I had the opportunity to indulge my deviant side Saturday night. I attended a presentation of Portland Mercury/The Stranger’s HUMP!
21 Hump St
For those who haven’t caught a glimpse of the Mercury’s cover this week, I’ll give you the short and (not-so) dirty primer: Amateur pornographers submit a five minute film of a sexual nature, to be viewed publicly and then have the evidence destroyed. Viewers vote on the funniest and sexiest videos, with a $2,000 grand prize. When I heard about it, I felt it was my duty to the blog to investigate. I mean, someone’s gotta do it, and Wizardboots shouldn’t get to have all the naughty fun, right?
This is going to get so NSFW. More HUMP! after the jump…
I saw my first porno movie at age fifteen, at the Blue Mouse Theater on about 4th and SW Morrison. The second time I was legal, about nineteen, and it was at Bagdad’s Backstage Theater. It was called Tittilation, featuring a private ‘dick’ (who looked frighteningly like Fred Willard) solving sex crimes. It was funny, sexy but not hardcore, and quite watchable. I couldn’t figure out why all the guys were leaving after twenty minutes.
After you reach a certain age you think you’ve seen it all. I fancied myself a pervert, a deviant. Then the internet came along, and I discovered I’m best described as ‘Vanilla-with-a-Twist’. I’m a lot more normal than I thought I was. I’m for whatever makes a person happy, as long as it doesn’t infringe upon others. (Translation: If the participants are okay with it, so am I.) I’ve seen a lot in my near-50 years, and not much shocks me.
The HUMP! entrants certainly tried.
The line looked like any other Saturday night movie line, mostly couples. This had posed a quandary for me: Who do I invite along? I’m not in a “relationship” right now, and the girls I know who’d be willing to attend are busy with spouses and kids and stuff. Awk-WARD! (I’ve been making time with a gal, but we’ve been on exactly one date. I saw Taxi Driver, and know better than to take a girl to a porno movie on the second date.) I’d enlisted my supervisor at work as a default date. With his long grey hair and raincoat, he’d make the perfect visual accompaniment. I was tempted to borrow a wheelchair so we could go as Larry Flynt and Al Goldstein.
Sadly, (for him) I managed to get a real date, a former co-worker with a beautifully filthy mind. Another boss had threatened to separate us because our banter was too racy. When I told him it’d take a crowbar, it was love at first feel. (Actually, she’s more like a kid sister or a drinking buddy, but let’s not let that fact get in the way of a good story.) She rented a car for the occasion, and our pre-movie time was spent cruising Northwest Portland looking for a parking space.
Dan Savage was working the door, greeting people and telling them to turn off their cell phones. “He’s much different that I’d pictured,” said my date. After a bit, I realized she had confused him with Michael Savage. Not quite, hon.
Mr. Savage was adamant; cell phones were a sore point. “We have thugs roaming the theater, watching you. Anyone pulling out a cell phone will have it taken away and smashed. I can’t emphasize this enough. If we see a cell phone, we will take it, and you won’t get it back.” Not that much of a rebel, I turned mine down to vibrate.
Or so I thought. Fortunately, my Tubular Bells ringtone fit in with the video onscreen. I wasn’t going to risk having the jackboots confiscate my phone, so I let it ring. Sorry folks. This time I was ‘that guy.’
We were among the last admitted. I like sitting up close, “so the blood spatters on you.”
“I don’t think it’s blood we have to worry about,” she said. We got front row.
The films started off with a lovely dance number, two girls and one very tall gentleman. The next, Citizen Came, featured two young men marking their territory during a 24-hour period. A hilarious (and kinda hot) public service announcement warning of the perils of teenage hitchhiking. A young couple has full-on sex on the trolley, after which they were busted by transit police. Two lovely lesbians lap Ladd Circle before losing the bike helmets and all their other clothes. (Runner-up for sexiest on my ballot.)
The subject matter was all over the place. For all my worldliness, this was the first time I’d watched male-on-male (and male-on-male-on-male) porn. Fascinating, as Spock would say. It was, um, educational.
The spanking stuff was hot. My favorite ’sexy’ video was Father Mohawk chastising Sister Mormon Underpants for naughty thoughts. Father Mohawk worked her over pretty good, and her climactic scene was the most believable I’ve seen in any movie, porno or otherwise. If she was faking it, she deserves the Golden Boner, or whatever passes for an Oscar in the porno world.
The BDSM stuff was as close to disturbing as it got for me. One particularly painful video comes to mind. I won’t make you squirm with the details, but I saw things I can’t un-see. I have Blue Oyster Cult’s Burnin’ For You stuck in my brain. ‘Nuff said.
The humor portion of the show: For me there’s nothing sweeter than being able to laugh with your lover during the most intimate moments. Portland HUMPers have a fine sense of humor. A porn version of ET? (No, not Entertainment Tonight.) Elliot is all grown up, ET is out of the closet, and that long neck comes in handy. (Use your imagination. The animators did.)
The clip I voted funniest was the Larry King segment. Yes, Larry King was part of HUMP! He hosted a segment called How To Please Your Man, and I’m not going to tell you much about it, because the thought of Larry King in a porno is probably enough to make your brain snap. Yes, it was the real Larry King. And it was hot. And so, so funny.
After ninety minutes of “watching porn like your grandparents did” it was time to go. As we hit the sidewalk I overheard a gal in a miniskirt say, “Cool! Now that we’re outside I can finger myself…” I’d wondered about that. I doubt anyone rubbed one out during the movie. Too many cell phone monitors for that.
How to cap off the movie? Since we had wheels, I suggested Voodoo 2. It’s never crowded, and I wanted to feed my date a Cock & Balls. Just our luck, there was a line thirty-deep, so we settled for Krispy Kreme. Sorry, KK, you’re a poor second choice, but you provided enough cream-filled jokes to keep the ride home lively.
Now, whenever I see my date, she will ask, “What’s the password?” and I will squirm.
Thank you to The Portland Mercury, my charming date, and all my fellow perverts that made for a most entertaining Saturday night. It took a lot of balls (and other parts) to show us your stuff, and I wish I had time to appreciate aloud all the films. They were very well done, and I enjoyed every one of them, even the one with the traffic cone-sized buttplug.
The password is HUMP!
{ 1 comment }
Awesome! I was wondering how the show was. Your review is much appreciated.
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