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Archival Abby
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The 2000 Consumer Electronics Show
Ah, the Consumer Electronics Show, the Las Vegas convention
rivaled only by Comdex. Cell phone battery salesmen, car stereo
aficionados, DVD dealers and every other technogeek from around the
globe converge on Sin City for four days of technological
exhibitionism. And to see tits. For after visiting a booth or two and
conducting a minimal amount of business at the "straight" part of the
show, you can find them all in line at the Sands' "porno" hall,
suffering up to a three-hour wait, just to see porn stars' boobies. My
gut reaction is, consistently, don't these guys see boobs at home? Or
is it just that the surgically enhanced breasts of porn stars is
somehow far more mesmerizing than their wives' tits could ever be? Who
knows.
For the past five years I've been making my pilgrimage out to Vegas for
the Adult Entertainment Industry's segment of the CES show, and every
year it's gotten worse. Men who've probably never even watched a porn
video descend en masse like frat boys in the audience of a wet T-shirt
contest eager for the opportunity to ogle and receive an autograph or
two. This year, at least, the security staff did a far better job at
crowd control. They waved in people who were actually attempting to
conduct business of the adult variety without subjecting them to the
three-hour wait. They used a bullhorn to announce that those at the end
of the line would, in fact, be waiting for up to a full three hours.
And I'll be damned if those guys didn't wait! Having a few breasts
myself, I'm still amazed at their ability to entrance. But I suppose I
shouldn't complain, as man's fascination with breasts has, without a
doubt, put plenty of cold cuts in my fridge. But you can't blame my
mind for being boggled.
Once inside the cavernous convention hall, beneath the glaring
fluorescents, the logos of every porn video company beckon. Have your
picture taken with Marilyn Star, still wanted by authorities for her
allegedly witless participation in insider trading! Snap a shot of The
Hedgehog, Ron Jeremy, the one porn star that guys might actually
recognize, since he's been on Howard Stern so often. Let your tongue
hang out while patiently awaiting an autograph from Jenna Jameson,
another face that could be legitimately familiar, given her many
appearances on the E! Channel. And do your best to act like a complete
idiot every time you catch a glimpse of nipple because, well, you've
never seen one before, right? Or so you'd assume, given the adolescent
enthusiasm displayed by middle aged men in button down shirts. Which
may explain the mystification going on here. It isn't the porn star
tits or Ron Jeremy's hairy ass that move these otherwise normal men to
mass hysteria. It's the allure of a life of sin, a brief peek at a
lifestyle that not only sounds too good to be true, but that's so far
removed from your average shmoe's sphere of reality that acting like a
human being becomes completely out of the question.
In all seriousness, the adult industry does come out in force for this
event and any dealmaking to be done is somehow facilitated by the
excitement of the hordes. It makes one feel, for perhaps only a
fleeting moment--or at least the duration of the show--that porn is a
legitimate business. It's pretty damn obvious that there are numerous
dollars changing hands and the madding crowd would be far easier to
stomach if these gadget pushers were plausible porn consumers. More
likely, however, is that they're on the loose in Vegas, baby, and they
just gotta do somethin' baaaad, man! Since trekking out to The Bunny
Ranch is pretty much out of the question--wouldn't want to bring home
any cooties to the ol' wifey--why not play a little grab ass with a few
porno sluts and watch giddily as one scrawls "Keep it hard for me!" on
a glossy 8x10.
Thank goodness I didn't have any pressing professional deals to execute
with the porn stars, since I sure as shit don't have the patience to
wait in line. I did battle the boys to get a few moments with Bridgett
the Midget, though, and boy, is she cute! Her custom made clothes had
me oohing and aahing with admiration. And I did call in a favor at one
booth by begging for an autographed picture of Shannon, Gallery's Girl
Next Door 2000. What a cutie! Hmmm, just don't ask me if I got anything
important accomplished. I was too busy checking out all the babes!
[Written Jan. 2000]
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