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July 07, 2008
HX Column: Cock in Your Tail, Anyone?
If we lived in a saner world, I could say I’m a teetotaler without most people thinking that means I take crystal. Still, those who know me as a non-drinker might be very surprised to learn that in my Lucas Entertainment films, I have made some profound uses of ultra-premium wines. One actor turned in an especially sizzling performance after doing a deep enema with a bottle of Chateau Margaux 1959. It was a hot, wet year at the Chateau and the perfect balance of berry notes, tannins and light oak get an evening going like nothing else, except, perhaps, a bottle of Romanée-Conti. So sophisticated am I in my enological preferences that what I love most is when the terroir gives a wine a taste like freshly-fucked ass. If you can’t tell I’m pulling your leg, then you better have a hot body because you’re not likely to get dates with your intelligence.
In New York, we associate prolonged drinking with sights such as a fat-caboose drag queen passed out face first across a mahogany bar with the frills of her petticoats in shocking disarray around her imperfectly waxed buttocks. Yet in my native Russia, you will not see anything so classy associated with drinking and drunks. The disgusting bloated red-and-blue faced men I saw staggering and puking in public when I was growing up in the land of Tchaikovsky, Tolstoy, vodka and more vodka might as well have had “Cirrhosis” signs hanging off their necks. That isn’t even mentioning that my beloved choke barf Russia is the motherland of the Molotov cocktail.
Given that drinking too much gives men slurred speech and limp dicks, I don’t understand why so many cocktails have sexually evocative names. There’s the Orgasm cocktail made with Bailey’s, Kahlua and Amaretto. That outrages me, because the best recipe for an orgasm is one part hard hairy dick, one part tight butthole and several thousand pelvic thrusts. As for that concoction with crème de cacao and cherry liquor with a maraschino cherry on top; they call it an Angel’s Tit but I say angel’s tit my ass. The Fuzzy Navel, The Slammer, The Sex on the Beach, The Hairy Virgin, The Pink Lady; these are all examples of gross cocktails that have corrupted beautiful words and names normally associated with filthy dirty wonderful perverted sex acts.
In this space, I had thought to say that I don’t mind other men drinking if a guy can hold his liquor. But to tell you the truth, it’s much better if instead of holding his liquor, a man deploys it to advantage in a soaking wet watersports scene. What is the use of drinking a Bellini, a Cosmopolitan, an Appletini or any of those other brightly colored cheap fairy drinks they serve at gay bars if afterwards you aren’t going to plug your hose down a throat and let her rip?
In closing, I’m going to state that for me, all of the cultural glory associated with drinking and cocktails is summed up in the name of the signature drink of Quark’s Bar & Restaurant at the Las Vegas Hilton. Made with gin, rum, vodka, blue Curaçao and God knows what else, it is called Adios Motherfucker.
Posted by Michael at July 7, 2008 11:39 AM
Comments
Hello Michael, i havn't known you 're non-drinker, but doesn't matter. I like your Films since many years an if you ever come to Hamburg (Germany), i'd like to invite you for a drink, just to say HELLO and to meet one of the most fascinating people in this world :-)... Best regards, Michael
Posted by: Michael at July 7, 2008 08:52 PM
I am glad to see that you are back :)
Posted by: Tonio at July 8, 2008 08:15 PM