The thirteen West German Schulmachden-Report (Schoolgirl Report) films to come out in the 1970’s served both as pseudo-documentaries about the blossoming sexuality of teen girls, and as sweet, spankable softcore porn for horny male viewers. Call it “Edu-porn” if you like. By wrapping sex in the paper-thin coating of education, the not-so-subtle voyeuristic elements perhaps didn’t seem so filthy in 1970’s Germany, but to today’s PC world that treats adolescent sexuality like the plague — these films are the forbidden fruit.
FULL REVIEW AND SCREENGRABS HERE!

Oh, forgot to plug this when it came out a few weeks ago: It’s Robin M. and I interviewing comic book creator Josh Simmons about his great new scary-ass graphic novel HOUSE on the Inkstuds show. We didn’t set out to talk about such filthy stuff, but it ended up that way, and it never actually got played on the radio show because of it — just this podcast.
LISTEN TO THE SHOW HERE

And remember, if you haven’t seen Josh’s 20 page comic “A LAND OF MAGIC” which is — in my opinion — one of THE MOST disturbing comics ever made, you NEED to paypal me $7 shipping included ($9 intl) for the 60 page SLEAZY SLICE anthology I put out. It’s really great. Paypal to: mindseye100@hotmail.com

Basically, it’s an Cinema Sewer magazine LJ community my homey JB3 set up where people can post screen grabs from their favorite Exploitation, Horror, Drive-in, Grindhouse, Classic Adult, Spaghetti Western and just about any other cinematic sleaziness you can think of. With any luck, a community of contributors will grow and share some rare shit. It’s about sharing favorite moments and things that made your heart beat faster and make your stomach do a flip or two. Go JOIN UP and post some stills from your collection… I know you got something filthy in that stack of DVD’s!

Ohboyohboyohboy! We finished shooting the First Cinema Sewer porn movie: THE CUMMING OF JIZZUS! You’re gonna want to read all the behind the scenes details and see all the VERY DIRTY pics!
SEE ALL THE NSFW PICS AND READ THE REST OF THE STORY HERE!

And don’t forget to order the brand new CINEMA SEWER #20, and the first issue of my new 60 page porn comic anthology SLEAZY SLICE, both for sale along with all the back issues HERE

By Robin Bougie
After being put off a couple times for various trivial reasons, we finally got our shit together long enough to shoot the third round of footage for THE CUMMING OF JIZZUS, the first hetro XXX adaptation of the bible. Excited? Hell yes, I was.

As producer and set designer, it fell in my lap to make the set come alive. 5 days before filming, I was fortunate enough to find a massive roll of white cloth on an industrial spindle down at the local Salvation Army. As soon as I saw it, I knew it’d be perfect to a temple “tent” in our director’s (Chelsea Chainsaw’s) living room. I frustratingly couldn’t find a price on it, so I convinced the old Christian ladies there that decoration for a “student film” was a worthy reason for letting it go to me for a mere $30.

SEE ALL THE NSFW PICS AND READ THE REST OF THE STORY HERE!

Yes, more pics and ranting about the first Cinema Sewer porn production!

It took a while to get started since the first snowstorm of the season held up our stars, and some other minor distractions kept us from getting rolling until an hour after we’d planned. Undaunted, we carried on.

The tale collected in our little digital cameras this time was the glorious story of how Jizzus Crust brings a saucy dead slut back from the netherworld with only the power of his biblical TOUNGE and holy BEARD! Then he pounds his dong into her a whole bunch, and everyone leaves happy. THE END… but is it?
The rest of the story: HERE

Set Diary for The Cumming of Jizzus
————————————————-

Day 1
(November 11th 2006)

It was a day at least 4 months in the making. It was somewhere about that long since scriptwriter Karina Jordi provided us with the script/idea we’d need to roll this project in motion, and investors had been nailed down. The project?

Cinema Sewer presents: THE CUMMING OF JIZZUS.

The relatively short 4 hour shoot for the first day of creating this triple X bible story provided some very exciting results. My friend Chelsea directing, myself producing, doing sound (and doing whatever else I could on set to make things go smoothly), and “The Horny Swede” and Jelina on Camera — deftly capturing all the action.

For the rest of the story (complete with NSFW pictures) continue on to my LJ:
http://bougieman.livejournal.com/137598.html

8 MONTHS IN THE MAKING!!!

Yes, it’s dropping… THE JOHN PROJECT!

AS usual, paypals me $5 ($7 overseas) for a copy
mindseye100 ATTT hotmail.com

or mail well concealed US or Canadian cash to

Robin Bougie
#320 – 440 east 5th ave
Vancouver BC V5T-1N5
Canada

(retailers, email me for discounts)

I’m a porn journalist, and I live in the Canadian city of Vancouver.

Ok, maybe I shouldn’t even call it a city… because in comparison to New York, it’s a small hick town, and I can say that with some degree of confidence after recently finally making my way to the Big Apple along side my wing man, a gawky fellow comic and movie nerd nicknamed the Dirty Bird. A friend who shares my same first name — Robin.

We came to Manhattan as younger generation classic porn fans, in search of the sleaze and depravity history has taught us about this place through word, verse, and cum-soaked porno house film stock. The times square and deuce of yesteryear. We knew it was no longer, thanks to the crass, rancid Disneyfication of that section of the isle, but we came to hunt for even a lingering smell of jizz-coated ass…. just to say that we’d been there, and taken a loving whiff.

The hunt for freaky fun began in a strip club across from the Empire state building called Ricky’s. A classy little hole full of skanky little hoes, Ricky’s has an amazing three course lunch menu (where else can you get a steak, salad, side of mashed potatoes and ice cream all for $10??) but thanks to local laws, didn’t have any pussy on display. Even in modest Vancouver the peeler bars have cunt and anus waving around in your face. We were not all that impressed.

The bare titties that walked up and plopped themselves down on our shoulders belonged to some sassy black thang who wanted to know our names. Her terrible boob job gave her wonky nipples, one staring at the floor and the other pointed at the ceiling. When we both answered “Robin”, she demanded to see our ID’s to make sure we weren’t taking the piss outta her. Realising that we were on the level, she exclaimed:

“Well, shit. You two Robin’s can suck on both mah titties anyhow!”

A kind gesture, but I had the feeling the no-touch rules and serious looking bouncer glaring at us wouldn’t have agreed. I gave her a $5 tip for her phat butt gyrations, and we were descended upon by another money-hungry ebony sistah, this one looking a little more cracked out and scrawny. She confidently planted her boney assflesh on my round knee and proceeded to pressure mercilessly.

“You wanna private dance, honey?”
“No, I’m outta money now. Sorry.”
“That cool, baby. Lets go to the ATM and get some mo’”
“Sorry.”
“C’mon now. Don’t you liiiike me? Don’t you got nothin’ in yo’ bank account fo’ me?”
“No, nothing in there. I’m broke and my friend is gay.”

I may as well have announced that we both had the plague. Just like in the Tom Waits song, the girls scattered like crows, and we were free to leave once we finished our two drink minimum — although Dirty was pissed that I didn’t just tell her he was retarded. Who can say? Maybe a retard would at least get some pity-pussy from a good natured whore.

Rounding the corner of 42nd street and 8th ave to find that the famous hallowed ground of depravity known as the “Show World Center” was still in existence gave me huge smile and little bit of hope. I’ll admit it, my heart skipped about 5 beats as I scrambled in the front door, chasing a dream, baring down on those aforementioned ghosts. What I found couldn’t quite live up to legend. It was 3 floors of homogenised truncated fuck-suck. The XXX action was still on hand, but the sense of danger and delirious sexual energy was gone. I searched every inch of Show World looking for it.

Entering a peepshow booth in the basement (the same basement where pseudo-snuff rape peeps and savage bestiality clips were showing in 1980) found only a video screen declaring “God Bless America” before launching into some decidedly boring white-on-black cum guzzling. It was ok I guess, but nothing like what I’d read penned by porn journalists of yesteryear.

But ghosts have a funny way of contacting you from the dead. I was a fool to count New York out so early, because 5 feet from the entrance of Show World — as we walked north along 8th ave — Dirty’s cell phone rang. He answered it, looked confused, and handed me the phone.

“Hello?”, I said into it.

“Hi, Robin..? It’s Jamie Gillis.”
(Despite emailing Gillis and attempting to set up this meeting, Robin is astounded and must pick his jaw off the sidewalk at this juncture)

“Holy shit! Hi Jamie! I just walked out of Show World! Man, I had no idea it was still there, and now you’re phoning me?! T-this is amazing!”

“Oh Show World… yeah. Ha ha! If only it was thirty years ago, I could have taken you in there and shown you things that would just blow your mind. There were naked girls in the basement. For $5 bucks you could do whatever you wanted. It was great.”

And those were the first words I shared in person with classic porn superstud, Jamie Gillis. For those of you coming in late, or who are too senile to remember him, Gillis is one of the most important performers in XXX history, either in front of the camera, or in the directors chair.

In ‘71 Gillis was working with an off-Broadway repertory company, doing classical plays, and to support himself, was driving cab. He’d drive cab all day, then play Hamlet at night, all the while desperate for another job. One day, Gillis answered an ad for “Nude modelling” in The Village Voice thinking he was going to provide inspiration for a local NYC artisan, but as it turned out the modelling going on was in a dirty basement on 14th Street where some stinky guy shot fuck movies.

“I showed up there, worked for about an hour, had a good time, made as much money as I would driving cab, and that’s how I started.” Gillis once told XXX journalist Anthony Petkovitch. “Actually, a lot of people started there in that dirty basement – Linda Lovelace, Eric Edwards, me … But there were no stars in those days, no industry. It was all underground.”

His directorial debut ON THE PROWL back in ‘89 was the first of its kind to take some average dude off the streets, put him in the back of a limousine, and let ‘em wildly fuck away at some sexed up young adult video starlet. It originated the “Gonzo” reality style of porn that currently has a stranglehold on the modern porn world, and was the obvious inspiration for the limo sex scene in P.T. Anderson’s BOOGIE NIGHTS, with Burt Reynolds taking on the role of Gillis.

Also in the late 80’s, Gillis became known in underground porn circles for his outlandish scat and degradation-themed home movies that began to make the rounds amongst perverts in the know. These were totally amateur tapes featuring submissive friends and black streetwalkers that Jamie would shit on and racially degrade. Then the early ’90s he kicked the Pro-Am craze into full gear by co-producing the influential and long running DIRTY DEBUTANTES series with Ed Powers, who then went on to take over (steal?) the series from Gillis and turn it into a massive video rental hit.

In my opinion Jamie is basically XXX royalty and deserves props for his various sleazy achievements in smut, but I’d quickly learn that the man is admirably modest about his various accomplishments when he met us late that evening at a fancy greasy spoon in the west village.

We were flanked by our talented/pretty New York pal Wendy Chin, who, along with her husband/bandmate Jason, didn’t want to miss out on a meeting with such a legendary figure. When Gillis walked in and saw us, one of the first things out of his mouth was “Hey, I haven’t been in here in years. This is just around the corner from the shithole where Linda Lovelace screwed the dog in that old porno loop.”

I was like a dog myself as Gillis dropped little nuggets of porn trivia such as that all through the evening as we all got progressively drunker. Like a dog with it’s head hanging out of the window of a fast moving car, it’s tongue being whipped around by the wind. I was having a fucking blast.

Bizarre anecdotes about the originator of stump fucking: Long Jeanne Silver, a tale about shoving a cigar up his ass in order to woo a woman that was peeping in his window, funny stories about where certain porn stars from yesteryear had ended up… they flowed out of Jamie like a leaky faucet, and it became a torrent after we ended up at a lovely mexican restaurant over on the west side, meeting up with drummer Chester Thompson. Not to name drop too obnoxiously, but this dude played drums for Genesis, Frank Zappa, Phil Collins, and Neil Diamond. Gillis effortlessly hooked us up with super-tasty free Margaritas and interesting drinking companions.

As exciting as Chester was to meet, Gillis was the real deal, and Dirty and Wendy were in full agreement with me. In fact, I think Wendy was a just a little disappointed that this dirty ol’ man molested her only once while copping a feel during our drunken goodnight hugs. Never let it be said that ultra pervs can’t be gentlemen when they wanna.

Within 24 hours, Dirty Bird and I were on our way outta New York, content that even if the city itself didn’t bring the sexy demented thrills we’d been fantasising about, at least it’s ambassador from the golden days of smut was still standing guard, ready to show us an awesome evening.

——-
This Just in:
——-

Robin,

Just read your New York story and loved it! I was the first true porn star to do a stage show at the Show World, (other than perhaps strippers who got into porn and stripped there)!

I then appeared there off and on, doing my bowl show – not a strip act – until I left porn. Many of the other stars and directors then would come to my show because of its uniqueness and humor. I made hot, sexy, and humor work well together. They used to run a clip of one of my movies in the outside wall of the building, on the street. I use to be amazed to step outside and see me sitting on Jamie Gillis, fucking, with my breasts bouncing up and down as I was “riding” him. You didn’t see the actual insertion, but you saw enough to know what you were seeing. You certainly saw my bare breasts and me going at it hard!!! I was always amazed that people walking down the street could see that, It also made me wear a hat and sunglasses outside a lot! LOL.

Anyway, I really enjoyed your piece!

Oh,yes, I also (like Jamie) could tell you tales of what I SAW (not did) in the Show World,as well!

Stay Hot,

Jody Maxwell
——–

One of the interesting things about the internet is that someone can become a quasi celebrity without even knowing it. Remember that goofy home video footage a couple of years ago of that fat kid pretending to be a Jedi-Kight? That was linked out to everyone and their dog within about a week of first appearing online, and before you knew it, nationwide cable news telecasts were even devoted to taking the piss outta that poor Star Wars nerd dancing around in his room with his imaginary lightsabre.

Yes, the short history of the net is rich with odd video clips being traded amongst hundreds of thousands of people – who then fill forum posts and bestow the powerful-yet-primordial fifteen minutes of fame. But surely the greatest of these insane cyber-celebs must be Robert Tilton, although as I will note later, his video underground street cred dates back FAR further than the widespread use of the internet.

For those of you in the dark, Robert Tilton is a super-sketchy televangelist who preaches the Lord’s word in wild, irreverent, nonsensical style. He did so unhindered until sometime in early 1985 when a 4 minute video clip featuring the spastic snake-oil salesman was passed around amongst friends and weird video traders. On the tape in question, Tilton looks lovingly into the camera and provides his trademark long pauses, deep grimaces, grunts, fucking insane facial contortions and priceless quotes. It was over this quirky telecast that someone – no one is quite sure who – put some of the most brilliant flatulent overdubbing ever created.

Yes, I know it sounds immature and stupid, but the Farting Tilton clip is one of the most fucking hilarious things I’ve ever seen. I’ve watched it hundreds of times, and I’m not the only one. StileProject.com, the online mecca for those enthused by the low brow and tasteless said: “The farting preacher is probably one of the most compelling single pieces of satire in human history.”

The footage speaks for itself. But once you know the history of the man starring in it, even heartier laughs will be bestowed upon ye, brothers and sisters. Behold.

In the mid eighties to early nineties, television pastor Robert Tilton and his World Outreach Center Church truely ‘perfected’ the 30 minute god-heavy infomercial – despite never claiming to stand for any specific faith. At their peak, Tilton’s paid advertisements could be seen in all 263 U.S. and Canadian television markets, an incredible achievement. Scandals came and went, but ol’ Rev. Robert somehow managed to avoid the same media scrutiny responsible for bringing down Jim Bakker, Jimmy Swaggart and numerous other evangelical liars and cheats. He took the money and ran – only to come back every night at around 2 am and take the money again.

Apart from his ass-barking, Tilton’s indecipherable speaking-in-tongues is in a class of it’s own. You’ll find his online audio clips of “Mo lata sho bo-lo ko bee baa-to” and “Ohhh bee ma to-ba gee-be ma go” as confusing as they are awesome. But apart from his graying pompadour and dorky shit-eating grin, what really sets Mr. Tilton apart from your average scripture spouter is his abundant shameless enthusiasm for collecting viewers money.

“You send me that money RIGHT now and you WILL be saved! The lord WILL provide! I see you now, ooooohhh yes I do!” hooted a squinting Tilton in one episode of his telecast.

The only thing close to the level of insanity evoked by the series of classic World Outreach infomercials, was their astounding collection of marketing materials – most of which have secured their rightful place in history as the most unusual in the world of faith based brand identity. In the early 90’s, a small collectors market even became centered around the “gifts”, as they were snatched up and coveted by pop-culture obsessed teenagers and mail-art enthusiasts with a taste for the weird and ironic.

No one had ever seen anything quite like what Robert Tilton would send to their house for free – all given in the hope that the recipient would feel an obligation to reciprocate financially. These overstuffed envelopes were self described as “redemption packets”, but mostly they consisted of a dozen back-to-back pages of typed and scribbled notations resembling napkin doodlings of a trained monkey. They also contained “magic pennies”, rubber bands, short bits of yarn, little metal crosses on chains, vegetable seeds, packets of salt, carpet samples, and even lawn clippings in plastic baggies that resembled pot. It was like getting a letter from a criminally insane retard.

“Right now this cloth is plain fabric,” one fold-out poster read. A swiftly scribbled arrow sweeps down the page, pointing to a 2-inch square of nylon-cotton scotch taped to the paper. “But after you send it back with only a $1000 vow, it will be a Miracle Cloth saturated with the presence of God!”

Astonishingly – at it’s peak -Tilton’s mass-market ministry pulled in an estimated $80 million per year, and his church drew as many as 5,000 worshippers to a grand fire and brimstone Sunday service. In exchange for “just a $1,000 vow”, Tilton promised grant miraculous benefits to believers health and finances. “If Jesus Christ were alive today and walking around, he wouldn’t want his people driving Volkswagens and living in apartments,” he said on the air, “Ohh… I know you have cheap cars, burning oil, leaking oil, burning, leaking… -sob-… Oh god.”

But leaky german-made cars were not the most upsetting thing ahead for the Tilton mega-corperation. The Trinity Foundation, an aggressive televangelism watchdog group, took notice of Tilton’s antics (how could they NOT?) and conducted random trash sweeps of the dumpsters behind his ministry headquarters. When they turned over their findings to ABC Television’s PrimeTime Live, mega-bitch Diane Sawyer stomped a media mudhole in Tilton’s ass.

In their ratings-hungry report in November of 1991 (including an interview with a woman who spent two days opening mail for Tilton) it was revealed by ABC that World Outreach Center Church employees were instructed to remove any cash, checks, or jewelry from the returned mailers, and throw the prayer requests into the shit-can. To add insult to network-aided injury, Tilton and his ministry were then sued successfully by a jilted sucker named Vivian Elliott to the tune of $1.5 million. Soon after that – citing massive damage to his credibility by the PrimeTime Live telecast, Tilton went off the air. His Word of Faith church was sold for $6.1 million, and Tilton used most of the money to settle a million dollar fraud lawsuit filed by his first wife.

Before you could say “be-ba so la-ka foo ba bay” Tilton married again – this time to former beauty queen Leigh Valentine. But Miss Valentine quickly divorced him two years later, citing constant physical abuse. According to Leigh, (who had photos of ugly bruises to back up her claims) Robert would slam her face against walls, hurl telephones and plates at her head, throw her down stairs, drink himself into blind rages (often declaring he was the Pope) and wake up in the night screaming that “rats were eating his brain”.

And to make matters worse – while all this was happening, Tilton was constantly farting.

Not (as far as I know) in real life, but in the VCRS and computers of hundreds of thousands of video traders and internet junkies. The 4 minute clip has been been called, “Heaven Only Knows”, “The Farting Tilton” and even the “Joyful Noise” video, but the name that seems to have stuck since its inception in 1985 is PASTOR GAS. Anyone who has seen it, will be instantly awestruck by the flawless comic timing involved in the sound editing of Tilton’s farts. My friends, this is ass humor of the highest caliber.

By 1988 countless bootleg copies were making their way all over the world. People were making VHS copies and sending them to their friends, and this underground network of distribution resulted in THE FARTING TILTON turning up in Europe, Australia, and Japan. In 1989, a new less-scrambled looking version was making the rounds, complete with a title at the beginning and end that read, “Heaven Only Knows”.  Again, copies of the new version quickly spread simply by word of mouth and people continued to make copies for their friends. I discovered it myself for the first time when I watched a 2 hour comp tape called “Religious Quacks” mailed to me by a trade pal in 1997. Around that time, the Revrand’s farting fame hit it’s apex when an episode of THE DREW CAREY SHOW did a direct homage to it – placing fake fart sounds over top of the titular sitcom star.

With a mainstream nod in place, the stage was set for someone to cash in. A company out of Portland claimed that they were the orginal source of the clip, and began to sell 4 minute tapes of the infamous fart footage for $15 each. (www.pastorgas.com) This spread the clip even faster, and in early 1998, Mark and Brian, the hosts of a nationally syndicated radio show got their hands on a copy, referred to it as “that tape that’s going around”, and gave it 30 minutes of free advertising along with resounding hysterical approval. Rock band Sebadoh began projecting the Tilton fart footage on a giant screen between acts, 2 seperate Metal bands put Tilton footage in their videos, and word has it that Berkeley University in California dedicated an entire course based around the low-brow graces of JOYFUL NOISE.

George Ratliff (Director of HELLHOUSE) recently told an interviewer, “I think there should be a documentary just tracking the history of the farting Tilton video. I saw a version of that in, like, 1986. And since then I’ve seen probably six versions — they’ve been evolving. I want to know who’s been putting them out. They’re constantly being recut with new sound effects. It’s too much!”

Ratliff was right. Fans of PASTOR GAS began making their own versions using new Tilton telecasts, and were now posting them online or adding them to the existing footage and sending it along to the next person. New comp collections appeared for sale, the best known being a 2 hour collection of Tilton-isms called MONDO TILTON. It was like a flatulent god based cult revolution taking over the planet, and tracking it’s history became one of my mini-obsessions.

In late 2000, after the internet had saturated the clip even further, a rumor began to circulate that FARTING TILTON had been created by two disgruntled guys on Tilton’s staff, and when good ol’ Bob ‘caught wind’, (sorry, I couldn’t resist) he had fired them. Now here’s where it gets scary: Turns out that the mysterious Portland company that’s sold thousands of copies of PASTOR GAS normally makes infomercials. Um, infomercials? Could it be that Tilton himself has found a way to profit off the people laughing at his noisy bunghole? No one knows for sure, but take this into account: Tilton never gave up. He’s back doing today what he’s always done, and is again reaching millions of loyal TV viewers. He’s formed multiple companies, bought a 50-foot yacht, and scored a chunk of oceanfront property in Miami Beach valued at $1.3 million.

Tilton’s probably even speaking in tongues and farting to emphasize his rapturous joy as we speak. If we’ve learned anything from the Pastor of gas, it’s to Praise the lord and to Be-ba me-fa fo-lo be da-day!

Check out some Farting Tilton action at:

http://www.fartingpreacher.org/index.php?action=showgal&cat=25

By: Robin Bougie. 2005.