturbating experience on graph paper and rolling for encumbrance would just be pathetic.

Sensations - Masturbation is a powerful erotic experience, but it tends to lack surprise and spontaneity. You can bring the sparks back into your love life by bringing back the element of uncertainty. Next time you're sitting there watching the game, sneak up and grab yourself without warning. Surprise yourself in the bath, or pounce on your unsuspecting body in the car wash. Blindfold yourself and feed yourself different types of food – you'll get lost in the rapturous sensation of helplessness and trust, and the delighted surprise and sensuality of never knowing what you'll tantalize yourself with next. Avoid hot soup.

There's lots of others, just take any game you enjoy and assign smutty penalties, rewards and prizes. Monopoly (long, but worthwhile), Hide and Seek (thrilling and adventurous), even Checkers can be a wildly arousing activity when you know you'll have yourself naked and wet at the end of it. Try it! Liven up your sex life with a little playfulness, and I promise you'll be amazed at the reaction you get. Especially if your roommate walks in to find you playing naked Wesson Oil Twister by yourself.

It's all the rage these days. Celebrities like Pamela Anderson, Paris Hilton, and Vince Neil have all seen their careers skyrocket after the public got a gander of their sexy shenanigans. Well, maybe not Vince Neil.

Within minutes of the word getting out people all over the world, even people who don't like these celebrities, were beating their computers with sticks to make them download faster. And this frenzied attention translated to increased public awareness, more job offers (some of them even legitimate) and good times for celebrity stalkers who no longer had to fantasize quite as hard.

But it's not as easy as just throwing a tape in the camera and greasing up. For the maximum media penetration your porn debut must be carefully orchestrated so that a) you can get the publicity while still keeping your reputation safe, and b) everyone in the world gets to see your wobbly bits at least twice. You can only do this kind of thing once before it becomes your career, so do it carefully. Here's some tips.

Wait until your career is on the skids.

This is vitally important since a badly-timed "stolen" video can ruin your life if you're riding high. Not only because of the scandal, but because celebrities with successful careers don't have time to have sex and any evidence to the contrary might suggest that you're no longer A-list material. Seen any Tom Hanks porn around? See?

But when you've got nothing to lose a good sex tape can get you your own show, a movie deal, even a Grammy!

Pick an attractive partner.

Not too attractive (you don't want to get upstaged) but someone that's decent enough to look at. It's the kiss of death to be seen sleeping with losers, it's like getting caught showing up at the Oscars in a Chevette. Vince Neil filmed himself with porn stars, Pam had Tommy's massive joint, and Paris was smart enough to keep the camera focused below Rick Solomon's waist.

Use bad lighting.

Just in case the publicity turns ugly you should take care to leave a smidgeon of doubt that the naked person dripping with apple butter and strapped to the taffy puller is actually you, especially if your partner is underage, visibly using drugs, or a member of Congress. That kind of publicity you don't need. The first night-vision release of Paris Hilton's tape was perfect, she looked like a raccoon doing a Courtney Love impersonation.

Check out Rob Lowe's tape for examples. You can barely tell there are humans involved, much less make out features. It could have been a Loch Ness sighting for all I could tell. And lawyers are going to have their work cut out for them trying to prove that R. Kelly's ass is unique in all the world, like a fuzzy snowflake.

Choose awkward positions.

One of the best things about celebrity sex tapes is that they let people see that their sex symbols are human, too. Better looking humans, but still human. When we see celebrities in movies, on TV and on magazine covers they look larger, better, brighter than life, but in your tapes we can see you as just as human as the rest of us. Make this even more obvious by squatting, scooting around awkwardly, fumbling a lot, or falling off the bed halfway through. Not only will this endear you to your fans, it'll make your later denial more believable. Like you'd let any director get your bad side like that? Please!

Be enthusiastic.

You might look human, but you don't want to lose your sex symbol status, either. Hump like you're trying to move the bed outside with your hips alone, and suck like you lost your car keys in there.

Dump your partner afterwards.

Bad enough that everyone will know just what you did with this person, but from that point on every time you bump uglies with that person you'll wonder if it's just a sequel and the first one was better. Also, you may not want your partner around where they can be subpoenaed, at least not until they're old enough to drive to court themselves.

Show it to friends.

How's it going to get stolen if no one knows you have it? It also helps to leave it out for the movers marked "Sex Tape, Do Not Steal." If you get desperate enough or if there's an opening on "Ellen" coming up, just stick it in a video rental box and cram it into the overnight slot at the local Blockbusters. Self-promotion was never so easy!

Time the release to break before your new project, whatever it is.

Paris' tape came out just when her new show "A Simple Life" was starting to advertise, and it went through the roof. Pamela Anderson's new exposure helped her launch "V.I.P." And would Rob Lowe have made it to "The West Wing" if the producers hadn't seen him picking up cans on Ventura Blvd. for his community service hours?

Where Tonya Harding made her mistake was letting her honeymoon tape get out after her knee-whacking scandal. If she had released it beforehand, America might have let her slide and she would have been the one in the Disney parade while Nancy Kerrigan was banished to Celebrity Boxing.

Deny it outright.

At least initially. So what if everyone can tell it's you? So what if, during the video, you faced the camera and said clearly, "This is me!" and displayed on-screen DNA testing? You still have to deny it or you'll be labeled a slut. You need to build up the pity opinions and get people thinking "It's a damn shame that poor little girl got her personal, private orgy tape exposed like that. What's this world coming to?" instead of, say, "What a whore."

Fire lawsuits left and right and accuse everyone of libel, even if you were the one that mailed the tape out. Especially if you were the one that mailed the tape out. Then after the news dies down you can tearfully admit it, just in time to hit the next news cycle.

Give six hundred exclusive interviews explaining why you just want to put it behind you.

After refusing to talk to anyone, have your publicist approach a few respected news outlets like Barbara Walters or Jon Stewart and say you're ready to talk about it, just this once. Cry and be brave and admit that it was you, you were deeply in love, but now you're stronger and more confident than ever before! Also you're single now.

After you cry at Barbara it's time to do the stolen movie promotion junket where you appear on every TV show with more than seven viewers, host "Saturday Night Live" to make fun of yourself, and do a layout in Maxim mimicking your video poses. Strike the right combination of pride and self-deprecation and you'll be starring on FOX inside of two months.

Sell it to Russian websites

Hey, might as well make some money off this thing.

Handled carefully, a stolen sex tape can make your career. And you'll have the satisfaction of knowing that a movie starring you is being watched every minute of every day, somewhere in the world, often in continuous loops.

I’m choosing Jennifer Pankratz, the cheerleading class president, page 90, left. I have no advance knowledge or insider information for this, it's just my guess and I could easily be wrong. There are many extraordinarily beautiful women there to choose from, and while one or two of them might get kicked out of bed I predict there'd be a hell of a scramble on the floor.

But I feel she most completely represents the Playboy ideal in several respects: she's gorgeous, she's blonde, she possesses that magical "wholesome yet sexy" look that Playboy has become justifiably famous for, and like the other girls she's been Photoshopped to the point where her own mother couldn't pick her out of a lineup.

What the hell happened, guys? Since its beginning Playboy has been known for its beautiful women so that's nothing new, but you've always leaned towards the "girl next door" look, the girl you know but never dreamed you'd see naked, the nice girl. No sluts, tramps, skanks, or hot wet bitches for these hallowed pages. And by sticking to that goal, and by supplementing it with excellent articles, penetrating interviews and awe-inspiring fiction, you've held their position as the leader in men's magazines.

And guys, you're boring me to tears.

I grew up on Playboy. Literally. I swiped my Dad's as soon as I was old enough to walk and turn pages. Playboy had lots of stuff to keep me occupied, and best of all, Playmates always smiled. Sure, they might moan a bit or whip a little sultry look on you now and then, but for the most part they were smiling and obviously happy to be there.

Playboy got celebrities naked, which as more than I could do on my own.

Playboy kept me up to date on just which new trends in electronics and fashion I couldn't afford from month to month.

Playboy interviewed everybody and got famous people to talk about stuff that the same people would sue other magazines for printing.

Playboy had articles and investigative reporting and travelogues and a common sense Advisor and yes, they still have all those things. But I have to admit, right here in the open, that the nude pics are getting boring for me. They're all the same! Every woman in Playboy, every woman, has a perfect tan, clear skin, fluorescent white teeth, perfect nails, and the same exact racing strip pubic hair. It's like looming at a Barbie.

I don't think I've opened the centerfold in over a year. There's no point. I've seen it.

Playboy hasn't always been like this and I blame it on two things: the Internet and Viagra.

The Internet Porn Explosion caught everyone in the adult industry off guard. Suddenly seeing real live girls bareass was easy, almost unavoidable. How do you compete when nudity is all around you?

If you're Hustler, you get even wilder, more explicit, more shocking online. If you're Penthouse, you go bankrupt. And if you're Playboy, you make your models more incredible, more glorious than any mere webcam girl could ever be. Thanks to a combination of the world's best photographers and some skilled computer artists, they've done that. Playmates are now so unblemished and unattainable that, for me anyway, they've become sexless.

But I think Viagra was what dealt the chilling stroke to Playboy. I don't have the energy to go retrieve my back issues from where my teenage son has hidden them, but I'll bet that Hef's Viagra usage can be charted by reading the first few pages of every Playboy for the last five years. Doesn't it seem obvious to you that he started getting laid again and suddenly we got ridiculously perfect centerfolds, along with page after page of his partying? I think it's clear that Hef's back in control and I'm glad for him, but I'd appreciate it if he didn't use our magazine for his mid-life crisis.

So happy birthday Hef, thanks for all you've done for us and sexuality in general, and please, go get your horde of girlfriends and a bucket of little blue pills and disappear for awhile. Let Christie run things again. I respect you as I respect few people, but it's getting embarrassing. Let us have our girl next door again, and leave Photoshop turned off. Stop bragging about your parties and famous friends every single issue. And when you do the annual "Sex in Cinema," try not to have every other movie mentioned be a Playboy TV original. It looks really cheesy and self-serving. Just a thought.

Oh, and get some new jokes. It's really annoying for us long-time readers when we recognize the same jokes we remember from just eight or nine years ago.

Honest. I don't remember exactly why she was shooting a nighttime scene in the woods near where I live but I happened to drive by, recognize her, and convince her I wasn't a freak (or at least that I wasn't a strange freak). The fact that anyone shooting a porn movie anywhere near where I live is about as likely as the Winter Olympics picking the local 7-11 as their 2008 location was besides the point, obviously. After she threatened to call the police I managed to remind her that we'd met before – "Oh, you're that guy!" – and we talked. Turned out she was staying in the area another day and was somewhat disappointed in the accommodations. I, of course, offered my house.

In your average porn-star-related dream this would be when the thumpa-thumpa music started and we got horizontal, then vertical, then horizontal again. Instead my dream-self took her home and let her get a long hot shower while my wife and I ran around the house frantically cleaning up.

As I recall, and it was amazing how clear this dream was, we spent the rest of the day talking, web-surfing, and hitting the local malls. There was a great deal of nudity since she was topless whenever we were in the house – probably since those are the personal pics of her from her site that I like the most – but aside from my own quiet enjoyment it wasn't particularly sexual.

This isn't unusual for me. I've never really wanted to meet porn stars when they were porn starring, if you follow me. No reflections on those who do, of course, I realize I'm in the odd minority. I'm one of the ones who prefer the at-home pics to the glamour shots, the naked-playing-with-kittens poses to the naked-and-bent-over-a-BMW shots. The reason I like Asia so much is not because she can deep-throat a zucchini but because she personally is so cool.

It's not just Asia, either. If I met Tera Patrick I'd want to see what she looked like in jeans and a t-shirt, without the mask of makeup. I'd love to meet Nina Hartley and talk about sexual awareness and her activism, or hang around with Jonathan Morgan and shoot hoops. While I enjoy watching them have sex, the idea of projecting myself into that scene just doesn't work for me because I can't make my stubbornly reasonable mind accept it.

Part of this is realism; if Serena Williams popped by the house for an afternoon I wouldn't try playing a set against her, either, for many of the same reasons. I'd fare poorly, would sweat a lot, and would not be the one anyone would want to watch on the video afterwards. Part of it is that I'm more interested in whatever aspect of the porn star's personality that caused me to notice them above and beyond the rest in the first place. They can all hump magnificently, which but which ones can make me laugh when they're not humping?

Part of it is politeness towards a fellow professional. I don't like talking about web page design or personal writing habits when I'm trying to relax. When I meet a doctor I try not to ask them about my sinus condition. When I pass the time with a mechanic I do my best to forget I even have a car. I figure they've gotta be tired of talking about the same thing day in and day out, and we'll have more fun if I resist the impulse and talk about something else.

A big part, admittedly, is my own brain, which is constitutionally unable to envision me having sex with just anybody. The situation has to make sense. Even in high school, when I would fantasize about the lovelies in my class I'd spend as much or more time mentally working out the justification for our hot monkey love, which often involved late-night emergency rides, narrowly-thwarted muggings, or foiled kidnapping attempts. My mind had to believe that it was possible, or nothing would happen. Consequently by the time I had figured out how to get my mental lady ready and willing, I'd fall asleep from all the planning. Celebrities fantasies were even worse because I had to work out why they were in my town in the first place, without friends or their entourage, and then it just got silly.

What does this mean for the porn industry? Not a damn thing. People like me aren't a large demographic, unfortunately, else there's be more at-home videos and porn blooper DVDs. I just thought I'd share.

'Cause it was a really weird dream.