Posts Tagged ‘liar’

Junk Science

Garbage In/Garbage Out

Most of us in this arena were around for the sturm und drang surrounding the shutdown of the Craigslist Erotic Services section. The justification for the assault on hooker ads was, of course, sex trafficking. We must shut down hooker ads. For the children.

Of course, with this seeming victory under their belt, the ‘for the children,’ anti-trafficking crusaders were just emboldened to go further and further. So now we’re more often seeing sex work prohibitionists using the same tired, discredited points. Trafficking! Underage trafficking! White slavery!

The problem, we’re told, is that child prostitution is increasing at a geometric rate. One of the primary groups pounding this drumbeat warns us in dire terms that anywhere from 100,000 to almost half a million girls a year are being lured into sex slavery. The rate of underage girls being trafficked has risen by an astonishing 64.7% in Minnesota alone, they tell us. These shocking revelations are then repeated by the press as if they were accurate. When in fact, they couldn’t be further from the truth.

It’s junk science. The numbers are all guesses. In some cases, they arrived at their foregone conclusions merely by looking at pictures of sex workers posted online. That’s right. If you’re an adult female who just happens to be petite, thin and flat chested, chances are these self appointed guardians of morality counted you as a trafficked, pimped underage child.

And worse, they know the numbers are faked. The director of an Atlanta based anti-prostitution group says “we pitch it the way we think you’re going to read it and pick up on it… If we give it to you with all the words and the stuff that is actually accurate—I mean, I’ve tried to do that with our PR firm, and they say, ‘They won’t read that much.'”
They know that the more salacious the claim, the more likely it is to be picked up and perpetuated in the media… and the more likely they are to continue to receive funding. That’s right. It’s all about money. They’re consciously using sex workers to make money. Funny, there’s a word for someone who makes money from the labors of sex workers: “pimp.” Look at some of the corporate sponsors lining up to give funding to anti-prostitution groups based on junk science, faulty research and outright deception: Southwest Airlines, Merril Lynch/Bank of America, Goldman Sachs, American Express, the Ms. Foundation for Women, and many more. Lying about sex workers is a cash grab scam… er, lucrative business.

Real Men Don’t Listen to Ashton Kutcher

Of course, when we talk about junk reporting regarding sex workers, we have to talk about the latest self-seving publicity campaign from Ashton Kutcher and Demi Moore and their “Real men don’t buy girls” campaign.

Taking the puritanical charlatans at face value, Ashton has gathered all his celebrity pals to do public service announcements (I wonder how many of those fulfill court ordered community service?) to let us know that prostitution = slavery. Ironic, considering that neither Ashton nor Demi have shied away from exploiting sex work for their own gain. Demi famously went so far as to have her boobs plumped to portray a stripper in 1996’s Striptease, playing a variation on the ‘hooker with a heart of gold.’ And it 2009, Ashton himself, opposed as he is on general principle to any sort of sex work, starred in Spread, a movie where he plays a guy with nothing going for him except a big dick, which he uses to trade sex for housing from lonely Hollywood sugar mamas. Hate to break it to you Ash, you’re a whore. So once again, it’s OK when you’re making a buck from sex work, but it’s not OK when actual sex workers do it.

What’s dangerous about the Ashton & Demi campaign is how cavalierly it equates sex work to slavery. It does a huge disservice to sex workers, but worse (much worse) it completely trivializes real slavery.

Look, I’m just a guy who likes to fuck hookers (yet another reason I’ll never be President.) And I’m going to continue to fuck hookers, whether busybody social do-gooders or Hollywood celebrities like it or not. That’s right, I’m going to continue to fuck willing, consenting adults in exchange for money. And frankly, if Ashton wasn’t so Demi-whipped, he’d probably be doing the same. Hmmm… I wonder if those PSAs aren’t Ashton’s Demi-ordered community service for getting caught banging some stripper? Just asking questions.

I’m not a sociologist, I’m not a researcher, I’m not a crusader.But there are real researchers, real advocates, real scholars who are looking at this data and calling “bullshit.” Before you fall for their line of bullshit, before you let yourself– whether on the supply or demand side of the equation– be stigmatized by someone whose twin motivations are to legislate their own brand of morality and enrich themselves in the process, do your own research. It’s out there. Call into question those who would brand you as worse than criminal based on lies told for profit.

Do it

Inch by inch

Pro Tip: If you can’t find a respectable hooker to come out to see you, maybe it’s because of all the other hookers you stood up.

If, even in a City of Sinful exotic hotties, you can’t get just one to come out to your hotel on short notice, it might have something to do with all those No Shows/No Calls back home.

Deja vu.

Here we go again...

I’ve had this conversation before.

As I sit around with my other evil genius pals, planning out how to take over the “hobbyist” world, this scenario plays out over and over again. How to gain access. How to infiltrate. How to get in unnoticed. If, say, one was a reporter, a cop or just someone looking to manipulate the system, how do you get your foot in the door? Most of the escort message boards and online forums have layers of built in security. But as any Bond villain will tell tell you, it’s the simplest plans that work best. And, as any Bond villain also knows, the girl is always the key.

For whatever nefarious purposes, you’re trying to create a Trojan Horse persona to grant you access to the inner circles of the hobbyist/escort community. Well, any guy can call himself a hobbyist, but if you don’t have any well established escorts vouching for you, you’re left out in the cold. The answer then, is obvious. You need a girl. You become a girl.

From the early days of the cyber sex chat rooms, perverts everywhere have known this. The girl is the key. You can pretend to be a brain surgeon astronaut spy all day long, but no one’s gonna bite. But as soon as a girl enters the room, she’s swarmed. You didn’t really think all those hot horny lonely girls online were really hot horny lonely girls, did you?

For the purposes of manipulating the escort forums, how does one ‘become a girl’? First step, set up a website. Make sure to give yourself a sexy name. Pictures will help. You can find those pretty much anywhere. If you’re willing to steal somebody else’s pics, that is. But, hey, you’ve come this far, what do you care about stealing some ho’s content? You join the forums under your sexy new name. Participate a bit, drive traffic to your new website/blog. Make sure to talk — a lot– about how hot horny lonely sexy slutty you are. The sluttier the better. You’ll get lots of interest from the “hobbyists.” That is, after all what they’re there for. Sooner or later, they’ll be clamoring to see you. They can’t, of course, unless y’all are dying to try out some sort of “Crying Game” scenario. But that’s not a problem, because you have no intention of actually seeing anyone.  You’re exclusive. You’re all booked up. You’re much too hot and sexy to see just anyone.  And you certainly aren’t going to lower your standards for them.

The forums are mostly geared to screen out the guys. There are many reasons for the lopsided prejudice. Cops are men, rapists are men, pimps are men. And that last one actually probably has more to do with the increased vigilance of men. The ever-on-alert board mods are looking, not for the potential danger, but for the fake review. Because that’s what matters to them. Remember that. To be fair, a lot of escorts have been known to attempt to create fake “hobbyists” in order to write themselves a glowing review. What no one seems to be on the lookout for, however, is the fake “escort” vouching for… well, “herself.”

Everyone gets splattered

The shit finally hits the fan.

We’ve been going ’round and ’round about this for a while now, haven’t we? For the better part of a year, escorts, strippers, cam girls, models, bloggers, and journalists have been saying “something’s wrong.”
By then, though, the masquerade had become so real to some that every alert raised, every warning shouted, every veil lifted was met with cries of: “you’re just jealous.”
Yeah, jealousy. That’s why wave after wave after wave of real, verifiable sex workers and their advocates were saying “something’s wrong.”
What’s just as telling as who did raise a red flag is who didn’t.
There’s the usual assortment of sycophants, those who invested so much in believing the lie that they couldn’t bear to let go of their own fantasies. There are those who saw the evidence of deception and basically shrugged their shoulders and said “so what?” Then there are those who knew, who were aware that people were being lied to, that someone was manipulating the system, that people were being put in danger… and did nothing. Worse than doing nothing, some of them reveled, delighted in the possibility that harm may befall someone, even if only as collateral damage from the scandal. But that’s to be expected from the sort of community culture that treats women as door prizes.
Make no mistake, people knew. The one thing every villain needs is accomplices, co-conspirators.
But as an evil genius, you’re smart enough to not let your fake girl make the only unforgivable mistake: writing a fake review.
The lip service, the party line, the public policy is that the message/review/social networking forums exist to make everyone safe. The reality is that the only important thing is the valid review. Real women being put at risk barely raises a blip on their radar. Fake reviews on the other hand, that’s a hanging offense, on par only with being an uppity, outspoken female.

I’ve been asked a lot in the last few days about what I knew and when I knew it. Having been one of those who wrote, repeatedly, about the dangers presented by impostors, and having had some access to ‘insider’ sources. I know that there were people in a position to know that a certain online persona was a fake, a faux, a fabrication. But they were more interested in maintaing the fraudulent female than protecting the real ones. Because the presence of the hot horny slutty girl, willing to take on all comers, no matter how fallacious, was more beneficial to to their bottom line than exposing the con. Because if the highest profile, most prolific “whore” in their stable is exposed as a figment of some self-styled eroticist’s fevered imagination, then every other review becomes suspect. If you can’t believe that the girl everyone is vouching for is real, then how can you believe that the girl with only one or two or three reviews is real. Of course, the fake girl has no reviews at all; she can’t, she’s not really out there sucking stranger’s dicks for money. And if she only has one review from one guy –who’s only reviewed ‘her’– then the fantasy falls apart.
Over the course of the past year or so, I’ve written about this one particular deception. I’ve also written about others. As I look at the online escort landscape, I see more and more fakes. In light of the recent revelations, when you see an ‘escort’ with no reviews, no pictures, no website, yet pages and pages and pages of salacious stories of their exceedingly slutty exploits… that no one can verify… maybe everything is not as we are expected to believe. Throw in the overt, obvious, almost desperate attempts to cash in with book, TV or movie deals, then all signs point to “faux.”

No, I don’t know “PatBo”. But I do know that he’s not alone.

Behind the mask.

The Observer rocks on

In 1992, H. Ross Perot mounted a campaign for the U.S. Presidency as a third party candidate; he chose as his running mate Admiral James Stockdale. During his opening remarks at the Vice-Presidential debate against Al Gore and Dan Quayle, Admiral Stockdale uttered the line that cemented the public’s view of the till-then unknown war hero as a doddering, out of touch old man: “Who am I? Why am I here?”

Since I started writing this blog a while ago, there has been a certain segment of our little society of whoremongers curious about who I may (or may not) be. That curious sector has now expanded into a virtual cottage industry.

Am I some guy lashing out at those who done me wrong? Am I some guy angling for free pussy? Or am I just bullshitting and making it all up?

The more common guesses center around the issue of my gender. Because I have written much that is critical of the guys involved in these tawdry pursuits, the natural inclination among those tawdry guys is to instantly assume I’m not really one of them. Because I criticize the guys, I must be a woman. It’s obvious! I must be some bitter, angry hooker seeking online revenge.

Sorry to burst your bubble, guys, but just as Vicki Vale knows who Batman really is, there’s one person who can attest to the fact that I really am male. Sure, I may be an old grey dog;  a short, fat, balding middle aged guy with a waistline that provides shelter from the sun for my penis. But that still counts as male.

So who am I, then? Lean in closer, I’ll whisper it. Just to you. Don’t tell anyone.

I don’t want to give out any Spoilers. Maybe I have other hobbies besides fucking hookers. Maybe I’m an outlaw, a desperate outlaw. Maybe I’m Fresh Off the Boat, like listening to emo bands or maybe I’m Radioactive Man‘s sidekick..

I’m not anyone but just plain lil’ ol’ me. After all, WTF, it’s… just me. I may have been born between October 23 and November 21 for those of you astrologically inclined. Maybe you can identify me by the car I drive.

I may not be a real doctor (or play one on TV), maybe that’s just an honorary title. I may not be a real lawyer, I may just be some guy who likes to talk about law. I’m not Five, of that I’m sure. And pretty certain I’m not Eight.

Maybe I’m black, maybe I’m white. I may be Asian. Am I an oddly tall Korean from the Valley? Or am I a Chinese guy from L.A.?

I’m just here to tell the troo…errr… Truth.

Back from the grave.

Evil Never Dies. I guess.

You know how in horror movies, there’s always a moment when the protagonist thinks he’s killed the evil monster, only to have the monster pop up from the dead to attack again?

You think you’ve struck a death blow, only to find that the evil zombie has just been biding it’s time, waiting for the shitstorm to blow over, then it comes back to strike terror again as if nothing had ever happened?

Yeah, it’s kinda like that.

Romance meets Finance.


He was a millionaire property developer. She was a $500 an hour escort. Sure, he was married when they met on an Internet site devoted to setting up rich men with… well, with women looking for rich men. But those are just details. That was long before the lawyers got involved.

The story of millionaire Robert Brot and callgirl Lindsey DeLeon starts out, as so many of these stories do, with a simple pay-for-play arrangement. The newspapers now call it a Cinderella story gone wrong. Brot now alleges he gave her thousands of dollars so she could leave behind the sordid world of having sex for money. When she took his money and ran, he sued her to get the money back.

Now, I don’t know any of the people involved in this story. I don’t know any of the details, beyond what’s being reported in the news. And not knowing, I don’t really care. What I do know is this: the news refers to him as a “Prince Charming.” They call her a “conwoman.” The implication is clear. He gave and gave. She took and took. After all, he’s a married man who cheated on his wife with women he picked up on the Internet and paid tens of thousands of dollars. But she’s a dirty whore.

Hobbyists lending money to hookers is nothing new. Hookers taking the money and leaving the hobbyist high, dry and holding his own pud is nothing new.  There’s a fairly well known escort who comes in and out of L.A. from time to time who is known to have taken thousands of dollars from a client. When he complained that the money was given as an ‘advance’ against future services, she declared him to be a creepy stalker and announced that she was never fucking him and never giving the money back. Another guy posted on the Bargain Basement Board that he had been robbed by some hooker he trusted. Seems he gave her his credit card number, just so she could post a few Craigslist ads, and was surprised when she ran up hundreds of dollars in Home Shopping Channel merchandise on his card. There again, the subtext of the story was: generous, chivalrous gentleman/greedy, gold digging whore. Again, I don’t know those people personally, so it’s all just “he said/she said.” But the overriding sentiment is, don’t give money to hookers, they’ll just take the money and run. That is, after all, what whores do.

Of course, in many of these stories you gotta wonder why the guy is handing over cash, jewelry and credit to some random message board hooker. To hear them tell it, it’s purely out of the goodness of their wee little hearts, But scratch the surface (no need to go too deep, either) and you’ll see that it’s usually some sort of hedge against future nookie. The twisted logic seems to be, if they give this gal money when she needs it, she’ll give them sex. Yeah, they’re paying for a freebie.

But the story of Robert and Lindsey takes on a slightly different tone. According to him, he fell in love. The money wasn’t a down payment on future sexual services, but given freely  to the woman he loved to help her build a better life. He proposed marriage, he bought her a ring. Guys often fall in “love” with hookers they’re fucking. Hey, it can sometimes be difficult to separate feelings of intimacy from feelings of biology. To separate the feelings in your heart from the feelings in your groin. Guys who have been doing this for any length of time are always quick to admonish the newcomers, “don’t fall in love.” And that’s good advice, if only superficially. I don’t want to veer off here into the whole ‘should you ever date a hooker’ scenario; the ‘is it possible to fall in love with a hooker’ conundrum.

Yeah, you give money to a hooker, there’s a chance you’re gonna get taken. But that’s true of lending money to your shiftless brother-in-law, too. “Hobbyists”, it should come as no surprise, tend to treat hookers like… well, hookers. Money is manipulation. From the White Knight to the Captain Save-A-Ho, the motivation is the same: keep the hooker indebted. To you. But sometimes –sometimes– the hard luck story of the rent being due, the car broken down, the wolves at the door are real. And sometimes –sometimes– it behooves us as human beings to look beyond the occupation to the person. Treating escorts like real human women shouldn’t be an alien concept.

So, should you lend money to a hooker? Short answer is “no.” Should you lend money to a friend? Sure. But make sure you’ll still be friends when you don’t get your money back.

The long tearful farewell.

How can we miss you if you won't go away?

It’s a cliché of every sad, tragic, romantic movie. Tugging at the heartstrings, emotion laid bare.

I… I… just can’t go on. I don’t have it in me to continue. But before I go… tell me how much you’ll miss me.

“Those of you who know me,” they’ll say, “know I don’t do things half-assed.” Who would that be? Who knows you?

It’s becoming more and more common on escort message boards, Twitter and blogs to throw yourself a pity party before you leave. Sometimes it takes days, weeks for someone to leave. And all the while, reveling in the fond remembrances of those who love them… or the voices in their own heads.

It’s like something out of a Garry Marshall movie. “Please don’t go!” “We’ll miss you so!”

You'll miss me, won't you?

Seems like not a week goes by without someone announcing that they’re leaving. No one just leaves. They all have to let you know that they’re leaving and why. And of course you have to give your legions of devoted followers (or sock puppets) ample opportunity to tell you and the world how fabulous you are. “I just don’t have the heart to stand any longer, there will be no more.” However, “I’ll continue seeing my regular clients as long as they wish me to.”

Look, just pull the plug and slink off stage. STFU and GTFO. If ya wanna go, just fuckin’ go. If it takes you a week to craft your thousand word farewell, that’s a whole damn week out of your bright shiny new life wasted.

Boo fuckin' hoo

If it takes a 3 volume novella with 100 comments and a cast of thousands to tell us all about how you have better, more important things to do… well, how ’bout you stop telling us and start doing them. If you have so much free time on your hands that you can come up with seven paragraphs with links and photos about how you’re much too distraught to go on, maybe stepping away from the computer is the best thing for you. Trust me, we’ll find a way to soldier on without you. There are actual hookers out there to fuck.

Don't it just break your heart?

And just so you don’t think I’m being unduly harsh to the dearly departing ladies, let me assure you that guys do this, too. I can’t tell you how many times a ‘hobbyist’ will post all about how he has to leave the board, usually because his wife found out. If only he’d known how not to get caught. Sure, he was stupid enough to get caught, and now he’s going to compound the stupidity by throwing himself a going away party where all the hookers will tell him how much they’ll miss him cuz he was such a great client. Might as well just hand your balls to the divorce lawyers. But they must have their last hurrah. That one last time when they can be the big fish, even if it is in a small local pond. Well, the last time that is, until they come back in a month with a new handle and start all over again.

I have to confess, I was once taken in by the pitiful goodbye. A somewhat well known escort on a previous incarnation of a message board posted that she was leaving, retiring, moving out of town, So long, thanks for all the fish. Like a sucker, I responded. Sorry to see you go, darn the luck, I had hoped to get around to seeing you sometime. Oh well, good luck, good bye. She pounced. Well, she wasn’t gone yet, I could still get in to see her. Why, she’d even give me a discount. Feeling caught, I said yes. She was perfectly fine, a lovely lady, we had a pleasant time. But, really, I probably wouldn’t have seen her if she hadn’t posted that goodbye thread. Since then, she’s moved out of town, moved back, retired, un-retired. And each time with great accompanying fanfare. She’s had more farewell tours than Cher.

It’s remarkably easy to leave. This isn’t the Hotel California. You don’t have to post a thread asking the board admin to delete your account. You don’t have to tell us all about what the future holds. You don’t have to get in that final dig at your detractors. You just have to go.