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Unlike that Marcus Welby MD website, I don’t profess to know all there is about Syphilis. But I suppose when you’re from the southern backwoods, it’s as common as catfish and crawdads.

Knock on wood. I’ve never had a social disease, and the closest I’ve come to a remote symptom was the time in the Boy Scouts when I errantly pissed on a clump of poison sumac. While I won’t go into detail, safe to say, from the waist down, I looked like something you’d see in an army training film.

Not to be confused with Gonorrhea, aka The Clap and The Drip, Syphilis can fester in your body a long time before a test will ferret out its ugly presence.

With that cheerful reminder, odds being what they are, the adult industry is poised on the brink of the Bubonic Plague.

Because all it takes is one performer working off the books as we’ve had this past week. As stated in the LA Times several days ago: “[STD] infections are asymptomatic, people are often unaware they have been infected and unknowingly transmit them to others.”

So mathematical progression being what it is in this business, in the words of novelist Stephen King, porn “is close to a big machine full of sharp teeth, and it’s running full speed.”

The machine, that is.

With the fate of condoms to be determined on the November ballot, isn’t it a bit ironic for the candidate of free love, sans latex, to be coming down with chancre sores? Talk about lousy timing.

Michael Weinstein isn’t complaining. Thanks to a male performer who valued currency over common sense, the industry just handed Weinstein the detonation code to the A-Bomb.

There’s nothing to talk about. There’s nothing to debate. You shut the industry down. In that sense, Manwin, Metro, Evil Angel and Immoral Productions have already made the only decision that could be made.

You test EVERYONE, and even that doesn’t guarantee anything. If, according to XBiz, there’s five performers who’ve tested positive, then it’s not out of the realm of possibility that five hundred other performers are infected because Syph, like poison sumac, is real easy to catch. Whew. It’s also good to know you can’t get it off a toilet seat.

When you’ve seen Syphilis in its advanced stages, W.C. Fields’ nose could be described as pert. And understanding the narcissism that drives the adult industry I wonder how anyone could abide by having a faceful of puss and a back full of boils.

Syphilis can be treated with antibiotics, but the inherent question is, if you went to a Mexican restaurant and had a queso fundido that gave you a seizure of the bowels, would you return to said restaurant and order the cheese again?

Using that logic, to me Syphilis is to a porn performer what a near fatal car crash is to a NASCAR driver. Nature’s trying to tell you something.

And now I have a feeling talents’ no lists are going to get a lot longer.