Over the past year I have been educated by Vinegar Syndrome. These fellas have put out some Class A smut which doesn’t necessarily mean that it’s high quality in every cinematic sense. I suppose to be considered A Number One smut you have to embody what it means to be filthy and rotten and sleazy.
Maybe it’s best to rate films of this
type on a descending scale, falling further into the circles of Hell and
trailing off into the abyss like some sort of one-handed ejaculator looking for
a helping mit with a napkin. So the education continues, and I grow another
year old and hornier and Vinegar Syndrome just keeps wetting my palette and
leaving my manliness stuck to my trousers.
I suppose you might say that our
next focus “ain’t your daddy’s porno”, but that isn’t quite fair; they were
released in the 70’s and most likely could have been the inspiration for a wee
bit of ejaculate to find it’s way north side of your mama’s vagina to conceive
you in a shit hall theater with stickier floors and stickier hands.
aren’t the naughties that I grew up with. I grew up with movies featuring
Tracie Lords and Ginger Lynn, but one shining star does emerge from this
delicious pairing… Jamie Gillis… the Captain! The stuff I grew upon was high brow
Google Imágenes: Peekarama & Vinegar Syndrome