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Skeeter: “Roger T. Pipe, This bar Stool’s For You!”

Porn Valley- Sporting a bandana and the Cochise-look, Skeeter Kerkove glowers into the camera with the reserve of a pissed off Native American. Actually, it’s more like a couple of cans of Steel Reserve 211 responsible for the glower.

Skeeter, who’s been feuding with porn critic Roger T. Pipe, is about to dedicate a scene to him.

And from the sounds of it, half of the porn industry with its hidden secrets -which Skeeter seems to know a lot about- as Bad Bob hauls the ample Mone Divine over a bar stool.

“Roger T. Pipe, this bar stool’s for you,” Skeeter announces, as serious as Ed Sullivan. This is beginning to sound like a Budweiser commercial.

Mone [pronounced Mona] is from Las Vegas, and a very pretty woman with a quick wit. Skeeter likes her smile.

“I should take her teeth out with pliers and stick them in mine,” he comments, recalling the time his ex Bridgette Kerkove hit him with a remote and cracked his front tooth.

But it’s her sumptuous ass that Skeeter really covets for a scene in a movie titled “Whitey Fucks the Black Phat Ass” for Robert Hill Releasing.

According to Skeeter, he’s accommodating fans on ADT who have asked for a movie like this.

“Because it will have sodomy, it’ll have a narrower field,” states Skeeter. “But I’m just serving my country, my Lord, the president of the US and Roger T. Pipe.”

Simultaneously, the spine makes a shivering, emotional connection with the tender feelings elicited from the title.

Apparently a fan, making an emotional, shivering connection with Skeeter, e-mails him some information about the French impressionist Edgar Degas. Degas liked posing ballerinas in provocative positions, and Skeeter seizes this as an opportunity to make some point about his current words with Pipe.

Actually the latest fracas is all about Aurora Snow [Skeeter swears she told him she did a POV scene with Pipe for some website. T. Pipe has denied its existence].

The feud also includes bar stools, Jules Jordan and Pipe’s ample exultation of Jordan’s use of them. At least that’s the way Skeeter reads it. Skeeter’s feeling if any credit’s due here, it goes to Degas as an inspired innovator of the prop, not Jules Jordan. The sarcasm drips evenly with a fractured sense of chronology as Skeeter makes his Art History points on camera. Skeeter then urges Divine to pull her ass over the “Jules Jordan bar stool.”

Skeeter exhorts Bad Bob to give it to Mone Roger T. Pipe style.

In all of this, Divine’s asking just who Roger T. Pipe is. Bad Bob wants to know himself. Skeeter says this his point, exactly.

Bad Bob’s got a look on his face, like, what did he get himself into while Divine’s laughing her ass off.

“You are so out of control,” Bob tells Skeeter. “The only person you haven’t mentioned is Russ Hampshire.”

“We’re going to get shot!” Divine predicts. She asks Skeeter if all of what he’s saying is going into the movie. Yeah, pretty much, he tells her.

“Oh, I got to watch this!” she roars. Divine remembers a scene she once did with T.T. Boy where he came on six occasions. That’s okay, Skeeter tells her, he’ll be happy to get one good one out of Bad Bob after he’s ransacked her ass for the last half hour.

Divine’s also telling Skeeter he ought to write a book, that he’s pretty funny. Yeah, Skeeter’s regaling her with loads of fun, like the time Bridgette Kerkove met Mickey Rourke and seemed little impressed that he was an actor.

“My daddy likes you but I don’t know any of your movies,” she tells Rourke. “If you’re not paying, I’m not interested.” Skeeter’s laughing because Ava Vincent and Nikita Denise end up doing Rourke for zilch.

Next, Skeeter gets a call from Otto Bauer. Otto sounds pissed and is asking Skeeter who Mike South is. Evidently porn doesn’t know half its critics, and Otto sounds like he’s ready to jump into it with South who has apparently taken up the cudgel on behalf of Roger T. Pipe and attacked Otto about something. What Otto has to say is unapparent but Skeeter’s pretty clear on the issue from his end.

“He [South] can takes his $61,000 home, his heart attack and stroke and stick them up his lily white ass,” Skeeter’s heard to say.

“Daddy, I don’t want to be on the Roger T. Pipe-Jules Jordan bar stool any more!” Mone whines. Actually, this is the fade out line Skeeter’s given her.

“Jim Powers, the world’s greatesr pornographer, puts you through worse than that at half the pay,” Skeeter tells Divine. He loves to bust on Powers.

As Bad Bob mops up, Skeeter leans over, whispers and winks, “Aurora did show me the link to that website.”


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