Briana Banks

Ms. Briana Banks: World Champion of Checkers, 2001-2006-

Don'tcha just wanna... PLAY???
King me, Briana.
Sweeet!

Meet Sonny

I got a new puppy for my birthday-





Sonny is about 6 months old and sharp as a tack. He gets fixed tomorrow.
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The Big Easy: Prostitutes and an Alligator Po-boy

So we got back from New Orleans last night. We arrived at LAX at 9:40, but didn't get home till after midnight. Don't get me started on that monument to poor planning that is Los Angeles International Airport. I'd rather blog about the infamous Rue Bourbon.
Big Mike and I were there on business; we're shooting a documentary on a Catholic Priest named Father Tony, and he will be the centerpiece of a future blog o' mine. I need to get the pix developed first.
We didn't have a lot of free time because we were on location shooting for 12 hours a day, but I wasn't going to be in N'Orleans and not see what all the fuss was about.
I ate alligator, and it was good, very good, indeed.
Our first night in town, Cindy the producer took us out to dinner at a restaurant in the French Quarter on Bourbon Street. I went there with the full intent to sample the local cuisine, but was expecting some sort of jumbo-lyah gumbo or Tabasco-drenched crawdads (which I did sample the next day) but the first thing that caught my eye on the menu was alligator tail.
I said to myself, "Oh yeah. I'm getting some of that." The waitress suggested I eat the gator in the form of a po-boy, which I guess is a big thing in Louisiana. I took her advice, and I came to find out that a po-boy is no different than a hero sandwich. But I digress...
The gator meat was not unlike chicken, save a rubbery texture. Regardless, it was good eatin' and I recommend alligator meat if you have the opportunity. It is quite choice.
The next night, I was wide awake at 1 am despite a long day of work. Big Mike went to bed, but I decided to venture out on a solo mission and sample the local titty-bar. (Big Mike is happily married and I would never ask him to do that because I know he honestly does not want too.)
The door to our hotel room was not even shut when I was approached by a pretty young black girl right there in the hall.
"How you doin'" she says to me.
"All right." I replied. "And yerself?"
"I'm fine. Whatcha doin' right now?"
"I'm just going out to kill some time. How 'bout you?"
She says, "Nothing special, you want some company?"
Now at this point I really didn't think she was soliciting. She wasn't dressed all skanky-like, she wasn't made up like a clown and she didn't reek of perfume. So naturally, I think she sincerely wants some company, so I say, "You bet."
"Okay sweetie, let's go back to your room."
Damn.
A pretty young girl wants sex with me for money not four feet from my hotel room and Big Mike is sleeping.
"We can't," I say to her. "my friend is sleeping."
"Well let's wake him up and talk to him."
Damn damn damn damn."
No. He won't want to, he's married."
"Is he happily married?"
DAMN DAMN DAMN DAMN DAMN DAMN!
"I'm afraid so."
"Okay then, g'nite sweetie."
"G'nite, and have fun out there." Nice comeback, Turz. Very polite, yet mushy.
After an hour at Larry Flynt's Hustler Club, I head back to the hotel. Who's coming out of the door as I saunter up? A pretty young white girl, who sees me and asks, "Where are you going sweetie?"
"To my room." I say.
Down the block is this tall, skinny black dude watching us. Her pimp, I assumed. I was right, because as I walked away, I had to know for sure. So I looked back and there they were, both standing together, looking at me, and the girl waving her finger for me to return.
I did not.
Damn.

Peter Benchley Dead at 65

The literary community lost a groundbreaker Saturday night, as "Jaws" scribe Peter Benchley passed away in his home in Princeton, NJ from scarring in his lung tissue.
The best selling author was best known for "Jaws," the phenomenon that single handedly made going to the beach the stuff of nightmares.
After witnessing the affect his novel and the subsequent Steven Spielberg film had on the Great White Shark, Benchley became one of the world's strongest advocate of shark preservation and protection, stating over and over that "Jaws" was merely a work of fiction and the film did not necessarily accurately depict Great White Shark behavior. His words fell on deaf ears, as the Great White has been hunted to the brink of extinction, and only recently has the importance of White sharks to marine ecosystems been realized; due largely in part to Benchley's work, post "Jaws."
Other novels to Benchley's impressive credit are, "The Deep," "The Island," "The Beast," "White Shark" (which was later re-titled "Creature") and "Shark Trouble!"
Many of these novels were made into major motion pictures or made-for-TV movies, and "Shark Trouble!" is an excellent non-fiction read about the behavior of the ocean's top predators.
So Literature and Hollywood has suffered a great loss, but personally the wounds go a little deeper. The Turzman lost a hero, and I don't use that word casually.
I remember the time in 1975 that I am about to tell as if it were yesterday. I was 4 years old, and my bedtime story each night was this kiddie version of Daniel Boone's biography that my mother read to me each night. At the same time, my father was tackling one of the newer novels on the market at the time each night, and the cover attracted me like a moth to flame.
It was a giant, triangular form with massive teeth and four letters sprawled across the top.
I asked my dad, "What's a Jaws?"
To make a long story short, I have never read anything about Daniel Boones since. The particular Boone book I spoke of earlier is probably still sitting on the same shelf, 3000 miles away from where I now sit for all I care, for Jaws became my new fascination, and it has stuck with me ever since.
Each night for about a week during that faithful year, my dad would read passages to me as I tried to follow along. Any normal child would have lost interest immediately afterward, but being a genius-in-the-making, I insisted that we read it again.
My father, in one of the most brilliant moves in child-raising ever, challenged me to read it back to him, and I did.
Modestly, I admit I needed help with some of the longer words, but for all intents and purposes, I learned to read by reading "Jaws" at age 4.
So you see, friends of the Turz, Benchley's passing is gonna hurt this author for a long time, because with the help of my dad, Peter Benchley taught me to read.
Imagine my elation when my father explained to me that a movie was being made about this grand story, and as we eagerly awaited its theatrical release, my parents pulled a similar stunt to continue my reading practices. One of my favorite movies at the time was this animated version of Tolkien's "The Hobbit," and my parents informed me of the novel that cartoon was based on.
"They made a book from that movie?" I questioned.
"Yes."
So, "The Hobbit" was the second novel I ever read. It may be hard to swallow, friends, yes I read Benchley and Tolkien before Dr. Seuss or even those "Dick & Jane" tales, but it's true.
And I'm forever in the debt of my parents and J.R.R. Tolkien, but mostly to Peter Benchley.
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Mike