I’ve posted a new story to The War Project website. Sgt. George Zubaty is an Army veteran of Iraq and Afghanistan. Read an excerpt …

Once we got closer to the city, we were in between two armored battalions. We’ve got tanks behind us, and we’ve got tanks in front of us. Our vehicle convoy is long, so we don’t see the tanks in front of us, we don’t see the tanks behind us, but we certainly see what they’ve done, in front of us, because they’re killing everybody on the road.

Every single vehicle we come by is shot up, burnt, tank tread down the center of it. I mean, you’re looking in a car, and there’ll be mom, dad, kids, everything’s burnt, everything’s torn up. Remember, it’s 2003. At that point, Army units, they were training to do a general movement warfare type action. The whole point of our training was, just kill people. It wasn’t soft and nice. It was, you’ve been shot at, you shoot back until the firing stops. You could see immediately it wasn’t going to be productive.

They knew that there was an invasion coming, I guess, but their propaganda, their state-run television, their state-run radio, and everything, they’re not reporting it as, we’re being invaded, there are people right outside Baghdad. So people had gotten on the interstate that morning to go see family, to go shopping, to go wherever. They drive down the interstate, and the first time they notice that there’s an American armor convoy coming is when they start to get shot at. Tanks don’t miss.

[Staff Sgt. George Zubaty]

Either way, of course, the release of these 91,000, 92,000, whatever the current tally is, documents is more a testament to the willful ignorance of the American public than it is evidence of the military’s purported deception of the aforementioned citizens. As a girlfriend of mine likes to say when such circumstances arise: “I mean, really?” What did everyone think was going on over there? Oh, right. They didn’t. Think, that is. They were too busy loading up their SUVs, scoring another mortgage, taking the kids to the pool and resisting the urge not to drown them like so many kittens in a burlap sack.

The whole affair reminds me of the scads of emails I received after I published “They Shoot Porn Stars, Don’t They?“, a not-very-pretty expose of the porn industry during the recession. It’s like life in wartime, but with more double-anals. Email after email rolled in (mostly from dudes, natch) in which readers expressed their quiet, sensitive astonishment. “I had no idea it was like that.” “Thank you for showing me a world I had no idea existed.” “I can’t believe how brutal the porn industry really is, and now my only fear in life is that I will no longer be able to masturbate to conclusion as my favorite jizz flick plays before me.”

I wanted to write back, as we say on the internet, “O RLY?” You had no idea that when your job description includes anal, that job isn’t easy? You actually believed everything Jenna Jameson sold you on “Oprah,” in her New York Times best-seller (!), in her “E! True Hollywood Story”? Please.

Americans know what’s going on in the Middle East, at least generally, as well they know what’s going on behind the scenes in a porn movie. (NB: Personal aside to the, I assume, young man who keeps sending me the same email asking if porn stars are really enjoying it or just pretending, the answer, mostly, is: They’re faking it.) We choose not to know. We choose not to find out. We choose ignorance. Why? Because it’s easier. Because it’s less complicated. Because it’s so much more pleasant to ride a mower around the front lawn while whining about the heat than it is to, say, listen to a soldier’s story, or, you know, admit that you are well aware that 99-percent of the orgasms in porn movies are faked — for your benefit.

So, yeah, drink the Kool-Aid, pretend you’re shocked, and take another sip of that whatever it is you’re drinking. Lord knows you’re not alone. These days, we’re drowning in it.

Image via Wikipedia

In a stunning turn, all charges have been dropped against adult movie director John Stagliano, who went on trial in a Washington, DC courtroom this week, where he faced a series of federal obscenity charges.

AVN.com [NSFW] reports the news:

Describing the prosecution’s evidence as “woefully inadequate,” Judge Richard J. Leon this afternoon granted the defendants’ motions to dismiss under Rule 29 of the Federal Rules of Criminal Procedure, and dismissed the five and a half remaining counts of the indictments against Stagliano, John Stagliano Inc. and Evil Angel Productions Inc.

The trial had been a farce from start to finish. Earlier in the week, prosecutors were unable to figure out how to properly play a CD featuring a trailer for “Fetish Fanatic 5,” resulting in the dismissal of several of the counts. Along the way, DC jurors watched highlights from “Storm Squirters 2: Target Practice,” in which porn starlets squirted into one another’s mouths, and “Milk Nymphos,” in which:

one of the women used a plastic syringe to insert milk into another performer’s ass, which was then “excreted”; that in another scene, a woman used an “enema-shaped object” to inject the milk, which also was “excreted,” while in the final scene, two women looking for “milkshakes” wind up in an apartment where milk is siphoned into a woman’s ass through a tube and … you guessed it.

Finally, it was revealed that prosecutor Pamela Satterfield had seemingly lied to FBI special agent Daniel Bradley, the agent who had originally ordered the suspected obscene adult materials, when she had previously instructed the agent to review key materials in the case because, she claimed, the case’s presiding judge, Richard J. Leon, had told her to tell Bradley to do so. In court, an apparently highly agitated Leon angrily denied ever having instructed Satterfield to do any such thing, and, earlier today, Satterfield submitted an affidavit stating that Leon had not, in fact, given her any such instructions. Not long after, Leon dismissed the five and half remaining charges against Stagliano et al. and the case came to an end.

The Stagliano case was slated to be the obscenity trial of the 21st century. Now that the internet has turned “community standards” into an antiquated notion and sexual taboos have all but fallen by the wayside, it seems increasingly unlikely that the notion of “obscenity” can be taken seriously, especially in a court of law. In a way, the case’s odd end was wishfully predicted, at least in adult movie industry circles, a symbol of the Obama administration’s level of interest in pursuing obscenity cases: nonexistent.

Of course, only time will tell how the US government’s do-what-you-like attitude will trickle down to effect the day-to-day slog of working in the porn business. Historically, a slow down in obscenity prosecutions has led to an increase in pornographers creating increasingly provocative and extreme content, a trend likely to be furthered as the adult industry struggles to stay afloat in the wake of the economic downturn. Surely, liberals will posit the Stagliano dismissal as a win for First Amendment fans — and then they can go right back to turning a blind eye to what’s really going down in Porn Valley.

Hey, don’t hate me just because the guy who stars in those hilarious “Look at your man” Old Spice commercials, Isaiah Mustafa, made me a special personalized video message. Not every girl can be so lucky.

A few weeks ago, I posted about the latest round of Old Spice commercials. The series has been a hit; the original commercial has so far garnered nearly 13 million views on YouTube. Apparently, someone at Old Spice saw the post that I wrote, and the savvy folks at Old Spice HQ created the video you see here, in which Mustafa name checks me and quotes from my post.

While I assure you there is nothing (well, almost nothing) quite so pleasurable as having a half-naked former NFL player-turned-slobber-worthy actor say your name while wearing a towel as the camera pans slowly (so! very! slowly!) across his finely sculpted abs (suck it, The Situation!), I was not the only one upon whom Mustafa squirted his affections.

The effort is part of a clever new campaign — as of this writing, about 20 or so other blogs and sites that mentioned the commercials got similar treatment. I think this means that my relationship to Mustafa is non-monogamous. Sigh.

In any case, if this customized commercialism is the latest thing in viral video sensations, please don’t let this be the end.

[YouTube]

“Cali” is the blogger behind (NSFW) The Las Vegas Courtesan. A five-year veteran of the escorting business, she has been called “the Washingtonienne of Sin City.” Here, she talks about her life as a 21st century call girl, from the return of financial industry clients, the battle over tipping, and what sex acts men request when they’re down on their luck.

At first the change in the clients and money was a slow one. Las Vegas has always been a roller coaster of a ride in earning money as a sex worker or as a stripper, so at first I didn’t really notice much of a change. The highs got a little lower and the bad nights got a little more frequent. I would say that the bad times really were noticeable in the fall of 2008 when the markets really fell and things really took a turn for the worst. I remember that fall for a few months it seemed like I was just sitting at home waiting for nonexistent calls. I noticed another large dip in the spring of 2009, which is normally the most busy time of the year with the most conventions coming to town during the months of Feb-May. Obama had made a few choice comments in February that year and it started a cascade effect of cancellations of conventions. Normally I would be very busy and making good money, but instead it was like someone closed Las Vegas down to the normal happy conventioneers. Since late 2009 until now I have seen things pick back up ever so slightly, especially this year. Nothing huge or a “back to normal” state, but people seem a little more relaxed about spending money on having a good time. I have also noticed most recently a jump in people who work in the financial industry.. such as bankers, hedge fund managers, investors, etc.

As for the types of clients I meet, that has changed as well. There are a lot more foreign clients, which a lot of times are difficult due to language barriers and what they are accustomed to in their country. Some agencies have raised their fees due to greedy cab drivers who are having an issue making money actually driving, but some have become more lenient with negotiating the company’s fee because clients are working on a tighter budget. They would rather make something than nothing and potentially have a client get mad at the girl. I meet a lot more guys who have been ripped off at the massage parlors, which makes my job a lot more difficult and also I think has had an effect on people wanting to return to Vegas and call an escort. It leaves a bad taste in their mouth (no pun intended) and they are reluctant to call back in the future on their next trip. As far as my income goes, I definitely have had to make some adjustments to what clients think is fair for certain services. Many more people are on set budgets when they call an escort and a lot more negotiating goes on now. What used to be a 15 minute transaction (getting the fee + tip for services) has often turned into a 30 minute or more ordeal. I have also come to the realization of “it’s better to get something than walk away”. You can almost always work something out with people and it’s better to work towards that than waste your time unpaid. Some girls say that I have a gift of patience to deal with people…. glad they see me that way!

I haven’t had any different requests only that people have become a little more simple at what they want to do because they know they can’t afford to splurge. They tend to now keep it a little more easy and quick because they know their budget prevents them from a longer session or adding a dinner date. All in all I think people are doing a slight bit better but have become more aware of their spending and not getting themselves into a credit card black hole like they would have done mid 2005. Las Vegas is still the “roller coaster” it has always been but the averages are picking up a bit more.

[(NSFW) The Las Vegas Courtesan, Twitter]

Image via Wikipedia

Last week, Playboy Enterprises announced more layoffs, looking to save some $3 million a year and planning a shift from media company to licenser of the Playboy brand. The company has been on the market for some time, but so far it has failed to sell. According to Crain’s ChicagoBusiness.com, “Playboy Chief Executive Scott Flanders said in a statement the company is ‘aggressively looking’ for ways to streamline the organization.” In other words, the brand is a sinking ship.

Of course, Playboy is but one sector of the sex industry that has found itself floundering since the onset of the recession. I’ve written elsewhere on the struggles the adult movie industry has faced in the wake of federal obscenity indictments, online content pirating, and the economic downturn, not to mention more recent attempts by an AIDS advocacy organization to enforce a state regulation that requires condom use on all adult film sets.

The girl in the swing is Ryan Hunter, a pretty, 24-year-old aspiring actress who looks like a young Sandra Bullock, whose career she would like to emulate. Last year, she moved to Los Angeles from Las Vegas, where she was a student and a cocktail waitress. Now, as [adult film director] Jim [Powers] dotes on her, she giggles and smiles, leans back in the swing, and tosses her shoulder-length brown hair highlighted with blond streaks. She lets her mouth fall open, and her gratuitously glossed lips part. She runs a hand along her long, lithe body, which bears no signs of surgical intervention, and is, like the body of nearly every other performer in this business, deeply tan. When asked why she got into porn, she shrugs and responds simply: “For money.”

Previously, sex has continued to sell aggressively even in challenging times. Immediately after 9/11, the adult industry saw little change in profits as content continued to sell well. When times are hard, sex businesses often prosper as Americans looking for escapist pleasures and distractions from their woes turn to porn, flock to strip clubs, and seek out prostitutes. But this time around, not so much.

Curious how the strip club sector was faring, I asked “Bubbles,” a 16-year veteran of the scene who tweets under the Twitter handle StripperTweets from behind the red curtain at the clubs where she dances, how the business of dancing naked has changed since the economy tanked. She painted a picture of an industry in which strippers are turning to prostitution to make ends meet, in which depressed men yearn for human touch, and in which competition is, as she puts it, “separating the women from the girls.”

Well, here are some of the things I’ve seen happen in the past 18 months: clubs closing down. Clubs cutting back the number of dancers on shift. House fees and dance cuts getting higher. Dancers becoming cam girls. Dancers becoming escorts. I’ve actually seen a PHENOMENAL number of dancers turn to escorting. Not so much doing extra shit in the clubs, but wholesale quitting dancing and escorting as a fulltime gig. Dancers becoming sugar babies. Customers being depressed about layoffs. And in the midst of all this, entire states in the depressed Midwest (Ohio, Missouri) have enacted stricter rules that are guaranteed to reduce business and raise the level of service/”dirtyness” in the clubs, which is what always happens when you decide to turn a topless lapdance into a prostitution charge.

Yeah, spending is down. The difference in tips is crazy. I still make more doing this than I would, say, teaching or working in whatever fields I’m qualified for with my NSFW resume and English B.A., but I have had weeks where I look at my numbers and sigh.

Also, 90% of strip club owners are total fucking morons who only made money because they managed to get a liquor license and a pole. They don’t give a shit about providing good customer service or having a clue about marketing. They don’t train their staff at all. They don’t take care of their regulars. The 10% of clubs with competent ownership and management are going to survive; the rest of the industry: Bye!

I’m so bummed now thinking about having five-figure months on 2008. Good times! Anyhow, I’m just glad I have some sales training courtesy of Strip and Grow Rich … Seriously, this is separating the women from the girls.

As for the men, she says:

I have seen more depressed guys, yeah, and the average age of our customers seems to be dropping, maybe because a 24-year-old is fine with blowing $500/hr on the VIP room whereas a 44-yr-old with a family will think twice about spending that now. Fewer credit cards are being run overall.

But, I have to say this, it’s probably a good thing we’re around as a source of relaxation and human touch and interaction for the guys who come here to relax. I have definitely seen an increase in the really sincere thanks from guys who don’t really take time for themselves.

[StripperTweets]

Monday: A courtesan reveals how the recession has effected her business.

Today, I’m launching The War Project, an independent, online project I’ve created that presents the stories of veterans of Iraq and Afghanistan. The first as-told-to story on the site is that of Staff Sgt. Fred Minnick, who served in the Wisconsin National Guard as an Army photojournalist and is the author of Camera Boy: An Army Journalist’s War in Iraq.

Earlier this month, I visited Minnick in Louisville, Kentucky, where he was kind enough to invite me into his home for a two-and-a-half-hour long interview. His as-told-to story on The War Project site is a condensed and edited version of that in-person interview. After we spoke, I took the photograph you see here in the area where he lives.

I grew up in Oklahoma, moved to Wisconsin after college, and then deployed with the Wisconsin unit. I was 46-Quebec, which is an Army photojournalist.

On Valentine’s Day 2003, I received a phone call that we had been alerted for Operation Iraqi Freedom. Basically, what that meant was, we were going to be deployed in some capacity for the war.

For me, personally, I was young, I was like, “OK, let’s do it.” I mean, sure, there was fear. I mean, who didn’t have fear, right?

Five years ago, I interviewed J. R. Martinez while writing a story for The Virginian-Pilot. Deployed to Iraq in 2003, Martinez was trapped in the Humvee that he was driving after it drove over a landmine and suffered burns over more than 40 percent of his body. His story provided the seeds for this project.

The War Project strives to be unbiased and, for lack of a better word, apolitical. It is neither “pro-war” nor “anti-war.” Instead, it focuses on the stories of those who have experienced war firsthand. The project is self-funded and not affiliated with any media organization, political group, or otherwise.

I’ve spent the last 13 years working as a freelance journalist. My journalism has appeared in Newsweek, Details, Harper’s Bazaar, Salon, Slate, The San Francisco Chronicle, The LA Weekly, The Vancouver Sun, The San Francisco Examiner Magazine, Variety, The Daily Beast, Playboy.com, Wired News, and I’ve appeared on CNN, “Politically Incorrect,” Fox News, and NPR.

Over the coming year, I’ll be publishing the as-told-to stories of more veterans on The War Project site. If you’re an Iraq or Afghanistan veteran interested in finding out more about this project, send me an email. The War Project site was designed, illustrated, and built by Washington, DC-based artist, illustrator, and Eagle Scout Chris Bishop.

[The War Project]

This post is cross-posted on my personal blog.

It’s too bad that these days being accused of sexual assault is tantamount to being convicted of it. To hear that Al Gore — AL GORE??? — is the latest, er, victim of this phenomenon is simultaneously baffling and saddening. Not to mention weird, considering the tale involves a “crazed sex poodle.” And that poodle is Gore.

In case you haven’t picked up the latest issue of the National Enquirer yet (and, really, who has?), their latest reason to blaze “SEX ATTACK” across the cover is a story coming out of Portland, Oregon, where an unidentified, uh, masseuse claims that the former vice president and inventor of the internet sexually attacked her in a hotel room during a massage session. The incident purportedly took place in 2006, and the charge for services rendered was $540. Gore was never charged.

“Our investigative team [HA. -- ed.] uncovered the amazing story just weeks after the former Vice President announced that he and wife TIPPER were ending their 40-year marriage – amidst reports she suspected her husband was involved with ‘a gorgeous massage therapist.’”

The problem with a story like this one is that once it hits the internet, all bets are off. Bloggers seize on this dramatic tale without, you know, ever pausing to wonder, oh, whether or not the story might actually be true. Since, after all, whether or not the story is true might actually be relevant to the story itself. But, hey, who cares about all that! Nowadays, “truth” is an antiquated concept, having been felled to the almighty demands of SEO and related BS. Because who cares about truth when you’ve got page views to get, amiright?

(Of course, the Enquirer did get that whole JOHN EDWARDS LOVE CHILD story right, but an exception does not a rule make.)

It’s possible this masseuse’s claims are true and that she was sexually assaulted by Al Gore. But if everyone could stop clickety-clacketying at their keyboards for a moment, and, novel idea!, read the accuser’s statement to the police, one might begin to question if this story is true at all. Because her statement? It sure reads like she’s full of shit.

The 54-year-old masseuse’s 2009 statement to the Portland police regarding whatever happened at the grandly named Hotel Lucia reeks of half-truths and histrionics, to say the very least. The Smoking Gun describes it thusly: “Masseuse’s claims read like R-rated vice presidential fan fiction.” Boy, do they! If you can bear to get through the entire 73-page PDF (do not recommend), you will find a sordid tale in which the accuser explains she is a licensed masseuse approximately 95 times, states she was summoned by staff at the hotel to visit a “VIP” guest for a massage at 10:30 PM on October 24, 2006 (aren’t most massages after, say, 8 PM inherently erotic in nature?), coughs, like, 700 times (suspicious!), is greeted by the ex-VP with the line, “Call me Al” (literary allusion?), who hugs her weirdly, turns down the lights, and asks her to massage his inner-thighs (as a woman, I can assure you that this means one thing and one thing only). Call Me Al gets shouty and demanding and moans in a way that indicates he wants his abdominal area massaged. Actual line from the masseuse: “I got a tiny bit mad under my terror.” WHAT? Were you wearing a tiny hat, too? Then Gore puts her hand on Lil’ Gore in a demanding fashion and shouts: “THERE.” I guess that is one way to get a hand job. Or not. “I felt like I was dancing on the edge of a razor,” she confesses in what one can only imagine was a breathless way of speaking to the police. Gore gets angry and she describes him as “Teflon coated.” Next, Gore starts asking her to release his second chakra. She fantasizes about doing a “little Spock hold” on him. Eventually, Mr. VP No More gets up, wraps her in an “inescapable embrace,” gives her a “‘come hither’ look,” and grabs her boobs and butt. That’s when she tells him, in no uncertain terms, “You’re being a crazed sex poodle,” which is totally the most awesome line in the whole thing, and, frankly, I could see Gore being a total crazed sex poodle, but that’s another story for another time. She distracts him by pointing at some chocolates, and he busts out the Grand Marnier. He kisses her and smooshes his erection into her. She refers to him as “Mr. Smiley Global Warming.” He humps her, she calls him a “lummox,” and there are political references. When she gets home, she finds “stains” on the back of her black slacks, which she didn’t launder on account of her “intuition,” which is pretty much why I never do my laundry either. It goes on and on, but suffice to say: fin.

Frankly, I have no idea what the hell happened in that hotel room. If she was there. If Gore was there. If Al is, in fact, a crazed sex poodle. Anything is possible. Although, if she is telling the truth, she sure knows how to garble it and make it sound like a load of crap. I, myself, have lay upon many a massage table, and while I have never demanded release of my second chakra, I have talked to various women massage therapists about how they deal with situations like this, and never a one described anything remotely like this.

What is this, then? Al Gore porn.

“The woman recently … offered to sell her story to the National Enquirer for $1 million,” The Smoking Gun reports. O RLY? Color me stunned.

Video contains explicit lyrics.

It’s not every day you come across a song so lurid it could peel the paint off your living room walls — particularly one from a woman — but that’s exactly what Memphis Blac featuring Smokahontas Jones brings in the new ho anthem, “Got Dat Work.” 

Following hot on the heels of the “Dick Slang” phenomenon and an obvious homage to the lascivious lyrical likes of ho-hop predecessors Khia ([contains explicit language] “My Neck, My Back (Lick It)“) and Lil’ Kim (“How Many Licks?“), “Got Dat Work” aims to be the tune every girl working the track is listening to while on the stroll this summer.

Contrary to the fact that she appears to be working the corner like a common street worker, Memphis Blac, previously known as Arapaho, raps of flying first-class and commissioning private planes while wearing a necklace of condoms and condoms hanging from the ends of her braids. One may accuse Memphis Blac of many things, but she should be given a key to the City of Miami for her stylish adherence to safe sex practices.

“Where the pimps at, the hookers be,” she reminds us, providing rare insight into the real life of a prostitute. “I need my money first,” Smokahontas informs prospective johns before she goes on to state her rate of $3,000. As for the accuracy of this claim, suffice to say, I am dubious.

If only the rest of us could push it so dopely at our day jobs, stuck in cubicles, listening to bad music piped in through overhead speakers, wishing for another single from Black and Smoka spitting hard-earned lessons on the sex business.

Last Sunday, a tweet appeared in Hilton’s Twitter feed:

“If you are easily offended, do NOT click here [link redacted] Oh, Miley! Warning: truly not for the easily offended!”

The link led to an “upskirt” image of the teenage pop star climbing out of a convertible that appeared to reveal her crotch. The photo, which has been taken down since, may have been Photoshopped; other similar images, taken while Cyrus was shooting a music video in Los Angeles last week, show her wearing panties under a see-through dress. Whether Cyrus was wearing underpants or not, Salon’s Tracy Clark-Flory discovered when she spoke to Jeffrey Douglas, an attorney who specializes in child porn cases, “knowingly distributing” child porn is criminal. “Under the law, that is still a crime and it is punishable just the same,” Douglas explained.

Hilton, whose real name is Mario Lavandeira, has a long history of pushing the envelope when it comes to provocative content. From scrawling lewd messages and genitalia onto photos of celebrities’ faces to violating copyright laws to outing gay celebrities to calling Black Eyed Peas’ will.i.am a “faggot,” the Miami-born blogger has been the target of multiple lawsuits and widespread criticism.

Originally, Hilton scored infamy because he broke salacious stories, spread celebrity gossip others wouldn’t, and ended up beating the celebrity industrial complex at its own game. More recently, though, the site has slowed its tempo. Supposedly, Hilton’s sister Barbara now posts the majority of the site’s content. More often than not, the site is more likely to be behind rather than ahead of the curve when it comes to breaking celebrity scandals.

That lull may have resulted in the site’s turn to ever more graphic content as of late. On March 17, I wondered whether or not the site had violated federal obscenity laws by posting a story about comedian and “Chelsea Lately” host Chelsea Handler sidekick Chuy Bravo’s appearance in an adult movie.

According to AVN.com [NSFW], the online home of Adult Video News, the adult movie industry’s trade publication, Hilton’s March 15 post, “Chuy Is an Official Porn Star!” [NSFW], does not follow 18 U.S.C. § 2257 guidelines. The code requires websites that post explicit sexual content to comply to various regulations and rules, including a link to a “2257 compliance statement containing the name and address of the custodian of records, who is required to keep records relating to the age and identity of the performers in the content, as well as other information,” writes AVN.com’s Tom Hymes. Hilton’s post doesn’t.

Less than 10 days later, on March 23, an individual associated with Hilton bought a new domain: unratedperez.com. At some point after that, Hilton quietly launched [NSFW] UnratedPerez.com, which has since served as a dumping ground for PerezHilton.com’s uncensored adult content. UnratedPerez features an Adult Verification System designed to keep underage readers out — although anyone who can type can put in whatever age they like. And still no 2257s.

Ironically, the purpose of 2257s is to ensure that the adult content in question features only adult performers. That he linked to the upskirt shot of Cyrus and continues to refuse to comply with federal laws regarding adult content indicates that Hilton will post anything. Even now, it’s unlikely the threat of a 15-year mandatory sentence for disseminating child porn will stop him. Lavandeira well knows the public’s appetite for celebrity sex is insatiable.

Yesterday, after finding himself at the center of yet another scandal, Hilton posted another link to Twitter, this one leading to a video of himself in which he sings the praises of Cyrus “Turning Raunchy.” He reminds, “She’s almost 18.” But she’s not 18 yet.