Every actor asks themselves this at one time or another. It’s called the “porn flu” and I’ve got all the symptoms: trouble affording the lifestyle I deserve, fed up with my day job (yes I am still employed) and no relationship I value enough to not put that person at risk of STDs. Hey, before you judge that street goes both ways.

Currently several additional factors have caused my porn flu to spike. Sasha Grey’s ascension to Entourage fame shows a pornstar can go mainstream. The market for certain acts, particularly gay on straight porn is particularly high. I have a sweet professional name “Donkey Dong” and finally I have the best background story ever: I am selling myself to pay off my student loans.

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So I hear a pathetic whimpering sound late one night a few weeks ago. My first thought was that the waitress I picked up that night left something. Maybe it was the Princess come back to beg forgiveness and explain where my missing condoms are. Maybe her coke head brother needed a place to crash and avoid his dealer or bookie. Or maybe the dog needed food/to go to the bathroom. My response to all four was “who gives a shit?” I rolled over and went to sleep.

So the next day I do my due diligence: No crap that doesn’t belong to the Princess, No Princess and no sign of her coke head brother. Oh yeah. The dog. I found him passed out in his own feces.  I had assumed the Princess had at least been feeding him. Nope. Lazy slut.

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Sigh. I am in line at Costco. Who can tell me three things wrong with that? 1) The Princess should be doing this kind of crap. 2) I shouldn’t have to use condoms with my live-in girlfriend of going on three years to not catch the latest strand of Herpes from a mediocre frat and 3) I shouldn’t have to be at Costco at all. Costco is expensive as hell and the Princess has a very expensive BREAKFAST and LUNCH meal plan only. I didn’t even know that was an option. Not wanting to go hungry, I occasionally make it to campus only to be greeted by asanine questions from her idiot friends “don’t you have a job? Shouldn’t you be at work? Aren’t you like 30?” I was so angry I almost didn’t get a third helping of eggs. I do have my pride though. I am not Benito. I refuse to bring Tupperware.

Oh but get THIS – the Princess isn’t even 100% daddy-funding this. The trifling, shiftless, spaghetti-legged trollup actually took out loans. She’s taking out loans to fuck fratboys while owing me 15 grand.

What does debt for a partner mean in a longterm relationship where you don’t plan to marry that person? Read on to find out.

I mean first there’s the obvious. In a relationship like mine where it’s understood that when you get a better offer you’re gone, if someone else starts borrowing tons of cash to be around good looking people in great shape you expand your search to include not just better offers but comparable ones. Also the cashflow in the household comes to a standstill. The student partner is naturally strapped for cash and the other partner doesn’t want to pay for joint goods like groceries , rent etc. because they know the chance of being paid back is virtually nil.

There are also new turns on the emotional roller coaster. Specifically there are two possibilities: most likely the student partner, racked by guilt and stress fails in every respect and comes crawling back more willing to take the abuse they most likely deserve until the non-student partner leaves for greener more successful pastures.

Now there is the outside chance that the student partner becomes very successful and earns a previously non-existent respect from the non-student partner. The student partner then is put in the tough situation of choosing to stay with their partner who supported them when they were garbage or move on to the untested fellow student-weighing the fact that the sex isn’t stale on one hand to the fact that the student has never been in the real world.

Sigh. But joke’s on the Princess. She will be walking to CVS for the morning after pill from now on. I’ve already got the Herpes cream. Also I am spending the last of the abortion fund here at Costco. In my book for a kid to really be mine and hence obligate me to kill it or raise it is more than just blood and DNA, it’s also a level of exclusivity, otherwise I am just a sucker who got unlucky.

Good luck on your midterms honey!

Happy White Male Day! With all Alpha Man’s talk of the oppressive yolk of student debt I’d like to tip my hat to the architect of true oppression my man CC! If you’re like me you’ve often thought “what can racism and rape do for me?” I can’t blame one for the loss of a job or the other to characterize a date that didn’t end the way I would like. I mean how’s a white man to get a settlement around here? Geez.

CC reminds us that racism and rape were once wielded as powerful weapons of world domination. As a half Italian it is a source of particular pride, not so much that CC was a ruthless warlord and pirate guilty of countless crimes against humanity (though let’s be honest- that is kind of cool) but that today, in 2010 with a black President and the highest population of Hispanics the country has ever seen this man STILL has a holiday. But this post isn’t about that, it’s about Gold. Read on you worthless wastrels about why YOU should be like CC.

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I had forgotten why I so rarely use facebook until I saw some headshots of mine from ‘09.  Wow. It’s not that I am just attractive simply in that I have all the features that attract women and none that repel them and that they are superior to all the males around me. I am a living, breathing work of art that appeals to some deep seated ability to appreciate beauty. I look so good that I think aliens who had never seen a human would not only appreciate me but somehow sense that I was special, one of a kind. Who knows? Perhaps I’ve saved the world and don’t even know it! Hours later I could only tear myself away from my laptop to run to the mirror to confirm that it was indeed I in those pictures…and it turns out my looks have actually IMPROVED since then.  I’d still be staring at myself now if the Princess hadn’t steamed up the mirror with a shower. Of course by then my beautiful image was gone, a screensaver in it’s place.
So what does a god look like? Imagine a better-looking Tom Brady. I honestly pity each and every one of you who have never seen my face. But here is my dilemma. When you look this good don’t you sort of owe it to society to become a model?
This bothered me for the rest of the evening. I of course am an actor and a musician. I have plenty of opportunities to address gatherings as an attorney. People see, know and love my face. Am I doing the world a disservice because I in my vanity wanted to utilize all my superior talents including intellect and creativity instead of focusing on the most striking one?
Once again I was greatly distressed. What if the burden of this immaculate physical form actually caused it’s first imperfection in the form of microscopic wrinkles in my flawless skin due to a constantly furroughed brow?

In any event, this month instead of my student loan check I am sending in my headshots.  I’m to pretty to be in debt.

She’s not pregnant anymore. There are hundreds of ways to end that joke that are pro-choice, pro-life and my favorite pro-funny.  I chose probably the worst ending and I bet you still laughed.  At the end of the day I am pro-choice because I find more women are willing to have unprotected sex with me (because you can only buy condoms but so many times a week) if they know they can just get the little bugger fished out by a professional wrangler.

If I had gone the medical route I would have been an abortion doctor. You get to meet a bunch of loose mostly single women with low self-esteem, there is no word of mouth if you do a lousy job, business actually improves in a crappy economy and no matter what you charge it’s cheaper than the only other option. Come on, that was funny! Anyway, Benito wanted a more serious article so I was going take the opportunity to explore the other pro-choice rationale.

I’ve always been fascinated that gun-toting, war-mongering, execution happy conservatives are PRO-LIFE even though most abortions occur in populations they would regulate to second class citizenship. Eventually I assumed it was simply to get a poor uneducated demographic to repeatedly vote against it’s own economic and societal interests. Then Alpha Man started writing alot about debt and the inter-generational transfer of wealth. That got me thinking: what if you could guarantee that in a marginalized population the next generation kept arriving early? What if money that could have been a first house and or college for kids 1 and 2 had to be spent on kid 0 conceived at junior prom and kid 3 and 4?  In a time when at least the most blatantly discriminatory laws are off the books and our race/class caste system depends more on money than ever, are restrictions on reproductive rights one of the last legitimate places where we can legally perpetuate a permanent under class?

Eh. Maybe. Anyone else in the mood for pregnant lady porn? Ha! Joking again. How could anyone want to censor this guy?

Mike Triforce here.  Hold the applause.  I am just not in the mood.

A few days ago I wrote a post about how the Princess was around less and given our financial bind I naturally assumed that that was due to finding or at least actively seeking gainful employment (though the couch, unwashed dishes and unwalked dog surely missed her) but I was wrong. I am still in shock but I had to…I don’t know…let me just say it.

The Princess…went back to school.

What. The. FUCK?! This trifling, shiftless, good-for-nothing waistrel has been nothing but an anchor around my neck.  She can’t…we can’t…there’s no…

I mean, where to begin?  Ok, I’ll just say it.  I was counting on her daddy’s money.  Money that could have floated some of our bills or paid off some of MY LOANS for the education that is PAYING OUR BILLS.  Instead that money is going to pay her tuition so she can study Art History or some other useless endeavor.   I just wanted to tell her that those people leading the guided tours at museums aren’t speaking from academic knowledge, they are just repeating what they are listening to…they’re not deaf, that’s an earpiece. 

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I love being a lawyer. I don’t work and get paid while many of my classmates who worked hard are out in the street. Everything is better when someone who once considered themselves your equal can’t afford it. However for the past couple of months I have been rolling with some finance kids from NY and cash has become a bit stretched keeping up with them. The downside of their jobs of course is they have to actually work. Sure, I could be a millionaire in a few years but I’d rather just take the steady paycheck that is based on a fictional abstraction than a sporadic one based on results. Also it seems like every firm in Philly and Jersey willing to meet the NY market is dragging their feet with hiring.

Which brings me to the subject of the Princess. I know many of you doubt the wisdom of keeping her around but look at it this way: Now that the till is a bit empty instead of continuing to roll with the finance kids and their model-hot Swedish entourage I can fake an emergency at work and get some free (though somewhat bland and routine) sex at home. Further, I can put some pressure on her to drum up some cash.  Now usually I would say that that is synonymous with asking her daddy. I let her run-up a 15k tab knowing she could never pay me back, charging some healthy interest in the hopes of getting a daddy check, or in leiu of that unofficially taking over one of his rental properties aka nicer place and no rent. Did I mention I haven’t paid my student loans in several months to finance these NY trips? Anyone who hasn’t deduced that has never been with a swede. Tiger is a damn fool. The only woman he should have cheated with was his wife’s twin sister.

But here is where I give the Princess her do. I think…I think she actually found a job! A real job where she’s on a payroll and pays taxes like an adult! Here are the clues- she’s gone during the day and when she is around she seems tired but not the lazy I’ve been up three hours already tired but the I have done something productive today tired. She also comes back looking borderline respectable/high class slutty.

Granted their isn’t much she is fit to do but one thing she could do is sell real-estate particularly to single male investors. Successful real-estate agents can make a mint. I’m almost proud of her.

Now before all of you go calling me a dick or a chauvinist let me say I will not be spending her first commission check wining and dining a six foot Swedish model before becoming intimately familiar with the details of her anatomy. I will use her money to pay our rent and my back loans…thereby freeing up my own money to go Ikea shopping.

And I am going to tell you how to play. Sadly, anecdotes and parables seem to be lost on most of you so I am going to reduce what I am saying to several bulleted points so maybe even the thickest among you can get something out of this.  I am actually about to interview for the cushiest job on God’s green earth: law professor. If anyone asks Debtor’s Prison is not a blog with a half dozen writers but a book written solely by me.

1) Learning/Mastering material does not equal good grades
2) Aptitude/Knowledge does not equal good test scores
3) Job Skills/Work Ethic does not equal a job or job security

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I hate pre-season football.  It’s kind of like masterbating in my book. If you hear it from the other room it sounds like the real deal but at the end you don’t feel like a winner and you haven’t conquered anyone.  In my disgust I decided to see what Benito and company have produced recently.  Predictably it was a sea of crap, and really I could comment on anything written in the month of August but for the sake of time let’s focus on this “Tales of an Unpublished Author” series.  Typical Benito, he finds a loser similar to himself who writes about why he has accomplished nothing in life.  Soon he will have kids writing who got rejected from every school they applied to giving advice about how to get into Yale Law or Harvard Med.  So that’s why I hate this blog. 

And here’s why I love America.  May I present Ms. Kathryn Stockett whose novel “The Help” has been a best-seller for over a year now.  Ms. Stockett is a lilly-white 41 year-old who, from the looks of her, is no stranger to cosmetic surgery (the work is very tasteful).  She comes from old money and her book is a condescending tale chronicalling the generations of black servants employed by her family told form the perspective of one of the servants.  I promise this is not a joke and I can’t believe neither Alpha Man nor Simons Girlfriend has written about this.

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