My life has changed signifigantly over the years. For those of you that are familiar with my story, it’s been a roller coaster ride from poverty to riches to rags and back to riches etc.
I met Luke Ford recently who shared with me that he lived in a “hovel” . I wouldn’t admit it to him, because he’s already “smug” and a “smartass”, but being the hillbilly with the little education I have, I didn’t know what the word meant. So, of course, I ran online and went to dictionary.com (one of my favorite favorites on AOL. I looked up “hovel” so that I could learn a new word and understand what he’s talking to me about the next time I speak with him LOL….
2 entries found for hovel.
hov·el Audio pronunciation of hovel ( P ) Pronunciation Key (hvl, hv-)
n.
1. A small, miserable dwelling.
2. An open, low shed.
[Middle English, hut.]
Interesting I thought. I had also been living in what I considered as a “hovel”. I sold my houses, 10,000 sq. ft, 8,000 sq. ft and 3500 sq. ft over the years and now was living in a 3 bedroom 3 bath apartment or “condo-hotels” as they call them. I’ve been having issues making any kind of committments of any kind. So I have the freedom with my “hovel” that I can leave at almost any time.
When my parents found me, I decided to take two years off and shoot a documentary about our family being reunited after 40 years. I didn’t care that I was cashing it all in and now living in what I was considering a “slum”….I’ve posted photos here so you can get an idea of how I live humbly now. I was filled with self pity and self loathing feeling like a failure because I had started over again with my career. Even though it’s trying sometimes, I have such gratitude that I was able to have that time to get to know my parents for the first time in my life and who knows how much time I will have with them. Those moments have been priceless.
Ok… now back to the hovel… I kept only the furnishings and art and decor that had some special meaning to me so it’s “not that bad”….
Then I met this character, this colorful colorful and perhaps even multiple personality friend/acquaintance Luke Ford who shows me his hovel, now that I know what it means. Man do I feel like a schmuck. This poor guy has far less than I do and he doesn’t feel pity for himself, he seems completely content to live in his hovel. I ask him how long he’s been there and I believe I recall him saying 9 years or more.
God bless. I feel so grateful now and appreciate the little things that I have much more. I realize that God has given me so many blessings. I have everything that I need and more than enough space. Now rather than material things I have peace of mind and the love of true friends and those are riches that are indeed priceless.
I highly recommend hovel dwelling. It builds character.
Most of the time anyway….
I sat on the desk chair in Luke’s hovel as he makes a lemon tea with water from the bathroom sink (there is no kitchen). I watch him and wonder to myself how he feels inside right now. I feel empathy for him. I know that for a man, their finances are a major sore spot for them. Luke obviously is not rich. I feel this need to somehow let him know telepathically how much I adore him and that his lack of material possessions only make him more attractive to me?
Why do you ask?
It’s simple. I was ready to pack him up, put him in my purse and take him home… His lack of material possessions only made it easier and take less time 🙂
I had read on his website that many people ridicule him because of the way he lives in the “hovel”. As I read some of the postings they break my heart for him and make me feel protective. I realize as I watch him dipping the tea bag for me how genuine and kind and pure the energy is that radiates from his soul. I feel like I want to shout at all of those people at this moment who refer to him as evil. Looking at him now he appears to be an angel to me. I know that he’s talking to me and smiling as he dips the teabag.
I’m completely hypnotized by this man. Even though we are sitting in a room that brings memories of a jail cell to me and yet when he touches me I feel completely safe. He lights a candle, he hands me the tea. Then, in what I feel is a romantic gesture, he turns on Air Supply. I remember reading on his blog how much he loves them and how their lyrics translate his true feelings towards love and his search for a partner in life.
I have no idea what he’s saying…. I’m “Lost in Love and I don’t know much…” plays on the stereo and we both giggle….Again… magical… we laugh some more…. he reaches over and puts my tea on the desk.
I’m getting nervous all of the sudden like a little school girl and feel completely out of control. My hearts racing. I know I’m flushed but thank God this time I wore my trusty black turtleneck so he can’t see how flushed and turned on I am. Fuck, why am I so nervous??? I’m not exactly a virgin. As he puts down the tea cup he leans towards me with both his hands putting my hands in his. His eyes sparkle with boyish laughter. His lips are gently parted as he moves closer to me saying…………….”Cheryl…..”
I smile and say….”yes Luke”………….
He says….. “Cheryl…”
I say… “yes Luke”
and then I nervously with laughter say to him, “Hey Luke what is it? Did you want to fill out an application for the position of Husband Number Three?”
We both explode in laughter and yet we are still connected with our hands entwined in one another. I feel such a warmth from him and I am lost in love ….(bear with me folks…. I know this is high schoolish shit, but it was really really cool…… I mean when was the last time YOU listened to air supply and had a really great makeout session???) Try it….I highly recommend it. Honestly it was one of the greatest dating moments I’ve ever had in my life… and I’m the queen of dating… just ask my friends.
I feel like a schoolgirl being kissed for the first time like a little lovesick puppy…. “Puppy Love” we called it as children.
As the handsome prince in his hovel kisses me, with my eyes gently closed and running my hands through his hair , he somehow turns off the lights and we both giggle again. Luke is an amazing kisser. Trust me when you can orgasm from just kissing someone…. that’s a damn good kisser….I was feeling my body out of control and felt a mixture of both excitement and embarrassment.
We kissed for several minutes when he reached behind my shirt and unfastened my bra…….the pop snapped me a bit out of the kiss and I laughed again. I feel like I’m in high school with a crush on the guy who’s the poet and we’re sneaking out in the parents garage….It’s fun…. I started fantasizing about hanging out in the serial killer van. See I love this idea because when you drive a car like that, you know that people love you for YOU and not your money… when you drive Porsche’s, Mercedes, or other things that show your wealth, you have a tendency to attract gold diggers and parasites…. I don’t care much for either…. so I asked him to please promise to take me to the beach someday for a ride in the “Van”.
Luke, the handsome prince, does not have a bed. He sleeps on the floor.
And then I ask him what I refer to as the “Magic Question”.
“If you could have, do or be anything in the world right now with all your desires… what would it be?”
Luke answers: “My needs are simple Cheryl, I want a wife that I love, a life that I love with God and the ability to share my writing with others by writing full time.”
“Wow” I thought. That was so beautifully put. I wondered if Luke realizes how rich he truly is to know exactly what he wants and how much I admire his strength in dealing with those who cause him discomfort.
I want to take care of him, put my arms around him and love him unconditionally. I wonder to myself if he’s ever had anyone love him unconditionally. Let me clarify…. This does not necessary mean “in love”. I think love is vital in all of our lives. I love many people in my life, friends, relatives, those that I work with etc. I can honestly say at this moment when I look at Luke, I feel “a love and adoration” for him completely.
As we reach a point in deciding whether or not we are going to be intimate, we both have “the discussion about how once you cross that line, how it changes the dynamics of the realtionship / friendship…………Thus the two of us have a decision to make….
to be continued….
I didn’t sleep well the night I left Luke’s hovel. I had so many thoughts spinning in my head that I couldn’t get my mind to rest. I realize that I’m out of my medication. I take a combination of prozac for depression and post traumatic stress disorder and depakote for seizures and bi-polar disorder. I have not confided yet in Luke that I am on medication for these issues. This is a sore spot and source of insecurity for me. One of the things that I really admire about Luke is that he is very open in discussing his use of psychiatric medication and his psychiatric personality disorders. There is a tremendous lack of education with the general public on mood and psychiatric disorders. It’s sad really. I believe that if everyone that takes prozac were a nut… LA would be full of nuts and fruitcakes tooo no less.
Nonetheless, another thing that I admire about Luke is his sharing this information with people. I think to myself, there must be some way that we can make something good about this.
It has now been three sleepless nights. I ran out of my medication after the vials had opened in my purse up in San Francisco. The pills were scrambled about in my purse caked with makeup, lipstick and other icky stuff at the bottom of my bag. As much as I need the medication to keep my moods balanced and to keep me from getting “Manic” I can’t take them because they are just too gross now.
I make a note to myself to call my shrink to reorder and re-evaluate my condition. Then I think to myself…. at what point in a relationship does one disclose that they have a mood disorder. I start to feel very self-conscious, vulnerable and scared. My abandonment issues kick in.
You see I’ve never really “had anyone” in my life. I’ve always felt very alone. Even with hundreds of thousands of contacts in my database, even with hundreds of people that will tell you that they “love and adore me”, even when I’m surrounded by people, I still feel completely alone and isolated from society as a whole. I fear that if he knows, he will leave… worse than that, I fear that if he knows that he will write about it on his blog and ridicule me. I fear that I’m opening up a can of worms that will cause even more pain for me emotionally, mentally and physically.
The phone rings. My best friend is on my ass asking me how on earth I can even speak to Luke Ford after all of the pain and agony his website has caused me over the years. I can feel all of the triggers that are thrusting me in to a full blown hypomanic state, especially with the sudden withdrawl of meds.
I pray that I can make it through the week of upcoming travel and see my shrink when I’m back in LA. I pray that I can keep my stress levels down. I pray that I can keep coping with an insane schedule, no sleep, no meds, bi-polar disorder, asthma and acute bronchitis…
I laugh at myself… I think “wow, yeah, I’m quite the catch for some eligible guy!”
That’s one of the difficult issues for me. I’ve had men propose to me after one date. I’ve had nine marriage proposals in total. Two of the marriage proposals I accepted. I have two marriages and two divorces in my history.
I have to really really trust someone to be completely open and vulnerable with them. Luke scares me. Up until going to the “hovel”. I felt mesmerized and safe with him. The next day however as I’m traveling and fighting illness, I read on his blog:
“Why can’t I (Luke) find comfort in the arms of a loving woman?”
Of course, I realize this is me. I feel ashamed and hurt. I feel unwanted, undesired and foolish.
I read on..
He continues, “Why can’t Holly and I just make beautiful babies and live in her mansion in Malibu together…”
Now I feel devastated. How could I have been so stupid? Does this guy just have a score card? I debate about what to do.
I don’t want to come off as a jealous lunatic, but I’m hurt and disappointed. I thought that we had shared a beautiful moment the night before.
I summon up the courage to write him an email and say “Are you sure that you’re over Holly? After reading your website I have to wonder?”
He writes back with a quick short and cold, “I told you it’s over and it’s over period.”
I continue to read on his website similar entries about Holly and their “love”.
Meanwhile, since I’ve told my friends and clients about Luke, they of course, are also reading his website. Thus, the phone calls start pouring in telling me that I’m being made a fool of. All of this triggers major insecurities in me. One of my major triggers comes from feeling used or lied to. Many times over the years, especially when I had megabucks, several men, con-artists, gold diggers etc. had come in to my life. Some had even profiled me, embezzled from me, stolen my identity etc. Sometimes it was just a few thousand dollars, other times it was hundreds of thousands of dollars. When you are the victim of such a betrayal, it makes you particularly sensitive to trigger factors.
All of these buttons being pushed, whether they are intentional or unintentional cause my health to plummet within 72 hours. Luke is really pushing me away, not answering his phone and his email responses are cold.
I ask him about the party, because the party I was planning on giving him, flying in his family, getting a new laptop by getting everyone to pitch in, is completely NOT going according to plan. He tells me that all he wants from me is to:
“Show up and pick up the check”… says Luke Ford.
That’s when it hit me. That felt like the only interest he had in me. Feeling this way, feels really really ICKY. It makes me nauseated….
I had a hectic travel schedule and had caught a cold from the icky airplane air…. It got worse after Luke and I were making out in his hovel and sadly he also picked up the cold. We had both been sick for over a week and couldn’t see each other. During the time we first met, he took me to the hovel for some “private time”…at the risk of being indiscreet, let me just say that Luke is magical. There I’ve said it. The hovel is the palace in which the handsome prince lives and the magic he provides is the fairy tale that all women seek. A tender kiss from a handsome prince that wakes you from your deepest sleep, rescues you from the evil and wicked stepmonster, superman to lois lane… ok, you get where I’m going with this. Let’s just say that Luke’s kisses were so “satisfying” that really nothing else was necessary. I think it’s so great when two people really connect in that way. Magical. We laughed. I said, “Luke if we could bottle up and sell what you have, we would both be filthy rich!” He laughed. He walked me to my car and we made a plan to meet at the L.A. Press Club for an upcoming event. I was honored that he wanted me to meet all of his closest friends in the media world.
Again, it was another magical evening with the handsome prince named Luke Ford…How did he know that “The Princess and the Pauper” was always one of my favorite fairy tales, and that I could also make all of his dreams and prayers come true.
Last week I had received a very personal email from Luke where he allowed himself to be vulnerable and confided some of his thoughts and concerns with me. I was moved, touched and honored. Most men think being macho is “manly” I totally disagree. I would rather have a man like Luke anyday that can allow his true emotions and heart to show. Sharing vulnerability with me shows strength not weakness. I wrote back to him in an email. We haven’t known each other long and so much gets lost in email communication that our entire exchange started a downward spiral for the next ten days to come. I immediately kicked in to “Superwoman Mode”…. which sometimes I hate. I’ve always been very gifted in business. Because I’ve been on my own since age 14, I never really had a chance to be a kid. I have been in “caretaker—big sister” role almost ever since I can remember. From childhood to even now, I am always the first person to “rescue”. I rescue many things, cats, dogs, mice, children, battered women, the mentally ill, charities… I’m always trying to help, fix and make life better for others. Especially when I feel close to them.
I arranged for Luke to meet with me and some potential new clients. I’ve seen Luke in his pure form. I think I might even be one of the few people who really understands him. Luke has so much more talent and gifts than anyone gives him credit for. I am convinced without a doubt that if ONLY given the opportunity, Luke can and will be a major success and superstar in his own right.
I’m not quite sure what went wrong during this week…. As I remember it…. it all went very fast and my head is still spinning.
Luke left the business meeting that I had set up early, so we really didn’t get the chance to talk. The next day I had to fly to New York and then to South Beach on business.
It was vitally important to me that Luke feel valued. One of the biggest problems that I have with men is that they feel overwhelmed and immasculated by my personality and career. So I have to be very very carefuil and respectful so that I don’t step on any toes or cross any boundaries. This is particularly tough in our case because we’ve had so very little private quality time together. Some people mistake my eagerness to help as a power control takeover issue and for men, they RUN like hell!
So, in an effort to ease through the situation, I totally slipped in to business mode. Luke is paid a nice sum of cash to act as a consultant. Therefore, it was important to me that issue be recognized. I asked him to please invoice my firm for his time and I made sure that I dropped his compensation in the mail so that he would have it immediately. To maintain the friendship and balance in the relationship that we were cultivating, I included a heartfelt card to make him smile and know that I care.
I had to rush to catch a plane, missed it, was up all night and got really really sick. I started to have some breathing problems with my asthma acting up due to the stress I was under.
I made it to New York. Finally.
I had so much stress with work. Dealing with millions of dollars on the line can be very taxing…especially when you’re ill.
I had shared with a few of my friends that I had met Luke and we had a “thing”. I shared how smitten I was with him. This was since our first meeting earlier in May, just about two weeks earlier. By this point, the word has spread like wildfire throughout my circle of friends and acquaintances. I was getting hammered with negativity about Luke. I won’t repeat the things that were said. To repeat them would be pointless and hurtful to him, so I kept them to myself. I was also getting hammered by clients about not only his pornography association but the “crap” he had written about me in the past. I guess I felt like “hey if I’m over it and he’s a friend of mine and I trust him, it’s really my choice who to have in my life”…. but that didn’t stop the endless negativity for practically a solid 72 hours.
I flew on to South Beach on a private Gulfstream G4 that a friend/client was kind enough to send for me… Trust me fly a G4 and you’ll never fly commercial again. It was fabulous. They usually come with a masseuse and a manicurist pedicurist and fine gourmet cuisine… and the best of all???? wireless internet and cell of course so I can still conduct business on the way to South Beach.
Luke and I exchange emails but I can tell that my stress is showing. Things appear to be on his mind also.
Later that day, I read his blog. I read some things that had an impact on me and I shut down. I tried to contact Luke but he was too busy and couldn’t take the time to call me right way.
My heart started racing. I couldn’t breathe. I started wheezing. It felt like a two ton guerilla was setting on my chest. I called a friend and we went to the emergency room. On the way I was frantically looking for my inhaler. I only got one dose. It kept me from croaking but my inhaler was now empty and my breathing is becoming increasingly difficult.
In the emergency room, my blood pressure was extremely high… makes sense… I just realized I haven’t taken my blood pressure medication in months. I also forgot to get my asthma medication refilled etc. Why? because I’m always taking care of everyone but myself and I forget about me. That’s one of the problems of being a caretaker, but I’ve been that way all of my life.
The doctors wanted to keep me for observation and to get me stabilized.. Asthma is not always life threatening but it’s not something you want to screw around with.
I had email Luke many times this week. I needed to get a head count and details on his birthday party. I was also planning on a few surprises for him. The first one, was I was going to fly his parents and siblings in from Australia. In addition, I wanted to get the group of invitees to all get together to chip in and get a really great gift for him that he needed, perhaps a new laptop, briefcase, whatever, a bed even~!
In the past he had mentioned his relationship and friendship with Holly Randall. He told me that their romantic relationship was over. That was that. However, by reading his website, it was obvious to anyone that they had a strong bond. I know that Luke respects her and likes her and her family very much. While I was on the plane I had looked at Holly’s websites etc. and read about her. What found kind of funny is that Holly is almost the same age as my daughter Aimee, who’s my dearest closest friend. Aimee and I also work together just as Holly does with her mother Suze.
By another coincidence, while working with the Black Eyed Peas in Chicago we talked with Oprah segment producers on show ideas/ segment ideas. One of them was following in mom’s footsteps a mother daughter career panel similar to the ones that Aimee and I had done before.
One thing that’s funny/odd about me is when I see “matching opporunities” I just immediately go in to auto pilot work mode. Thus I thought , how cool! This would be great for Holly and her mom. I know Luke would be pleased to do something nice for a dear friend of his etc. If she and I hit it off, I thought maybe we could even through a bigger party for Luke or come up with something really extraordinary for the big 40.
Reading about Holly on LukeFord.net,I had been entertained for hours reading about their interchanges. What I loved about Holly was she’s cute and strong, just like my daughter. So I thought, hey, why not it might be fun.
Luke had been really busy so I just dropped her an email introducing myself and telling her about the segment. To maintain discretion with Luke and our private life private, at that point, I didn’t even mention his name and and fact have never mentioned his name to her.
So I kept it all business and thought maybe I could even send her some business or possibly network in some way. That’s just kind of my nature. There’s not a jealous bone in my body. I’m a networker with literally hundreds of thousands of acquaintances in my database. If I don’t know someone, I most likely know of someone who does… if that makes sense.
Anyway…Luke didn’t see it in exactly the same way…..
The Ten Commandments for Courting Luke Ford of www.LukeFord.net
Basia in Weehawken writes: “39 and still single. Just what does it take to land Luke? Like, do you have certain rules a woman must obey?”
Well Basia, as a matter of fact, I do, and they are not that different from the rules most men would articulate. To marry Luke you must date Luke, and to date Luke here are some of the rules that you must obey.
1. Thou shalt have no other man before me. This means that you don’t talk about past boyfriends in my presence. It means that you don’t post pictures of them on your websites or have them tacked onto your refrigerator. It means you don’t engage in any sort of physically or psychologically intimate activities or conversations with them, either.
2. Thou shalt place Luke at the center of your relationship universe.
3. Thou shalt not play telephone games with Luke. None of this “gee, I just called him yesterday, so I think I will wait to see how long before he calls me” crap. And when Luke calls you, you return the call as soon as you can, even if it means using a public pay phone with homeless dude cheese on the earpiece and TB germs on the mouthpiece. (But clean yourself afterwards.)
4. Thou shalt do nice things for Luke without being asked. If I am sick, I want you by my side feeding me good things to eat, reading to me, and consoling me even if I have not asked this of you. Remember, the role of Girl Friend is but a tryout for the role of my Dead Mommy.
5. Respect that Luke respects the Sabbath, and keeps it holy. I have certain rituals and special sabbath mitzvahs (commandments, rituals etc) that I follow. Respect them. In some instances, I may require your assistance. Offer it cheerfully.
6. Thou shalt not flirt with others. In public (especially) show no interest in other men.
7. Thou shalt not fry your brain on drugs nor pickel your mind on alcohol. Alcoholics stink, ditto smokers (of anything). Yech. You who would be with me should have nothing less than minty fresh breath.
8. Be clean. Bathe, when you are with me. Brush your teeth, floss them too, and use some mouthwash. Clean yourself head to toe and every place in between.
9. Dress attractively, but not sluttishly, unless it is for my private viewing pleasure.
10. Be prepared to accept me as I am, even when this means that I am not taking the initiative you would have me take. You must always be there for me, as I would be for you.
I didn’t sleep after the hovel experience with Luke Ford. Whatever was on the floor of his hovel dug in to my back and made it excruciatingly painful the next day. I wondered to myself how on earth Luke sleeps at all being so uncomfortable.
Suddenly my handsome prince turned in to a frog. It was as if the kisses the night before and being exposed to his true self and his true reality woke me up from a dazed fog and fantasy of a Luke Ford character that I created in my head.
Today as I wake, I am bombarded by phone calls from friends, clients and my daughter blasting me for getting involved with someone that they considered evil, loathsome and of less than honorable character. I defended his honor until I literally felt beaten up.
The dialogue with Luke over the next few days was strained at best. I felt like I was dealing more with a child than a man. In the beginning I thought he was an “innocent” worth saving and was simply misunderstood.
However, the truth was, the more I woke up out of my fog I realized that Luke has parts of him that are pure evil. He laughs hysterically when talking about interviews he’s done with people conning them in to thinking that he’s a “good guy”, gets them to open up and then slams them editorially. Is this honorable?
Then, my friends are saying Cheryl “you’re ignoring the glaring red flags”… so I start to think…I remember the first time we met at Starbucks he made a comment about the “rock” on my wedding ring finger and the vintage wedding band. I explained to him that the five carat sapphire princess cut and the three carat diamond trillion cuts on each side of the center stone were a “divorce present to myself”. My ego told me he was interested in me as a woman and thus was questioning me about my single status. My friends say that he was sizing up what it was worth.
I had been late for coffee, so I paid of course, as I did with dinner etc. He made mention that I always carry what I refer to as “Ben Franklins aka one hundred dollar bills”. We had a discussion about it and I told him how much I liked them. We also talked about the fact that I usually carry $10,000 in cash on me, just because I don’t believe in paying for things with credit cards. I literally have zero debt. I plan on keeping it that way.
I had left my wallet behind in San Francisco on a flight a few days before. The wallet was turned in minus the $2,000 in cash that was in it, however, I was happy to get my passport and California Driver’s License etc.
I had asked Luke repeatedly about the birthday party that I had committed to for his 40th. I knew I was sick. I wanted to pay for it in cash. He estimated 10 people at $15 per person. Ok, fine, $150 is MORE Than enough to spend on a guy that I’ve gone out with for thirty days. I felt it was more than generous.
I can’t begin to tell you what a tremendous energy shift there was between me and Luke this week. I went from being madly attracted to this handsome prince sweetheart of a guy to feeling like I was becoming an unwilling mother to a naughty, arrogant little twirp of a punk kid. He was behaving like an ill mannered demonic two year old.
Just before having my asthma attack he snapped at me saying, “stop asking me how many people are coming, you have more than enough cash that you carry with you all the time so you’ll have enough money”. I thought it was crude rude and an asshole of a comment.
I was trying desperately to give Luke the benefit of the doubt, but I felt like everything that people had warned me about with him was true.
When I attended the LA press party event with him, he practically ignored me all night. The exception was to bring me two glasses of water while a few of his friends were kind enough to keep me company. Where was Luke? Luke was hanging out with four women from MS. Magazine pestering the shit out of them. At this point I was just plain tired. I felt disrespected and wanted desperately to just go home. I always start thinking in these moments….. what the fuck am I doing here? My time is billed out at $350 to $500 an hour. I’m going to get my stuff and go home to soak in the hot jacuzzi and relax. Personally I would rather be home than hanging out watching this guy talk to other chicks. I’m weird that way I guess. Anyway, I didn’t want to just leave without saying goodbye, so I look over and smile and walk towards him to wish him a good evening with his new friends. Then I realize that these chicks are kinda freaked out by him. I started thinking to myself “Why on earth did I leave San Francisco where I was being driven around in Limos and being treated with respect and ass kissing to rush down here to deal with this crap?” I felt like getting back on the plane. What was I thinking????
I think to myself, if this isn’t a photo opp and a Kodak moment, I don’t know what is. I urge them to squeeze in closely so that I can capture this moment forever. This is the little boy I see that just likes to go around causing trouble. I realize now that Luke is simply a little boy who has probably not emotionally grown past the age of 3 or so. Suddenly I feel like his mother. This feeling is totally freaking me out and I feel like some kind of freaking pedophile looking at Luke now. What was I thinking? I can’t have sex with a child. Do I want another child/son? Do I want to adopt or rescue another person in my life…
I wonder if he senses how desperately I want to FLEE!!! Everything in my body is screaming RUN, RUN, RUN, while you can! Meanwhile, I’m thinking I have to preserve this moment on digital images. I always document things, usually video and photo. I wanted to document the fact I actually know and have touched the essence, the extraordinary, the pain in the royal ass known as Luke Ford.
As I’m snapping the photos, I explain to the girls from MS. Magazine that they need to forgive poor Luke, because he’s just escaped from the mental hospital and stopped taking his psych meds. They look at me in puzzlement, but I reassure him that he’s just annoying, and not dangerous… although in truth, Luke can be poison and deadly…
On Luke Ford’s Blog He writes and tells me that I have caused his panic attacks. He also shares with me that the “friend” he’s taking advantage of is me:
“As I drive up to the party Thursday evening, I battle my first panic attack in years. As I maneuver back and forth to get a free parking spot on De Longpre off Cahuenga, I feel the universe collapsing in on me. I have so many changes going on in my life, I feel overwhelmed.
Many new opportunities are opening up to me, and I don’t want to blow them.
I fear that I’ve bitten off more than I can chew, that I’ve abused a friend’s generosity, that I’m exquisitely sensitive about myself and callous towards others…
My stomach locks up and my arms are on fire. I can barely lift my camera.
Wouldn’t it be exquisite that I could finally do something honorable with my life only my elbows won’t cooperate?
Will I need to steer my way home with my mouth?
I don’t think this attack has anything to do with my turning 40 on Sunday. I keep telling people that it means nothing to me. My meaning in life is not founded on delusions of youth. But what if I’m deluded? What if I’m freaked about beginning another decade? What if my panic means I don’t like what I see when I look in the mirror? All those nose and ear hairs, where did they come from all of a sudden?
How can I devote myself to castigating sexual predators yet plead in private to put “the tip in”? I pose in righteousness yet promise to “bang you silly.”
I have wings but I cannot fly.”
I respond:
I’m assuming that this was the panic attack that you told me about on the phone? I just had a moment to really read this. I’m sorry that you feel panic from me. I wish I could somehow take it away so that you feel better.
No matter what we will always be friends. I’m happy that you were able to celebrate your birthday with Holly and your other friends from the porn world. I know that you care about them. Being surrounded by people who love you is a good thing. All I want for you and for me is happiness however it turns out. Once again, I’m sorry that I made you feel bad in any way. I’m also sorry for crossing your boundaries, sometimes, I’m just insensitive. I’ll work on it.
HOLLY RANDALL WRITES TO LUKE FORD OF WWW.LUKEFORD.NET
Holly writes: “I give up. You just love to insult me. And btw, shooting nude women isn’t as easy as you think it is. In fact, it’s damn difficult, especially when the model is green and/or has flaws I have to deal with. I know you hate the porn industry and will only see it as the evil one-eyed monster that lives in your closet, but I am going to continue to work in the industry, I’m going to have a family, and I’m going to be a damn good mother. So you can take your opinions on me, my job, and my family and shove it up your ass.”
If Holly Randall…
Jack writes:
“If Holly’s mom was a teacher or doctor or an artist, would have Holly have become a pornographer?
I don’t think the kind of stuff Holly does is offensive in itself, it’s that it is a trajectory to a whole heap of problems, physical and emotional.
It’s a pity you two can’t work together to make serious docu films about these issues. I wondering if you have ever discused it? Could Holly make serious docu films and do porn, or is that of zero interest to her? I rather suspect a possible way to persuade her would be for you to make an example and for you to make money from it.”
LUKE FORD OF LUKEFORD.NET RESPONDS TO JACK:
“There aren’t any difficult issues here. Porn is bad for you like cigarettes and MTV and a million things are bad for you. Humans are weak. They struggle to survive. Sometimes we do bad things, often because they are less bad than the alternatives. Nobody who could be shooting or writing for Vanity Fair magazine or Hollywood is making porn or writing about porn. Porn is a refuge for the lazy, for people who don’t want to push themselves to do something noble.
Oone of the definitions I’ve read for pornography is that it is the lowest form of artistic endeavor.
Holly wanted to be a fashion photographer but decided that would be too hard. Porn is easy, particularly for a girl like her. Holly, like any decent photographer, can shoot beaver in her sleep. There aren’t any special skills to making porn. It’s the easiest way she can make a great living and buy lots of expensive shoes and take exotic vacations.
Do I respect pornographers? Not for making porn. I may respect them for other qualities.”
LUKE CONTINUES BLOG:
“If I was a great writer or reporter, do you think I’d be writing primarily on porn? No way. I’m only here because I’m not good enough (as yet) to make it anywhere else.”
H.L. Mencken said you can judge a man’s character by the way he earns a living.
Luke – Holly Blow-Up
Da Burglar writes on XPT:
“I feel like Rockhound from the movie “Armageddon”, when he and Max get back on the Space Shuttle and See Harry and Colonel Sharp with a Gun and Space Wrench pointed at each other’s head….”Ok guys…what did I miss?”
Where was all this posted? I am bummed now…my two favorite people in Porn are fighting, it’s like when Mom and Dad used to get in a fight, always a couple hours before we would be going to the amusement park or something fun.
I hate hate hate to say this, but I actually, COMPLETELY understand and agree with BOTH of their positions and points and thoughts…how is that possible? I usually can’t get up on a fence to sit on it even if I want to… I need to invite both Luke and Holly up to smoke a peace pipe with me…this is not healthy or good.”
Damaged writes: “Luke and Holly should cool it with this. I have close friends that disagree with much of what I think and vis versa and we just don’t get into those subjects. The main problem is Luke’s need to be openly critical, as if by announcing what he believes is somehow the path of the righteous.”
Allover writes: “Luke is anal and calculating. That was designed like a love potion number 9. Word of love soft and tender don’t win a girl’s heart no more! If ya love ‘er you gotta send her somewhere she ain’t never been before.”
JamesN writes:
“Luke’s vanity trumped his concern for his mental health. he discontinued taking his medication and his page is already showing it-the updates either seem to come at a trickle, if at all some days. then for several days, luke swings back into a mild hypomania despite his tennis elbow and writes more than he did in the previous four days. from tom wolfe’s hooking up-luke take your lithium!
“The demise of Freudianism can be summed up in a single word: lithium. In 1949 an Australian psychiatrist, John Cade, gave five days of lithium therapy–for entirely the wrong reasons–to a fifty-one-year-old mental patient who was so manic-depressive, so hyperactive, unintelligible, and uncontrollable, he had been kept locked up in asylums for twenty years. By the sixth day, thanks to the lithium buildup in his blood, he was a normal human being. Three months later he was released and lived happily ever after in his own home. This was a man who had been locked up and subjected to two decades of Freudian logorrhea to no avail whatsoever.”
luke, do you not realize this woman is ideal? i’ve already got my troubled blond from princeton, but think about it luke. she’s adorable, easily as smart as you, and most importantly-she actually gets you despite the aurora snow sized gape betwixt you and perfection. lukeydukey, the woman’s half the reason i read your site now-she’s cool as shit, whatever you do to her. stop the khomeini-style bullshit. your income comes from what she does. i’ve got co-writing creds at the wsj, hbr, etc. and guess what? NOBODY GIVES A FUCK WHAT YOU DO IF YOU CAN WRITE.
write, holly’s a muse, she’s not dragging you down, you spent a decade brilliantly fooling dumb girls into saying things they regretted in the same industry. you’ve been on set where penises touch vaginas. only mitt romney can claim moral superiority, you fucked kendra jade, you’re one of us.”
Allover writes:
“I think Mr. Ford is terrified to have actually developed strong feelings of love for a woman in the pornography business. His nightmares probably consist of her somewhow getting talked into performing in front of the camera. The horror, I intuitevely feel, must be twofold for him because in these horrors of sleep he is interviewing her for his site on her decision and desperately wants her not to do it for reasons we can all understand, but it also causes his casually sadistic interview style to begin to fray under the stress of his diasturbed emotional state, and thus his purchase on his carved niche height to look down his nose is in jeopardy.”
LUKE FORD OF LUKEFORD.NET BLOGS:
“I had a nightmare Sunday morning, June 11, 2006, that friends found nude and hardcore layouts of me in various porn magazines that Holly had shot. It took about an hour of awake time for me to assure myself I had never done any such thing.”
The fact that Luke disclosed his panic attacks makes perfect sense to me now. Although at the time he was trying to make ME feel bad that he was having such anxiety, it turns out that Luke, himself wasn’t exactly disclosing the true facts. As I was busting my ass to rush home and give him a birthday party, he was already working on a new chickie named Cathy* and planning on sticking me with the Birthday Bill of $500. as well as deceiving and dumping me the next day by email cooking up a bunch of bullshit arguments…
Does a “man” operate this way?
Luke’s attempt at honor AFTER Sticking me with his birthday bills:
Luke Ford Writes:
Re: Hey by the way….
In a message dated 5/30/06 10:18:09 PM, [email protected] writes:
That’s funny. I was not relaxed with you Sunday night. Not anyone’s fault necessarily but I was not.
There are times when I am relaxed with you, such as the last half of our phoner last night.
I am relaxed with Holly. But that does not mean I’m getting together with Holly. Quite the opposite.
I met someone a few days ago and we were just on the phone for an hour and we’ve gone out to eat a couple of times and tonight we decided we’re going to be exclusive.
I know this sounds very highschool but you’re the first person I’ve told because this just happened.
Cathy* _______ is not a jealous type (while I can be)… She’s very loyal and trusting. You and I can be friends. We can have dinner if we want or whatever…We can work together if we wish. But my romantic/physical interests are going to be focused solely on Cathy* (not Jewish but interested in converting).
Gnight.
Summary:
I haven’t seen Luke Ford since the night of his birthday, nor do I really want to. What first appears to be a charming and delightful human being in reality is a parasite. With Holly, he receives income from the advertisements on his websites, from Cathy* contacts to move his career forward from the Press Club* and me, well, we’ve already been there and done that. I don’t think it’s necessary to rehash old war wounds. I will say however, that I feel “people” should be more honest and direct with who and what they’re after. In truth, I feel sorry for Holly and Cathy* or anyone else that meets this guy. Listen to those who warn you…He even warns you himself. And it is for real. Some people are just plain evil. After consulting with four different psychiatrists, mutual friends that we have in common including one woman who knows both of us who is ALSO a psychiatrist, each and every one of them told me clearly that it’s best that I RUN from this person for my own emotional safety. It saddens me that people like this actually exist in the world and I will actually pray for him and hope that he gets the help that he desperately needs before hurting others.
From Dictionary.com (My Favorite Favorite)
. par·a·site Audio pronunciation of parasite ( P ) Pronunciation Key (pr-st)
n.
1. Biology. An organism that grows, feeds, and is sheltered on or in a different organism while contributing nothing to the survival of its host.
2.
1. One who habitually takes advantage of the generosity of others without making any useful return.
2. One who lives off and flatters the rich; a sycophant.
Like I responded to Luke’s friend Chaim Amalek in New York:
“Luke and I are ill suited romantically or sexually, I see him more as a case study in mental illness or a branding project case study for personal branding in overcoming his scandalous past connections and breaking through to mainstream media. The question is, can I stand to deal with him?”
syc·o·phant pronunciation of sycophant ( P ) (noun)
A servile self-seeker who attempts to win favor by flattering influential people.
Hey everyone!!!! Check it out! On Dictionary.com I went to look up the work sycophant and guess who’s picture is under the word in the dictionary!!! That’s right folks! It’s Our Moral Leader, “Luke C. Ford” of LukeFord.net himself!!!!
All fork over your valuables, time, strength and energy and prepare for full impact!
xoxo,
Cheryl
Sorry to be a bitch, but would you mind accommodating me on one more thing? Please don’t leave comments on my myspace. I don’t have a problem with it but my GF can be a bit volatile on it.
How you been?
LUKE”
Cheryl Responds:
Readers Please note that GF means Girlfriend in High School language. In addition, the day after I threw Luke’s 40th birthday party he was “ordered” remove me by the GF aka Cathy* (not her true name to protect the bitch) from his MySpace.com Top 8, Do you know how much that pissed me off? I can handle public humiliation etc. but to be cut from the Myspace.com Top 8. That’s where I draw the friggin line! Who does she think he is? He said she was “not the jealous type” but this is friggin ridiculous! Come on Cathy* (not her real name) grow the hell up! And come on, an Asian* girl converting to Orthodox Judaism after knowing Luke for two dates… I’m not buying this story! Who else thinks this is a bullshit game?
Oh and by the way, the other good friend in his life, Holly Randall, he disrespects her all the time just like me, if not worse, she ALSO threw a 40th birthday party for him and Holly tells me that she too has been banished to MySpace.com oblivion under strict orders and ultimatums from the Asian Cathy* who’s not the jealous type and Luke’s serious exclusive girlfriend after two dinners and an hour conversation. Can you say Obsessive or is it Possessive?”
Hey everyone!
One of the more interesting by-products or side effects of the Luke Ford experience is that I really like and respect Holly Randall. I think Luke is totally obsessed with her, but hey, can you blame the guy? She’s young, beautiful, funny (from what I’ve read), strong, talented and doesn’t take his shit! I admire her for that. You Go Girl! So who knows, maybe we’ll all be friends some day… that’s the way it should have been anyway….. Luke Ford has no business in relationships with women…. He just doesn’t have the tools, nothing personal to the guy, he just doesn’t.
One of the “good things” that came out of my OD on Luke Ford was meeting Cathy Seipp. Cathy is a natural beauty with a pair of the most striking blue eyes I’ve ever seen. Cathy is one of the few women I’ve met that actually looks really great without makeup. She’s also petite. I always wanted to be a “petite girl” instead of an Amazon Woman. The other things I learned and admire about Cathy is that she’s a single parent with a great relationship with her 17 year old daughter. (My daughters are 18 and 15). Cathy is a great writer also and writes “Cathy’s World”. She’s intelligent and a great catch, so I thought, I would introduce her to some of the really great men that I have in my life. Sometimes there’s great guys in your life but for one reason or another they are not a romantic fit. I’m always trying to play matchmaker, in my professional life with business relationships or my personal life with social friends and acquaintances. It’s actually quite fulfilling and rewarding.
Cathy had made an entry on her blog about Luke’s birthday party. It was really cool, sweet and nice that so many people commented on the photo I took of Cathy and Luke. It really was adorable and they are great friends. I think to myself that Cathy must have the patience of a saint to tolerate Luke :-)”
Your thoughts?
xoxox,
Cheryl
In a message dated 6/4/06 11:43:15 AM, Miss Seipp writes:
Thanks, Cheryl, that’s really nice of you. But it sounds like you didn’t get the email I sent you a week or so ago, thanking you for that pic and asking if it was OK to crop and use as my new headshot…maybe you don’t check that email address that often. Anyway, here it is again, and again many thanks for hosting that dinner as well as taking such a nice picture of me!
Subj: Thanks again for that lovely dinner and pic…
Date: 5/31/2006 9:09:26 AM Pacific Standard Time
From: Miss Seipp
To: cheryl
I just noticed you left a comment on my blog, which made me think perhaps I should have mentioned you in that entry….but I’ve learned the hard way that sometimes people are touchy and get upset when they see their names there, so my default option is better safe than sorry unless I know for sure it’s OK. Also, Luke had told me in advance to keep rather quiet about the dinner lest people who weren’t invited feel bad.
You seem to have a knack for taking pictures, because people really seem to like that one of me, and a nice army major who reads my blog even photoshopped Luke out and turned it, thinking perhaps I could use it as my new head shot. (You can see the result at http://ceciledubois.buzznet.com) I think it still looks a little red, but I guess that’s how I look, alas. Anyway, would that be OK with you, if I used it as my headshot? Of couse I’d give you photo credit! (Or leave your name off, if that’s what you’d prefer…)
Also, thanks again for hosting such a nice party. Luke is very lucky that you were so generous and I know in his own way he was very appreciative, although sometimes he has an odd way of showing it.
In a message dated 6/4/06 3:02:29 PM, Miss Seipp writes:
Re: Quick extra question…
I just saw your email and am about to sign off (I’m not much for IM’ing) but I have a quick question: I take it you don’t mind, since Luke linked and posted, about people knowing about the jetset dating blog and your impressions of Luke? If that’s the case, maybe I’ll write a new post mentioning your Match.com project and linking to my updated old post that gives you credit for the photo etc., and also to the jetset sit and your main site. The most interesting entry on the jetset site to me is the one where you meet Luke…you don’t mind people reading that one?
It sounds like you’re not dating Luke anymore (wise move). I’m not in much of a dating mood these days, but if you come across anyone who likes my pic enough to want to meet an opinionated Republican columnist for lunch or something, sure, send them to my blog and they can email me if they like. And thanks for the suggestion!
In a message dated 6/4/06 2:16:13 PM, Miss Seipp writes:
Sorry about the misspelling — I guess that explains it!
Who are these eligible handsome bachelors? Do you mean they wanted to meet me because of those pix? Why aren’t you dating them?
Amalek emails:
This is a question that has vexed wise men and women for about 7 years now – “who the hell writes all that crap?” I write relationship blog when I feel motivated and a fair amount of stuff that appears on lukeford.net under various names or anonymously. (I seldom write anything that he posts to his other blog.) I’ve also just started dabbling in Myspace as that guy with the wedding dress pic, but don’t care much for the whole myspace thing. Back in the day, I had many more pseudonyms than I’ve got at present: the Reverend Peter Luther Christian, OBE; Cindee Plenum; Hector Gomez; Fischel Teitelbaum from Brooklyn; and others.
But enough of the past. Let’s talk the present and the future, and the undermonetized asset that is Luke Ford. At first I thought his (and by hanging on to his coat tails, my) route to fame and money was through a movie. I even wrote a screenplay entitled “Guard Your Tongue” about his exploits with the porners and his attempt to win acceptance among the orthodox Jews of his community. Alas, as I utterly lack either any connections to Hollywood or the genes to sell them anything, that has not gone anywhere, brilliant though this work have been. (Any suggestions on that score? I’ve got other stuff too, but no WGA agent to help me push it. Seriously, I’ve tons of ideas.)
My next idea for Luke concerns cable television. I realize that the competition for air time and for audience attention is ferocious and the stakes high, but this leads all the “creative” people who get to greenlight shows to pick the same sorts of things over and over in the hope that they can replicate the success of others. Consequently, they generally show little imagination, and gaps open up between what audiences want to see and what they these few people are willing to offer them. I believe that there is an as yet unserviced nitch available on television: an intellectually serious (in the sense that Luke is intellectually serious) talk show that covers popular culture from porn to religion to bloggers to writers to fringe political figures back to porn. Luke has connections to all of those worlds, and he’d be great on television. I even have a name for the show: “The Luke Ford Diversity Hour.” People would tune in, and in no time he’d have a huge cult following.. Yes, he’d need help, but I know of lots of creative people who would be eager to help out with content. I’m not thinking of this as Jerry Springer or Oprah, but something entirely different, and I think it would work.
You have your finger on the pulse of popular culture. What say you?
Man with many many names……
Cheryl: Luke Ford Red Flag Flashback:
My friends continue to scream at me that with Luke Ford their were screaming red flags all about him that I chose to ignore….
Cheryl (yes, that’s me) Thinks to Self “Self, remember when you got the email from Luke discussing his career, finances etc. and you offered to bring him in on a few deals, ie, the Friar’s Club, Ultra Music Festival etc., where he would be traveling with you to exotic places and you would be paying him a consulting fee of $70 an hour etc. to schmooze with people and then blog/vlog about it? Remember when on the first “audition” for this new job, he stayed for about an hour and a half, left before the meeting was over, billed you for his time and you sent him exactly the amount of $120. in cash so that he would feel valued and not immasculated by you. Isn’t it interesting that he’s never even sent you a $1 thank you card after the nice thoughtful cards you’ve sent him to brighten his day and keep him focused and upbeat. Don’t you find it odd that it’s the exact, repeat EXACT amount that he spent on Levitra for his “new young girlfriend” as he blogs? What’s wrong with this picture? LOL…..
And the Infamous Prince of Darkness…
Luke Ford from LukeFord.net Blogs:
“Levitra Is Breaking Me
Though my spirit is willing, my flesh is weak. So I went to my Kaiser doctor today and got a prescription for a picker-upper. It’s not covered by Kaiser. I’m out $120 for 12 pills (I feel guilty because I owe several readers of this column a total of $2,500, not to mention $2,500 to the IRS, and another $13,600 elsewhere). Maybe if I cut the pills in half (forgo Rogaine and Grecian Formula for a few months), they will add half an erection to the half I’ve already got, and together I’ll be able to keep up with my young new girlfriend.
If this medication wasn’t for my health, I wouldn’t splurge on it.”
Posted inPersonal|Comments Off on The Scent Of Luke
Steve Sailer wrote July 24, 2005: “Mickey Kaus called Luke the “human Echelon Project, for the prodigious amount of interviewing and transcribing he does of who’s saying what around LA. Luke even interviewed me. But the bonus reason for reading Luke’s blog is so you can then read the libelously hilarious “Luke Ford Fan Blog.”
From the Luke Ford Fan Blog archives:
February 3, 2007:
I woke up this morning, rolled over to check my email (I sleep with my laptop because I’m a L-O-S-E-R!) and saw a message from Nikki Finke. I read it and went back to sleep.
I dreamt that I was walking along a southern California beach with my 10 year old niece. She had just scored two goals in the city-wide championship soccer game and was telling me all about it. The beach was very crowded, but I saw Cathy Seipp standing with a piece of paper in one hand. Before her were 30 or so of her regular commenters. As I got closer (Cathy is a very beautiful woman, by the way) I discovered that she was reading from next week’s National Review Online column. The wack-packers sat cross-legged in rapt attention, except for Lewis Fein and Donna Barstow who were shoving one another.
I told my niece to “shhhh,” as I wanted to listen to Cathy. But every time Cathy began to speak Nikki Finke, who was sitting some 10 feet behind her under a sun umbrella, would shout: “Shut up, Cathy, nobody wants to hear your stupid National Review Online column!” Nikki — in my dream! — was a 600 pound blob wearing an all-black Gothic one-piece swimsuit.
Each time Cathy was heckled, she would stop, clear her throat and start again at the beginning, only speaking louder and with more demonstrative hand gestures — you know just like Sandra Tsing-Loh. The yelling and the hand movements were quite annoying — you know just like Sandra Tsing-Loh — and I was starting to feel somewhat sympathetic toward Ms Finke. Also at this point Donna Barstow’s fight with Lewis Fein had degenerated into a full-scale wrestling match, with Donna on top of Lewis (who is very small, almost hobbit-like) pinning him to the sand.
Finally Cathy had enough of Ms Finke’s interruptions. She threw her piece of paper on the ground (the wack-packers scrambled over each other to pick it up) and stormed toward the gossip reporter and began violently punching her in the head. Nikki — in my dream! — had but tiny Tyrannosaurus Rex-like arms that didn’t extend to her head, so she couldn’t defend herself. “This is getting ugly,” I said to my niece. I picked her up and began running away.
Then I woke up.
According to Nikki Finke I’m not allowed to discuss what was in her email to me. And I will not, only to say that I’m dreadfully sorry, Nikki, if anything that I’ve written about you has caused offence. I promise it won’t happen again.
February 9, 2007:
I’ve just finished reading Harry Frankfurt’s essay “On Bullshit.” I soooo recognise myself:
What bullshit essentially misrepresents is neither the state of affairs to which it refers nor the beliefs of the speaker concerning that state of affairs. Those are what lies misrepresent, by virtue of being false. Since bullshit need not be false, it differs from lies in its misrepresentational intent. The bullshitter may not deceive us, or even intend to do so, either about the facts or about what he takes the facts to be. What he does necessarily attempt to deceive us about is his enterprise. His only indispensably distinctive characteristic is that in a certain way he misrepresents what he is up to.
This is the crux of the distinction between him and the liar. Both he and the liar represent themselves falsely as endeavoring to communicate the truth. The success of each depends upon deceiving us about that. But the fact about himself that the liar hides is that he is attempting to lead us away from a correct apprehension of reality; we are not to know that he wants us to believe something he supposes to be false. The fact about himself that the bullshitter hides, on the other hand, is that the truth-values of his statements are of no central interest to him; what we are not to understand is that his intention is neither to report the truth nor co conceal it. This does not mean that his speech is anarchically impulsive, but that the motive guiding and controlling it is unconcerned with how the things about which he speaks truly are.
It is impossible for someone to lie unless he thinks he knows the truth. Producing bullshit requires no such conviction. A person who lies is thereby responding to the truth, and he is to that extent respectful of it. When an honest man speaks, he says only what he believes to be true; and for the liar, it is correspondingly indispensable that he considers his statements to be false. For the bullshitter, however, all these bets are off: he is neither on the side of the true nor on the side of the false. His eye is not on the facts at all, as the eyes of the honest man and of the liar are, except insofar as they may be pertinent to his interest in getting away with what he says. He does not care whether the things he says describe reality correctly. He just picks them out, or makes them up, to suit his purpose.
In his essay, “Lying,” St. Augustine distinguishes lies of eight types, which he classifies according to the characteristic intent or justification with which a lie is told. Lies of seven of these types are told only because they are supposed to be indispensable means to some end that is distinct from the sheer creation of false beliefs. It is not their falsity as such, in other words, that attracts the teller to them. Since they are told only on account of their supposed indispensability to a goal other than deception itself, St. Augustine regards them as being told unwillingly: what the person really wants is not to tell the lie but to attain the goal. They are therefore not real lies, in his view, and those who tell them are not in the strictest sense liars. It is only the remaining category that contains what he identifies as “the lie which is told solely for the pleasure of lying and deceiving, that is, the real lie.” Lies in this category are not told as means to any end distinct from the propagation of falsehood. They are told simply for their own sakes — i.e., purely out of a love of deception: “There is a distinction between a person who tells a lie and a liar. The former is one who tells a lie unwillingly, while the liar loves to lie and passes his time in the joy of lying … The latter takes delight in lying, rejoicing in the falsehood itself.”
I need to put my blog on hiatus as I study St. Augustine, contemplate my appalling lack of character, and try to make myself a better, less manipulative, person. But, hey, at least in St. Augustine I’ve finally found a leader who can help me with my specific moral failing.
Luke Ford is best suited to helping horny porno types. He’s definitely an expert in that area, what with all the hands-on counselling he’s done assisting teenage girls (and grannies!) battle sex addiction and exhibitionism — evils with which Horrid Boy, a “failed pornographer” and icky nudist, is all too familiar. If Mr Ford can defeat his sexual demons with the help of The Great Dennis Prager, then I can defeat my need to bullshit with the help of The Saintly Augustine of Hippo! (Or maybe not.)
CAIRO, Egypt (AP) — Al-Qaida’s No. 2 said Luke Ford was a sex addict who wagered on Torah study and lost, according to a new audiotape released Tuesday.
Ayman al-Zawahri said in the tape that Ford has been forced to admit his failure after he was “stubborn” and repeated the “lie, which he became addicted to, that he is winning” his battle against sexhibitionism.
“Ford suffers from an addictive personality, and was a sex addict (and a nudist). I don’t know his present condition … but the one who examines his personality finds that he is addicted to two other faults: lying and gambling,” al-Zawahri said in the audiotape.
Ford, who is now 40, has acknowledged he had a problem with pornography but gave up gambling when he was 18 years old …
In Other News:
Pauline Hanson has a new boyfriend — just in time for Valentine’s Day! My favourite Aussie politician, the incredibly sexy Pauline Hanson (I have a thing for very conservative older women with short hair) is now dating country music singer Chris Callaghan. He’s written a song for Pauline. OMG, it’s soooo good!
On the one hand, I’m a little bit jealous because Ms Hanson is one of my many pretend girlfriends (and fantasy sex is better if it’s a little bit realistical); on the other hand, Pauline has been through so much — including being a political prisoner for 11 weeks (she was originally sentenced to three years). So I’m happy that she’s found love again, and, better still, is getting back into politics. If only we had moral/political leaders like Pauline Hanson in Canada. All hope is not lost, however.
I’d blog some more, but I really have to listen to “How Proud Are We” again — it’s, like, the best song EVER!
So I’m checking out Pererro‘s blogroll and I see that I’m not listed under “Blogs We Frequent,” but rather under “Other Cool People.” And that’s cool, except look at my neighbours! I see I’m listed with Rebecca Schoenkopf. And that’s cool, too, except that she’s clearly mocking Mr Scott with her “That’s terribly exciting” comment. Now I hate David Scott as much as the next person, and let it never be said that I don’t heartily approve of (good-natured) mockery, but Rebecca doesn’t write for the OC Weekly anymore so her reference to “our paper” is terribly dated. And speaking of terribly dated, the Onanism Today blog hasn’t existed for over a year and yet it is still being linked. Why?
DERACINATED JEWISH GIRLS ARE WAY ICKY
Here’s jamYe waXman‘s list of the top nine things she loves (relevant excerpts, with my pithy comments, only):
2. The smell of a lover’s armpits. The stinkier the better. Same goes with asparagus pee. I know it takes an honest person to admit that one, but it’s true. I also like the smell of gasoline, not to be confused with the smell of other people’s gas.
I feel ill.
3. Betty Dodson. This lady rocks my socks off. I mean I generally wear really high socks so it’s hard to acutally [sic] knock them off. She is hands down the hippest grandma lady [sic] (and I mean that as the highest of compliments only) I know, and if I grow up to be anything like Betty then I”m [sic] doing okay by me. Betty and I have been getting to know each other a little better ever since I, uhm, helped her with a video, and these past few months she’s really allowed me into her world. I’m just like, wow, I get to know Betty Dodson, how cool is that?
She’s a masturbating granny pornographer! So, no, not cool. Not cool at all. And speaking of icky self-abuse …
7. Masturbation, vibration and sensation. (in keeping with the ‘tion’ theme here). I love to give myself orgasms with a vibrator.
Eeeewwwwwww! That’s so wrong. Note how jamYe waXman wears glasses. And she can’t even spell her name right. Capital letters belong at the beginning of names. And she can’t punctuate properly. In the second sentence the word “in” should be capitalised, and the period belongs inside the parentheses. Surely all this suggests oncoming dementia.
9. Blinky things … they just always make me happy.
Correction: the poor thing is already, like, totally demented.
My Moral Leader, Luke Ford, is against masturbation and all things vibrating and sensual. That’s because he studies Torah. Okay, so sometimes he succumbs to his yetzer hara. But not often. In fact, according to his memoir (not autobiography [for the longest time I was calling his memoir an autobiography thinking, incorrectly, that they’re the same thing, when, of course, they’re not!]) after his conversion Mr Ford didn’t masturbate for a whole year! Pretty impressive, huh? In fact, Horrid Boy broke the male masturbation abstinence record by 354 days. (The old mark was 11 days held by a 94 year old from Tashkent, Uzbekistan.) And people wonder how Luke Ford, despite being a porn blogging nudist, became the world’s number 2 (behind The Great Dennis Prager) moral leader.
When Wallabies Attack
Blowjob instructor (I kid you not!) jamYe waXman (yes that’s how she spells her name) has written a quick and dirty — yet remarkably perceptive — profile of Luke Ford. She obviously has a “thing” for Horrid Boy and makes no attempt to hide her affection. Of course, it’s easy to like people you don’t know very well — just ask [Ann*]. She had a “thing” for Luke Ford. Then she went to the Hovel to have sex with him. Three hours, a fistful of Levitra tablets, some hair pulling and oddly-timed Bible study later and “Prince Charming” had turned into a “piece of garbage.”
Ladies: you have been warned. (Not that any of you seem to be listening.)
Alas, jamYe is so enamoured with Luke Ford she sent me an email a couple of days ago stating: “I think I love you.” I, being completely pathetic, immediately wrote back: “I love you, too, jamYe!!!!”
Unfortunately, I paid so much attention to spelling jamYe “properly” I failed to realise that the poor thing was under the impression that Mr Ford writes his own fan blog. Normally I don’t mind it when people think that my work is the product of Horrid Boy’s beautiful mind, but in this case I ended up being thoroughly humiliated by the misunderstanding.
Anyhoo, Horrid Boy’s can add another hot babe to his (long) list of groupies. It just doesn’t seem fair that he has so many.
What does Mr Ford have that sends women like jamYe waXman, granny porn star Kitten Natividad, Cathy Seipp, Maja Lee, Heather MacDonald, Kendra Jade, et al., into spasms of uncontrollable desire?
Perhaps horny women find eccentricity sexy? No, that can’t be it. There are plenty of sexually frustrated male eccentrics. (Me for example.) I suspect it has something to do with how Luke Ford became eccentric. This, of course, goes back to his childhood. See XXX-Communicated: A rebel without a shul for all the gory details, but here’s the story in brief:
One day when Luke was four years old he was playing with himself, I mean, by himself, outdoors, that is, in the Outback. Australia is full of all sorts of dangerous creatures unknown to the civilised world, such as: the Saltwater Crocodile, the Box Jellyfish, the Redback Spider, the Death Adder Snake, and, most feared of all, the Browneye Wallaby. Of course, wallabies have black eyes. Hence the problem. Just as young Luke bent over, a wallaby jumped on his back. Luke Ford explains what happened next:
When he comes at ya, he doesn’t even seem to be livin’ … ’til he rapes ya, and those black eyes roll over white and then … ah then you hear that terrible high-pitched screamin’. And despite all your poundin’ and your hollerin’ those wallabies come in and … they rape you to pieces.
I noticed Luke’s rectum would loop out of the anus. Ellen [Luke’s older sister] says it was from straining on the pot. We didn’t know at the time that Luke’s condition was a result of being repeatedly sodomised by the wallabies that inhabited our back yard.
So if you have ever wondered “How did Luke Ford become so eccentric, and thus appealling to women?” there’s your answer. (I think.)
All I know for sure is that I wish I had a prolapsed rectum just like My Moral Leader, then maybe I could wear adult diapers and have groupies (e.g., Ms waXman). Speaking of adult diapers, you can hear jamYe waXman’s (yes that’s really how she spells her name) podcast on anal sex here. Enjoy. (Or not.)
One last thing: Bradley J. Fikes says my Jewdar sometimes malfunctions. Trust me, it ain’t malfunctioning on this chick.
I’m feuding with David N. Scott. A couple of weeks ago I kindly informed Mr Scott about a few problems with the Pererro blogroll. Specifically, I noted that the link to my blog was placed under “Other Cool People,” along with Wholly Without Merit John (a proud “out” masturbator with a blog named Onanism Today), [Ann*] (a self-described “sexual animal” who boasts of owning a $249.95 vibrator she calls BOB, i.e., her “Battery Operated Boyfriend”), and Rebecca Schoenkopf (the less said about Rebecca’s icky sexual practises the better).
My Moral Leader, Luke Ford, a sincere and devout Orthodox Jew, vigorously opposes (after years of field research) all forms of sexual immorality, including masturbation, especially self-abuse combined with pornography, vibrators, dildos, and butt plugs. To have my blog placed in the company of disreputable people like Mr John, …[Ms. Ann], and Ms Schoenkopf caused me deep distress.
I was hoping that the link to my site could be moved from under “Other Cool People” to the “Blogs We Frequent” section of Pererro’s sidebar. This is were Mr Ford is located, and I would ideally like to be placed next to him. (I don’t mean this is a gay way, of course, as Mr Ford opposes homosexuality. He studied this subject extensively as a child with the help of research partner Wayne Chery.) Instead, I was moved to the “Lurker” section of the Pererro blogroll.
Excuse me?
Is not “Lurker” suspiciously close to “Voyeur”? Why yes it is. Is not being a voyeur worse than being simply a masturbator? Why yes it is, because voyeur invariably includes peeping tomism and masturbation.
Mr David N. Scott has viciously insulted me. He has called me a sexual deviant. I demand an immediate apology, along with monetary compensation, for the terrible damage done to my reputation by Mr Scott and his evil minions at Pererro.
I eagerly await Mr Scott’s abject apology (and money). In the meantime I will be carefully reading Pererro looking for other examples of improper conduct. I shan’t need to look too long as it appears that Mr Scott, presumably under the influence of Luke Y. Thompson, is rapidly moving politically leftward. Note, for example, Mr Scott’s recent blog post decrying America’s capitalist health care system. Perhaps Mr Scott wants a government-run health system, like we have in Canada. Is Mr Scott a socialist? Should not the authorities at Mr Scott’s Christian college be informed that they have a godless communist in their midst?
I also see that Pererro has a new poster, a gentleman connected to the OJ Simpson murder named Mario G. Nitrini 111. Is Mr Scott associating with the criminal element? Apparently so.
Frankly, I find all this deeply disconcerting and rather confusing, what with Mr Scott constantly prattling on about how much he loves Baby Jesus and all. I do believe an explanation is required. Perhaps Mr Scott could clarify his blog’s philosophy. The sheer number of posts, the new and many contributors, and Mr Scott’s changing political ideology and lessening religious faith, suggest that a new mission statement is in order.
I was going to delete my blog (it seems so inappropriate right now), but Cathy liked it. She was very supportive, sending me encouraging emails. I feel like I let her down by not posting more often (and not coming up with better, classier, material). Unfortunately, I can’t change the past. My heart goes out to Cathy, Maia, Luke, and everyone else from Cathy’s World.
A little over a year ago Luke Ford asked me to guest blog for him. He also lined up another writer, Bornyo, “a Christian from Texas.” I exchanged a few emails with Bornyo, discussing Luke Ford, his life story, and what makes him tick. We agreed that we like Luke, that he is, in the main, a good man, and we wish the best for him.
Then Bornyo asked me a surprising question: “Do you think Chaim Amalek is a real person?”
I thought everyone who reads the Luke Ford Family of Blogs™ understood that Chaim is just one of Luke’s (many) alter egos. So, I confidently responded: “Of course not!”
Maybe I shouldn’t have been so sure of myself.
Last week I was talking with David N. Scott about [Ann’s] plans for a television programme hosted by Luke, called The Luke Ford Diversity Hour. Well, that idea didn’t go anywhere — not unlike the made-for-cable TV biopic that was going to be produced by HBO (or was it ShowTime?). As [Ann] was tossing around show ideas with Luke, she was put in contact with two of Mr Ford’s advisers…
When I first started reading Cathy’s World three years ago I was admittedly a little concerned about her relationship with Luke Ford. I noticed how affectionate she was toward him. I assumed that she didn’t know about Mr Ford’s past, and, more to the point, his present. (Remember for a long time Luke was very sensitive about people learning of his return to porn journalism.)
As time passed, I came to understand that not only did Cathy know pretty much everything there is to know about Luke Ford, but she was very protective of him, including sticking up for him when she could (e.g., when Luke was fired from Pajama’s Media).
There’s a story in The Producers about a female executive Luke wanted to interview. After agreeing to get together over a meal, the woman found out about Mr Ford’s first book, A History of X: 100 Years of Sex in Film. She wasn’t impressed (and not just about the endless pages of blockquotes). The woman showed up at the restaurant, had a quick breakfast and left, barely saying a word to Luke.
I thought that was so small minded and sad.
Ah, but Cathy not only agreed to be interviewed by Mr Ford for his series on lady journalists, she quickly became best friends with Luke, and thus Chaim Amalek, Elisabeth Irwin, Reverend Peter Luther Christian, Cindee Plenum, Hector Gomez, Fischel Teitelbaum, and many others.
And that is so very, very cool!
Goodbye Miss Seipp
I’m in shock. Even though she gave us a 1½ year warning, I still can’t believe it. I’ve always thought of Cathy Seipp as a larger-than-life, 10-foot-tall superwoman: completely fearless and utterly indestructible.
It was so hard to read Maia’s posts about her mother being in constant horrific pain over these last few weeks. Peaceful rest for Cathy is the only solace I can find in this tragedy. She will be dearly missed.
Posted inPersonal|Comments Off on Luke Ford Fan Blog 2007
Steve Sailer wrote July 24, 2005: “Mickey Kaus called Luke the “human Echelon Project, for the prodigious amount of interviewing and transcribing he does of who’s saying what around LA. Luke even interviewed me. But the bonus reason for reading Luke’s blog is so you can then read the libelously hilarious “Luke Ford Fan Blog.”
From the Luke Ford Fan Blog archives:
January 3, 2006:
I have a new favourite website. It’s like crack for me. I visit everyday. I download the videos and save them to my hard drive so I can watch them over and over (and over). They make my heart race and my pulse quicken.
I didn’t use to feel this way. There was a time when I was disgusted by this sort of behaviour. How could people do such a thing, I wondered? Have they no self-control?
Now I like it — a lot!
Not that I would ever do it myself, of course. But I sure get turned on watching two men do it.
Is it really so wrong from me to enjoy these videos?
I know Dennis Prager wouldn’t approve. In Luke Ford’s fascinating profile of his moral leader, we discover that when Dennis was growing up in New York City he liked to visit Madison Square Garden. And sometimes — right in front of wee lil’ Dennis — men would start doing it! Everyone else would stand up to get a better look, but young Dennis “would stay seated to show his disapproval.”
According to My Moral Leader, I “must” guest blog for him during his five day “spiritual retreat” in Las Vegas.
I’ve been given a list of topics that I can and cannot discuss: no Kitten Natividad (of course); no Holly Randall (who?); but lots about Luke Ford — the hovel-dwelling, moral-leading Jewish theologian.
Yeah, sure.
I haven’t been reading Luke Ford for weeks. I needed a little break from all the self-absorption.
So, after being given my guest blogging instructions, I decided to check out the Luke Ford Family of Blogs™, including the naughty one (that I’m not allowed to mention). Perhaps, I hoped, Mr Ford has changed; perhaps he is now a more outward-focused, giving, and thoughtful human being, entering into mature, healthy relationships with other similarly well-grounded people.
Er, no.
If anything, Hovel Boy™ seems to be regressing.
Since I’m not allowed to discuss Holly Randall, I will discuss a completely different person: Rolly Handall (not her real name).
If I have the story right, Our Moral Leader started dating Rolly last Fall. Soon, Luke, a hopeless romantic, fell madly in love with the Shiksa goddess.
Luke’s invisible friends [!] (i.e., the voices inside his head[!!]) convinced him that soon he’d be marrying Rolly and moving into her fabulous Malibu mansion (with its cosy book-lined study overlooking rolling hills, and horses, and a sandy beach, and the Pacific Ocean), and starting a family of ridiculously good-looking Aryan children (raised as Orthodox Jews, of course).
Too good to be true?
Afraid so.
In fact, Rolly didn’t even know that Luke was her “boyfriend,” and couldn’t even be bothered to invite him to her parent’s New Year’s Eve party.
Undeterred, Our Moral Leader attends the big party. As he chats with prospective father-in-law Kumphrey Hnipe (not his real name), imparting some much needed Dennis Prageresque wisdom on the old boy, he can’t help but notice his “girlfriend” throwing herself (all ho-like) at various “gentlemen,” including ex-boyfriends. Eeeeewwwww!
Luke Ford, the sensitive artiste-type, storms out of the house and races back to Hovelworld™ (in the Serial Killer Van™), where he writes an angry email to Rolly announcing that the marriage is off and their relationship is over.
The End.
So what is the moral of this heartbreaking story of unrequited love/lust?
Is it that mixed relationships don’t work? That a socially conservative, religious Jew like Our Moral Leader needs to stick with his own kind (who hate and reject and refuse to have sex with him), rather than running after a pagan princess (with whom he has been having weeks of blissful, chemically-enhanced sex)?
Hell, no!
The problem is that Luke Ford is a narcissist, and he must be the centre of attention in a romantic relationship. His partner must play the supporting role — financial and emotional — paying his (modest) bills and constantly stroking his fragile ego. Rolly, alas, is also an attention hog. She even has her own interior-type blog: a tell-tale sign of NPD.
Let’s be real: there can only be one superstar in a successful relationship. Around here that superstar is Luke Ford. And don’t you forget it!
January 10, 2006:
Luke Ford Moving to Canada?
The blogosphere is abuzz with the news that the world’s number one moral leader, the Great Luke Ford, might be moving to British Columbia.
Mr Ford is under the impression that he’s very famous in Canada. “Bigger than Sidney Crosby,” he claims. “I even have groupies,” he says. “Hot Chinese-Canadian groupies,” he squeals.
He thinks that as soon as he deplanes at Vancouver International, he’ll be mobbed by hundreds, perhaps thousands, of horny Asian girls screaming: “We love you Luke Ford! Please have sex with us!”
Holly who? indeed.
Exciting though this news is — and it is! — we’ve heard these sort of rumours before. Remember how the newspapers were full of articles about Americans making plans to immigrate to Canada after the 2004 presidential election? I recall one particularly ghastly story about a “married” lesbian couple, both human rights lawyers [ugh], who were leaving San Francisco to live in Vancouver. I can’t imagine they lasted one winter.
Has Mr Ford thought this through? Does he even have the proper attire for those long commutes between the new hovel and the love nests of his many Asian girlfriends? May I suggest a lovely rain suit (with pants).
Posted inPersonal|Comments Off on Luke Ford Fan Blog 2006
Steve Sailer wrote July 24, 2005: “Mickey Kaus called Luke the “human Echelon Project, for the prodigious amount of interviewing and transcribing he does of who’s saying what around LA. Luke even interviewed me. But the bonus reason for reading Luke’s blog is so you can then read the libelously hilarious “Luke Ford Fan Blog.”
From the Luke Ford Fan Blog archives:
March 14, 2005:
I’m the sensitive-type, which is something of a mixed blessing. It’s good in that, unlike a lot of men, I have real emotions, including empathy. It’s not so good in that I’m sad a lot of the time. Not sad as in weepy or anything (I haven’t cried since junior high school) — more contemplative melancholia. For example, this afternoon I put on a flannel shirt and drove my Zamboni down to the beach as I listened to Gordon Lightfoot. I’d just read Matt Labash’s column in the Weekly Standard on left-wing Americans who want to emigrate to the Great White Waste of Time, and I wanted to make sure that no Michael Moore-types were trying to illegally sneak into my forward-thinking country. I have a horrible reoccurring vision of Alec Baldwin swimming to Canada and claiming refugee status. If this should ever really happen, I want to be down at the beach to greet him by screaming: “YANKEE GO HOME!”
Well, I didn’t see tubby Alec in his swimming trunks (thank God!), which, along with the blue sky, brilliant sunshine, unseasonably warm weather (low 60s), trees, sand, and waves, made me happy. But as I was communing with Nature, I got to thinking about a story I saw on the BBC news a couple of nights ago. A family out for a walk along a beach on the northeast coast of England was tragically swept out to sea by a freak wave. The mother and her 11 year-old son’s bodies have been found, but the 13 year-old daughter is still missing. (The “boyfriend” survived.) So I started to feel sad: family goes to the beach AND GETS SWEPT OUT TO SEA! Why?
Maybe My Moral Leader knows the answer?
April 1, 2005:
I caught Cathy Seipp on the Dennis Miller Show for the first time last night. She looked lovely in a red top, but I have to admit Cathy is no twenty-nine year old! I was a bit off on that. Sorry. No, she’s obviously about, oh, thirty-two! According to Cecile, the “varsity panel” was well-balanced with a liberal, a conservative and a libertarian, but what struck me was poor Dennis Miller having to defend Terri Schiavo against three pull the tube partisans, one of whom was Nick Gillespie of Playboy, er, Reason Magazine.
I’m surprised that Mr Gillespie is prepared to show his face in public so soon after having been bested by Luke Ford in a meeting of the minds a couple of weeks ago. Should not an embarrassed Mr Gillespie have retreated from public view for a long period of self-examination and repentance?
Apparently not because he was pontificating and sounding all authoritative last night. Unfortunately, I couldn’t follow his argument that the Schiavo case has nothing to do with the “culture of life,” because he kept waving his left hand in front of the camera. This was no nervous tick. Mr Gillespie was showing off to the television audience that he’s available and a libertarian. And we all know what that means.
For one thing, it means that I’m annoyed. I don’t like the idea that there are people out there having way more fun than me. It especially annoys me that these people are smart enough to concoct an entire ideology to justify their swinging lifestyle. Andrew Sullivan is a classic example of someone whose political philosophy is simply an extension of his voracious sexual appetite. At least Mr Sullivan got his comeuppance when his personal ad asking for large black men to play “top” to his “bottom” was plastered all over the Internet.
Okay that’s a bit harsh, but I do want to think that these sexual libertines are struggling with religious guilt. I don’t get that impression from Mr Gillespie. He obviously isn’t living his life in accord with Biblical values, since he can’t grasp “culture of life” arguments against the intentional killing of Terri Schiavo. So where was Luke Ford to set him straight? Why doesn’t Mr Ford get invited onto these shows to lecture the morally confused? It certainly isn’t because Luke is too unattractive for television. He looks a like a rolly polly version of Brad Pitt. Stick him behind a (large) desk and he’d be perfectly presentable.
I recall reading that Wonkette has to post (at least) ten items per day on her blog. Of course, she’s a professional and has her very own research assistant (of the opposite sex) to help, but still that’s impressive. I don’t have ten interesting thoughts in a year, let alone in one day. And if I had a research assistant (of the opposite sex) I’d hardly be spending my time blogging.
I wonder, though, could an amateur such as myself, someone who flunked English 101 in college, a non-writer lacking a research assistant (of the opposite sex) that I could boss around and make lewd comments to, could I possibly post ten items for my stupid blog in one day?
Why yes I think I can! I mean, really, how hard can it be?
Two
Why am I blogging again?
Good question. Okay maybe it’s not such a good question, but it’s about me and I find me interesting. So in my little universe it’s a good enough question.
Answer: a) I want to see if I can post ten items in one day (see above); and b) I’m being harassed by an Internet stalker and I need to blog for self-protection (see below). It’s all very scary, especially for a sensitive person, such as myself, who frightens very easily. Let me explain.
One night a couple of weeks ago, I couldn’t get to sleep. I tossed. I turned. I fantasised about my favourite blogger babes. But no luck. So I decided to grab my, er, laptop and check out Michelle Malkin’s blog – or, more accurately, the new picture of Michelle Malkin on her site. I love Michelle Malkin! She’s sooooooo pretty!
But I still couldn’t get to sleep. Probably because Michelle Malkin refuses to answer my charming emails or reciprocate my love in any way. She’s very strange. Very pretty. But very strange.
If looking at Michelle Malkin’s picture wasn’t going to do the trick, I thought, why not try something completely different? So I decided to check out Steve Sailer’s site. He’s not as pretty as Michelle Malkin, but he’s just as smart, which is really saying something because Michelle Malkin might be the smartest person in the whole wide world!
(Did I tell you that I’m in love with Michelle Malkin! Perhaps if I stop sending 500 emails a day to Michelle Malkin and instead play hard to get, sending only 50, okay, 10, emails a day to Michelle Malkin she’d love me back. That’ll work!)
I usually don’t read Steve Sailer’s site late at night because it upsets me. Mr Sailer is a paleoconservative with some less than cheery ideas about the WOT, immigration, race, etc. I’m not an “invade/invite the world” neocon, like William Krystal, but neither am I a Hobbesian paleocon — they’re so depressingly “realist.” I prefer a form of conservatism that’s rooted in the empirical and practicable but is also inspiring and makes me feel good about humanity, especially Michelle Malkin — she’s sooooooo pretty!
I’m reading Steve Sailer’s site when I see the words “Luke Ford.” My heart sinks. OH GOD, NOT HIM! Not the hovel-dwelling Moral Leader who promises so much and delivers so (very) little! I’d managed to completely forget about that dude, and now he’s metastasising across the Internet attacking one of my favourite sites. DAMN!
After reading Mr Ford’s interview with Mr Sailer on race (actually it wasn’t that bad — at least, Mr Ford didn’t ask completely off-topic questions about anal sex, like he usually does), I started to think about my old fan blog. Was that embarrassing or what? When I started, I was under the impression that Mr Ford was a moral leader for reals. I was going to chronicle and explicate his every aphorism, parable, and trope. I read the Luke Ford Family of Blogsâ�¢ (even the porn one) religiously, thinking that moral enlightenment was just around the corner. So I waited for Mr Ford to write something profound, something life changing. I waited. And I waited. And I waited. Then I waited some more. A year passed and I was still waiting, although at this point I was starting to get really pissed off. I began emailing Mr Ford with suggested topics for his moral elucidation. Maybe, I asked nicely, he could write about vegetarianism, because I was thinking about becoming a vegetarian for ethical reasons. Then I started copying and pasting entire articles from Commentary and First Things, sending them to Mr Ford thinking this might stimulate his massive intellect. He wrote back telling me he no longer has the attention span to read anything over 250 words, and I should knock it off. I kid you not, that’s what he told me!
At this point, I was starting to suspect that Luke Ford was a fraud — and frankly the porn blog thing wasn’t helping. Then I read his autobiography. Good grief!
(See next post.)
Three
Hey, I figured out a fun and easy way to maximise my blog posting output: split a long post into parts. Cool!
So where was I? Oh right, Luke Ford’s autobiography. So Mr Ford sends me a draft of his memoir and asks me to critique it. And critique it I do! I write back suggesting that he can’t finish the book by claiming that he has turned his back on porn blogging and is about to move to Israel to begin his new, morally clean, life, when, obviously, he’s still living in his hovel in Los Angeles and he’s porn blogging again. I mean, come on, dude! I’m an incredibly stupid person, but even I can Google “Luke Ford” and find the porn blog. This just won’t do, I explain all exasperated-like. Mr Ford ignores me. Angry, distraught, confused, I abandon my fan blog.
Then along came Rick Warren and the Assemblies of God Church. It really is true that when one door closes in your life, another (thank you Jesus!) opens up. To be honest, I don’t know where I’d be without my new Pentecostal friends. Sure they speak in tongues and every single one of them is an absolute moron, but at least they’re happy, and they’re humble, and they’re very, very nice — in fact, if anything, they’re too nice.
Although I’m now leading the “purpose driven life,” I still occasionally miss my old infidel friends: Mr Ford, Miss Seipp, and, of course, little Cathy Jr. Sure they’re not very nice people and, alas, they’re all going to hell, but it’s very interesting to read the blogs of a bunch of self-absorbed, narcissistic, arrogant, condescending, conceited know-it-alls. They’re the exact opposite of my Pentecostal friends! I mean, the heathens are smart, and funny, and argumentative (and they don’t play with snakes). Besides, I’m sure they’re not really so opinionated in real life. They’ve probably just created obnoxious personas for their blogs. In real life they’re probably normal, just like Pentecostals.
Or maybe not.
Four
After reading Luke Ford’s interview about race with Steve Sailer, and feeling a little bit nostalgic, I decided to checkout my old LFFB email account. I hardly ever look at it because it’s not my real email address. To my surprise I have thirty-odd emails. Cool! Except they’re all from Luke Ford. Oh. What does he want, I wonder. Apparently, Mr Ford has been emailing me every week over the past four months and I didn’t even know.
At first the emails are pleasant enough. He asks, nicely, when am I going to start writing about him again. Luke Ford — forever the narcissist!
Then the emails become increasingly desperate in tone. He’s soon pleading that I start up my fan blog: “Please write about ME!” Then the emails turn nasty: Susan Estrich-like screeds in all-caps demand that I relaunch my fan blog “OR ELSE!” Now I know how poor Michael Kinsley felt.
I got to thinking: I’m being harassed. This is cyber stalking! Aren’t there laws against this stuff? Why yes there are. And I could have Mr Ford arrested and sent to the LA County jail.
But the more I thought about it, the more I decided that this wasn’t such a good idea. Poor Mr Ford doesn’t have the money to bail himself out of jail. And God knows his best friend, Cathy Seipp, wouldn’t help — not after reading her appalling blog post demanding that Terri Schiavo be starved (i.e., tortured) to death. What would happen to a rolly polly white man like Mr Ford in the LA County jail? I shudder to think. Mr Ford isn’t a fighter. I can’t imagine he’d stand a chance.
I have no choice. I must relaunch my fan blog!
Five
Okay so now what do I write about? I haven’t read any of Mr Ford’s blogs in four months. I could just make stuff up. But that would be wrong. And as a good, um, Pentecostalist (is that right? I don’t even know what we are called) I could never do that. I must do what Jesus would do. I must start reading the Luke Ford Family of Blogs again. Maybe they’ve improved? I mean, they can’t be that bad, right?
Hmmm. Not much material there. Mr Ford hasn’t updated in over a month. Maybe he’s given up on ever finding his true love. So sad. And so thoroughly inexplicable.
One of the more recent posts is titled “I Need a Chinese Wife (Mexican Just Won’t Do)” and contains all sorts of tips that I can use to seduce Michelle Malkin. Thanks! I thought my problem was that I was being too aggressive, what with all my emailing, but now I see I haven’t been aggressive enough. You can never be too obnoxious. I think this is Mr Ford’s helpful advice when it comes to women (and everything else).
Then there are the posts from last summer when Mr Ford was contemplating whether it was time “for me to go yellow” and “should I go for some yellow cake?” Apparently, he failed to find a single Asian woman who was willing to allow him to let her date with him. Shocking!
Seven
Okay, enough about Luke Ford. I think I’ll blog about Luke’s best friend, Miss Seipp, specifically her appearance on the Mr KABC radio show on Thursday, March 17th. I was going to live blog the event but it was on awfully late.
In retrospect, it’s probably a good thing I didn’t write about Cathy at the time. Over the past couple of weeks, she’s been taking quite a drubbing from her critics at the unofficial Cathy Seipp fan blog at Onanism Today, and the laddies behind Martini Republic. (I think it’s safe to assume that they’re all homosexuals, although it’s hard to tell with liberal “men.”)
So, what is it about neocon Cathy and the gay left?
I suspect that most of the hostility is rooted in politics. Leftists subscribe to a world view that divides people into two groups: those who believe in “social justice” (i.e., leftists) and those who believe, apparently, in social injustice (i.e., conservatives).
(Actually there is a third, unimportant, group — the masses. The majority of people, according to leftist theory, suffer from “false consciousness” and require an enlightened vanguard to do their thinking for them. This allows leftists to feel morally superior to conservative thinkers and intellectually superior to the rabble. Since leftist, at root, are people who hate themselves, and, through projection, their society, this formulation helps them deal with their feelings of guilt, envy, and rage.)
Conservatives, according to the left, reject “social justice” because they’re selfish. Leftists thus think that it’s acceptable to treat such people with contempt. The wonderful thing about being a leftist is that you can consider yourself to be a good person without actually doing anything about it in practice. All that is required is that you subscribe to the “correct” world view.
Over time, of course, the “correct” position on various matters tends to change. What was once the proper perspective on, say, race has shifted 180 degrees from a belief in colour blindness to one of racial consciousness. And then there was all that socialist theory about nationalising industry and central planning that contemporary “progressives” would like the rest of us to forget.
The point is that leftists don’t define being a good person as requiring treating their political opponents with respect. Why should they? Conservatives are not just wrong: they’re ghouls.
The other part of the hostility directed at Miss Seipp, I suspect, is a manifestation of a particular type of misogyny found amongst gay men. Cathy is a self-confident, strong-willed, and independent woman. This is problematic. Once you remove the element of sexual attraction, men are really only interested in women as mother figures. Heterosexual men are willing to put up with an awful lot from their wives and girlfriends, including going shopping (which we hate) and listening to them talk about their feelings (which we couldn’t care less about), just because of the sexual vibe. Many gay men live in social worlds almost devoid of women. Save for gay men who are especially feminine, and interested in especially feminine women as role models, most gays have little use for women who are not their mothers. It’s significant that much of the abuse directed at Cathy by her gay critics focuses on her alleged failings as a mother to little Cathy, Jr.
Okay, let’s go to the tape. Mr KABC introduces Cathy Seipp as a blogger — a big no no. But Cathy holds her tongue. She sounds so lolitaesque. How old is Cathy? Fourteen? No, that can’t be right. Cathy Jr is fifteen. I’m guessing Cathy Sr is, oh, about twenty-nine.
Cathy begins with a joke about Bubbles the Hippo, “for people who are old enough” to understand the reference. I have no idea who Bubbles the Hippo is — probably a cartoon from the early ’80s when Cathy was growing up. Mr KABC laughs, so I guess it’s a good joke for the twentysomething set.
Cathy reviews the disagreement between Susan Estrich, feminist law professor, and Michael Kinsey, editorial editor at the LA Times, about the relative absence of female op-ed columnists in the Times. It becomes quickly apparent that Miss Seipp is an excellent interview. She doesn’t digress and repeat herself. Nor does she speak in a monotone. Instead, Cathy speaks clearly, concisely, and quickly with just the right amount of emotion.
At the five minute mark, however, sweet Cathy shows another side, saying: “Her [Susan Estrich’s] column is very badly written … not that the LA Times is against running bad articles. [Mr KABC: “hahahaha”] It’s pretty lame.”
Then Miss Seipp makes a snarky comment about how the fifty Hollywood wives (and ex-wives) supporting Ms Estrich are threatening to cancel their newspaper subscriptions unless they get their way. Cathy remarks: “Then they said, ‘we’ll also boycott the advertisers. We buy a lot of Clinique.'” At which point poor Mr KABC almost wets himself he’s laughing so hard. So much for Mr Gay Chronic Masturbators’ claim that men don’t find Cathy Seipp enchanting.
In fact, things are going so well — Mr KABC is laughing at every single one of Miss Seipp’s jokes — that I’m starting to think: late night dinner date and, possibly, freaky sex after the show. Maybe this is just how my mind works, but the two are getting along famously.
Next Mr KABC reads to Cathy a letter from Susan Estrich where the latter says that she didn’t even know that Cathy lives in Los Angeles. OMG! This is going to be gooooood! Poor Susan Estrich, she has no idea who she is dealing with. Let’s face it. What makes Cathy such a good interview — the fact that she isn’t at all nervous: she’s calm and collected — is because of her boundless self-confidence. Although not quite a narcissist to the Luke Ford degree (and, really, how could she be?), it’s obvious that Cathy is annoyed because a) Susan Estrich doesn’t know Cathy lives in Silver Lakes, and b) Mr KABC just called Cathy a blogger again.
What is Mr KABC thinking? Luke Ford is a blogger. Cathy Seipp is an internationally distributed and renown essayist and commentator. (I remember reading one of Miss Seipp’s columns in Canada’s National Post, the newspaper that used to carry the equally fabulous Mark Steyn, before, that is, they messed up, but I digress because I’m not a leading intellectual like Cathy Seipp!) The point is there will be no memorable late night dinner date, etc., for Mr KABC if he keeps making silly mistakes.
It soon becomes obvious that Mr KABC has no idea how to seduce a woman. He mentions Susan Estrich’s demand that she will appear on a KABC radio show but only with a female interviewer. Obviously, she’s an idiot, but so, too, is Mr KABC because he starts whining about how unfair it is that his “male genitalia” (a phrase he uses twice) are preventing him from getting an interview with Prof Estrich.
Never, ever talk about you genitals, let alone your genitalia, to a woman you’ve just met. This is a classic mistake. It’s probably the biggest mistake a man can make. Trust me on this one. It never works. NEVER! Okay maybe it works with porn stars, the kind of women Luke Ford hangs out with, but with a public intellectual like Cathy Seipp? I don’t think so. (Although she is “friends” with Luke Ford … No, she couldn’t possibly be that kind of girl.)
Then Mr KABC (what kind of ridiculous name is “Mr KABC” anyway?) starts screeching “I’m a feminist! I’m speaking as a feminist!” Talk about shooting yourself in the foot. No woman, let alone a conservative woman, wants to date a man who calls himself a feminist. That’s even more self-defeating than referring to your “male genitalia.” Mr KABC really is a twat!
Contra Mr Gay Chronic Masturbator, Miss Seipp doesn’t have a problem seducing men. God knows she was trying very hard with Mr KABC for about ten minutes, until, that is, he started going on (and on) about his naughty bits. No, it’s the men Cathy is dealing with that have the problem. I mean really! What’s up with LA men? Cathy needs to move back to Winnipeg. Or at the very least she should tell the men of Los Angeles to checkout the Luke Ford Seeks a Wife Blog and pick up some tips on how to speak romantically to women. Mr Ford is a pro — I mean that literally (see his autobiography).
At the 11 minute mark Cathy starts — finally — to unload on Mr TWAT for calling her a “blogger” at the beginning of the interview, pointing out that it’s “annoying because, as you know, I have a column in the National Review.”
This is the sort of behaviour that gets Cathy in trouble with her critics. But she has a point, and she only turned on Mr TWAT after he made one boneheaded comment after another. The girl deserves a reward for patience.
Cathy’s increasing frustration starts to show as she criticises Susan Estrich for “blowing smoke out of her ass,” for being “nuts,” for spewing “nonsense,” and not being as good at putting her children to bed as Cathy is with Cathy Jr. But you know Cathy’s also angry at Mr TWAT, because the dude just won’t shut the f#ck up!
Mr Twat asks: “Am I to conclude from you Cathy that you believe that this is really an effort to get Susan Estrich’s column covered in the …” Cathy interrupts: “Oh not necessarily!” Good grief, Mr TWAT, Cathy just said less than one minute earlier in the interview that the point of Susan Estrich’s letter writing campaign was to see more left-wing female columnists in the LA Times, but not necessarily her own column. Are you deaf, Mr TWAT? Or just a very, very stupid man?
Then Mr TWAT said something so idiotic that I was on the floor laughing hysterically for about thirty minutes. For reals! He asks Cathy if the reason that Susan Estrich’s column isn’t in the Times is “because it just isn’t up to the standards of the LA Times?” Cathy responds: “It’s a terribly written column. I’m surprised that it’s still carried by Creators Syndicate. I mean you’ve seen it. It’s that badly written.”
Mr TWAT responds: “Yeah, for someone who is a law professor at USC, I’m sort of surprised at the punctuation.”
Good grief! Mr TWAT has confused Susan Estrich’s unpunctuated email that she sent to the KABC radio station with her syndicated weekly column, which, of course, is punctuated!
Alas, I couldn’t listen to the rest of the interview, what with the “water” damage to my underpants.
Please, Cathy, come back to Canada. You’re twenty-nine, right? Assuming good health, you’ve sixty years left. Don’t waste them living in America surrounded by morons like Mr Gay Chronic Masturbator and Mr TWAT. Become a Pentecostalist and run away with me. Don’t worry about Cathy Jr. She can move into the hovel with Luke Ford. Really, he’s harmless. (I think.)
Update: I’ve just listened to the end of the KABC interview and I missed the best part. After calling Georgetown linguist Deborah Tannen’s recent column on gender differences “idiotic,” “lame,” “extremely stupid,” and “dishonest from beginning to end,” Cathy summarises Prof Tannen’s argument using a little girl voice: “The reason why there aren’t as many female opinion writers is because women have a better way of dealing with things. They don’t like to attack.” You have to listen to the tape. A man would have to be gay not to become lightheaded listening to Cathy pretending to be a schoolgirl. OMG!
I’m sorry, I can’t blog anymore tonight. I have a big problem that I have to take care of — immediately. (And I only got up to seven entries.) Blogging is, um, hard!
April 21, 2005:
Cecile DuBois has an advice blog. You ask her questions, and she solves your problems. Cool! This is just what I need, ‘cuz I got problems and questions. A lot of ’em. But where to begin? Let me think …
Well, for one thing, I’m suffering severe existential angst. It sucks being an atheist at the best of times. With all the excitement over the new Pope (good choice, by the way), I’m feeling especially alone in the meaningless universe of random pointlessness. But that’s not my question. (Debating the existence of God and the meaning of life is a little heavy for a kid.)
Here’s my question: I have a friend (no, not Luke Ford, who I don’t really even like, what with the p— blog thing and all) who started a political blog about nine months ago. It’s really bad. I mean really, really bad. He can’t write. His spelling is atrocious. All he does is copy and paste stuff from elsewhere on the Internet, and then adds his own completely lame-o comments. It’s just awful. And yet he posts five to ten times a day, seven days a week. And every time he updates, he emails me and a dozen or so of his friends to tell us, as if we care. For awhile I stopped getting his emails. Then I checked my spam filter and found that one of his “friends” had blocked his emails, meaning the rest of us Hotmail users were prevented from receiving his updates. It’s pretty bad when even your friends are blocking your emails as spam.
Okay, here’s the thing. Now the guy is all over InstaPundit getting links and everything! Rather than being excited for him, I feel annoyed. And angry. And very, very bitter. I know it’s wrong for me to feel this way, but his blog sucks … a lot. And Glenn Reynolds totally ignores me when I email him asking for links, although I chalk this up to his complete, total, and absolute LOATHING of all things Luke Ford, which I can fully understand (see above comment re: p— blog). But still Mr InstaPundit could at least acknowledge my emails, no? But that’s not my question.
Here is my question (sorry for being so long-winded): My talentless friend’s success has prompted me to wonder: What part of success is due to hard work? What part is the result of natural ability? And what part comes down to luck? I have to know. I think if I know the answer, it will help me become a better person and a better blogger.
I use to think that success was about 80 per cent natural ability, 19 per cent hard work, and 1 per cent luck. I still don’t think luck plays much of a role, but maybe I’ve been underestimating the importance of steely determination and unflagging perseverance? Then again, no amount of hard work is going to get me playing centre for the LA Lakers, right? Or teaching mathematics at MIT. So god-given ability has to play a significant role, no? Oh, I don’t know.
Please help me on the path to success.
Sincerely,
Beleaguered in British Columbia
A week (or so) ago, Cecile DuBois asked me about the Canadian government sponsorship scandal.
Scandal? What scandal?
It’s hard being a faux intellectual. You have to keep up on all sorts of topics, including Canadian politics, which is something I avoid because, well, it’s hopeless. Canada is a one party state ruled by a corrupt (i.e., French) political class with their well-fed Liberal snouts forever in the public trough.
Not knowing the details, I bluffed and said in a knowing tone, “Oh, those Liberals! I hate them. They’re all crooks, liars, and scoundrels!”
Cecile nodded approvingly: “I hate liberals, too! Like Michael Moore! And Howard Dean! And that horrible Rosie O’Donell woman!”
“Yeah,” I said, “those three are awful and they’re not even French! Just imagine what happens when you combine liberalism with the French.”
“Yucky!” Cecile screamed.
Then we laughed.
Later I turned on the television to find out exactly what awful things those Canadian Liberals were up to.
I seldom watch television, because, well, it’s beneath me as a faux intellectual, so imagine my horror when the first thing I saw (I turned on an American channel) was a close-up of Arlen Specter, the dude from the Clarence Thomas Supreme Court nomination hearings. Remember him? Remember how handsome he was back in 1991? No? Well I do! He used to look a lot like Robert Redford, circa 1969. And now? Um, not so much with the handsomeness. I mean, talk about letting yourself go. What happened to his hair? Nowadays Arlen Specter looks like Luke Ford. They could be twins, or something.
(You know, it’s so depressing looking at pictures of people you haven’t seen for awhile. Yesterday, I saw a recent photo of Morrissey, from my favourite ’80s band The Smiths. He’s now living in LA. Pushing fifty. Fat. And gross! Just like … oh hold on, I already have my required on-topic reference in this blog post.)
So, I quickly turned the channel and who should appear? None other than Robert Redford! What are the odds of that?
OMG! What happened to Robert Redford’s face? He used to be so handsome, like Arlen Specter, circa 1991. Now Mr Redford looks scary … very, very scary.
Going up and down the television dial shrieking “Ooh, he’s gross!” wasn’t getting me any closer to learning about the sponsorship scandal, so I decided to go directly to the CBC. I picked the perfect time, too, because the now almost bald, but still fabulous, Peter Mansbridge was hosting a news special on the scandal. (Canadians age much better than Americans — must be something to do with our annual 53 weeks of winter!) It was an “ask the experts” programme featuring ordinary Canadians. Cool! I’m an ordinary Canadian, so this won’t go over my head, I thought. Well, I lasted one question. Some goober asked: “Will anyone be held responsible for stealing millions of dollars from the taxpayers?”
Good grief! This is Canada. The Liberals have ruined the country. They’ve turned Canada, a once proud member of the Anglosphere, into freakin’ Belgium! Liberals don’t believe in individual responsiblity. It’s not the Liberal way. The Liberal way is cheating, stealing, lying and getting away with it. That’s what Liberals do. I mean, come on Mr Goober! It all started with Pierre Trudeau back in 1968. And you still haven’t figured it out? No wonder these things keep happening.
As I understand the latest corruption scandal, the Liberals decided after the very close secession … whoops, I mean, “sovereignty association” referendum in Quebec in 1995, that, in the interest of national unity, the federal government should start sponsoring various cultural and sporting events throughout the province. Advertising firms were hired to promote these events making sure that the word “Canada” was prominently displayed.
Good grief! Do the Liberals really think that Quebec secessionists, whoops, I mean sovereignty associationists, are so stupid that they’ll turned into happy federalists if they see that a documentary on Maurice Richard was sponsored by the federal government?
Well, apparently not because it turns out the whole thing was a scam. The advertising firms involved were connected to the Liberal Party. They were awarded contracts in exchange for donating money to the Liberals — after taking millions of dollars for themselves, of course. For example, one of ex-Prime Minister Jean Chretien’s friends, Jacques Corriveau, made $7 million dollars as a “consultant,” which included, according to one invoice, $35,000 for surfing the Internet. I kid you not!
Liberals. I hate them!
And now I keep reading stories in the local paper about American liberals moving to Canada to get away from George W. Bush. Just when you think things can’t get any worse.
Soon there will be a new federal election. Hopefully, the Conservative Party will win. And Quebec will secede. (Good riddance!) Then, during the economic chaos, all those horrible American liberals will go back home. I can dream.
April 25, 2005:
I spoke with a friend Sunday evening about Luke Ford. Here’s a transcript of our conversation:
Luke Ford Fan Blogger (LFFB): So, Luke Ford phoned me Friday. He was quite agitated.
Luke Ford Fan Blogger’s Friend (LFFBF): Who’s Luke Ford?
LFFB: Yeah, he has a lot in common with Andrew Sullivan.
LFFBF: I hate Andrew Sullivan. He’s always PMSing and changing his political positions — throwing hissy fits and carrying on like an emotional wreck.
LFFB: Yeah, I stopped reading Sullivan’s blog after he started handing out the “Michelle Malkin Award” for hysterical, over-the-top political commentary. Like he’s David Brooks or something. The dude’s such a hypocrite.
LFFBF: I don’t know how he can show his face in public after that personal ad scandal a couple of years ago. I guess some people have no shame. Did you see Sullivan’s ad?
LFFB: Yeah, I was mortified — going on about his butt muscles and how big his penis is. And there were nekkid pictures, too!
LFFBF: Ewww! So what was this Luke Ford dude so annoyed about?
LFFB: He was mad at me for mentioning his p— blog on my website. He kept saying “I’ll fix your wagon” over and over.
LFFBF: What’s a p— blog?
LFFB: I don’t really know. I’ve only looked at it once or twice — and then only briefly. I gather he just surfs around the Internet looking at p— message boards. Then he copies and pastes some of the posts onto his blog.
LFFBF: You’re joking?
LFFB: Not at all.
LFFBF: And people read it?
LFFB: Apparently.
LFFBF: Why?
LFFB: I guess they’re bored.
LFFBF: I’ll say. Why don’t they read First Things. All the back issues are online — for free. That’s a much more productive use of one’s time than reading some p— blog.
LFFB: I don’t know. Maybe they’re moral degenerates or something.
LFFBF: Are there pictures?
LFFB: Of Luke Ford?
LFFBF: No, of p— stars?
LFFB: Maybe.
LFFBF: So what was this about “fixing your wagon”?
LFFB: I’m not sure. Perhaps Luke Ford thinks I drive a station wagon and he wants to come over and fix it?
LFFBF: But you said he was agitated?
LFFB: Yes, very much so.
LFFBF: It sounds like he’s threatening you.
LFFB: Really?
LFFBF: Yeah. Perhaps he’s threatening you with bodily harm if you mention his p— blog again?
LFFB: I don’t think so. I know I’m not allowed to mention his p— blog, but I don’t think he would hurt me even if I did mention his p— blog. Besides, I’m not going to mention his p— blog ever again, so I think I’m pretty safe.
LFFBF: I guess p— blogging is bigger than I’d thought.
LFFB: Well, his memoir was self-published.
LFFBF: Good grief! Luke Ford self-published an autobiography about being a p— blogger?
LFFB: Yeah. But it didn’t sell very well.
LFFBF: I can well imagine. Did you buy a copy?
LFFB: No, he gave me one.
LFFBF: And you read it?
LFFB: Not really. I just paged through it — quickly — what with all the stories about Luke Ford “dating” older women. It was kinda creepy.
LFFBF: Older women? You mean Luke Ford dates women in their forties?
LFFB: No, older.
LFFBF: Women in their fifties?
LFFB: No, older.
LFFBF: Women in their sixties?
LFFB: Yeah, and older still.
LFFBF: Luke Ford dates women in their sixties and seventies?
LFFB: He use to.
LFFBF: Why did he stop?
LFFB: I don’t know. Maybe because he got fat.
LFFBF: Why did he get fat?
LFFB: Because of the lithium.
LFFBF: What lithium?
LFFB: The lithium he takes for his NPD.
LFFBF: What’s NPD?
LFFB: Narcissistic Personality Disorder.
LFFBF: What’s that?
LFFB: I don’t know exactly, but I think it’s a condition where a person thinks that the entire universe revolves around them.
LFFBF: That would explain the self-published autobiography.
LFFB: Yep. He’s quite shameless. In his memoir he goes into all sorts of detail about his sex life. I mean, he wasn’t just “dating” these older women.
LFFBF: Huh?
LFFB: He was having, um, “irregular” sex with them.
LFFBF: What on earth is “irregular” sex?
LFFB: It’s when you put your …
LFFBF: On second thought, don’t tell me.
LFFB: Well, it’s all in his autobiography if you’re interested.
LFFBF: I think I’ll pass. So why was he “dating” these women?
LFFB: Rent money for his hovel.
LFFBF: Luke Ford lives in a hovel?
LFFB: Yeah.
LFFBF: Any pictures?
LFFB: Of the hovel?
LFFBF: No, of Luke Ford having “irregular” sex with older women?
LFFB: No.
LFFBF: Thank God! Maybe I’ll read his book, as long as there aren’t any pictures. It sounds interesting — in a trainwrecky kinda way.
LFFB: Well if you do, you’ll find out that Luke Ford has only been in one fight in his life. That was in, like, elementary school or something. He lost. So I’m not too scared. Plus, he lives in LA. I have a two thousand mile buffer zone for protection.
LFFBF: How did you get mixed up with this character?
LFFB: Well, it’s my goal in life to get mentioned on Instapundit. So I needed a blog. Luke Ford seemed as good a subject as any. I mean all the really good topics were taken and I was sorta scraping the bottom of the barrel for ideas.
LFFBF: I think so.
LFFB: In retrospect it hasn’t worked very well, ‘cuz I keep sending Glenn Reynolds emails whenever I update my blog hoping for a link and he keeps ignoring me.
LFFBF: Why do you care? I mean all Reynolds does is link to other sites and adds “Heh!” It’s ridiculous. And to think he’s made enough money from his stupid blog to buy a new Dell 700m laptop. It just isn’t fair.
LFFB: I know. But for whatever reason he’s, like, the number one blogger. I just want to get a link, then I can die happy.
LFFBF: Maybe you need to set your sights higher. Like have a bigger goal in life than getting a link on Instapundit.
LFFB: No, that’s my goal in life. All I want is to get mentioned on Instapundit. But I don’t know how.
LFFBF: You need a big story. A scoop.
LFFB: You mean like a sex scandal?
LFFBF: Yeah, a sex scandal.
LFFB: Oh, I don’t know. I think if there was some sort of big sex scandal involving Luke Ford, he would have mentioned it in his autobiography. I tell you, the dude is shameless.
LFFBF: But what if there is something so embarrassing that even a shameless narcissist like Luke Ford wouldn’t mention it?
LFFB: Wow! That would really have to be some scandal.
LFFBF: And if you do some investigative reporting, discover the scandal, and publish the findings on your blog there’s no way Glenn Reynolds could keep ignoring you.
LFFB: That would be so cool! I mean for me. For Luke Ford … not so much.
LFFBF: Why do you care?
LFFB: Well, I don’t think Luke Ford is such a bad person.
LFFBF: Please! You said he’s just like Andrew Sullivan. I remember reading somewhere that everybody who knows Sullivan just hates him. Apparently, he’s an arrogant jerk.
LFFB: Maybe. But Luke Ford is different. People who know him say that in real life he’s actually very nice.
LFFBF: No, the problem is you’re too nice. No wonder Glenn Reynolds keeps ignoring you. Listen to me: if you want to be successful in life and get mentioned on Instapundit you have to be ruthless. Did you read Rebecca Schoenkopf’s recent mauling of Tawny Kittaen in the OC Weekly.
LFFB: OMG! That was so mean. I almost felt sorry for Kittaen. Then I remembered that she dated OJ.
LFFBF: Exactly! These celebrities — Kittaen, OJ, Sullivan, Ford — they’re all the same. They’re monsters. That’s how they became celebrities. You don’t think they stepped on people — and worse — on their climb to the top? That’s how the world works, I’m afraid.
LFFB: I guess. I just don’t know where to begin my research.
LFFBF: Why not start with Andrew Sullivan?
LFFB: Huh?
LFFBF: You said Luke Ford has a lot in common with Andrew Sullivan.
LFFB: Yeah, they both seem to have dual personalities and lead double lives.
LFFBF: There you go. Maybe Luke Ford has an embarrassing personal ad on some website?
LFFB: You think?
LFFBF: Perhaps.
LFFB: You mean with nekkid pictures?
LFFBF: Perhaps.
LFFB: On a gay website?
LFFBF: Perhaps.
LFFB: Soliciting black men to … um …
LFFBF: Perhaps.
LFFB: Oh my.
June 30, 2005:
“Veronica” emails to say she is not a leftist. That’s good. But is a feminist. That’s not so good. Apparently, and I did not know this, you can be a feminist without being a leftist.
Whatever!
“Veronica” is so yesterday.
My Moral Leader has moved on to, oh, let’s call her “Lindy.” He hasn’t sent me any pictures of “Lindy” yet, but he claims that she’s a very beautiful, yellow Ford Mustang-driving, 6′ tall blonde 24 year-old PhD student. I see a problem right there. Mr Ford is only 5’6¾” so “Lindy” towers over him, all emasculating-like.
So many women! So many aliases for me to keep track of! It’s all very confusing. I do know one thing: I was very wrong to claim (based on no evidence whatsoever!) that Mr Ford — so long as he stays on his meds — is a sensitive, caring gentleman.
Not true! Not even close to being true! What was I thinking?
Meds or no, Our Moral Leader is a womanizing scoundrel! What kind of behaviour is he role-modelling for all his young and impressionable followers? I haven’t been so disappointed in Mr Ford since that awful escapade with Kitten Natividad — you know the one where Horrid Boy stuck his ______ in Kitten’s ___. Gross!
Mr Ford insists I update my blog. He also insists I don’t discuss his new girlfriend, despite the fact that he keeps sending me pictures of her and asking if I think she’s beautiful.
Hey, you can’t do this to me, Luke. I must write about your fabulous new girlfriend. It’s big news. Every Luke Ford fan wants the inside story on Our Moral Leader’s love life. We find it fascinating! Absolutely FASCINATING!! ABSOLUTELY, TOTALLY, COMPLETELY FASCINATING!!!
Oh, don’t fret Mr Ford. I’ll be discreet.
Yes, Mr Ford’s new girlfriend is very beautiful. She’s also well-educated, with serious intellectual interests, making her, I’m sure, an engaging conversationalist. Mr Ford is very smart (IQ 185) and very chatty (for a dude), so this is all very, very important.
It certainly looks as if Luke’s ship has come in. Just in time, too. Next year, Mr Ford will be too old to attend the Young Jewish Singles Nights where he meets all his twentysomething lovelies. Instead, he’ll be stuck hitting on blue-haired grannies at the local Senior Citizen Center’s Lonely Hearts (i.e., Loser’s) Nights. And if you’re familiar with Mr Ford’s autobiography, and didn’t skip over the chapters about how Our Moral Leader use to make extra cash when he first moved to LA, you’ll know he’s been down that well-worn path many times before.
While Mr Ford is overjoyed at his good fortune, and I am sincerely happy for him, I do have some doubts about, um, oh, let’s call her “Veronica.”
First, does Mr Ford really want to move to Indiana to be with his new love? What’s the job market like in Indiana? Is there a shortage of moral leaders? One can’t just up and move out of the hovel. It’s important to think about the logistics involved. And just think how difficult it would be for Mr Ford to leave behind “Best Friend” Cathy, and his little flock of wayward teen p— stars who drop by the hovel once a week for their hands-on group counselling session.
Second, it appears, from my research on the Internet, that “Veronica” is a feminist. (What is it about Jewish women and feminism?) She’s also apparently very left-wing. (What is it about Jewish women and left-wingism?) This is going to be a problem because Our Moral Leader is known for his less than progressive political views — and he has quite the paper trail to prove it.
Of course, it can be fun to date a leftist. There’s lots of potential for teasing. You can wave around your copy of The Road to Serfdom and win every argument because, well, leftists are twits. They can’t defend their arguments with reason, because leftism has nothing to do with facts or logic. It’s all about emotion. So when your left-wing girlfriend starts droning on about how wonderful socialism is, respond by pointing out that Ludwig von Mises and Friedrich von Hayek proved way back in the 1930s that a socialist economy can’t possibly work. And keep going on and on about this — yell, if necessary — and don’t stop until you’ve made your left-wing girlfriend cry. Trust me, it’s a lot of fun!
Of course, then she’ll dump you for being “mean” and “horrible” and a “jerk.” So, on second thought, don’t do this. Instead try the following:
The key thing to understand about most women is that their lives revolve around their relationships. What most women want, more than anything else, is to love and be loved. Love and affection are all important for them. For men? Not so much. We’re perfectly happy just to sit and watch ESPN Classic TV for hours and hours (and hours). This is our great advantage over women, and if you’re a cruel, selfish monster, you can take advantage of women by playing on their need to be loved. Fortunately, Mr Ford is NOT a monster — notwithstanding his NPD (Narcissistic Personality Disorder). Oh, and his ADHD (Attention-Deficit/Hyperactivity Disorder). And, of course, his appalling misogyny. At the end of the day, he’s really not such a bad guy. In fact, when he’s on his meds, Mr Ford is the sensitive, caring type. The key, though, is to combine sensitivity with creativity.
Do you write poetry, Mr Ford? Better yet can you play a musical instrument (preferably a guitar, although a piano will do) and sing? Women love this.
If you’re not very creative don’t settle by showing her the lyrics to your favourite Air Supply song. No, no, no, NO! That’s lame. Instead, steal a few lines from some long-dead, obscure poet whose work can’t be Googled, and tell “Veronica” you wrote them all by yourself — just for her! And it took hours and hours (and hours)!
Women love shopping. Women love having stuff bought for them. Better still is if you can make something for your girl. Can you whittle, Mr Ford? What about metal work? Are you good at metal working, Mr Ford? Or better yet painting. Can you paint, or maybe sculpt? If not, don’t worry. Just buy some trinket from a gift shop and give it to “Veronica” and say you made it yourself — just for her! And it took hours and hours (and hours)! If she asks how you made it, quickly change the topic and say: “My your hair looks especially beautiful today. Is that a new colour, or something?”
Do you like opera, Mr Ford? Women love high culture. And no Air Supply isn’t high culture. Get cultured, Mr Ford, molto rapidamente. Study Italian. Take art, music, and food appreciation courses at your local community college. Go to the symphony and practice staying awake. Learn about flowers and gardening and boring shit like that.
Women love physical affection. Can you be physically affectionate, Mr Ford, without being sexual? Can you hold your girl and not grope her naughty bits?
Finally, role model good dating behaviour for Cathy Jr. by being faithful. Don’t give up on your relationship with “Veronica” just because you hit a rough patch. Think long term: there are few things worse than growing old all alone.
Good Luck, Mr Ford!
July 6, 2005:
Luke Ford
(aka Mr Ford, My Moral Leader, Our Moral Leader, Chaim Amalek, Rabbi Gadol, Khunrum, Duke Floored, Dear Friend Tom, et al.)
Today I begin a series of profiles of leading Jewish public intellectuals. This will help me learn more about the people I hope to soon join. What kind of people are the Jews? How do the Jews, practising and non-practising, conceive of themselves relative to Christians, Muslims, and others? What are their moral values and politics? What, for example, is the relationship between diaspora Judaism and leftism, Zionism and conservatism? These are complex and fascinating issues. I will start, of course, by profiling the Great Luke Ford, and proceed to other leading figures across the political spectrum, such as Bertell Ollman, Dennis Prager, Noam Chomsky, Melanie Phillips, Mark Steyn, Rebecca Schoenkopf, David Horowitz, Christopher Hitchens (and his little brother Peter), “Best Friend” Cathy Seipp, and many more.
Most of the material for my profile of Luke Ford comes from his best-selling autobiography, XXX-Communicated: A rebel without a shul, supplemented by a number of frankly bizarre telephone conversations (Mr Ford blurts out the darndest things), and even stranger email exchanges. (Mr Ford has recently taken to sending me, for reasons I can’t begin to fathom, detailed descriptions of his creepy sexual fantasies about “Best Friend” Cathy. I kid you not! He stopped, thankfully, after I threatened to publish them on my blog. If Mr Ford wasn’t a world famous Moral Leader, I’d suspect that there was something wrong with him, you know, in the head — in addition, that is, to his NPD and ADHD.)
He claims to be 39 years old and to have been raised by a tribe of wild aborigines in the Australian outback. Critics reject both assertions, arguing that Mr Ford is actually much older and lies about his age so he can continue to attend Friday Night Live For Young Jewish Singles at Temple Sinai. The latter claim, although more plausible, is widely believed to be simply an excuse for his strange eating and sleeping habits. (Mr Ford always eats with his fingers and sleeps on the floor.)
It’s true that Luke Ford is an Australian. He was, in fact, born into an Australian family of deeply-committed Seventh Day Adventists, a millennialist Christian sect that preaches the imminent Second Coming of Jesus Christ. The Seventh Day Adventists Church was founded in the mid-19th century in America. Mr Ford’s family moved to California for religious reasons when Luke was about 10 or 12. (I can’t remember the exact details as I’m working from memory. I read XXX-Communicated about two years ago, and because I’ve set myself the difficult task of profiling all the leading contemporary Jewish public intellectuals, I don’t have the time to go back and re-read Mr Ford’s memoir. But, I think, I have the gist of My Moral Leader’s life story. I trust you will forgive me for any minor error of detail.)
Luke Ford was a sensitive boy. He liked to read and listen to his record collection, his favourites being Air Supply, ABBA, the Village People, Donna Summer, Gloria Gaynor, Bette Midler, and fellow countryman Peter Allen.
A great catastrophe occurred in Mr Ford’s life when he was a boy. His mother died tragically of cancer. This event devastated young Luke and deeply affects him to this day. I suspect it helps explain his adult conversion to Judaism, a religion based on a covenant, i.e., conditional relationship, between G-d and His people. This perhaps reminded Luke of his family life. Luke’s father expressed his love for his family by creating a very structured environment with many rules and regulations that Luke found a challenge to consistently follow. Conceivably he misinterpreted his father’s parenting style as an absence of unconditional love, which combined with the loss of his biological mother, led him to a lifelong search for affection that deep inside he doesn’t feel he always deserves.
Mr Ford attended UCLA and hoped to major in economics. Unfortunately, he found the experience difficult — not intellectually (Luke has a self-reported IQ of 185), but emotionally. He felt lost and lonely on a large, impersonal campus. Claiming to be suffering from debilitating exhaustion (diagnosed as Chronic Figure Syndrome [CFS], although later thought to be an expression of his NPD), and needing the care and attention of his family, Mr Ford returned home where he remained essentially bed-ridden for the next six years.
During this period, Mr Ford spent much of his time listening to the radio, specifically a talk radio station that featured Jewish moral leader Dennis Prager. Mr Prager soon became the dominant figure in Luke Ford’s life.
Luke Ford began studying Judaism in an attempt to understand why Mr Prager was such a brilliant thinker, writer, and lecturer. The more Luke studied, the stronger he felt. It seemed that he gained energy just from listening to Mr Prager and studying Torah. Soon Mr Ford decided to become a Jew, just like his moral leader. Luke Ford wrote to Mr Prager informing him of this momentous decision. Mr Prager responded positively:
Dear Dude,
Kool!
Peace,
DP
This was the most encouraging, and longest, letter Mr Ford had ever received from anyone. Now a bundle of energy, Mr Ford knew he had made the right decision.
Luke Ford continued to correspond with Mr Prager over many months. One day Mr Prager asked Luke to move to Los Angeles to become his research assistant for $6,000 per year. Mr Ford was overjoyed. This was his dream job: to be research assistant to the Great Dennis Prager. Alas, it was too good to be true.
Mr Ford travelled to Los Angeles and found a hovel (now known as The Hovel™) appropriate to his modest budget and close to Dennis Prager’s radio studio. But when an enthusiastic Luke Ford showed up at work on his first day, Mr Prager told him his services weren’t needed:
Luke Ford: Good morning, sir. What a wonderful, wonderful day it is. I’m so excited to be here. What would you like me to research first, sir?
Dennis Prager: Who the fuck are you?
LF: Luke Ford, sir. Your new research assistant, sir.
DP: Huh?
LF: Your new research assistant, sir. I’m the chap with CFS that you’ve been corresponding with over the past couple of years during my conversion to Judaism …
DP: [eyes rolling]
LF: … and you offered me the position of research assistant. Remember?
DP: Vaguely.
LF: Well, here I am!
DP: Well, you can fuck off because I don’t need you!
LF: What?
DP: Yeah, I decided that having a dude for a research assistant is fucking gay.
LF: It is?
DP: Yeah, dude. So I’ve hired a slutty 19 year old community college girl, instead. She’s 44FF-14-34 and smoking hot!
LF: Oh.
DP: So, fuck off!
LF: You know, sir, you’re much different in person than on the radio.
DP: You mean the whole moral leader thing?
LF: Yeah.
DP: Well, dude, it’s all an act.
LF: So you don’t want me to be your research assistant?
DP: That’s what I’ve been trying to tell you for the past five minutes. What’s wrong with you? Are you a fucking moron, or something?
LF: No, I’m just shocked and disappointed. I mean I moved to Los Angeles to work for you. Now what am I supposed to do?
DP: Why the fuck should I care?
LF: [sniff]
DP: Oh cheer up, dude. You’re here in LA, so why don’t you become an actor?
LF: An actor? I don’t know anything about acting.
DP: Okay. How about a model?
LF: A model? Really? You think I could be a male model?
DP: Yeah, why not?
LF: Well, I’m rather chubby. I’ve been bed-ridden for the past six years. I weigh 235 pounds.
DP: Ever heard of plus-sized modelling, dude?
LF: No.
DP: Check it out. In the meantime get the fuck out of my office or I’ll kick your ass!
Mr Ford was devastated after meeting Dennis Prager in person. The Great Dennis Prager turned out not to be so great after all. In fact, he was a creep, just like the actor Jeff Goldblum. (The stories about that guy … my oh my!)
But Luke Ford was still partially under the sway of Mr Prager. Mr Ford continued to listen to the Dennis Prager Radio Show religiously and even tried his hand a plus-sized male modelling, just as Dennis Prager suggested.
In America there are fat people all over the place. (I don’t think I’ve ever seen a fat person in Britain or Canada. But cross the border and you see 300 pounders everywhere you look. It’s incredible.) Fortunately, Mr Ford got lots of modelling gigs, but it just wasn’t satisfying work for a man of Luke’s intelligence.
One day after posing in an ad for one of those Husky Man-type clothing stores that are ubiquitous in American shopping malls, a sad Mr Ford noticed a poster on a bulletin board. A p-rn convention was happening in his neighbourhood. Mr Ford, a devout Seventh Day Adventist-turned-Orthodox Jew had never seen p-rnography. He knew that it was forbidden. And it was unclean. And very, very evil. But Mr Ford was also VERY, VERY HORNY! After six years of being confined to a bed, and then the self-esteem destroying job of being a professional plus-sized male model, Mr Ford had never actually dated a girl. He wondered: what did their naughty bits look like?
In a moment of weakness, Luke Ford returned to The Hovel™, put on his raincoat, and made the fateful decision to join all the other losers standing in long lines waiting to get a signed photograph from a real life p-rn star. TO BE CONTINUED …
(Soon, Luke Ford becomes a p-rn journalist, gets his ass kicked by Dennis Prager, stops being a p-rn journalist, meets “Best Friend” Cathy, and returns to the world of p-rn.)
Luke Ford’s greatest claim to fame, besides being a world famous moral leader and role model, is his tremendous skill as an interviewer. Mr Ford has interviewed the high and the low, from grizzled Hollywood producers to 18 year old p-rn lovelies. My Moral Leader then writes fascinating profiles, sometimes short and snappy, occasionally long and meandering, which he posts on the Luke Ford Family of Blogs™ or publishes in one of his many books. Contra cretin Ira Stoll of the New York Sun, these are not mere “transcripts” — no, no, no! — but carefully edited interviews with contextualising commentary by the Great Mr Ford himself.
To be the subject of a Luke Ford interview and profile is to be blessed by intimately experiencing one of the true masters of the craft of interview journalism. I have never been so honoured. But one day, I hope (and pray) that My Moral Leader will interview ‘lil me: the world’s number one Luke Ford fan! Perhaps when I start my p-rn blog, Mr Ford will phone me up and kindly ask for an interview. Perhaps! Of course, I’d probably just faint, what with the excitement, and all.
In the meantime, I will work on my profile writing skills. I can never hope to be as skilled as My Moral Leader. He’s a professional journalist with oodles of talent, and I’m a mere amateur just starting out. But I do have the world’s leading profile writer as my role model.
Luke Ford is my moral leader. He’s a wonderful influence on my life — a true role model! One day I want to live in a hovel, drive a serial killer van, and write a p-rn blog just like him.
Setting goals is very important in life, otherwise you kinda drift and don’t end up accomplishing much. I just hope I haven’t set my goals too high. What if I don’t succeed in life and end up living a hovel, driving a serial killer van, and writing a p-rn blog? Hold on, those are my life goals!
And yet I foresee a problem. The hovel and serial killer van, I just might be able to accomplish. But the p-rn blog? Now that might be too difficult for me. Frankly, I’m a bit of a germaphobe. Actually, I’m a lot of a germaphobe. I just can’t see myself going to p-rn sets to interview actresses right after they’ve shot a scene. Think of all the germs! I’d be too petrified to even move. I mean what if I stepped in a puddle of … Oh, it’s just too scary to contemplate.
How does my moral leader do it?
Well, it’s because he’s a practising Jew. Mr Ford is strengthened by the knowledge that he’s bringing ethical monotheism to the very people most in need of transcendental guidance: the unclean wretches who make p-rnography. Really, it’s an uplifting story of My Moral Leader’s dedication and determination in the face of public opprobrium and horrifying health risks.
If I’m going to become a p-rn blogger, I must first convert to Judaism! It’s the only way I will be able to overcome my immobilising fear.
But how does one go about converting? Is it not a difficult process requiring much study? I think so. It seems so daunting. Fortunately, Mr Ford’s life story will be my guide. It will give me the encouragement I need on my long journey to become a successful p-rn blogger — just like My Moral Leader!
July 12, 2005:
The Luke Ford Story™ (Part Two)
So where were we? Ah, yes, Luke Ford had just returned to The Hovel™ to pick up his raincoat and head off to see Fluffy Cumsalot at the friendly neighbourhood p-rn convention.
At 5-11¾ and 105 pounds, measuring 44-14-34, with golden tresses down to her waist, milky white skin, and full (surgically-enhanced) red lips, the nineteen year old Fluffy Cumsalot was (and is) Luke Ford’s ideal woman; i.e., the dude is really shallow!
Mr Ford joined a long line of thousands of horny losers waiting to get a personally autographed photograph of Ms Cumsalot. After hours of waiting patiently (thank goodness Mr Ford always carries a book with him), he finally got to meet Fluffy — and what a life-changing shambles of a meeting it was:
Fluffy Cumsalot: NEXT!
Luke Ford: I love you!
FC: That’s so sweet. What’s your name, hon?
LF: Um, Fuke Lord. I mean, Flick Floored, I mean, Dack Doored … Oh no, I can’t even remember my own name.
FC: My, you are happy to see me!
LF: Please marry me!
FC: Hold your horses there, Dack.
LF: I love you!
FC: Hey, is that a banana in your pocket?
LF: Oh, that’s my “Pocket Torah.”
FC: Good one!
LF: You’re soooooo beautiful! You’re the most beautiful girl in the whole entire world …
FC: Thanks, Dack.
LF: … the most beautiful girl who has ever lived …
FC: You think?
LF: … who will ever live …
FC: Well, I don’t know about that.
LF: … in the entire universe, including extraterrestrial women …
FC: Ever met an extraterrestrial, Dack? ‘Cuz I’m thinking maybe you think you have.
LF: Yes. Er, no. But I’m a billion, trillion, zillion percent positive that they couldn’t possibly be more beautiful than the fantabulous Fluffy Cumsalot!
FC: Soooooo, changing the subject, what do you want me to say …
LF: Huh?
FC: … on my photograph. I mean that’s why you’re here, to get a signed photograph of “the fantabulous Fluffy Cumsalot,” right?
LF: Luke!
FC: What?
LF: That’s it! My name is Luke! Luke Ford!
FC: Lovely, babe, but we really have to be moving along here. What do you want me to write, Mr Ford?
LF: How about you give me your home phone number, so I can call you this evening for a date, and pick you up in The Serial Killer Van™, and take you back to The Hovel™, and …
FC: SECURITY!
After being thrown out of the neighbourhood p-rn convention by half-a-dozen none-too-friendly security guards, Mr Ford walked home — humiliated — to plot his revenge; i.e., he really is vindictive like that.
“A pox on all their houses,” he kept shrieking, as fellow pedestrians scattered.
Back at The Hovel™, Mr Ford brainstormed: “How can I get back at that bitch Fluffy Cumsalot? Ooooh, I hate her so much!”
After days of flowcharting and whatnot, it finally came to him: Luke Ford would build a website (this was in the days before blogging) where he would disclose to the world the real names of Fluffy Cumsalot and all the other shameless hussies in the world of p-rn.
And Mr Ford made it so.
And it was good!
Well, at least it felt good to Mr Ford because, unbelievably, his grossly offensive little website got lots of visitors. Luke Ford would constantly check his hit counter, and the more visitors he got, the healthier and more energetic he felt. He was getting revenge on Fluffy Cumsalot and beating his CFS (really NPD — ed).
And yet, Mr Ford wondered if what he was doing was ethical. Yes, the Good Book taught him that these p-rn hussies were unclean and should be shamed by decent society. But was it proper for Mr Ford, of all people, to be so judgmental?
If Luke Ford was still a Christian (cf. Jesus’ parable re: casting stones at p-rn hussies) probably not. But for the newly Jewish Luke Ford, it was cast away with both hands, baby!
But what about the ads? Mr Ford was making money off the same p-rn hussies that he was berating in his posts.
Ever the self-justifying narcissist, Luke Ford convinced himself that his website (including the truly appalling banner ads) was merely part of a larger project. He would write the definitive study — informed by Biblical values — of the history of p-rn.
Of course, in order to write such a great and necessary book, Mr Ford would have to do a lot of research. And research costs money. He would need to buy religious books, subscribe to relevant academic periodicals, and travel to interview the important players in the p-rn world. The more readers he brought to his website, Mr Ford rationalised, the more he could charge for the distasteful banner ads, and thus the more money he could collect to complete his book project.
And this brings us to the important role played by Kitten Natividad in The Luke Ford Story™. Please skip over this bit if you are under the age of 21, because it’s just awful. Really, truly, appallingly awful. Really!
Luke Ford genuinely needed to interview Kitten Natividad, then the world’s leading granny p-rn star, and, more importantly, someone who had been around the sex biz since the 1950s. Nobody knows more about p-rn than the Great Kitten Natividad.
So, on a stormy, wind-swept night in 1997, Mr Ford drove the Serial Killer Van™ to Kitten Natividad’s house, where … Again, people, I’m warning you: Please, please do not continue reading if you are: a) 21 years of age or younger; b) someone of modest to high moral standards; or c) someone who has just eaten a large (or modestly-sized) meal. Who are we kidding — someone who has eaten any food at all over the past 24 hours. This is your final warning: Turn Back Now!
The interview with Kitten Natividad went well. Luke Ford got lots of useful information for his book. As he was about to leave, Kitten asked if Mr Ford could look at her computer. She was trying to setup AOL, but not being a very technical person she couldn’t get it to work properly, and she so wanted to check out her many fan sites on the Internet.
Mr Ford, although not being a very technical person himself, was more than happy to help. Thanks to his superior natural intelligence (self-reported 185 IQ), Luke and Kitten were soon on the Internet, surfing around looking at nekkid pictures of Ms Natividad back in the day, before she, er, hit the wall — or whatever happened to her.
Mr Ford started to get a feeling in his underpants. Something was moving down there. What was it, he wondered? Mr Ford, in his early thirties in 1997 and still a virgin, didn’t know much (if anything) about sex — what with his strict religious upbringing as a Seventh Day Adventist, followed by his conversion to Orthodox Judaism. It’s true, Luke Ford had never actually watched any of the material he was writing about.
Luke Ford was feeling lightheaded as blood rushed from his massive (self-reported 185 IQ) brain toward his less than massive naughty bits. He asked Ms Natividad if she, with her many years of experience in-and-around stripping and p-rn and all things sex-related, could please explain the birds and the bees.
And she did!
In fact, she did much more than offer a few words of explanation; she provided a complete demonstration! Which is to say, they did it. In fact, they did more than it. They did it and then some. I can’t go into the details here, even if I wanted to — which I don’t — because I fear that not all 21 year old and younger readers heeded my previous sincere warnings and stopped reading a few paragraphs earlier — like they should have! But let’s just say that Kitten Natividad is a three input kind of a woman. For the relevant (and excruciating) details see Mr Ford’s autobiography. (Again “mature” audiences only, please.)
When an ecstatic Mr Ford got back to The Hovel™, he started emailing all his friends (and enemies) about what had just happened. All his enemies (and friends) were thoroughly disgusted and ignored him — all, that is, save for Mr Ford’s moral leader: Dennis Prager.
There is a bit of a backstory here that I should briefly explain. Even after Mr Ford’s terrible first meeting with Dennis Prager (see post below), which Fanboy chalked up to catching the Great One on a particularly bad day, Luke continued to faithfully listen to the Dennis Prager Radio Show. He emailed his moral leader constantly to tell him how fantabulous he was. These emails were never answered … until Mr Ford — all stalker-like — started The Unofficial Dennis Prager Fan Site. And Luke Ford being Luke Ford (i.e., someone who takes everything to the nth degree) insisted on writing about Mr Prager’s personal life; i.e., his children and finances. This infuriated the intensely private, and extremely volatile, Dennis Prager.
Let’s be honest here. What kind of loser creates a fan site on the Internet for some pseudo-celebrity/self-proclaimed moral leader? I mean, come on dude! It’s awfully hard to respect someone like that. In fact, I hate those kind of people! Dennis Prager was fully justified in being upset. What Mr Prager did to exact his revenge — now that’s an entirely different matter. To wit:
Dennis Prager emailed Mr Ford congratulating him on getting his cherry popped by the world’s number one granny p-rn star, and inviting Luke to lunch the next day to celebrate. Never one to pass on free food, Fanboy accepted. They were to meet outside Dennis Prager’s radio studio at noon. Mr Ford put on his best (and only) black suit and ran like a schoolgirl to meet his moral leader, whose building is just down the street from The Hovel™.
Luke Ford knew something was terribly wrong as soon as he saw Mr Prager. Face beet red, arms flailing wildly, Dennis Prager charged toward Mr Ford, screaming obscenities, something about the “Unofficial Dennis Prager Fan Site.” Overwhelmed by fear, Luke Ford started to shake (and cry) uncontrollably, all babygirl-like. And, really, who could blame him? Dennis Prager might look small on the radio, but in real life he’s a mountain of a man: at least 6-8¾ and 325 pounds. Mr Ford? Not so much in the height department, although he certainly is, um, “husky.” At just 5-6¾, Luke has never been much of a fighter, what with the reach disadvantage, and all. (Spending countless hours listening to Air Supply songs hasn’t helped, either.)
Fanboy tried to run. He got but one step when his moral leader’s massive left mitt grabbed the ‘lil fella around the neck. With his right hand, the Mountain Man picked Mr Ford up by his underpants. Holding him horizontal to the pavement, Dennis Prager started using Luke Ford’s bulbous (self-reported 185 IQ) head as a battering ram against a conveniently located lamppost.
Ouch!
One might think that a pedestrian or motorist seeing this spectacle would have tried to do something — anything — to stop the ass-, I mean, head-whooping. But no. You see, Luke Ford was well-known in the neighbourhood by his nickname “Horrid Boy,” reflecting his penchant for constantly berating his neighbours for their moral failings, real and imagined. In fact, all that was heard from passersby was the occasional: “About time!”; and “I’m surprised it took so long for Horrid Boy to get his just deserts, and who better to dish it out than moral leader Dennis Prager!”; and “Look mommy at the rolly polly midget getting his head bashed-in by that giant greyhaired dude!”
After the longest 15 minutes in Mr Ford’s life, Dennis Prager’s arms grew tired. He dropped Luke Ford’s lifeless body to the ground and went back to his moral leadering radio show.
Still no one rendered assistance to the helpless Mr Ford. A couple of hours later, Luke Ford regained consciousness. He staggered back to The Hovel™, repeating over and over: “Oh my head, she hurts.” (Apparently heads are feminine, like boats. Or so I’ve been told.)
During the next couple of days of convalescing in The Hovel™, Luke Ford had an epiphany. Rather than start a feud by seeking revenge against his moral leader, Fanboy came to see the “lamppost incident,” as he now refers to it, as a message from an angry G-d who, acting through His moral agent on earth, the Great Dennis Prager, was telling Mr Ford that now was the time to end his association with all things p-rn.
Mr Ford had just published his scholarly monograph, A History of X: 100 Years of Sex in Film, but the reviews were brutal; in fact, it’s widely believed Luke Ford’s “effort” is the most poorly reviewed book in the history of publishing since the invention of the printing press by Johann Gutenberg in 1450. But post-beating, Mr Ford came to an understanding: he had tried as best he could to bring the Biblical perspective to the evil world of p-rnography. If the p-rn peddlers and their raincoat-wearing consumers refused to listen to him, and change their immoral ways, it was up to G-d to punish them as He saw fit. Mr Ford would wash his hands of the whole sordid business.
Luke Ford knew that the transition to civilian life would be difficult. Making ends meet as a freelance journalist is very hard, even for the most talented of writers. And Mr Ford realised he wasn’t the most talented of writers — not by a long shot, what with the blockquoting and all!
How would he support himself without the p-rn ads? By using his interviewing skills developed during his p-rn journalism days, that’s how, he thought. And living in Beverly Hills, it seemed to Mr Ford, at the time, that he could enter the world of legit journalism, and make a decent living, by interviewing Hollywood celebrities. In fact, he soon decided that his next, better book would be about Hollywood producers.
And so Mr Ford set out to improve his writing skills. He asked around to see if any local freelancers would help him. Everyone ignored him, not wanting to associate with an infamous ex-p-rn reporter — everyone, that is, save for Cathy Seipp.
Tomorrow (or sometime this week) in the next installment of The Luke Ford Story™ find out what happens when a Beverly Hills narcissist and a Silver Lake egomaniac become best friends. (Hint: lots of Google-ego-checking, lots of blog-hit-counter-comparing, and lots and lots of the phrase: “Enough about you, already. Let’s talk about ME!“)
July 20, 2005:
The Luke Ford Story™ (Part Three)
I’ve been procrastinating writing the next part of The Luke Ford Story™ because we’ve reached 2001, the year when Mr Ford’s memoir, XXX-Communicated: A rebel without a shul, ends. So far it’s been an easy job for me. I’ve pretty much just been copying passages verbatim from Mr Ford’s autobiography. Now things get difficult. Mr Ford is a stickler for fairness and accuracy, both in his own profiles of celebrities and journalists, and when people write about him. Fortunately, according to Luke Ford, parts one and two of my series have been 100 percent accurate. That’s a relief because in the past whenever I’ve written something that has been just the tiniest bit wrong, Mr Ford has completely lost his rag, constantly telephoning me, including in the middle of the night, to scream obscenities of complaint. And then the lawyers. Good grief, the lawyers! If you start a Luke Ford fan blog, which you’ve probably been contemplating, much of your time will be taken up in endless meetings with attorneys haggling over the most ridiculous and insignificant details, like the occasional misspelling (or misplaced comma).
Anyhoo, I promised to continue my telling of The Luke Ford Story™ and I will — with some trepidation over my lack of sources, but a continued commitment to complete and total accuracy.
It’s 2001 and Mr Ford has just sold his naughty website for $250,000. He has never had so much money and predictably, albeit foolishly, he goes on a month long binge of smoking crack and banging hookers, at the end of which he has but $10,000 left of the nestegg he’d planned to use to break into legitimate journalism. Luke Ford is consumed with self-loathing.
One day at shul, Mr Ford overhears some of his “friends” talking excitedly about their upcoming six month spiritual retreat to Israel. “That’s exactly what I need,” Mr Ford says, contemplating his recent immoral descent into elicit drug use … oh, and the hookers, can’t forget the hookers!
Mr Ford asks: “How much?”
“$10,000” is the response.
“Perfect,” Mr Ford says. “I’m coming, too!”
Mr Ford’s “friends” let out a collective groan. They were so looking forward to visiting Israel, but the thought of traipsing around with Luke Ford in tow was just too much. They all cancel — all of ’em — every last one.
After a wonderful, albeit somewhat lonely, six months in Israel, Mr Ford returns to Los Angeles refreshed and renewed. He gets to work researching his book on Hollywood producers. Mr Ford anticipates that this project will take two to three years to complete, at which point he collapses.
Early the next morning Mr Ford’s Mexican maid, Consuela, arrives for her thrice weekly day-long cleaning of The Hovel™. (The Hovel™ may be small, but Luke Ford is very messy.) Consuela sees Mr Ford lying on the floor. She rushes toward his unconscious body convinced that he has succumbed to a drug overdose, or perhaps a horrible STD.
Unable to revive him, a distraught Consuela telephones for an ambulance. Mr Ford is rushed to hospital. Attended by scores of emergency room doctors and (pretty) nurses, he regains consciousness. Luke Ford tells his doctors not to worry: he probably just had a CFS attack. But they insist on keeping him in the hospital for more tests. “Cool!” Mr Ford says, anticipating many a sponge bath provided by (pretty) nurses.
The doctors find nothing physically wrong with Luke Ford and decide to send him to the nearby psychiatric hospital for further evaluation. Mr Ford is very concerned. “Does this mean no more sponge baths?” he asks. “Yes,” he’s told. “There is nothing physically wrong with you. You’re perfectly capable of bathing yourself.” Mr Ford cries.
During his hospital stay, Mr Ford’s condition is, at last, properly diagnosed. Luke Ford never had CFS. Rather, he’s been suffering from a particularly acute case of NPD. Mr Ford’s doctors prescribe mega-doses of lithium. He is sent home but told to return everyday for a two hour counselling session with a team of psychiatrists.
Mr Ford enjoys his daily visits to the mental hospital. He gets to check out the (pretty) nurses, and talk about himself, but now people are actually (kinda) listening. One day as Mr Ford is prattling on and on about himself, as is his wont, he mentions the details of his recent NPD attack. He remembers collapsing exactly at the point when he realised how long his Hollywood book project would take, and thus how long it would be before the reviews, and the attention, would roll in. In the past, Mr Ford explained, he had a very naughty website, from which he received lots of attention. He would check his hit counter at least 60 times an hour, and constantly do the Google Ego Check to see if people were talking about him somewhere on the Internet.
Mr Ford’s doctors suggested that as part of managing his condition, he should consider ways of receiving a steady stream of attention. Mr Ford agrees but feels that he has moved beyond Internet journalism. He would very much like to write essays for periodicals, like Commentary Magazine, in addition to working on his scholarly monograph. His team of doctors agree.
Luke Ford had never tried essay writing before. This was all very new (and exciting), but he would need help. Mr Ford decided to contact local freelance writers to see if they could give him some tips on how to write for popular magazines. Mr Ford persisted through hundreds of rejections until he telephoned Cathy Seipp.
Luke Ford: Hello, is this Cathy Seipp, the freelance journalist?
Cathy Seipp: ARE YOU A TELEPHONE SOLICITOR? BECAUSE IF YOU ARE I’M CALLING THE POLICE!
LF: No, no, I’m Luke Ford, scholarly monograph writer and aspiring freelance essayist for popular periodicals.
CS: What? Are you sure you’re not selling something? Because if you are I’M CALLING THE POLICE!
LF: Relax, lady. I’m Luke Ford: intellectual/writer. Perhaps you’ve heard of me?
CS: Er, no.
LF: Well, I was wondering if you could be so kind as to assist me …
CS: It’s 8:57 pm. Hurry up, buddy. G-d help anybody who tries to talk to me on the phone after 9pm!
LF: Okay, ma’am, I’ll be quick. I understand that you’re a successful local freelance writer and I was wondering if you could tell me about yourself …
CS: [excitedly] Talk about myself?
LF: Yes, I was hoping that you’d tell me about how you became a freelance writer, because I’m looking to break into the field.
CS: Cool! When would you like me to come over and talk about myself?
LF: Well, talk about yourself in the context of being a successful freelance writer …
CS: When? Tomorrow? Could I come over tomorrow?
LF: Sure, tomorrow is good.
CS: Should I bring slides?
LF: Slides?
CS: Yeah, my slide collection. You know of family vacations of when I was a kid, and stuff.
LF: Well, I don’t know if that will be necessary. I mean, I guess if you really what to …
CS: Yes, I really want to!
LF: But what I’m really interested in is how you became a freelance writer. I’m mostly looking for tips, advice, and contacts.
CS: Whatever, dude. I’m going to come over and talk about myself at five o’clock. Is that okay?
LF: Sure, I’ll see you tomorrow evening, then, Miss Seipp.
CS: No, no, I’m coming over at five o’clock in the morning! This will give us the whole day to talk about me and look at my slides. See you then. Bye!
LF: But … Hello, hello, are you still there? … Miss Seipp? … Miss Seipp? …
Apologising for being early, at 4:37 am the next morning Cathy Seipp arrived at The Hovel™ with her slide collection, projector, screen, and pointing stick. Mr Ford tried his best to pay attention: although, in truth, he did doze off a few times; and he did surreptitiously pull out his “Pocket Torah” for a couple of hours of religious study; and he did leave The Hovel™ for 2½ hours in the afternoon to attend his daily psychiatric counselling session at the local mental hospital. Miss Seipp didn’t notice any of this.
By Mr Ford’s bedtime (9pm), they were only up to looking at the slides of Miss Seipp’s second birthday party. With so many slides still to see, she suggested that Mr Ford come over to her house at 5am for Sunday dinner. He agreed somewhat reluctantly. Miss Seipp has many contacts with local writers and editors, Mr Ford reasoned. He really couldn’t pass up this opportunity, even if it meant pretending to look at her slide collection. Besides, they did have a lot in common. They both love the Google Ego Check, convinced that someone (anyone), somewhere (anywhere), is saying something (anything) about them on the Internet.
Miss Seipp drove home to Silver Lake thrilled with her new, best friend: “Finally, I’ve found a man who actually listens to me,” she said to herself.
Next Sunday Mr Ford arrived at Cathy Seipp’s house. She showed him passed the “ABSOLUTELY NO SOLICITING OR I’LL CALL THE POLICE” sign on the front door, and introduced her new, best friend to her then thirteen year old daughter Cecile DuBois.
Cathy Seipp: Cecile, come here. I want you to meet my new, best friend … um … what’s you name again?
Luke Ford: Mr Luke Ford, ma’am.
CS: Right, Luke Ford. You’ll love him, he’s such a wonderful listener.
Cecile DuBois: Hi, I’m so glad to …
CS: Come along, then, we’ve got plenty of slides to look at.
CD: Oh G-d no, not the slides. Anything but the slides.
And thus began Mr Ford’s long and mutually enriching friendship with Cathy Seipp and Cecile DuBois. Of course, it wasn’t all about looking at slides. Miss Seipp also became Mr Ford’s career coach and professional advisor.
She gave him a book about ethics in journalism for his birthday, and suggested possible essay ideas.
Luke Ford tried as best he could to become a popular magazine essayist, but Miss Seipp isn’t a miracle worker and his progress was slow. Commentary Magazine kept rejecting his submissions and Mr Ford’s confidence, and energy level, started to wane. Miss Seipp suggested that he set his sights a little lower, and perhaps try writing for a local alt-weekly. “Alt-weekly?” Mr Ford huffed. “I’m not writing for some communist rag that nobody reads. I want to be in Commentary Magazine. It’s Commentary Magazine or bust!”
And bust it was. Rejection piled up on top of rejection. Soon Mr Ford’s health had deteriorated to the point he no longer had the energy necessary to leave The Hovel™. Cecile DuBois would drop by weekly to deliver groceries and keep Mr Ford company. One day Cecile was surfing the Internet on Mr Ford’s computer, as he lay on the floor. (Mr Ford doesn’t have a bed.) She read an article about a new phenomenon called blogging. “Blogging? What’s that?” Mr Ford murmured, no longer strong enough to raise his voice above a whisper.
“A blog, or web log,” Cecile answered, “is a type of web page that serves as a publicly accessible personal journal. It’s typically updated daily, with the most recent post at the top.”
“I used to have one of those,” Mr Ford muttered. “Years ago.”
“You did? That’s so cool, Mr Ford,” Cecile said. “Maybe you invented the web log?”
“Yeah, I probably did. And just think of all the attention I’d be getting if people recognised that I was the world’s first blogger,” Mr Ford said angrily, his voice now rising.
“What was your proto-blog about?” Cecile asked.
“Um, … er, … the Human Condition, or an aspect thereof,” Mr Ford answered sheepishly.
“Wow, you’re so smart, Mr Ford!” Cecile chirped.
“You could say that, you definitely could say that,” Mr Ford said triumphantly. “I’m like one of the leading contemporary Jewish public intellectuals, or so I’ve been told.”
Cecile agreed: “I can believe it! You know, Mr Ford, you should join, or should I say, rejoin the blog revolution. Think of all the attention you’d receive: the world’s first blogger returns to write about the Human Condition, or an aspect thereof.”
“No, I don’t want to write about that again. That’s in my past. I think I’d write about my new interest: Jewish theology,” Mr Ford said, gaining strength with each passing word.
“Hey, no need to shout, Mr Ford,” Cecile responded.
And so Mr Ford set up his new blog on Jewish theology. The first thing he did was add a hit counter. He posted feverishly and the hits started to come in. No, his web traffic didn’t begin to approach the 20,000 to 30,000 hits per day that his old naughty website received, but it was a start. As his energy level rose, in addition to working on his blog, Mr Ford returned to researching his scholarly monograph on Hollywood producers.
Influenced by Luke Ford’s success, Cecile started her own blog. Miss Seipp became jealous. She wasn’t happy that her daughter and best friend were getting so much attention. She wanted to blog, too. The first thing Miss Seipp did when creating her blog was set up a hit counter. Then she bought expensive IP address tracing software, so she could learn more about her readers and email them, asking “Why do you read my site, and why do you love me so much?”
Miss Seipp used her column on the National Review website to promote her blog. She also made radio and television appearances to publicise “Cathy’s World.” She wrote to Glenn Reynolds at InstaPundit asking for, and receiving, links, something the evil Mr Reynolds would never do for Luke Ford. Soon her hit totals towered over Mr Ford’s and Cecile’s.
Cecile tried to take the high road, but Mr Ford became very upset. It wasn’t fair. Cathy’s was a general interest blog, whilst his was a serious site devoted to Jewish theology. He tried to get on the Dennis Miller Show but was rebuffed. Even Mr KABC ignored him.
Then Miss Seipp started printing out (using a very large font) a list of the IP addresses of all the visitors to her blog over the past week. Every Sunday, when Mr Ford came to visit for their weekly dinners, Miss Seipp would wave her printout in Mr Ford’s face, saying “My, my, look how big it is. It’s a whopper. And yours in comparison, it’s so small and unimpressive.” Mr Ford felt inadequate. His energy level fell precipitously. “At least,” he reasoned, “Cecile hasn’t been linked by InstaPundit. I don’t know what I’d do if that happened,” he cried.
One Sunday Mr Ford’s worst nightmare was realised. Cecile DuBois rushed into the dining room to announce the big news: InstaPundit had just linked to her website. She’d been InstaLanched! Moments later Mr Ford collapsed to the floor.
Does Mr Ford survive his latest, and most severe, NPD attack? Find out in the next installment of The Luke Ford Story™.
August 11, 2005:
The Luke Ford Story™ (Part Four)
This is the fourth part in my series on the life and times of Luke Ford: public intellectual, scholar, essayist … oops, not an essayist … blogger, science correspondent, interviewer, raconteur, moral leader, role model, man-about-town, playboy, and, of course, severe NPD sufferer.
It’s the year 2003ish and Mr Ford’s good friend, Cecile DuBois, has just triumphantly announced over Sunday dinner that her blog has been linked by Glenn Reynolds of InstaPundit.com. Luke Ford (self-reported IQ of 185) does a quick zero sum calculation in his massive head and, overcome with NPD, promptly collapses in a heap.
I would like to say that young Cecile and her mommy, Luke Ford’s best friend, Cathy Seipp, immediately rushed toward Horrid Boy, as they affectionately call him, to administer mouth-to-mouth resuscitation — or whatever one does for a NPD attack victim. But, alas, I can say no such thing.
With Mr Ford as my guide to all things journalistical, I must report honestly and accurately (just as My Moral Leader™ does in his wonderful profiles of p-rn stars and lady journalists) that young Cecile spent the rest of the evening literally floating on air, thanks to her inflated head, banging into walls and ceilings, totally oblivious to her good friend’s plight. Meanwhile, Miss Seipp rushed not toward the lifeless body of her best friend but her computer workstation, where she spent the evening, and well into the early morning, bombarding Mr InstaPundit asking, pleading, begging for a link: “Please link to me.” “Please!” “Anything for a link: ANYTHING! Do you understand? A-N-Y-T-H-I-N-G!” “PUH – LEASE!” “PLEASE … PLEASE … PLEASE!!!”
The poor thing was so flustered that she forgot about the time difference between Los Angeles and Knoxville, Tennessee. Professor Reynolds had gone to bed, unable to respond to Miss Seipp’s 19,763 desperate emails until the next day. Cathy collapsed on top of her workstation at 3:19am from exhaustion, or was it a broken heart caused by no linky-love from the evil Glenn Reynolds. Heh!
I would like to say that first thing the next morning Good Friend Cecile™ and Best Friend Cathy™ came to the aid of Our Moral Leader™. But, alas, I must continue to report honestly and accurately on this most terrible of events. Young Cecile, head back to normal size, decided to do some topless sun tanning in the backyard, whilst mommy dearest went about her normal busy workday.
It wasn’t until late afternoon that the dog discovered Mr Ford’s lifeless body in the dining room. This was some 20 hours after his NPD attack, and try as they might Cecile and Cathy (and the dog) were unable to resuscitate The Narcissist From Down Under™.
At the hospital, Mr Ford’s team of doctors pumped the chubby ethicist’s body full of lithium. Within days, a team of blonde supermodels were flown in from Sweden. Dressed in nurses uniforms, they gave Mr Ford a twelve hour sponge bath, repeating his name over and over, all sing-songy-like. But it was to no avail. Distraught, the doctors and nurses wheeled Luke Ford over to the nearby hospice. After connecting a feeding tube, they said: “We’ve done all we can. He is in G-d’s hands now.” Then, fearing the worse, they cried.
I would like to say that Cecile and Cathy were at the hospice everyday keeping Mr Ford company by playing charades, reading the latest updates from their blogs, and chatting about their many feuds with journalists, teachers, schoolmates, tenants, neighbours, et al. Alas, I can say no such thing (see above for the reason). Oh sure, they did telephone every couple of weeks, but only to inquire: “Pulled the plug yet? Don’t you think you should? Stop dilly-dallying around and get on with it, already!”
Cathy and Cecile are proponents of the quality of life, rather than culture of life, argument. They contend that a life without Cathy’s World and Sky Watching My World is a life not worth living. Perhaps. They do seem to have been vindicated in the Terri Schiavo case. But not here, because a few weeks later a television in the hospice was tuned to a channel showing Entertainment Tonight. Luke Ford shot out of his bed like a rocket, rushing toward the television screaming: “ME! ME! ME! ME! It’s ME on the telly!”
And so it was. ET was repeating a programme featuring Horrid Boy discussing his scholarly monograph on the history of p-rn. Hospice staff, with tears of joy in there eyes, gathered around Mr Ford saying “You’re awake! It’s a miracle! There is a G-d, after all!”
When the television programme ended, Mr Ford collapsed to the floor. Fortunately, his team of psychiatrists knew exactly what to do. In place of a feeding machine, Mr Ford was hooked up to a television with a built-in VCR that showed his various TV appearances in a continuous loop. With Luke Ford’s energy-level artificially restored, it was time for an intervention.
Luke Ford’s Team of Mental Health Professionals: You know why you’re here?
Luke Ford: To talk about me?
LFTofMHP: Yes.
LF: Cool!
LFTofMHP: But more specifically, we are here to talk about what you’re doing with your life.
LF: Well, I’m trying to get published in Commentary Magazine, remember?
LFTofMHP: And how much success have you had in that endeavour?
LF: Not much so far, I’m afraid. They keep returning my manuscripts — something about blockquoting. I don’t understand it.
LFTofMHP: Well, you do tend to use a lot of blockquotes.
LF: I do?
LFTofMHP: Er, yes.
LF: Oh.
LFTofMHP: Here’s the thing: we were very fortunate to bring you back to life after your last NPD attack. Entertainment Tonight happened to be showing one of your old interviews. Next time we might not be so lucky. In fact, we fear that your NPD has progressed to the point that your next attack will most certainly be your last.
LF: Oh, no.
LFTofMHP: Yes, your condition is that severe.
LF: I’ve been trying so hard to get attention through my writing, but people don’t seem to be very interested.
LFTofMHP: Your Jewish theology blog is quite good, but it just doesn’t have wide enough appeal to satiate your pathological need for attention. Have you thought about anything else you could do as a career, rather than writing?
LF: I don’t know. Growing up I always wanted to be a professional athlete. Perhaps I should try that?
LFTofMHP: What sports do you play?
LF: None really. But it would be so cool to be, like, an NBA player — what with the groupies and all!
LFTofMHP: But you’re in your mid-30s, 5-6¾ tall and weigh 235 pounds. The NBA is hardly a realistic career goal.
LF: Yeah, I guess you’re right. Perhaps, I could be a jockey?
LFTofMHP: Perhaps, if you lost 100 pounds. Even then jockeys aren’t really very famous.
LF: No groupies?
LFTofMHP: Probably not.
LF: Darn!
LFTofMHP: Have you thought about returning to p-rn journalism? That seems to have been the healthiest period in your life, probably because of all the television interviews.
LF: Yeah, I was on TV a lot. I even had my own Internet radio programme. But, no, I could never return to p-rn journalism.
LFTofMHP: Why not?
LF: Because of my religious faith, silly! I’m a proud convert to Orthodox Judaism.
LFTofMHP: But you did it before?
LF: Yes, but that was only because I was working on a scholarly monograph about the history of the p-rn industry. That was my moral justification, and even then I was still thrown out of seven Shuls for unclean activity. And in truth, it’s awfully difficult to reconcile ethical monotheism with p-rn journalism.
LFTofMHP: Ah, but as an Orthodox Jew you believe in the culture of life, correct?
LF: Yes, very much so. According to Dennis Prager, practising Jews embrace the culture of life as a deep religious commitment, something about a reaction to the death obsession of the Ancient Egyptians. I don’t fully understand it, but whatever Mr Prager says, I say. He’s my moral leader!
LFTofMHP: Cool!
LF: Thinking is hard and Dennis Prager seems so good at it, I figure it’s easier to have him do all my thinking for me.
LFTofMHP: And what would Mr Prager do if he was presented with a stark alternative between choosing life and choosing death?
LF: He would choose life, of course.
LFTofMHP: Well, Mr Ford that is your choice. And you must do what Dennis Prager would do: you must choose life. You must do the only thing commensurate with your talents that offers the level of attention you need to keep your NPD under control. You must return to p-rn journalism.
LF: But what about Shul?
LFTofMHP: We will give you a doctor’s note explaining the severity of your NPD and how this line of work will keep you a productive, functioning member of society, rather than bedridden, or much worse.
LF: I guess, you’re right.
Mr Ford returned to The Hovel™ and with some trepidation set up his p-rn blog. The first thing he did was add a hit counter. Posting under the clever nom de guerre Dack Doored, thereby hiding his real identity from his friends, Torah study mates, and Jewish theology blog readers, he started posting about Kitten Natividad, Kendra Jade, et al., and the hits piled up. At first a hundred, and then a thousand hits per day. Soon Mr Ford had tens of thousands of visitors each day to his p-rn blog. And on the occasions when his real name was discovered, Horrid Boy would whip out his doctor’s note, saying: “Don’t worry, I’m a p-rn blogger for medical reasons only. It in no way reflects my true moral character.”
Luke Ford’s health improved dramatically. He was a bundle of energy. In rapid succession he published his autobiography, a book on Hollywood, and a book on Jewish journalism. Mr Ford even returned to Cathy Seipp’s house for Sunday dinners.
I would like to say that Best Friend Cathy™ and Good Friend Cecile™ learned from their past mistake and supported Mr Ford by failing to mention that they, too, were popular bloggers. But, alas, I can say no such thing. (See above.)
On the contrary, Cathy and Cecile would wait at the front door for Mr Ford to arrive. At which point they would start jumping up and down, waving their visitor IP address printouts, shouting: “People Love Us! People Love Us!”
The new, healthy Mr Ford would sweep passed unperturbed, confident in the knowledge that the hit total for the Luke Ford Family of Blogs™ far surpasses that of his friends. Of course, 99.9 per cent of his hits are from the naughty blog. But does he not have a doctor’s note to explain this? Yes, he does! Mr Ford thus sits back, relaxes, and smiles serenely in the face of the shrieking and blog-visitor-IP-address-printout-waving bedlam of his friends.
And yet the Great Mr Ford’s blogging success wasn’t enough. In truth, no amount of attention is enough for a severe NPD suffer. Luke Ford still had to put up with Miss Seipp’s constant references to her guest radio interviews and regular appearances on the Dennis Miller television programme. Best Friend Cathy™ knew Mr Ford had no answer to her taunts:
Best Friend Cathy Seipp: Hi, Luke, I just wanted to phone you to say that I’ll be appearing on the Glenn Sacks radio show tomorrow night. I’m sure you will want to listen, since, as you know, I’m quite good as a radio interview guest.
Luke Ford: Okay.
BFCS: Hey, maybe I’ll put in a good word for you with my friend Glenn. If he plans one day to do a segment on Jewish theology, he might be able to use you. It’s a long shot, but I’ll do what I can. I mean, I am your best friend. Hahahahahahahaha!
LF: [click]
Then one day “it” happened. “It” being a narcissist’s dream come true. 60 Minutes (pre-Dan Rather Bush National Guard story fiasco) called. “YES, YES, YES!” Luke Ford screamed before Steve Kroft had an opportunity to explain that he wanted the blogger to be a guest expert during a special story on the p-rn industry.
Mr Ford was so thrilled that before the report aired on CBS, he emailed all his friends and enemies announcing that 60 Minutes was doing a story — an unprecedented two segment story during sweeps, no less — about the Great Luke Ford. Friends were thrilled — enemies stunned. Horrid Boy had apparently made it big!
Mr Ford telephoned his best friend to announce the news:
Luke Ford: Hi, Cathy, Luke Ford here.
Best Friend Cathy Seipp: It’s 8:57pm. Make it fast, buster. You know I don’t talk on the phone after 9pm.
LF: Guess what?
BFCS: You’ve had a relapse and you’re smoking crack again?
LF: Er, no.
BFCS: Thanks to the miracle of modern medical science, octogenarian p-rn star Kitten Natividad is having your baby?
LF: Er, no. Give up?
BFCS: No, this is fun. Let me think …
LF: I’ll stop you right there. I’m going to be on 60 Minutes as a guest expert. Take that, Best Friend Cathy Seipp™!
BFCS: Get out!
LF: It’s true!
BFCS: Oh my G-d. This is awful … I mean, I’m so happy for you … I guess.
LF: Hey, maybe I can put in a good word for you with my new friend Steve Kroft. Perhaps 60 Minutes is working on a story on the Gilmore Girls, or maybe Everwood, and they could use you as an expert. I mean it’s the least I could do for my best friend. Hahahahahahahahaha!
BFCS: Okay, Luke, what exactly are you going to be an expert on? … Huh?
LF: [click]
Mr Ford’s Jewish theology blog readers were convinced that 60 Minutes was going to profile their Moral Leader. About time, too! What will he lecture us on, they wondered. Vegetarianism, perhaps?
Finally the big day arrived. With pen and paper in hand, Mr Ford’s legit fans prepared to take notes on their Moral Leader’s appearance — an unprecedented two segments during sweeps, no less — on 60 Minutes, CBS’s flagship news programme.
The report began with Steve Kroft at a p-rn convention.
“That’s weird,” Mr Ford’s Jewish theology blog fans thought. Why is 60 Minutes doing a story about Luke Ford’s biblical values approach to vegetarianism from a p-rn convention?
In the fifth and final part on the Luke Ford Story™, I explain: the Luke Ford Fan Blog; my numerous feuds with Mr Ford, including our row over the removal of my site from his blogroll; why Mr Ford will no longer talk to me (hint: he doesn’t really weigh 235 lbs); Luke Ford’s love life; and the never before told story of Showtime’s aborted plan to make a movie-of-the-week based on Mr Ford’s memoir.
Septmber 9, 2005:
The Luke Ford Story™ (Part Five)
[I’ve removed the opening paragraphs as originally posted from this blog entry. They were ill-conceived, poorly written, and caused My Moral Leader great emotional distress, for which I offer my sincere apology.]
Soon after the publication of XXX-Communicated, the American cable network Showtime contacted Mr Ford to inquire if he would be interested in selling the television rights to his book for $500,000. Showtime wanted to turn Mr Ford’s memoir into a movie. Luke Ford eagerly agreed, and proceeded to tell everyone that he was about to become even more famous, and would soon be off lithium, which he takes in megadoses to manage his NPD, for good. That’s the last I heard of the matter.
It’s my goal in life to become just like My Moral Leader, sans the NPD (and lithium). This means, of course, becoming a p-rn blogger. I can’t wait, but I’m not quite ready. It’s one thing to interview celebrities and VIPs, such as Mr Ford, on the telephone, but it’s quite another to conduct face-to-face interviews. This is where I need practice if I’m going to maintain my composure when asking actresses at p-rn star karaoke profound questions about the Human Condition, just as My Moral Leader does.
Thursday morning, September 8, 2005, I headed off to the Los Angeles headquarters of Showtime Networks in the hope of interviewing CEO Matt “I’m Jewish — we’re into projects that are too political, too religious, too black, too gay” Blank.
I charmed my way into Mr Blank’s office, and much to my surprise he was willing to meet with me. In fact, he was desperate to talk to someone about his experience with Luke Ford. Wonderful, I thought, I’m going to practice my interviewing skills, and find out what happened to the much anticipated television movie project on the life and times of the Great Luke Ford.
Matt Blank: Please take a seat, Mr Fan Blogger.
Luke Ford Fan Blogger: Thank you. It’s ever so kind of you to take time out of your busy day making morally corrupting movies about communists, Jews, blacks, and homosexuals to speak to me.
MB: To be honest, I need to talk to someone about Luke Ford. Call it an opportunity for catharsis.
LFFB: You found dealing with the Great Luke Ford difficult?
MB: “The Great” who? What are you talking about?
LFFB: I’m talking about the Great Luke Ford: Jewish theologian, moral leader, role model, p-rn blogger, severe NPD-sufferer, author of XXX-Communicated, etc., etc.
MB: Yeah, that’s the one. “The Great Pain In the Ass,” you mean.
LFFB: But surely you’ve dealt with the highly sensitive, temperamental artiste-type before?
MB: Of course, but nothing could have prepared me for Luke Ford. What a piece of work …
LFFB: You seem to be hyperventilating, Mr Blank. Perhaps you should sit down, and start at the beginning. Please explain how you first became familiar with Mr Ford?
MB: Let me think … Well, one of our employees brought to my attention the memoir of a p-rn blogging Jewish theologian, and suggested I take a look at it. That sounds like just the sort of provocative, intellectually challenging material that Showtime is interested in, I thought.
LFFB: So did you find Mr Ford’s autobiography provocative and intellectually challenging?
MB: Provocative? Yes, especially the chapter about Kitten Natividad. Intellectually challenging? Not so much.
LFFB: But on the whole you liked it, no?
MB: On the whole? Er, no.
LFFB: That’s surprising.
MB: Really?
LFFB: Absolutely. I loved it — well, except for the Kitten Natividad chapter. That was kinda yucky.
MB: That was my favourite part. I especially liked it when Luke Ford stuck his …
LFFB: Stop it! Stop it! Please, you’re talking about My Moral Leader.
MB: Your what?
LFFB: My Moral Leader. Luke Ford is My Moral Leader.
MB: Are you a crazy person?
LFFB: I don’t think so. Why do you ask?
MB: Forget it. So, back to the book. I thought it had potential. Turning it into an acceptable movie script would take a lot of work, but it had a good dramatic arc, some violence, and, of course, plenty of sex. I gave my staff the go-ahead to begin negotiations with Mr Ford, and think about set design, a potential director, casting — all the usual stuff.
LFFB: Great!
MB: And that was when the wheels started to fall off the project.
LFFB: Already?
MB: Yes, it became immediately obvious that working with Mr Ford was going to be a problem.
LFFB: How so?
MB: He’s an idiot for one thing.
LFFB: I beg to differ! Mr Ford has a self-reported IQ of 185!
MB: So he told me — many, many times. Empirical evidence for Mr Ford’s genius, however, is rather scant.
LFFB: Rubbish!
MB: Let me explain. We told Mr Ford that his memoir required major rewriting if was to be successfully turned into a screenplay. He suggested that he could write the screenplay all by himself.
LFFB: Luke Ford can write screenplays?
MB: Of course not. He thought that all he needed to do was cut and paste from his memoir, and that the screenplay would be ready in no time. We had to explain that it doesn’t work that way. The screenwriter needs to create dialogue, for one thing. Besides, the storyline needed to be rethought.
LFFB: What was wrong with it?
MB: As everyone knows, Mr Ford has returned to p-rn blogging. But XXX-Communicated ends with him turning his back on the p-rn world and heading off to Israel to begin his new life as a chaste Orthodox Jew. In other words, the ending is highly deceptive.
LFFB: Yeah, I pointed that out to him at the time. He let me read a final draft, and I tried to explain that he needed a new, more honest ending before publication.
MB: What did he say?
LFFB: He told me to “Fuck off!”
MB: Lovely!
LFFB: Yeah, unfortunately My Moral Leader has quite a mouth. It’s “F- this” and “F- that” all the time
MB: I noticed the same thing. He should go into the construction trade. He’d fit right in.
LFFB: Hahahaha!
MB: So we finally convinced Mr Cut-and-Paste that a screenwriter would have to be hired and the ending of the story changed.
LFFB: And he agreed?
MB: After he stopped swearing and throwing things around my office, yes, finally he agreed.
LFFB: And the new ending?
MB: We liked the basic arc of XXX-Communicated. Sweet little Australian boy grows up to be a lost young man in America. Suffers severe NPD. Is confined to a bed for six years. Plays his Air Supply, Abba, Village People, Donna Summer, Gloria Gaynor, Peter Allen, and Menudo records endlessly. Discovers Dennis Prager on the radio. Converts to Orthodox Judaism. Starts a naughty website. Is ejected from seven shuls. Has an epiphany. The end. Except in our ending rather than moving to Israel, Mr Ford gets married.
LFFB: Interesting. And who does he marry?
MB: Granny p-rn star Kitten Natividad, of course!
LFFB: Cool!
MB: Kitten moves into The Hovel™ after becoming Mrs Ford. Together the happy couple adopt 26 orphans from Mexico. Kitten Natividad is originally from Mexico, you know.
LFFB: I did not know that. And all 28 of them live in The Hovel™ together?
MB: Yep, it’s crowded but love conquers all.
LFFB: That’s so touching. I have tears in my eyes just thinking about it. And Mr Ford was content with this ending?
MB: Mr Ford has a thing for granny p-rn. So, yes, he seemed quite happy with how the Showtime version of The Luke Ford Story™ was going to end.
LFFB: But there were more problems to come, I gather?
MB: Very much so. Actually, the problems had just started.
LFFB: Explain, please?
MB: Mr Ford wanted to direct. In fact, he insisted.
LFFB: Luke Ford can direct a movie?
MB: Of course not. But he claimed to have experience, saying that he’d already directed a documentary film called “What Women Want.”
LFFB: Luke Ford knows what women want?
MB: Of course not. I told one of my staff to check it out to see if Mr Ford was telling the truth about having relevant experience. He came back saying that the so-called documentary film “What Women Want” was actually a p-rn video.
LFFB: That can’t be!
MB: I’m afraid so.
LFFB: My Moral Leader directed a p-rn video?
MB: Not only did he direct a p-rn video, but he starred in it.
LFFB: I’m feeling ill.
MB: Just be thankful you haven’t seen it. Then you’d really be sick.
LFFB: You watched it?
MB: A couple of minutes of it. That’s all I could stand. It was gross. Just appalling.
LFFB: Oh my. This is all news to me.
MB: I’m sorry, I thought you knew.
LFFB: No, not at all. I guess I’ve lived a sheltered existence.
MB: Welcome to the real world, buddy. Things are not always as they seem.
LFFB: Apparently. Don’t tell me Mr Ford wanted to act in Showtime’s The Luke Ford Story™, too?
MB: No, but he certainly had suggestions as to who should play Luke Ford in the movie.
LFFB: Such as?
MB: Brad Pitt.
LFFB: BRAD PITT? That’s ridiculous!
MB: I know. Mr Ford doesn’t look anything like Brad Pitt.
LFFB: What was Horrid Boy thinking?
MB: I have no idea. Besides, we couldn’t afford Brad Pitt. Our entire budget was projected to be $10 million. Brad Pitt gets at least double that for a movie.
LFFB: What was Mr Ford’s response?
MB: Then he suggested Jude Law.
LFFB: JUDE LAW? That’s ridiculous!
MB: I know. Mr Ford doesn’t look anything like Jude Law. And we couldn’t have afforded Jude Law. So we tried to explain to Mr Ford, again, that our movie was to be a small artistic piece for cable television, not a major motion picture for the theatres.
LFFB: What did he say?
MB: Then he suggested Pierce Brosnan.
LFFB: PIERCE BROSNAN? That’s ridiculous!
MB: I know. Mr Ford doesn’t look anything like Pierce Brosnan. And again, Mr Brosnan was well outside of our price range. This went on and on for weeks. It was endless. At one point Mr Ford suggested Marcus Schenkenberg. We explained that Marcus Schenkenberg is a model not an actor.
LFFB: What did Luke Ford say?
MB: He said: “Well, Marcus Schenkenberg is very pretty. Maybe he can learn to act.”
LFFB: Good grief. I feel for you. I really do.
MB: It was awful. And I haven’t even gotten to the really bad part. My therapists say it will be years before I completely recover from the experience.
LFFB: It gets worse?
MB: I’m afraid so.
LFFB: Oh my.
September 28, 2005:
Say It Ain’t So
With Our Moral Leader hanging out with teenage girls across England (and now Paris) it’s up to us, his many followers, to start thinking for ourselves. But, alas, thinking is hard — at least it is for me. So, I’ve been forced to search the Internet looking for articles on religion and morality as I await Mr Ford’s return to regular blogging.
I’ve found four interesting articles: the first laments the loss of Biblical literacy; the second, by a post-Marxist, points to the Biblical foundations of modern democratic politics; the third contrasts Jewish and Christian ideas on the morality of hate; and, lastly, an article from the BBC (of course!) suggesting that religion, and by inference Biblical morality, is bunk.
Unfortunately, I regard the last article to be the most persuasive of the four. You see this is what happens when the Great Luke Ford puts his holidaying pleasures above tending to the moral needs of his flock — we get tempted by dangerous ideas, like science, secularism, and fantasies about partying with hot English (and Parisian) teens!
1) In “The Bible Tells Me So: Biblical illiteracy is a shame” the Wall Street Journal’s Adam Nicolson writes:
Up until, say, 100 years ago, biblical literacy would have been practically mandatory. If you didn’t know what “the powers that be” originally referred to, or where “the writing on the wall” was first seen, or what was meant by “the patience of Job,” “Jacob’s ladder” or “the salt of the earth”– if you didn’t know what an exodus was or a genesis, a fatted or a golden calf — you would have been excluded from the culture. It might be said that a civilization consists, at its core, of these easily transmitted packages of implication. They are one of the mechanisms by which cultures can be both efficient and rich. You don’t have to return to first principles every time you wish to communicate … Without the set of archetypes and fount of wisdom in the Bible, our lives would be thinner and poorer. I know my own life would have been immeasurably less if I had never encountered the majestic language of scriptural stories, as told in the King James Version.
2) History professor Richard Wolin discusses left-wing German philosopher Jurgen Habermas’ interest in the role of Judeo-Christian belief in a healthy democracy:
Among 19th-century thinkers it was an uncontestable commonplace that religion’s cultural centrality was a thing of the past. For Georg Hegel, following in the footsteps of the Enlightenment, religion had been surpassed by reason’s superior conceptual precision. In The Essence of Christianity (1841), Ludwig Feuerbach depicted the relationship between man and divinity as a zero-sum game. In his view, the stress on godliness merely detracted from the sublimity of human ends. In one of his youthful writings, Karl Marx, Feuerbach’s most influential disciple, famously dismissed religion as “the opium of the people.” Its abolition, Marx believed, was a sine qua non for human betterment.
Habermas, in contrast, points to “the Judaic ethic of justice and the Christian ethic of love” as the necessary basis for Western political ideals of fairness and equality:
The “contract theory” of politics, from which our modern conception of “government by consent of the governed” derives, would be difficult to conceive apart from the Old Testament covenants. Similarly, our idea of the intrinsic worth of all persons, which underlies human rights, stems directly from the Christian ideal of the equality of all men and women in the eyes of God. Were these invaluable religious sources of morality and justice to atrophy entirely, it is doubtful whether modern societies would be able to sustain this ideal on their own … religion, as a repository of transcendence, has an important role to play. It prevents the denizens of the modern secular societies from being overwhelmed by the all-encompassing demands of vocational life and worldly success. It offers a much-needed dimension of otherness … Religious convictions encourage people to treat each other as ends in themselves rather than as mere means.
3) In the Catholic journal First Things Rabbi Meir Soloveichik of Yeshiva University explores the Jewish idea that it’s sometimes virtuous to hate one’s enemies:
[Jesus] acknowledged his break with Jewish tradition on this matter from the very outset: “You have heard that it was said, ‘You shall love your neighbor and hate your enemy.’ But I say to you, Love your enemies and pray for those who persecute you, so that you may be children of your Father in heaven; for He makes His sun rise on the evil and on the good, and sends rain on the righteous and on the unrighteous … Be perfect, therefore, as your heavenly Father is perfect.” God, Jesus argues, loves the wicked, and so must we.
[…]
For Christians, God acted on humanity’s behalf, without its knowledge and without its consent. The crucifixion is a story of a loving God seeking humanity’s salvation, though it never requested it, though it scarcely deserved it. Jews, on the other hand, believe that Gods covenant was formed by the free consent of His people. The giving of the Torah is a story of God seeking to provide humanity with the opportunity to make moral decisions. To my knowledge, not a single Jewish source asserts that God deeply desires to save all humanity, nor that He loves every member of the human race. Rather, many a Jewish source maintains that God affords every human being the opportunity to choose his or her moral fate, and will then judge him or her, and choose whether to love him or her, on the basis of that decision. Christianity’s focus is on love and salvation; Judaism’s on decision and action.
[…]
The Protestant theologian Harvey Cox, who is married to a Jew, wrote a book on his impressions of Jewish ritual. Cox describes the Jewish holiday of Purim, on which the defeat of Haman is celebrated by the reading of the book of Esther. Enamored with the biblical story, Cox enjoys the tale until the end, where, as noted above, Esther wreaks vengeance upon her enemies … he is disturbed by Jewish hatred. It cannot be a coincidence, he argues, that precisely on Purim a Jew by the name of Baruch Goldstein murdered twenty innocent Muslims engaged in prayer in Hebron. There is something to Cox’s remarks. The danger inherent in hatred is that it must be very limited, directed only at the most evil and unrepentant.
See also Jeff Jacoby’s comment on Soloveichek in a piece titled “When Hatred Is Necessary.” Jacoby notes: “Jewish tradition holds, with Ecclesiastes, that there is a time to love and a time to hate.”
Reading Soloveichek and Jacoby it may appear that Christian morality is clearly superior to the Jewish alternative. But hating one’s enemies, and doing them harm, is a pragmatic philosophy in a way that turning one’s cheek is not. Jesus’ teachings should be understood within their intended (narrow) context. Jesus was an apocalyptic prophet. He told His followers to behave as if they were already living in the Kingdom of God: to love their enemies, give up their material possessions, leave their families, if necessary, and follow Him, for the world was about to end.
Now if that sounds nutty consider the following.
4) In “God on the Brain” Liz Tucker points to the scienfitic evidence that the very religious, especially those claiming to have experienced religious visions, suffer from a brain disorder:
Controversial new research suggests that whether we believe in a God may not just be a matter of free will. Scientists now believe there may be physical differences in the brains of ardent believers. Inspiration for this work has come from a group of patients who have a brain disorder called temporal lobe epilepsy. In a minority of patients, this condition induces bizarre religious hallucinations …
[…]
Professor VS Ramachandran, of the University of California in San Diego, believed that the temporal lobes of the brain were key in religious experience … So he set up an experiment to compare the brains of people with and without temporal lobe epilepsy … What Professor Ramachandran discovered to his surprise was that when the temporal lobe patients were shown any type of religious imagery, their bodies produced a dramatic change in their skin resistance.
[…]
Scientists now believe famous religious figures in the past could also have been sufferers from the condition. St Paul and Moses appear to be two of the most likely candidates. But most convincing of all is the evidence from American neurologist Professor Gregory Holmes. He has studied the life of Ellen G White, who was the spiritual founder of the Seventh-day Adventist movement. Today, the movement is a thriving church with over 12 million members. During her life, Ellen had hundreds of dramatic religious visions which were key in the establishment of the church, helping to convince her followers that she was indeed spiritually inspired. But Professor Holmes believes there may be another far more prosaic explanation for her visions.
He has discovered that at the age of nine, Ellen suffered a severe blow to her head. As a result, she was semi-conscious for several weeks and so ill she never returned to school. Following the accident, Ellen’s personality changed dramatically and she became highly religious and moralistic. And for the first time in her life, she began to have powerful religious visions.
I remember reading a similar explanation for the religious visions of Mohammed in Will Durant’s The Age of Faith (1950). So, I guess this argument has been around for awhile. But now, apparently, there is scientific proof that moral leaders Moses, Jesus, Mohammed, Ellen White, Joseph Smith, et al., were fruitcakes, and so, too, presumably, the Great Dennis Prager and, horror of horrors, the Great Luke Ford.
Oh my.
Mr Ford isn’t going to be pleased to find out that he may be suffering from yet another medical condition. I’ll have to ask him about this when he returns from Europe. Assuming, that is, that he does return. I have a terrible fear that Mr Ford forgot to pack all his (many) medications, and in a moment of unmedicated weakness he will do something stupid with, or worse to, one (or more) of his teenage admirers, and just like Roman Polanski, he’ll never be allowed to return to America (and The Hovel™).
Let us pray that a) the Great Luke Ford isn’t a fruitcake, and b) that he proves this by returning from his European vacation with his morals safely intact.
October 3, 2005:
Luke Ford was most displeased with my stint as a guest blogger. So much so he refuses to pay me the $100 I’m owed.
I’m thinking of pursuing the matter legally — this seems a more mature approach than my first reaction, which was to scream obscenities into the telephone non-stop for 45 minutes. For some reason that didn’t work.
I do feel somewhat guilty at the thought of trying to extract $100 from the piggy-bank of a hovel-dweller, but there’s an important principle involved. I’m not sure what that principle is. I just know it’s important.
My Moral Leader is offering what he calls a “fair compromise.” I’m to make a public apology for sucking so badly as a guest blogger; spend a few days in deep reflection and self-questioning as to why I was so awful; and then, if sufficiently contrite and reformed, Mr Ford is holding out the possibility for atonement during a second stint of guest blogging when he visits Tampa next week. If I succeed, he promises to pay me all monies owed.
I really don’t want to self-abase myself all Larry Summers like. The way I look at it, the fact that Luke Ford got the vapours from my “offensive” blogging is at least partially his fault. He shouldn’t have asked me to blog for him in the first place, especially after de-linking me for some previous transgression. If my fan blogging was worthy of a cruel de-linking, what was he thinking when he ask me to guest blog?
I’m not even sure what I did that got me de-linked. Whenever I ask for an explanation, Mr Ford just repeats: “You know what you did wrong.”
Er, no I don’t.
I can only guess. I think it might have something to do with Kitten Natividad. He was certainly adamant that I don’t mention Ms Natividad during my guest blogging. He told me at least 20 times: “Whatever you do, don’t write about Kitten Natividad, and don’t post that picture!”
And I didn’t.
Why is Mr Ford so sensitive about the matter? I mean, he devoted an entire chapter in his autobiography to the night when he, then 36 years old, lost his virginity to granny p-rn star Kitten Natividad, but when I mention the same subject he has a fit.
Then again he is Luke Ford: intellectual, scholar, role model, and the world’s number one moral leader — now with a rapidly expanding fan base (mostly of horny teenage girls) in Europe, so I suppose I should trust him.
I shall thus spend the next few days reflecting on my many sins and failings. I should be happy that I’m getting a second chance.
Now if only Mr Ford would give me more blogging guidance than just listing the topics I’m not allowed to discuss. If I can’t mention My Moral Leader’s sexual relations with granny p-rn stars, what am I supposed to write about?
October 6, 2005:
Luke Ford has asked me to guest blog for him (again). I reluctantly agreed (again) — knowing full well that I was about to get screwed (again).
Because some people think I lie — which is rubbish — here, in full, is Mr Ford’s original email sent to me before his trip to Europe: “Would you like to guest blog on Lukeford.net?”
Mr Ford is certainly a man of few words, and those few words clearly state that I was offered to blog on his main site, not his backup blog: a blog with a horrible template; a blog that nobody reads; a blog that I didn’t even know existed until he told me that he had changed his mind that I wasn’t to pollute his precious Lukeford.net site with my potentially offensive scribblings. And now he’s doing it to me again — and, worse still, making no announcement whatsoever that there will be guest bloggers during his Tampa trip.
What is My Moral Leader thinking? Is he trying to humiliate me? Was I too understated in communicating my displeasure at being banished here during Luke Ford’s Euro Teen Tour 2005?
Ideally, the English male would rather not issue any definite invitation at all, sexual or social, preferring to achieve his goal through a series of subtle hints and oblique manoeuvres, often so understated to be almost undetectable. This “uncertainty” principle has a number of advantages: the English male is not required to exhibit any emotions …
That sounds just like me! Apparently Mr Ford’s Cro-Magnon Australian brain doesn’t get subtlety. Obviously I have been overly oblique and emotionally restrained. So I will put things in terms that Mr Ford can understand:
HOW DARE YOU TREAT ME — YOUR NUMBER ONE[ish] FAN — THIS WAY, YOU BASTARD!
I’m so furious. I can’t even think straight. My blogging will be even more lame than usual.
I wouldn’t mind it so much if I could get a straight answer out of the dude. He still won’t tell me why he de-linked my fan site. He won’t tell me when, or if, he will pay the $100 he owes me from my first stint as a guest blogger. He wouldn’t even explain to me why he’s going to Tampa. When I pressed him, he answered obliquely, almost English-like, something about a big convention for moral leaders.
“Oh really?” I said. “I suppose your moral leader, the Great Dennis Prager, will be attending?”
“I don’t know, maybe …” Rat Bastard mumbled.
“Speak up,” I demanded.
Rat Bastard said: “I gotta pack. Bye.”
Well, I’ve been doing some research on the Internet about this moral leader conference. And, yes, indeed such a meeting is taking place between October 6-11 in Tampa, Florida. It’s a convention of leading Jewish theologians from across America. All the different branches of the Jewish family will be there: Orthodox, Conservative, Reform, Reconstructionist, Humanistic (i.e., atheist), Judeo-Pagan.
The Judeo-Pagan delegation especially caught my eye. They’re all females. That’s a bit strange, I thought.
Then again the Judeo-Pagans are different. They don’t observe the Halakhah. They don’t even believe in the Jewish G-d. Rather, they believe in doing whatever you feel, whenever you feel like it, which kind of defeats the purpose of religion doesn’t it? You’d think.
A lot of them seem to be converts, or at least that’s the impression I got from looking at the names of the various Judeo-Pagan rabbis set to speak. Some like Rabbi Katie Gold and Rabbi Daphne Rosen are presumably ethnic Jews, but others I’m not so sure about. Rabbis Mari Possa, Rita Faltoyano, and Flower Tucci sound ethnic Italians. Rabbi Carmen Luvana could be Cuban, but there’s a small Jewish community in Cuba, so it’s difficult to know for sure. Rabbi Courtney Cummz, who will be lecturing on the concept of Tikkun Olam, doesn’t sound Jewish at all. I’ll have to ask Mr Ford about this when he returns from the conference — assuming he’s still talking to me.
Here’s my picture. Does that look like a girl to you, Bill?
I didn’t think so. Thanks for the compliment about my writing, though.
Of course, I know full well just how worthless male compliments are when the intended recipient is a woman, or thought to be a woman. This is not to say that men lie to women, although we do (a lot); it’s more a comment on male gullibility.
A year or so ago there was a controversy about the lack of big name female bloggers. Male writers, supposedly, were failing to link and promote the many talented women political bloggers. At least this is what some women (i.e., lesbians) thought.
A lot of women (and not just lesbians) don’t understand the male mind. As if men are going to ignore women who write about politics (or sports, or computers, or cars). Ever heard of Michelle Malkin? Or consider the case of Libertarian Girl. A young man worked very hard on his political blog for months on end. But he just couldn’t generate traffic. So he decided to call himself “Libertarian Girl,” added a picture of a blonde woman (from a Russian mail order bride service), and immediately his hit total went through the roof. Why? Because men are stupid.
I had a similar experience a few years ago. I was watching a reality show and started to post comments on a message board. I thought my comments were interesting and thoughtful, but hardly anyone seemed to agree. I’d start a new thread and … nothing. I was being ignored. I hate that!
So, as an experiment, I created a new account with a female name. I started posting exactly the same kind of observations and, as if by magic, other posters (i.e., men) started to respond enthusiastically to my comments, saying how interesting and thoughtful they were. It didn’t stop there, though. Some started emailing me to compliment me on my perceptiveness. One creep even wanted me to go over to his place and …
Eeeeewwwww!
Men are gullible, stupid, and gross.
Why do women put up with us? Perhaps because we enjoy spending money on them. I’d really be interested to find out how much money Michelle Malkin makes from her blog. I bet she doesn’t live in a hovel.
Men are incredibly foolish when it comes to women and money. There’s even a columnist for a weekly magazine in Orange County (who will go nameless, but here’s a pic), who constantly asks men to send her money and presents. And guess what? They do! Why? Because men are gullible, stupid, gross, and pathetic.
You’d think lots of men would start political blogs pretending to be attractive young women, complete with bogus pictures. Just add a Paypal button and … easy money. I’m sure of it.
This was my mistake, because I’m still waiting for Luke Ford to pay me the $100 (actually, I think it’s now up to $140) that he owes me for guest blogging. He’s giving me the run around. Now he tells me he just doesn’t have the money to pay me. This is an outrage! How can someone who goes on one fabulous vacation after another (London, Paris, and Florida), turn around and say he can’t pay his guest bloggers? Next week he’ll probably announce that he’s going on a year-long world cruise, and taking a half-a-dozen teenage girls with him.
I really think that you (Bill), me, and Al should get together and launch a class action lawsuit. It’s the only way we’ll get paid … unless we’re prepared to undergo sex change operations.
Mr Ford emailed me yesterday asking for money. I wish I could say that I’m joking but I can’t.
Apparently after two vacations, replete with boozing and whoring, Our Moral Leader is, in his own words, “completely tapped out.” I guess this means that he won’t be able to pay me the $140 I’m owed for guest blogging.
Although I’m a compassionate soul, I’m not a Christian and I’m not prepared to turn the other cheek. So here is my plan. If you would like to help Mr Ford, please email me. I will give you the details of my Paypal account. Send whatever you deem appropriate — just remember that it’s for a good cause. Not only does Mr Ford require rent, food, and prescription drug money, he’s also in desperate need of a tummy tuck and breast reduction surgery (and perhaps, if he continues to fail his diet, stomach stapling surgery). I will put aside the first $250 received for myself: $140 for 7 guest blogging entries; a $100 surcharge for the emotional distress caused by Mr Ford’s lying to me about where I would be guest blogging; and $10 in interest). All monies received above this amount will be sent directly to Luke Ford (minus a modest handling charge).
Please give generously. Post-surgery, a new, improved and greatly slimmed down Mr Ford will be in a better position to find a wife (Kitten Natividad?) who will take care of him emotionally and financially.
Thank you for your kind support in Horrid Boy’s hour of need.
October 25, 2005:
After weeks of demanding that I send him money, Luke Ford is now asking me to go into the desert with him. We’ll be studying Torah, he insists. He also insists that I take my wallet. Why? Is there something I need to buy that’s only available in the desert?
Call me paranoid, but I don’t like the sound of this. I bet that as soon as I turn my back to look at a cactus, or iguana, or whatever they have in the desert, My Moral Leader will plonk me on the head with a rock. And when I regain consciousness, my wallet will be missing — all suspicious-like.
Upon returning to civilisation, i.e., The Hovel™, I’ll ask Mr Ford: “What happened in the desert? My head hurts, my money and credit cards are all gone, and why did you leave me out there all by myself? I could have died of exposure, or an iguana bite, or whatever people die of in the desert.” Alas, I guarantee Mr Ford won’t give me a straight answer. Just like he still won’t tell me why he cruelly delinked me. (I think it might have something to do with my frequent references to granny p-rn star Kitten Natividad, but I’m not 100 per cent certain.)
I therefore decline to go into the desert with Mr Ford … until: 1) his cruel delinking of my site is terminated; and 2) he promises not to assault and rob me.
Even then I don’t think it’s a good idea. Besides Torah study, which sounds incredibly boring, what are we going to do? We’re not going to bang drums and read Robert Bly poetry are we? Because I’m really not into that. It sounds gay, notwithstanding My Moral Leader’s protestations to the contrary.
Tell you what, Mr Ford, I’ll go to the desert with you if, in addition to meeting my previous two demands, your old flame, the fabulous Kitten Natividad, comes with us. I’ll feel more comfortable going camping in mixed company. Otherwise, I’ll just stay home, sit on the couch in my underwear, eat chips, drink beer, burp, fart, and watch the NHL Channel on cable TV.
November 3, 2005:
I’ve lost it. “It” being my mind. I’m now checking out each of the Luke Ford Family of Blogs™ (including the naughty one) at least ten times per day. Why? To read Mr Ford’s latest totally fascinating and utterly captivating interview with a 19 year old p-rn star? Er, no. I’m checking to see if My Moral Leader has come to his senses and re-linked me. I’m so desperate that I’d be thrilled to bits just to get a link at the very bottom of Mr Ford’s rather embarrassing Air Supply SuperFan Blog.
So, who’s more pathetic? And more to the point, who’s more to blame for my plight? The cruel de-linker or the hapless de-linkee?
I use to think that Mr Ford should be happy that he even has a fan blog. And I ought to be able to write whatever I want. If I want to write about Mr Ford’s old girlfriend, granny p-rn star Kitten Natividad, he should suck it up and stop complaining that I’m making him look bad to potential dates.
But after reading an excerpt in the Times from AA Gill’s latest book, I’m beginning to have some doubts. Maybe my de-linking was right and proper. I’m English and, according to Mr Gill, we are a mean, nasty, and very angry people who use humour to bully the vulnerable.
Most people share a joke, the English aim them.
A sense of humour is as necessary to being English as a sense of the past. To accuse an Englishman of lacking or losing his sense of humour is to question the very id of his being. To banish him from his tribal Blightiness.
[…]
You can divide humour into two schools. There is Jewish humour and there is English humour.
Jewish humour is a comedy of the oppressed. It is the escape of the bullied and is told behind the back of the bully, and it is often self-analytical, self-lacerating, inverted, doubtful and mordant. English humour is far more robust. It’s aggressive, bombastic and extrovert. Jewish humour is intimate and personal, English humour loud, gangish and general.
[…]
The English teeter on the edge of not being able to take anything seriously. The ability to be solemn or even appropriate, reflective or sad in public, is so uncomfortably embarrassing that they’re forced to giggle or snigger … [I]t’s a terrible indictment of a culture that is really only comfortable with two public emotions — fury and sniggering. And that’s really the point of English humour. An awful lot of it is anger in fancy dress.
If I understand Mr Gill correctly, I should not have teased Mr Ford about needing breast reduction surgery. I really do feel bad about broaching the subject. There’s absolutely nothing wrong with Mr Ford’s breasts.
Hopefully my sincere apology will get me back into My Moral Leader’s good book. It’s a start at least. From now on I’ll stick to harmless Jewish humour. For example,
Luke Ford is having a session with his psychiatrist. Doctor Cohen draws a picture of a triangle and asks Luke what it looks like to him.
Luke shows some excitement and says, “It looks like a man and woman in bed.”
“Hmmm,” says Doctor Cohen, stroking his beard. He then draws another picture, this time of a square, and again asks Luke what it looks like to him.
Luke gets more excited and says again, “It looks like a man and woman in bed.”
Again Doctor Cohen says “Hmmm,” strokes his beard and then draws another picture, this one a circle. He asks Luke what this looks like to him.
Luke is agitated and replies, “It looks like a man and woman having intercourse.”
Doctor Cohen says, “Young man, I think you have too much sex on your mind.”
Luke replies, “That’s unfair –- it’s you who’s drawing the dirty pictures.”
Posted inPersonal|Comments Off on Luke Ford Fan Blog Archives 2005
Steve Sailer wrote July 24, 2005: “Mickey Kaus called Luke the “human Echelon Project, for the prodigious amount of interviewing and transcribing he does of who’s saying what around LA. Luke even interviewed me. But the bonus reason for reading Luke’s blog is so you can then read the libelously hilarious “Luke Ford Fan Blog.”
From the Luke Ford Fan Blog archives:
February 6, 2004:
Outrageous! It’s hard to believe that these sorts of things still happen in America in the year 2004. But obviously they do. Luke Ford, moral leader, scholar, memoirist, raconteur, and all-around colossus of the blogosphere, was the victim of an outrageous act of discrimination last Saturday: he was prevented from being a panelist at the American Cinema Foundation’s roundtable discussion on blogging and the news and entertainment media.
Cathy Seipp, the event’s moderator and prime mover, told Luke that the decision to exclude him was based purely on merit, that he, the Internet’s premiere vanity blogger, simply wasn’t good enough to sit alongside Los Angeles’ leading bloggers. What an utterly implausible argument, especially as it comes only days after Luke’s recent “triumphant” stint as a guest blogger on Protocols (see below), which has led to upcoming guest blogging assignments on LA Observed, Instapundit, Kausfiles, and NYTimes.com. Yet somehow this in-demand blogger was cruelly rejected.
Let’s compare Luke Ford’s credentials against those of the actual panelists to see if any sensible person could possibly justify this outrageous snub:
• Luke Ford is a published author of a scholarly monograph (and will soon release his second book, an absorbing autobiography of his fascinating life). How many of the panelists have produced scholarly monographs? Nil. (Roger L. Simon is the author of detective novels, but these will hardly be mistaken for Luke’s treatise, which Publisher’s Weekly lauded as “rambling,” “contradictory,” and “offensive.” To the best of my knowledge none of the rest have nary a book credit between them.)
• Luke Ford was recently the subject of a major study on Internet celebrity by a team of leading researchers at Stanford University. How many of the panelists have also been studied by scholars at a prestigious (or for that matter non-prestigious) university? Nil.
• Luke Ford is the beloved moral leader to millions of lost souls across the blogosphere — poor, pathetic, snivelling losers in need of guidance because they are too stupid or lazy to think for themselves. How many of the panelists are so blessed? How many even go to church or synagogue on a regular basis? Nil.
• And most significantly, Luke Ford has a non-ironical fan blog. How many of the panelists have a fan blog? Nil. (The only other moral leader of Luke Ford’s stature with a fan blog is Michael Medved. But Medved, although a superb intellectual and moral leader in his own right, is not a blogger. Besides his fan blog is something of a joke, I think, although I have a rather childish sense of humour and I’m not very good at determining these things.)
I submit to you, my dear readers and fellow Fordophiles, that the evidence that our moral leader has been wronged is overwhelming. It is persuasive. It is irrefutable. Orthodox Jew Luke Ford is the victim of anti-religious discrimination! He is the Rosa Parks of the blogosphere! Just as Parks was denied a seat on a bus in Montgomery, Alabama in 1955 for no reason other than her race, Luke was denied a seat on the panel of the American Cinema Foundation’s discussion on blogging for no reason other than his faith. Outrageous!
(I suppose that there is another possible explanation for Luke Ford’s exclusion: jealously. It wasn’t long ago that Luke was named one of Los Angeles’ ten best bloggers. Who was notably absent from that list? None other than Cathy Seipp — the same Cathy Seipp who placed herself on the panel of leading LA bloggers! You may recall that at the time I wrote how painful this must have been for Cathy. Perhaps she still hasn’t gotten over the humiliation? And yet I have rejected this explanation because, well, frankly I don’t think that you can sue a person for jealousy, and I’m hoping to be called as an expert witness at the upcoming Luke Ford anti-discrimination trial where I will finally meet my moral leader in person — I just hope I don’t faint in his presence like I did when I saw Clay Aiken during the Seattle stop of the American Idol tour last fall. Boy, was that embarrassing!)
To be fair, I should point out that Luke was allowed to ask one question from the floor during the political segment of last Saturday’s event. Yet even here Cathy Seipp, according to published accounts, snorted her disapproval. I’m of the opinion that Luke’s question simply reaffirms the argument that he belonged on the panel. Please judge for yourself. Mr. Ford waved his hand and when called upon politely asked:
“I want to know if blogging has ever gotten the panelists —-?”
Notice the complete absence of a rambling introductory sentence. His question was concise, relevant, and to the point. I must admit, however, that I’m a little unclear as to the hidden word. I blame myself for this as I’m not very good at word games and I can’t make out this four letter word. All I know is that it was about politics, blogging and thus on-topic. If someone knows, please contact me at [email protected]. Thanks.)
UPDATE: That rat bastard! I have just been informed what the missing word was. Luke Ford stood up at the American Cinema Foundation and shamelessly asked: “I want to know if blogging has ever gotten the panelists laid?”
I feel sick. I would like to apologise unreservedly for all those I have unjustly criticised, especially Cathy Seipp. It’s no wonder Luke wasn’t allowed on the panel. Just think of the havoc he would have caused with his outrageous behaviour. In fact, I’m shocked that Cathy even took his question from the floor. I’m surprised that he was allowed to purchase two tickets for the event: one for himself and, Luke being ever the optimist, one for a nonexistent date. I’m shocked that he is even allowed out of the house, er, hovel. It’s one thing to be obnoxious in a private situation with his friends (assuming he has any left), but in a public place! What on earth was Horrid Boy thinking? The only thing I can come up with was that he was so excited to see Shiksababe Moxie in person that he forgot to take his lithium tablets.
April 1, 2004:
The Dog Ate My Homework
This is an embarrassing story, but it has to be told.
So I was planning to interview Mr. Luke Ford about religion and sundry topics. I’ve only recently become interested in such matters, whereas Luke knows more about religion than anyone I know. (Not that I actually know Luke. [I only pretend to know Luke.] {But he still knows more about religion than all the other people I pretend to know.}])
With his many years of religious study and his supreme natural intelligence (185 IQ), Luke is a very intimidating figure, indeed. What if I ask him a foolish question? What if I unwittingly say something offensive? Suffice to say I was frightened.
I set to work studying religion (Judaism and Christianity) and philosophy. Due to my Internet use-induced limited attention span, I no longer have the patience to read books (or even long articles). I still buy books mind you, but I just page through them and put them in boxes with thousands of other books I’ve bought but never actually read. I can, however, listen to books (and lectures) on my MP3 player as I go for walkabouts. I do this a lot.
A few weeks ago I took a “geek test,” suggested by Jackie D. (of Ohio by way of London), that included the question: Do you listen to books on tape? “YES!” I answered not realizing that this made me a dork. I’m a dork² when you consider that I like to listen to my books and lectures on walkabouts AS I TAKE NOTES! It is just a matter of time before some neighbourhood toughs beat me senseless with hockey sticks as I walk down the street listening to a lecture on neo-Platonism, stopping to take notes every 15 seconds. I must look absolutely gormless.
Recently I was listening to a lecture on Maimonides and it started to rain. I put my notepad in my pocket forgetting to zip it up. When I got home my notepad was soaked through. All the ink had run. My many thousand notes, my many weeks of homework, were all for not.
How can I come up with probing questions to ask Luke about religion and sundry topics without my notes? Alas I cannot. I must go back and re-listen to all my lectures.
This unfortunate event happened a couple of weeks ago. I have been so emotionally devastated by the loss of my notes (not to mention my fear that the G-d of the Jews doesn’t want me asking Luke difficult philosophically-informed questions that might lessen his faith) that I have been unable to return to my research. G-d willing, I shall try again tomorrow.
May 21, 2004:
Book Review
XXX-Communicated: A Rebel Without a Shul
Luke Ford (2004)
Self-published by Horrid Boy Press, Beverly Hills, California, 90210
Luke Ford’s memoir of his time as a porn journalist begins with an attack upon our moral leader by a troglodyte named Mike Albo. Luke’s head is smashed “repeatedly” against a light pole causing severe brain damage. Thank goodness Luke survived, otherwise there would be no autobiography for his fans and followers to study and savour. At least that’s what I thought before I actually started reading “XXX-Communicated: A Rebel Without a Shul.” After plowing through all 67,000+ words (consisting mostly of cut and pasted emails, transcribed phone conversations and IM sessions with various pornographers, adult film stars, and Orthodox rabbis) my view is somewhat less enthusiastic. But first a little background.
I would be lying if I said that I had no knowledge of Luke’s “old” life before I started my fan blog late last year. My earliest memory of Luke Ford was an appearance with sexologist Bob Berkowitz on eYada.com, a defunct Internet radio station, back in 2001. Luke, speaking in the soft voice of a very naughty boy caught in the act, was in full self-flagellation mode over his dual existence as a porn reporter/critic and deeply religious orthodox Jewish convert. Although Luke’s version of this conversation differs from mine (I don’t recall Berkowitz being nearly as judgmental as Luke suggests in his memoir), his appearance left an impression on me. I recall checking out LF.com, but not being particularly interested in how the porn sausage is made, I soon drifted away and almost completely forgot about Luke Ford.
A couple of years ago I became interested in the writings of James C. Bennett, a UPI columnist and theorist of the Anglosphere. Looking around UPI’s website I found another columnist, Cathy Seipp, who wrote mostly about cultural matters from a centre-right perspective. There aren’t many conservative female commentators and I was intrigued. When UPI stopped offering its content online for free, I searched Cathy Seipp’s name to see if there was another way to read her weekly column. I discovered that she had a blog and through Cathy’s World I was reacquainted, much to my surprise, with Luke. I wondered, why would a highly-respected journalist like Cathy Seipp be carrying on with an enfant terrible like Luke Ford?
Unfortunately there is no answer to this question in Luke’s new autobiography “XXX-Communicated.” (I assume that the explanation behind their tempestuous on-again, off-again romance lies in the power of love — or at least good sex — to overwhelm a woman’s commonsense.) Instead the reader is treated to a steady stream of disjointed anecdotes about some of the most revolting human beings on the planet. It makes for a rather depressing study of what the human male is capable of when freed from divinely-inspired moral guidance, at least that is what Luke Ford would have his readers believe.
Luke defined the aim of his porn research in highminded terms: “I’ll penetrate the most religiously-challenged corner of modernity with my newly-acquired Jewish conscience and come out the other side with insights into the human condition.” This sounds reasonable. What is less reasonable is how Luke goes about doing this: i.e., by making and acting in his own adult film titled, quite inappropriately, “What Women Want.”
After somehow managing to raise the necessary funds, Luke shoots his video:
For the introduction to my epic, I have Kimberly [Kummings star of the Christmas special celebrating the birth of the baby Lord Jesus called “Oh Cum On Ye Faces”] get down on her knees in front of me and the camera while I deliver my lines based on Dennis Prager’s teachings.
I’m no expert, of course, but one has to wonder about the sanity of a man who thinks that porn consumers want to watch a video featuring the director prattling on about Dennis Prager’s (a conservative Jewish theologian) views on male-female relations. Talk about a mood killer. And indeed, the market for a Prager-informed group sex (one woman and five men) video failed to materialize, much to Luke’s surprise and disappointment: “[D]istributors return the movie by the case … I end up giving away copies to my friends at my Reform temple.” The rest of Luke’s autobiography confirms his otherworldly mental state.
In chapter 3 we are introduced to the bizarro world of porn journalism. It’s not a happy place. Luke feuds with his fellow writers, people he apparently finds compelling but most readers, I suspect, will find merely stupid and boring. Mark Kernes, of the Adult Video News, is described as “old and ugly … he looks out at the world with beady, suspicious, pig-like eyes, squinting between jowels [sic] of fat.” Luke wasn’t very popular with his colleagues.
Even at this early point, Luke’s memoir is largely a cut and paste affair. Unable to shape his material into a coherent whole made up of persuasively argued parts, Luke relies instead on recycling passages from his diary. For example, as part of his “research” Luke visits fifty-something porn queen Kitten Natividad:
Aware of Kitten’s voracious appetite for young men, I open the back of my 1982 one-ton Dodge van and dig under the mattress and pillows for a pack of condoms. I pull out two, put them in my pocket, and walk to her apartment.
[…]
I ask Kitten about her breasts. She raises her top and shows them to me. They’re huge … I fondle her bosom. If she were any other old woman, I wouldn’t touch her. But Kitten’s a star and this is an experience I’ll write about in a book one day.”
Scholars, like Luke, call this field work, I think.
Kitten gives me a big long hug. We fall to the wood floor, drop our clothes, and roll into the missionary position. I slide on my rubber and slide into her. “Put your fingers up my ass,” she commands.
Excruciating details follow. Luke’s telling of his sexual encounter with Kitten Natividad has the fingerprints of his editor, Cathy Seipp, all over it. One can easily imagine the bawdy Miss Seipp, sitting next to Luke as they go over his manuscript, saying “don’t forget the bum reference. That’s the kind of writing readers expect these days. I give it too them and you should, too.”
Luke cuts quite a path through the porn community, having sex with porn stars while moralizing about the evils of promiscuity. Not surprisingly, enemies are made all over the San Fernando Valley. Luke’s biggest foe is a gentleman named Mike Albo of Hustler magazine’s “Erotic Video Guide”:
You are a total moron. You are an idiot. You are a loser. I’ve been hearing about all your Internet activities. You’re a fucking goofball. You just better hope that we don’t meet up because it’s not going to be a pretty situation. Judging from the yarmulke you wear on your pointy little pinhead, you must be a religious man. If I were you, I would pray that you don’t run into me.
[…]
You fucking faggot, I just want to let you know that I’m going to kill you. You’re a real dickhead. I don’t know how you think that there’s going to be no consequences for the shit that you do. But there is, big time. And I’m going to love being one of the people that delivers it to you, pal.
Luke’s research not only angers the porn community, it also causes his religious friends to shake their heads in disbelief. Even Dennis Prager, Luke’s Jewish father figure, abandons him:
Since I have allegedly played such a positive role in your life, I would assume good works would flow — especially toward me — from you. Apparently my influence has been nil except in the most superficial sense. I truly am curious — does it bother you how you have alienated me?
But Luke carries on undeterred, convinced that by exposing the porn industry’s negligence over AIDS he is saving lives.
Page after page follows of Luke’s relentless anti-porn muckraking and the widespread animosity that results. It’s depressing fare, but the occasional amusing anecdote breaks the tedium. For instance, one day at the drug store:
A middle-aged woman approaches me. “I’m getting a special feeling about you,” she says and hands me her card. She’s a psychic. “You should come see me soon. I’ll give you a special rate.”
Coupon-clipper Luke isn’t one to pass up a bargain:
I have my tarot cards read ($30) and they seem to unveil my life. Moved, I pour out my problems.
A believer, I now visit the gypsy regularly. On her instructions, I buy candles from her for $100 each and exotic spices ($200) that I mix with water and pour over myself in the shower before leaving for synagogue Sabbath morning.
I buy crystals ($150) from her that I grasp in my hand every day when I dream about what I want. I buy a charm ($100) to put in my pillow.
[…]
After spending $1200, receiving no further improvements in my lot, I give up on the psychic.
What a shame. At least Luke, unlike all the psychic’s other customers, got the “special rate.”
Mostly though the book chronicles Luke’s immersion in the world of porn and his rapid moral, physical, and psychological decline. As a sign of his deterioration, Chaim Amalek, one of Luke’s many “personalities,” appears. As the book becomes more introspective it also becomes more interesting (and creepy).
Near the end of his memoir, Luke visits Israel in an attempt to find himself. Just as he begins to experience a measure of healing and happiness the book abruptly stops. The reader is left with more questions than answers.
I hope I’m not leaving the impression that “XXX-Communicated” is more coherent than it really is. In truth, it’s a bit of an organizational mess. Although the memoir develops mostly along chronological lines, every so often Luke throws in a thematic chapter. For example, chapter seven is purportedly about race. But Luke doesn’t do essays. And it shows. The chapter is a hodgepodge of personal reflections (on his sexual conquests of black women), intemperate observations about race and pornography, and relentless questioning of black male actors about their penises (size, blood flow, etc.), a topic about which Luke is oddly fascinated. For all his scholarly pretensions, Luke obviously hasn’t spent nearly as much time in the stacks as he has out in the field. The seminal work on this subject is the late Calvin Hernton’s 1965 book “Sex and Racism in America,” which is still strikingly relevant today. But Luke isn’t interested. In fact, he quickly loses interest in the topic altogether and instead offers off-topic profiles of white performers, including “good friend” Kendra Jade.
We learn an awful lot about porn journalists like Mike Albo in Luke’s memoir, so much so it almost reads like the unauthorized Mike Albo story, but nothing about the people who are important in Luke’s life today, most especially real journalist Cathy Seipp. How did Luke meet Cathy? What was her initial impression of him? Was it love at first sight? How many dates did it take before she got lucky and intimately experienced the self-proclaimed “Deon Sanders Of Lovers” in action? On average how many times per day did they have sex? Five times? Ten? More? Perhaps this more recent phase of Luke Ford’s life will be explored in volume two of “XXX-Communicated: When Luke Met Cathy.” In the meantime, I can’t recommend volume one of our moral leader’s life story to any but Luke’s most dedicated fans and friends.
Overall Grade: B+
Strengthens: Amusing in places; some psychological insight into what makes Horrid Boy tick
Weaknesses: Choppy writing; poor organization; general incoherence
May 25, 2004:
Feel the Love!
One of the cool things about being a Luke Ford fan is that I’m part of a very exclusive club. In fact, beside myself, Cecile DuBois and Cathy Seipp, I can’t think of another fan club member. This is why I have the shortest blogroll in the blogosphere. I suspect that it will soon get shorter still. Cecile is clearly going through her Luke Ford phase — you know how moody teenagers are. Now that N’Sync are getting back together, I wouldn’t be surprised if the life-sized Luke Ford posters come down from her bedroom walls to be replaced with more age-appropriate fare.
It’s not just that almost no-one likes Luke Ford. More interesting is the intense loathing that he provokes in otherwise tolerant, caring, and reasonable people. I’ve seen this in my own social circle. All I have to do is mention his name and my usually placid Canadian friends become enraged. Fearing for my life, I don’t mention that I’m the author of his #1 (and only) fan site.
Substantiating evidence is hardly lacking, but here is a small selection of reader comments from the Protocols website during Luke’s short stint as a guest blogger:
When are you leaving Protocols?
Luke, I don’t understand, is this some sort of sociological experiment on your part? … We can’t take much more, and it has only been one day.
stop! please! no more!
why is this person tolerated on this site? He’s offensive!
I’m not sure what the point was of having you as a guest blogger. You seem to have taken over Protocols — where are the usual contributers? … Have you ever considered trying to look at life from other people’s points of view, and not purely your own?
This man is a sicko
Luke, in essence, is an asshole.
What has happened to Protocols this last week. Amzing [sic] how one guest blogger can ruin this formerly thoughtful, sophisticated meditation. I used to look to Protocols every day … Now I grimace at the immuturity, unbridled anger & hatred (self hatred?) and general creepiness.
goodbye. I’ve had enough
This site has hit an all time new low
When is your stint as a guest blogger over?
Aren’t you supposed to be gone by now?
Oh Crap!!!! You again, Ford? Dammit, can’t you just GO AWAY
Luke, you’ve violated us all by imposing your sick self upon us and by misrepresenting yourself as a frum jew when really you’re a very very sick man.
That’s it. I’m not looking at Protocols again until the week is over. More time to check out other blogs now, or rearrange my sock drawer.
I think I am beginning to understand why LA, rather some of it’s self-absorbed residents are so hated.
we dont like when a person who isnt too intelligent, funny, clever, or interesting posts non stop on a blog that used to be informative and entertaining.
Your posts are so long and boring its unbelievable. Never before have I seen someone write so much and say so little. Please stop. Now.
i can almost guarantee that this luke is one weird creepy freak in real life.
Don’t try to stuff your religious position down everyone’s throught. (God, you are worse than Prager.)
You are a very sick person … I do not accept you as a fellow Jew. You were converted under false pretenses, and you have failed to live up to even the most basic standards of what it means to be a frum Jew. We didn’t ask you to join, but we’re now asking you to leave.
I don’t find your satire funny … you come across here as a bigot
Luke – You are the worst kind of white jewish trash.
I truly hope to never see you on this blog again!
your endless posts felt like the guy who shows up at a dinner party and won’t stop talking, interrupting, pontificating until all that remain in the room are him and his exhausted hosts.
leave these poor people and their blog alone!!!
How about writing about something other than your narscistic little world. Other than your friends, and your personal predilications?
this page has gone to hell
The bottom line is, he’s a sensationalist jerk. Regardless if people call him bad names. What’s his deal? When is his guest-blogging stint done? I want to know because if this goes on much longer, I’m going to remove the Protocols link from my blog.
Personal insults aside, the problem with Luke Ford – or, shall we say, one of the more serious problems – is that he uses very provocative language but his meaning is never clear. What is satire and what is not? Is he trying to convey a point, or simply to upset people? He certainly has succeeded at the latter.
I want to put the link back up on my blog, but I have to wait until he stops posting.
Most people simply hated the interminable, self-referential posts, many of which were copied verbatim from his personal blog, some from as much as two or three years ago.
Get Luke off of here!
Luke – From reading your posts the past few days, I’ve come to one conclusion – you’re one strange dude.
Soon, soon it will be over.
go away Luke
SHUT UP NOW!!!!
This luke individual is a truly horrible read. Truly horrible. Too horrible even to be fun-horrible. F— your awful blogging, Luke, and go write something else.
Hey Luke mate! I don’t bloody understand why you insist on writing about nothing but rubbish on this blog.
You have such a hard-on for that windbag Dennis Prager. You guys both deserve each other and I wish you’d stick to what you both do best pontificate about religion and morality, rather than pretend to be experts on the Middle East.
I am encouraging all readers of Protocols to call Luke Ford at home. Number available through anywho.com
WTF is going on here? I’ve landed in planet WTF.
I’m confused. I thought this was a religious site, not a sex blog.
you are a sick man
I would say this site has turned into pure garbage
Luke, you are truly dumber than I thought.
speaking on behalf of the Protocols readership, its time that you stopped posting altogether. Instead of spending your time posting this stupidity, why don’t you go and talk to a psychiatrist
When did this site become the new lukeford.com?
How much longer, Lord, how much longer?
Luke, you are one big sicko. Get lost and get some help.
Luke, I am assuming that this is another one of your pathetic ironical little test(e)s. Get a life
I am really losing intest in this blog. Is the point now solely to shock, I thought that is what Maddona is for. I don’t get this or most of your comments, this is really just getting old.
I too am getting very sick of this blog and I am fed up with LukeFord making Protocols his own little freak show.
Luke, we don’t like you and we don’t like your B.S. attention grabbing announcements. Please find some other blog to ruin.
Yeah. Get rid of LukeFord. Give us back the old protocols
I need some Midol. Anyone here got some?
OK, damn Luke, this is too much!
YUCK!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!
Luke Ford, you are a moron.
someone wake me up when lukeford is no longer posting.
END THIS MADNESS!!!!
Still making friends wherever you go, I see, Luke.
This is getting painful.
Luke Ford makes me ashamed to be Jewish.
Lukeford, do you have a life? What happened to Protocols? Farewell, I’m getting bored to tears
This is too much. Shut up and go away!
luke ford, go away.
This site has hit an all time new low
You love to push your limits and see just how far you can go … you really have to sit down, listen and learn from some good mussar shmusses from a good rabbi and live your life by the credo “do unto others as YOU WANT THEM TO DO UNTO YOU”.
Luke, yuck, your posts stink
Get rid of lukeford, bring back protocols. Protocols is my cup of coffee every day and now this sludge all week long. Help!
Get this long-winded pervert off the site and bring back the type of bloging that made protocols interesting
Enough Already!
When is this jerk’s turn as guest blogger over?
Give Protocols back to those that can write, (not u Luke)
this really sucks. likeford trying to promote lukeford all the time. what fun. cant imagine it sucking any more
what the hell is going on around here?
Dude, get a life. Your posts are way too long and boring. One post about a subject is enough, we don’t need 5 of them!
We miss the days when Protocols was pithy and interesting.
Why is this guest blogger so obsessed with sex?
this guy is really freaking me out
Is this another one of your “satires”?
This Ford is an absolute ghoul.
Most of these guest bloggers have been awful. There is no question that this one takes the cake. Its so highly irritating and not interesting.
grow up, this was a serious blog once upon a time
If any of us were interested ONLY in you, we’d go to your blog, Luke.
I can be the first to say Goodbye and Good Riddance. You succeeded in making the last 7 days feel like 7 years. Perhaps now you can spend more time with your therapist, trying to figure out why you are so dedicated to antagonizing others.
Luke Ford responds to his critics:
Thanks. You love me. You really love me.
Luke isn’t delusional. He genuinely loves/needs to be criticized. I often wondered why he didn’t tell me to stop posting nasty material on my fan blog. Just the opposite: no matter how awful my entries, Luke would request that I post more often and write even meaner stuff. Apparently this is Luke’s MO with everyone. According to his memoir, an ex-girlfriend once said to Luke:
I have criticized you up one end and down the other and it’s wonderful. It’s the most fulfilling thing in the world because you don’t defend it. You don’t fight it. You don’t get angry. You just take it. And for people who don’t like conflict such as myself, it’s a beautiful thing.
Luke Ford is the ultimate human punching bag. This is why we — fans and critics alike — need him. What does this say about us?
June 16, 2004:
Dear Mr. Ford:
Hello.
How are you doing?
I’m doing fine.
Are you a crazy person?
I ask because I explicitly told you not to do something, and not only did you turn around and do exactly the opposite of what I so nicely requested for you not to do, but you did it twice! You seem to have an odd (pathological?) need to cross people so they will dislike (hate?) you.
Keeping with the spirit of my new “G” rated blog, I will take the high road, turn the other cheek, and not give you the pleasure of being the object of my justified anger.
Good day, Mr. Ford.
The Producers
Luke Ford has a new book coming out titled The Producers: Profiles in Frustration. It consists of a series of interviews Luke conducted with 68 “major” Hollywood players.
I expect this will be Luke’s most successful book to date (which, truth be told, isn’t saying much). Luke is no essayist (duh!), but he can blog (if you ignore the fact that he has recently taken over Protocols and gone bonkers with 20 odd post per day, most of which are inane drivel). But Luke’s real talent (to extent he has any talent — real or imagined) is in interviewing people (so long as he can find the self-discipline not to ask his subjects grossly inappropriate sexual questions). Assuming that Luke (or his editor) kept the questions on-topic, The Producers should be much better received than A History of X: 100 Years of Sex in Film. (I challenge anyone to find a book given poorer reviews on Amazon.com than A History of X.) I say this because judging from the proofs it appears that there is very little of Luke in the book (which for anyone who waded through Luke’s sordid autobiography, like I reluctantly did, knows very well is a good thing — a very good thing, indeed).
That being said, I will not buy The Producers. I’m afraid the subject matter doesn’t interest me. The love affair many Americans have with Hollywood leaves me cold. What I would like to see from Luke is a book very much like The Producers, but with interviews of significant religious figures, theologians, clergy, rabbis, philosophers, and ordinary people discussing faith in the modern world. I’m especially interested in the relationship between religion and reason, both the challenge to belief from philosophy (beginning with Spinoza) and more especially historical research and comparative religious studies over the past 100 or so years. How do contemporary Jews and Christians defend their beliefs against all that we now know about Ancient Near East mythology? This historical knowledge would seem to fundamentally undermine the idea that Judaism and Christianity have unique claims to be “true” religions. Such a topic interests me far more than Luke asking questions such as: “Do you think girls are icky?”
Gentleman Blogger
Luke Ford is back on Protocols for a third (and seemingly permanent) stint as a “guest” blogger. The reader response is mixed, a vast improvement over the violent reaction to stints one and two. Perhaps people just need to get to know Our Moral Leader a little bit before coming to appreciate his brilliance. Or perhaps not. Luke does have some rather determined critics. For example, Shlomo writes: “Two weeks after your guest blogging was supposed to end, you’re still posting mindless and inappropriate trash that nobody with a mind less perverted than yours would be interested in reading. Get off this site, Lukeford. You’re not wanted!”
I can honestly say that Luke Ford has never written anything that I’ve found (too) offensive. This, apparently, puts me in the distinct minority. It certainly isn’t the case that I’m hard to offend. In fact, I’m offended all the time. For example, I just checked out Jamye Waxman’s blog.
I remember Jamye from eYada.com, an Internet radio station that went out of business during the dotcom crash of 2001. Jamye produced, and sometimes hosted, sexologist Bob Berkowitz’s show, which featured regular guest Luke Ford. But I seldom listened to the Bob Berkowitz show because I found it offensive. Instead, I mostly remember Jamye from the inoffensive Chaunce Hayden Show, which she also produced. Jamye spent much of her time searching the eYada closet for the official ___ bucket, the show’s main prop. I don’t think that I’ll ever get out of my head Chaunce constantly yelling, “Jamye, get the bucket! We’re going to need it for our next guest.” Yet I was never offended.
Chaunce Hayden was a talented radio host, but Jamye Waxman was the star of the show: a feminine presence and voice of reason. And when I say voice, I mean Jamye had the sexiest voice in the history of radio (perhaps in the history of all womankind). So I was thrilled to follow a link kindly provided by Luke on Protocols to Jamye’s blog. It didn’t take me long (less than 2 seconds) to be offended.
Since my blog is now “G” rated, I can neither link to the site nor detail the parts that upset me most. (Although I might be able to slip in Jamye’s statement: ‘[I’m going] to make up a number of shirts that say Vote Kerry and wear them tight, right on my ____ …”) To be fair, Jamye’s blog isn’t all sexual politics. There is a moving story about a woman who needed 50 cents for the subway, and Jamye almost has a kind word for the grieving Nancy Reagan.
Rebecca Schoenkopf, Commie Girl from the OC Weekly, also mentions Nancy Reagan, in passing, in her latest column. Rebecca is a woman I met thanks to Luke Ford. (One of the benefits of knowing Luke is that he goes through a lot of women and it’s sometimes possible to hook up with his hand-me-downs.) Rebecca was briefly Luke’s girlfriend, and when I say briefly I mean their love affair lasted for part of one phone conversation, which is about how long Luke’s charms work on the average woman.
Not that Rebecca is average in any other way. She is a very sweet girl — when she puts her mind to it. But she is also something of a conspiracy theorist. Consider, for example, Rebecca on Ronald Reagan’s alleged traitorous dealings with the Ayatollah Khomeini:
He made a secret agreement with the Ayatollah. Do you have any idea what that means? While Ted Koppel was going on Nightline every night to somberly update us on the hostage crisis — 53 Americans held in Iran … Ronald Reagan sent William Casey to promise arms to Iran … if they would keep the hostages until after the election.
Good grief. Apparently they no longer teach critical thinking skills at NYU. By the way, how old was Rebecca Schoenkopf during the Iranian hostage crisis? Six! And how many six year olds in 1980 stayed up on a pre-school night to watch Nightline at 11:30 pm? My point exactly! Where did Rebecca get her understanding of the Reagan years from? It certainly wasn’t from personal experience. I detect the influence of unreconstructed Marxist historian Howard Zinn. How else to explain this passage from Orange County’s beloved Commie Girl:
Ronald Reagan was not a good man. He was not a beacon of optimism and hope. He was an embarrassment … he was a pathological liar … he joked about bombing the USSR on radio … and, perhaps most unforgivably, he declared a war on the poor in place of the war on poverty … He turned our noblest compassion — made concrete by FDR and … the Johnson administration — upside-down until we were calling poor women with children lazy and stupid and spitting with anger that they would dare need our help.
Ronald Reagan was a good man. Nobody who knew him personally disliked him. He was a beacon of optimism and hope to Natan Sharansky and others in the Soviet Gulag. He was a leader to admire. He was pathologically lied about by leftists. He courageously called the USSR an “evil empire,” leading to days of derisive editorials and opinion columns in the New York Times, the same newspaper that published Walter Duranty’s propaganda denying the facts about Stalin’s forced collectivization which killed 7 million Soviet peasants. I could go on, point-by-point, but I actually like Rebecca (a lot).
Here is a list of some other things that offend me: the BBC, the CBC, CBS, NBC, ABC, CNN, PBS, NPR, Air America, the NY Times, the LA Times, the Boston Globe, the Seattle Times, the Vancouver Sun, the Guardian, the Independent (which is even worse than the Guardian), Slate, Salon, Noam Chomsky (America’s oldest teenager), Michael Moore, Amy-Jill Levine (an Orthodox Jew who teaches New Testament Studies at Vanderbilt University Divinity School [!]), and every university in the English-speaking world, save for Hillsdale College and maybe BYU.
A couple of weeks ago I visited my old university and wandered around campus, thinking about the “good” old days. I walked past the quad where I, along with thousands of other useless idiots, protested against Gulf War I. I couldn’t help but look at the bulletin boards outside the offices of my old profs. Professor after professor had posted offensive cartoons and political signs, in some cases covering their entire doors, expressing their hatred for Bush the Moron and Sharon the Nazi. Every cartoon and political banner — without exception — expressed the politics of the hard left. I hoped that when I got to the Germanic Studies department things might change, if only in the interest of good taste and historical shame. But no. Imagine the moral absurdity of Germanic Studies professors labeling the American president a fascist! How childish and unprofessional. Think of a young student, say Cecile DuBois, visiting her professor to talk about an assignment and having to walk past this material.
Which brings me back to Luke Ford. Perhaps in person he is the most obnoxious chap imaginable (I doubt it), but as a writer is he anywhere near as offensive as your average Germanic Studies professor? Hardly. Yes, Luke does write provocatively at times. Okay, pretty much all the time. But you have to keep in mind that Luke is a serial exaggerator. He likes to take a serious point and exaggerate it to absurd proportions for attention-seeking effect. If you realize this, and are willing to do a little bit of de-exaggerating as you read along, you will find that his arguments are actually quite thoughtful.
And yes, Luke does, occasionally, write about his sex life in somewhat explicit terms. Certainly, there are few topics more offensive to listen to than men talking about their sex lives. But Luke is never boastful. If anything he seems deeply troubled by the fact that he’s a sexual being. I don’t know why he fusses so much, but I do know that his writings on this and other subjects fail to offend me. Shlomo might not agree, but I think of him as Luke Ford: Gentleman Blogger.
Update: Oh no, Shlomo. I wrote this entry before I checked out Luke’s latest comments on AIDS. Never mind. Move along. Nothing to see here.
June 24, 2004:
XXX Communicated: The “G” Rated Review
Here is an edited version of my review of Luke Ford’s memoir XXX-Communicated: A Rebel Without a Shul. Some material had to be deleted so as not to offend the delicate sensibilities of 15 year old girls who love both Luke Ford and Doris Day.
The published version of XXX-Communicated features multiple blurbs (the best being by hot intellectual babe Heather MacDonald: “A fable for our time. Heart-breaking yet uplifting. You’ll cry, you’ll laugh, you’ll study your Torah!”), three forewords, one epilogue, and a revised final chapter, all of which I did not have the opportunity to read in an earlier draft of the manuscript.
The first foreword is by Cathy (not Catherine) Seipp. By using her non-professional name, Miss Seipp is obviously trying to distance herself from Luke, or at least his past. She makes this clear in her opening sentence: “The story you are about to read took place years before Luke Ford met me …” In other words, “don’t confuse me with any of Luke’s XXX-rated girlfriends who appear throughout the book.”
How could a sensible observer make such a mistake? Oh, I don’t know. How about because Cathy tells us that Luke is “handsome,” “beautiful,” “stylish,” and “goo-goo eye[able].” Her lusty infatuation apparently explains why she calls Luke’s appalling p___ video What Women What, “a small masterpiece.” She also calls Luke’s blog “Pinteresque.” I don’t know what this means, but I suspect it is another hormone-induced, over-the-top compliment.
If Luke Ford looked like Ted Kaczynski (and let’s face it, there are more than a few similarities between the two, especially if Luke ever stops using Grecian Formula) there would be a heck of a lot less of this female gushing going on.
Cathy continues: “Some readers (always women …) read his memoir and are moved to tears.” Why? Are these tears of laughter because the book is so disjointed, and they can’t believe that Luke thought it was ready for publication? Or perhaps these are the tears of ex-girlfriends who find that Luke has no sense of privacy and is writing about them and their odd sexual proclivities?
We do find out how Luke and Cathy meet: it was on the way to an orgy. Luke Ford was disguised as a moral leader and Cathy, a Hittite priestess. Cool!
Foreword II is from Dave Deutsch, the world’s worst Jewish comedian, which features more lavish praise. This time with a disturbing homo-erotic vibe.
Foreword III is from the great Mike Albo. (I love that guy!) For a fat, bald, three-pack-a-day smoker, heroin addict, and rageaholic, the ol’ boy sure can write.
Luke has also re-written the final chapter. It is quite touching. If I was a girl, I probably would have cried upon reading that one of Luke’s rabbis called him “the most evil man he ever met.” But I’m not a girl, so I laughed.
Luke goes on: “I want to believe that I have written a good book. I want to believe my story has a point … I want to believe that my story will inspire the reader …”
Hey, I’m just one person but I’ve been inspired. For one thing, I’m going to start using Grecian Formula in the hope that a sexy Hittite priestess will gush all over me. I know it is a long shot. I do not even know where the Hittite part of town is. I’m looking at a map right now. Let’s see, there is Chinatown, Little Italy, Little India, but no friggin’ Little Hittitetown. Where does a nice non-orgy going boy meet a hot Hittite girl these days. I’m not picky. She doesn’t even have to be a priestess.
I’ve also been inspired to study religion, a topic I didn’t take seriously until six months ago. I’m not about to convert to Judaism (I see myself more as a neo-Platonist: spirituality for the sophisticated set) but through my study of Christianity and Judaism, I have come to a sincere appreciation of the moral profundity and intellectual depth of these two great traditions — the received wisdom of thousands of years of learning by trial and error, and rational and mystical thought. Western Civilisation turns its back on this moral and intellectual heritage at its peril.
Book Review
XXX-Communicated: A Rebel Without a Shul Luke Ford (2004) Published by iUniverse Inc.: New York, Lincoln, Shanghai.
Luke Ford’s memoir of his time as a p___ journalist begins with an attack upon our moral leader by a troglodyte named Mike Albo. Luke’s head is smashed “repeatedly” against a light pole causing severe brain damage. Thank goodness Luke survived, otherwise there would be no autobiography for his fans and followers to study and savour. At least that’s what I thought before I actually started reading XXX-Communicated: A Rebel Without a Shul. After plowing through all 67,000+ words (consisting mostly of cut and pasted emails, transcribed phone conversations and IM sessions with various p___ographers, hussies, and Orthodox rabbis) my view is decidedly less positive. But first a little background.
I would be lying if I said that I had no knowledge of Luke’s “old” life before I started my fan blog late last year. My earliest memory of Luke Ford was an appearance in 2001 with sexologist Bob Berkowitz on eYada.com, a defunct Internet radio station. Luke, speaking in the soft voice of a little boy caught in the act of doing something very naughty, was in full self-flagellation mode over his dual existence as a p___ reporter/critic and deeply religious Orthodox Jew. Although Luke’s version of this conversation differs from mine (I don’t recall Berkowitz being nearly as judgmental as Luke suggests in his memoir), his appearance left an impression on me. I recall checking out LF.com, but not being particularly interested in the inside workings of the p___ industry, I soon drifted away and almost completely forgot about Luke Ford.
A couple of years ago I became interested in the writings of James C. Bennett, a UPI columnist and theorist of the Anglosphere. Looking around UPI’s website, I found another columnist, Catherine Seipp, who wrote mostly about cultural matters from a centre-right perspective. There aren’t many conservative female commentators and I was intrigued. When UPI stopped offering its content online for free, I searched Cathy Seipp’s name to see if there was another way to read her weekly column. I discovered that she had a blog and through Cathy’s World I was reacquainted, much to my surprise, with Luke Ford. I wondered, why would a highly-respected journalist like Cathy be carrying on with an enfant terrible like Luke?
Unfortunately there is no answer to this question in Luke’s new autobiography XXX-Communicated. (I assume that the explanation behind their tempestuous on-again, off-again romance lies in the power of love — or at least good [edited] — to overwhelm a woman’s common sense.) Instead the reader is treated to a steady stream of disjointed anecdotes about some of the most unappealing people on the planet. It makes for a rather depressing study of what human beings are capable of when freed from divinely-inspired moral guidance.
Luke defined the aim of his p___ research in high-minded terms: “I’ll penetrate the most religiously-challenged corner of modernity with my newly-acquired Jewish conscience and come out the other side with insights into the human condition.” This sounds reasonable. What is less reasonable is how Luke goes about doing this: by making and acting in his very own p___ video, titled, quite inappropriately, What Women Want.
[This section has been removed to protect the young, the innocent, and those with good taste.]
I’m no expert, of course, but one has to wonder about the sanity of a man who thinks that p___ consumers want to watch a video featuring the producer/director/actor prattling on about Dennis Prager’s (a conservative Jewish theologian) views on male-female relations. Talk about a mood killer. And indeed, the market for a Prager inspired p___ video failed to materialise, much to Luke’s surprise and disappointment: “[D]istributors return the movie by the case … I end up giving away copies to my friends at my Reform temple.”
In chapter 3 we are introduced to the depraved world of p___ journalism. It’s not a happy place. Luke feuds with his fellow writers, people he apparently finds compelling on some level, but most readers, I suspect, will find merely stupid and boring. There is one amusing anecdote. Mark Kernes, of the Adult Video News, is described as “old and ugly … he looks out at the world with beady, suspicious, pig-like eyes, squinting between jowels [sic] of fat.” Luke wasn’t very popular with his colleagues.
Even at this early point, Luke’s memoir is largely a cut and paste affair. Unable to shape his material into a coherent whole made up of persuasively argued parts, Luke relies instead on recycling passages from his personal diary. For example, as part of his “research” Luke visits fifty-something p___ queen Kitten Natividad:
Aware of Kitten’s voracious appetite for young men, I open the back of my 1982 one-ton Dodge van and dig under the mattress and pillows for a pack of condoms. I pull out two, put them in my pocket, and walk to her apartment.
[This part has been deleted in the interest of preventing all those who have shaken hands will Luke Ford over the past six years from developing a mania for hand-washing.]
Luke cuts quite a path through the p___ community, banging p___ stars while moralising about the evils of promiscuous sex. Not surprisingly, enemies are made all over the San Fernando Valley. Luke’s biggest foe is a man named Mike Albo of Hustler magazine’s “Erotic Video Guide”:
You are a total moron. You are an idiot. You are a loser. I’ve been hearing about all your Internet activities. You’re a f___ing goofball. You just better hope that we don’t meet up because it’s not going to be a pretty situation. Judging from the yarmulke you wear on your pointy little pinhead, you must be a religious man. If I were you, I would pray that you don’t run into me.
[…]
You f___ing f__got, I just want to let you know that I’m going to kill you. You’re a real d___head. I don’t know how you think that there’s going to be no consequences for the s___ that you do. But there is, big time. And I’m going to love being one of the people that delivers it to you, pal.
Luke’s research not only angers the p___ community, it also causes his religious friends to shake their heads in disappointment and disbelief. Even Dennis Prager, Luke’s Jewish father figure, abandons him:
Since I have allegedly played such a positive role in your life, I would assume good works would flow –especially toward me — from you. Apparently my influence has been nil except in the most superficial sense. I truly am curious — does it bother you how you have alienated me?
But Luke carries on undeterred, convinced that by exposing the p___ industry’s negligence over AIDS he is saving lives.
Page after page follows of Luke’s relentless anti-p___ muckraking and the animosity that results. It’s depressing fare, but the occasional amusing story breaks the gloom. For instance, one day at the drug store:
A middle-aged woman approaches me. “I’m getting a special feeling about you,” she says and hands me her card. She’s a psychic. “You should come see me soon. I’ll give you a special rate.”
Coupon-clipper Luke isn’t one to pass up a bargain:
I have my tarot cards read ($30) and they seem to unveil my life. Moved, I pour out my problems.
A believer, I now visit the gypsy regularly. On her instructions, I buy candles from her for $100 each and exotic spices ($200) that I mix with water and pour over myself in the shower before leaving for synagogue Sabbath morning.
I buy crystals ($150) from her that I grasp in my hand every day when I dream about what I want. I buy a charm ($100) to put in my pillow.
[…]
After spending $1200, receiving no further improvements in my lot, I give up on the psychic.
What a shame. At least Luke, unlike all the psychic’s other customers, got the “special rate.”
Mostly though the book chronicles Luke’s immersion in the world of p___ and his rapid moral, physical, and psychological decline. As a sign of his deterioration, Chaim Amalek, one of Luke’s many “personalities,” appears. As the book becomes more introspective it also becomes more interesting (and creepy).
Near the end of his memoir, Luke visits Israel in an attempt to find himself. Just as he begins to experience a measure of healing and happiness the book abruptly stops. The reader is left with more questions than answers.
I hope I’m not giving the impression that XXX-Communicated is more coherent than it really is. In truth, it’s a bit of a mess. Although the memoir develops mostly along chronological lines, every so often Luke throws in a thematic chapter. For example, chapter seven is purportedly about race. But Luke doesn’t do essays. And it shows. The chapter is a hodgepodge of personal reflections (on his sexual conquests of elderly black women), intemperate observations about race and p___ography, and relentless questioning of black male actors about their [edited], a topic about which Luke is oddly fascinated. For all his scholarly pretensions, Luke obviously hasn’t spent nearly as much time in the library as he has out in the field. The seminal work on this subject is the late Calvin Hernton’s 1965 book Sex and Racism in America, which is still strikingly relevant today. But Luke isn’t interested. In fact, he quickly loses interest in the topic altogether and instead offers off-topic profiles of white performers, including “good friend” Kendra Jade.
We learn an awful lot about p___ journalists like Mike Albo in Luke’s memoir, so much so it reads in parts like the unauthorised Mike Albo story, but nothing about the people who are important in Luke’s life today, most especially Cathy Seipp, another one of Luke’s “good friends.” How did Luke meet Cathy? What was her initial impression of him? Was it love at first sight? How many dates did it take before she got lucky [edited — I really went too far here. What was I thinking? I’m almost as naughty as Luke.] Perhaps this more recent phase of Luke Ford’s life will be explored in volume two of XXX-Communicated: When Luke Met Cathy.
Overall Grade: B+
Strengthens: Amusing in places; some psychological insight into what makes Horrid Boy tick
Weaknesses: Choppy writing; poor organisation; general incoherence; bad language; adult (18+ years) themes
July 7, 2004:
Book Review
The Producers: Profiles in Frustration Luke Ford (2004) iUniverse, Inc.: New York Lincoln Shanghai
Do you ever wonder why Hollywood is so weird? Producer Mark Frost provides an answer in Luke Ford’s new book:
A lot of the people in this business are godless and corrupt. That’s without dispute … Creativity often creates unbalanced people. When you take an unstable personality and add fame and wealth and freedom of movement, you’re going to get amorality … It’s what Martin Amis called, “the moronic inferno side of show business.”
I had mixed feelings about The Producers: Profiles in Frustration. I didn’t think that reading 68 interviews with Hollywood producers would interest me, but I did want to find out how Luke Ford, a genuinely talented interviewer, would handle some of the biggest names in show business.
I don’t know how Luke got these people to talk to him. His charm must work wonders on Hollywood secretaries. Of course, he has had all sorts of practice asking women out and being turned down. Luke knows all about dealing with rejection and getting around an initial “No!” He has been rejected by nineteen year old community college girls all over Southern California for years. At least a mature Hollywood secretary isn’t going to scream: “Get away from me you pudgy middle-age pervert you, or I’ll call the police!”
After reading The Producers, I discovered that Hollywood production is actually a very interesting topic; in fact, I was disappointed when the book came to a close. Yet I still have mixed feelings. Not with the subject matter, but with some of the odd decisions Luke made when putting his book together.
The Producers begins with a series of amusing quotations. The late Edgar Scherick (ABC’s Wide World of Sports) told Luke: “I don’t think your book is going to be too interesting based on these questions you’re asking.” Scherick was wrong. But Al Burton, producer of numerous hit shows, including Diff’rent Strokes and Facts of Life, was right when he said: “I still can’t figure out what the point of your book will be.” After reading all 226,366 words, I’m not sure either.
Perhaps the subtitle is a clue. “Profiles in Frustration” suggests that the book is about the problems Hollywood producers experience when trying to turn a writer’s idea into a finished film or television programme. Unfortunately, Luke provides no help in his introductory essay, because he didn’t write one. Instead all he tells us, in a very short preface, is that he interviewed more than 100 producers. Sixty-eight of these interviews are included, while “[t]he stuff I could not fit in this book is on my website.” The reader has no idea why some interviews made the cut and others did not. Did the rejected interviews not fit with the book’s unifying theme, assuming that there is one? Only Luke knows and he isn’t telling.
Perhaps the first chapter will help. Luke begins his book with a 1996 interview with Harry Bernsen (b. 1925), father of actors Corbin and Collin Bernsen. This very brief biographical sketch is all we know about Mr Bernsen before the actual interview starts. In fact, Luke fails to provide an introductory paragraph to any of the chapters in the book. He just starts interviewing. More knowledgeable people than I may be familiar with many of the names. And, to be fair, for the most part Luke’s questions reveal who these people are soon enough. But it still would’ve been helpful if a short introduction was provided, telling us about the interviewee and relating his major accomplishments in Hollywood to the book’s central theme — again assuming …
In the first chapter we come across another strange decision. Luke asks his questions. Sometimes the interviewee answers briefly. Sometimes he gives long answers that run many paragraphs. Luke puts his words in quotation marks. He puts his interviewee’s words in quotation marks, too. So how does the reader know when Luke is speaking and his interviewee is speaking? Good question because it’s not always clear. For example, who do you think said the following? “Many of my Jewish male friends long for shiksas.” Luke Ford? That’s just a guess. But why should the reader have to guess? Why didn’t Luke put his questions and comments in boldface, or italics, or use a different font, or colour, or use block quotes, or something? Really, anything would’ve been appreciated.
I can understand the lack of an introductory essay. After all, Luke posts hundreds of pointless entries to his many blogs everyday, and writing a persuasively argued and elegantly written essay explaining the basic premise of The Producers would’ve been hard work. But putting his words in boldface wouldn’t have required any extra work at all. (Just to annoy us, there are two exceptions to this oversight. In chapters 22 and 58, Luke interviews two producers together. He kindly helps the reader know who is speaking by starting each conversational exchange with “Luke: … ” or “Marian: …” or “Anne: …” Nowhere else does he do this. It’s like he is taunting us or something.)
The reader’s frustration mounts upon completing chapter one. It still isn’t clear what The Producers is really about. Perhaps the “frustration” in the subtitle refers to Luke’s beleaguered readers? Mr Bernsen certainly doesn’t seem particularly frustrated with his lot. Horny? Yes. Frustrated? No. He tells Luke:
I’m 71 years old. I work out three days a week with a trainer. I lost 30 pounds in the last four months and I want to live another 30 years. I want to have babies with this woman [apparently referring to a woman he just spoke to in the café]. To be fair to her, I want to live another 30 years.
Bernsen goes on to give Luke some much appreciated advice on how to pick-up younger women:
Bernsen: I can say anything to anybody. How do you think I could talk to this girl like that? Could you have done that? Give her your card.
Luke: I could but I almost never would.
Bernsen: I do it because I just want to love her. I want to take her to bed.
Well, if Mr Bernsen is going to be having babies in his 70s with a woman he just met, I guess there’s still hope for Mr Ford. He has three decades to find his teenage bride. And if Harry Bernsen is any guide, Luke won’t even have to know the girl before they start making babies together. This optimistic message is the only reason I can think of for why Luke would start his book with an interview with little known Harry Bernsen. What any of this has to do with the frustration of being a Hollywood producer is unclear. It’s not even clear if Harry Bernsen is really a Hollywood producer. (I checked IMBD.com and found out that he has four production credits. The latest being for the memorable “Mighty Moose and the Quarterback Kid” in 1976. You remember Mighty Moose don’t you?)
In chapter four Luke interviews Emmy award winning producer and part-time college instructor Alan Sacks. Wacky provocateur Luke Ford writes (note, by the way, how I’m using block quotes to set off my words from those of Luke and Alan Sacks. I care about you the reader. If only Luke was a considerate, sensitive soul like me):
Wearing my yarmulke, I drive to Los Angeles Valley Community College where I find Sacks in the “smartest classroom on campus.”
[…]
Sacks teleconference’s with Derrick deKerckhove’s class at the University of Toronto. Mentored by media theorist Marshall McLuhan, Dr. deKerckhove directs the McLuhan Program in Culture and Technology. The quality of the students in his class, many of them pursuing graduate degrees, is light years ahead of the students in Alan’s community college class. What the Los Angeles class lacks in intelligence, however, it makes up for in racial diversity.
I’m reading this thinking, “Oh god no, Luke, please don’t go there. I don’t think I can take 550 pages of your racial pot stirring.”
Then things take another bad turn:
My attention is not on the program but on a woman. When I walked in the door, I noticed this pale Russian secretary. She wore a tight black miniskirt and a tight top.
I am overloaded by sexual stimuli. In my neighborhood, most of the people I know dress modestly. Here the girls wear tight jeans and revealing tops. I want to address them in the style of Prime Minister Gladstone wandering the streets of 19th Century London, trying to rescue fallen women: “Hi, I’m your moral leader. I want to talk to you about modesty. Please get into my van.”
[…]
A black woman dressed as the devil walks in. She’s the college president.
Alan Sacks isn’t pleased with Luke’s write-up of their conversation. Sacks complains:
You describe my students as dim bulbs. You describe someone else as black. You describe me as short and Jewish. Those are not positive images that you’re laying out there.
Luke (weakly) defends himself: “Ethnicities and religion are of interest to me.”
After a slow start, the book rapidly picks up momentum. Luke continues to ask political and religious questions, but, thankfully, he keeps his off-putting racial and sexual thoughts to himself. (I don’t mind Luke’s attempts at humour on his blog, but different audiences require different writing styles, and such remarks don’t belong in what should be a collection of serious interviews intended for a much wider audience than the sort of losers who read lukeford.net.)
Usually Luke stays on topic and conducts thoughtful and interesting interviews. Most of the conversations do indeed revolve around the problems Hollywood producers have in doing their work: how things have changed over the past thirty years; the diminished importance of the network movie of the week; the role of foreign markets; domestic oligopoly and reduced competition: the difficult economics of the independent film; and the perennial problems of having to deal with moody actors, flighty directors, and risk adverse corporate executives.
Luke carefully researches his subjects before interviewing them. He asks open-ended questions and then sits back, listens, smiles, nods, and tapes. Never holding back to save an interviewee from potential embarrassment, he transcribes (and posts) virtually everything. Occasionally the interviews don’t go anywhere. For example, Luke takes one female executive to lunch. She finds out about his background in p___ journalism and decides that she doesn’t want anything to do with him. But generally, Luke gets a great deal out of his interview subjects. Most are shallow narcissists who love to talk about themselves. They are also, almost without exception, very determined and aggressive people. Their drive leads them to be very abusive toward their bosses, co-workers, family members, and nosy interviewers…
Ah leftists, you gotta love ’em. So sensitive. So caring. So compassionate. So much better than those horrible mean-spirited conservatives.
And who cares more than Barbra Streisand? No one! She cares so very much. And who represents Mr Barbra Streisand? None other than that caring leftist, old Mr “Pot Belly” himself: “James Brolin has been my client for 24 years and my friend. I executive produced his TV series ‘Pensacola: Wings of Gold’ (1997-2000).” A wonderful television spectacle, I’m sure.
One can learn a lot about leftist hypocrisy reading The Producers. Leftists are so proud of themselves (and their moral superiority) that they want to shout their politics from the mountain top — and into Luke Ford’s trusty microphone. For example, Luke interviews Richard Dreyfuss’ producing partner Judith James. Ms James, who tells us that she’s “left of left politically,” has spent ten years trying to produce a documentary about Winnie Mandela. Oh sure there was that whole child murder thing, but leftists are very good at turning a blind eye to violence when it’s committed by their fellow travellers:
I’m a much greater supporter of hers than 92 percent of the people in the United States. I defy any person in this world to stand up to what she stood up to and not go crazy. She went nuts and she has not come back from the other side completely but she’s a great woman … [S]he has a great story and people should hear about it. There’s a little imp in me that says, “You don’t want to hear it? Fuck you, I’m going to tell it to you anyway.”
What a shame that Judith’s loving profile of Winnie has yet to be made. But hey, there are always other caring leftists for Hollywood filmmakers to beautify. How about Robert Mugabe? Yasser Arafat? Or Saddam Hussein? Wonderful socialists all. Hollywood leftists will have to hurry up on their Saddam hagiography, as he is not long for this world — thanks to evil President Bushitler. Many a Hollywood tear will be shed when Saddam is hanged. He cared so much for the less fortunate. Did you know that in pre-invasion days, Iraqis lived in a wonderland of kite-flying peace and tranquility? That’s what Hollywood’s favourite documentary filmmaker Michael Moore thinks. And from where does the world’s true evil originate? America, of course. Moore explains: “this country of mine … is known for bringing sadness and misery to places around the globe.” There are other sources of evil, too: “The oil companies, Israel, Halliburton.”
It’s a shame that Michael Moore didn’t get the full Luke Ford treatment in The Producers. Luke did, however, talk to Lewis Chesler (HBO’s “The Hitchhiker”):
Luke: What is the filmmaker’s moral responsibility to society?
Chesler: To subvert. Artists are not supposed to be good citizens. It’s not their work. They must challenge the system, not reinforce it. American studio films reinforce preconceived notions of behavior.
Luke: Have you ever read a script and thought, “This is too immoral for me to make.”
Chesler: No.
Chesler continues:
I have always felt there’s a relationship between sexual repression and the violence that is so endemic to American culture. One part of American’s fascination with horror and violence is that horror and violence is basically sexual projection and sexual repression. If there was a greater genuine sexual permissiveness, we would be less violent.
A Hollywood leftist lecturing us on how to make America a less violent place (through sexual promiscuity, no less). And you thought Luke Ford was nuts.
Luke certainly was nutty for not ending his book with a concluding chapter telling us what he learned, if anything, from interviewing these mostly leftist, and mostly moronic, Hollywood producers. And yet I enjoyed the book a great deal. It helps explain why the last good movie from Hollywood was 1959’s Pillow Talk, a romantic comedy starring Doris Day and Rock Hudson. It’s been all downhill since.
Overall Grade: A-
Strengths: Luke asks his questions. Lets his subjects speak and mostly gets out of the way. Some of them, thanks to their stupidity and vanity, proceed to hang themselves. It’s quite a spectacle. But most talk thoughtfully about the nitty gritty of producing films and TV shows in today’s Hollywood.
Weaknesses: Luke occasionally interjects himself unnecessarily into an interview, telling us about his fantasy sex life (as if we care); there is no clear theme; no introductory essay; no concluding essay; no typeface changes to help the reader determine who is speaking in long interviews; frequent bad language; lots of sexual references; occasional threats of bodily harm to Luke Ford’s person (no actual violence, though, thank goodness).
How To Buy: You can purchase The Producers: Profiles in Frustration in three different formats here, here, and here. You’ll be frustrated in places, but ultimately you won’t be disappointed.
Luke Ford has shut down his website comments section because fans have been slagging him off.
The superstar blogger said he was upset to see the forum “packed full of negative comment”.
Some posters had accused him of looking old and overweight and of not doing enough to promote his new books XXX-Communicated and The Producers.
Others had complained about the quality of his recent blogging.
In a message posted on the website, Ford said: “Hi everybody, this is Luke.
“I’m afraid that, having visited the forums on a regular basis over the past few months, simply to see how you guys thought the blogging/interviews/promotion were going, I have decided to close them down.
“As many of you will know, much of my reasoning for the future is to stay away from the negativity of the media, I think that it is bad for me and for blogging in general, so I find it really sad to see the forums so packed full of negative comment, and that so many genuinely positive fans find themselves defending me (or themselves) constantly against attack. How pointless.
“There are plenty of places to read people slagging each other off, but I wasn’t trying to create one in opening the forum. Those of you that want to carry on the media’s work will have to do it somewhere else I suppose.”
He added: “I feel bad for those of you who have always been supportive, but I’m afraid I want nothing to do with the bitching that has evolved between some members, (many members), and perhaps unofficial sites will be a calmer affair.”
Ford signed off: “Sorry guys, but that’s the way it goes … Peace and Love … or nothing at all.”
One disappointed fan branded the star’s decision “ludicrous”.
“It’s a fans’ forum, it’s freedom of speech and I don’t think it’s down to Luke to take his ball home and say ‘I’m not playing any more’,” the fan wrote.
“The fact of the matter is that people have opinions and they are entitled to them, that’s what a forum is for.
“This just generates more negative press for Luke and I have to say its a bad move.”
The majority of posts were supportive of the star and begged him to reconsider.
Blaming the media and the end of all that is good, Luke Ford decided this week to shut down the comments section of his web site. Nasty comments about Ford looking tubby, old and tired also played a role in the decision, but Ford stressed that it was the media and the end of all that is good that were mostly to blame for the decision.
[…]
But what are we going to do without your web site? Where else can we share in our love of banal blog entries?
“Things will stay the same for the next two weeks, so that those of you who have made friendships can decide which other sites to meet at, and then the rooms will close. I feel bad for those of you who have always been supportive, but I’m afraid I want nothing to do with the bitching that has evolved between some members, (many members), and perhaps unofficial sites will be a calmer affair.”
Is it really that bad, Luke?
“Sorry guys, but that’s the way it goes … Peace and Love … or nothing at all.”
How did Ford’s immense fan base react to the news?
High Times writes, “i dont know what exactly bitching there was but we have moderators to watch the situation! REALIZE THERE ARE THOUSANDS OF US QUITE NORMAL FANS AND SOME 5 OR 6 OR HOW MUCH OF THEM IDIOTS MAKE LUKE BELIEVE WE ALL ARE SO NEGATIVE!!!!!!!!!!! WE ARE THE SAME FANS THAT WE WERE BEFORE!!!!!”
Yeah, cull the negative idiots.
But, that must be better than previous put-downs like this from Braiz_DPR.
“Message for Luke Ford
Hey man, how are you? I’m a 21 years old, simple, miserable, unknown gay guy that lives down way here in Brazil (South America) and only now I’m getting to know your writing … It started when I borrowed a p___ DVD from a friend (“What Women Want”) and saw the video and the interview. I found it amazing … and it’s just the begining for sure.
You are the sexiest man in the world … I just love to read your blogging … I wish you could blog to me right into my ears. I would shiver!!! And above all, you are soooo sexy!!! I would do anything to make love to you!!! You’re soooo HOT! I’m sorry for beeing so horny here …”
Easy, Luke.
So while Ford is called “fat, tired and old” in some places, there is not a lot of negativity. Sadly, we checked. There really isn’t much negativity at all. The chat forums are mostly loaded with poems and sex proposals for Ford.
But, as Ford says, it’s peace and love or nothing at all.
July 12, 2004:
Sucker
Luke Ford has asked me to comment on his recent dispute with the editor of Jewsweek magazine. I don’t know if he wants me to do so privately via email, but since I exist in a constant state of anguish over my lack of fan blog content, I think I’ll go ahead and write about it here.
I should point out that I don’t actually know Luke Ford. I’ve never met him. I’ve never spoken to him. In fact, I still hold out the possibility that he is merely a figment of Cecile DuBois’ precocious imagination. But for the sake of argument, let’s assume that he is in fact a living, breathing human being. Also, I know next to nothing about the so-called “craft” of journalism. Until a couple of days ago, I didn’t even know that interview subjects are sometimes given an opportunity to read a transcript of their conversations and suggest corrections or changes before publication. Lacking both intimate and expert knowledge, I’ll have to rely upon old fashion common sense to inform my thoughts on the affair.
Luke is apparently working on a new book about Jewish journalism. It will consist of, or be based upon, a series of interviews he is conducting with leaders in the field. One such individual is Benyamin Cohen, editor of Jewsweek magazine.
Luke interviewed Mr Cohen last Friday. On Sunday, after looking over a transcript of their conversation, Mr Cohen initiated a series of increasingly testy emails over how much the interview should be revised before publication.
Luke agreed to most of the suggested changes, but he finally drew the line over changing the word “sucks” to “stinks” in one of Mr Cohen’s answers. Mr Cohen responded: “Luke, I don’t think that’s appropriate. I’m asking you again to make that change. If you do not, I will have to ask you to delete my interview completely.”
When Luke refused, somewhat theatrically, Mr Cohen replied, even more theatrically: “If the wording doesn’t change, I will not be able to help you any further with any project you may be working on and I will dissuade my colleagues from helping either.” Mr Cohen then sent the following email to his fellow Jewish journalists urging them not to assist Luke in his research.
To all editors,
If you have not already, you will probably be contacted soon by a guy named Luke Ford, a writer from Los Angeles. He is currently writing a book about Jewish journalism and is asking for interviews with several AJPA members.
Like some of you, I agreed to be interviewed by him. In a transcript he showed me of our conversation, he ended up taking my words out of context and later started acting very discourteous and unprofessional.
Besides this Jewish journalism project, he’s been involved in some shady projects in the past (some pornographic, some evenagelical, etc.) I would highly reccomend to anyone who has yet to speak with him to NOT DO SO. You may come, like I have, to regret it later.
All the best,
Benyamin Cohen
In this email, Mr Cohen reveals himself to be a spoiled child who is not above dissembling to advance an argument. The claim that Luke took Mr Cohen’s “words out of context” in the transcript of their interview is nonsense. You can read the conversation here. Mr Cohen manages to make a fool out of himself without any nefarious assistance from Luke Ford.
Not knowing when to shut up, Mr Cohen proceeds to show himself to be not simply a fool but a bigot by claiming that Luke’s childhood Evangelical Christianity was a “shady project,” and he should be shunned.
I don’t believe in shunning people, even silly people like Mr Cohen. I believe that they need help. I have decided to kindly assist Mr Cohen by revising his answers to Luke Ford’s questions to save him from further embarrassment when Luke’s book is published.
In response to Luke’s first question about Jewsweek, Mr Cohen stated: “My philosophy on Jewish journalism is that most Jewish journalism sucks … My goal is to get people jazzed about Judaism. I feel that putting Madonna in every issue and doing irreverent things like that is a way to get people interested in Judaism.”
Madonna? In every issue? And he is embarrassed about the word “sucks”? If Mr Cohen is really serious about revising his comments for the sake of accuracy then I suggest the following change: “My philosophy on Jewish journalism sucks because I think it will get people jazzed about Judaism if I put Madonna in every issue of my magazine. What the fuck am I thinking?”
Mr Cohen continues: “The biggest obstacle we face, obviously, is a financial one. We’re working on a shoestring budget with few resources to pay writers.”
Revision in the interest of truthfulness is required here. This sentence should be amended to read: “The biggest obstacle we face, obviously, is my stupidity. I think that Madonna, of all people, should appear in every issue of Jewsweek. We are thus having financial difficulties. We’re working on a shoestring budget. But to be totally honest with you, I’m surprised that we have any budget at all.”
Luke asks (seriously?) why does Jewsweek lack mainstream sponsorship? Mr Cohen answers: “Not only that, they’re not even recognizing it as a viable resource. They scoff at it. They laugh at it.”
This comment needs to be changed to read: “Not only that, they’re not even recognizing it as a viable resource. They scoff at it. They laugh at it, and rightly so. After all, there is a war going on. Every day Muslim fanatics are murdering innocent Jews, Christians, Hindus, animists, atheists, etc., all the while I commission story after story on an old hag like Madonna.”
Luke asks why Jewish journalism is so dull. Mr Cohen answers: “You take a look at any popular magazine, it evolves over time. You have to stay on the edge or people are going to find you irrelevant. The younger generation of Jewish readers don’t care about what is going on in Israel or which philanthropist gave their money to which cause or most of the stuff these Jewish weeklies are reporting on.”
This statement is full of inaccuracies that must be corrected. Let me see if I can help: “You take a look at any popular magazine, it evolves over time. You have to stay on the edge or people are going to find you irrelevant. The younger generation of Jewish readers care very deeply about what is going on in Israel. And yet I’m such a vapid, celebrity-obsessed cretin that I don’t care at all about Israel. Instead I’m interested in Madonna. That is why she is in every issue of my magazine and why Jewsweek is so very dull and irrelevant.”
Luke wants to know if Jews read the Jewish press to learn about Israel. Mr Cohen dismisses this: “If they have a brain, they should be able to do that by reading a regular newspaper. That’s a lazy way to be Jewish … There’s so much Jewish news to report out there. If they’re only going to report the bomb in Israel this week with a sympathetic view towards the Jewish people, that’s horrible journalism and lazy Judaism.”
In the interest of truthfulness, this answer should be changed to read: “If I had a brain I would stop running articles about shallow celebrities and instead report on the bombing in Israel this week with a sympathetic view towards the Jewish people. To do otherwise is horrible journalism and lazy Judaism. But then again, I’m a horrible, lazy journalist, so what do you expect? Let’s face it: I suck stink.”
July 15, 2004:
I’m a Delicate Flower
I went to the local magazine stand to buy a copy of my new favourite periodical, only to be told that Jewsweek isn’t available in Canada. “But,” I exclaimed, “the August issue has a ten thousand word essay on Samuel David Luzzatto by Britney Spears. How could you not carry it? This is an outrage!”
I was told, unpleasantly, to “push off.” So on Friday I headed south of the border to find somewhere to get my hands on the world’s best Jewish magazine.
After driving thousands of kilometres, I finally found a place in Fargo, North Dakota, that had copies lying all over the store, seemingly unwanted. I picked up the latest issue, with Madonna on the cover, and made my way to the cashier. Out of the corner of my eye, I noticed the words “Luke,” “Ford,” and “Interview.” About time Commentary magazine got around to interviewing Luke Ford, I thought. But on closer inspection, Luke’s name was on the cover of a magazine called Penthouse Forum. Hmmm.
Of course I’m a gentleman, so I don’t read Penthouse Forum, Penthouse, or Big Butt Magazine. But I did remember a Seinfeld episode where Penthouse Forum was mentioned — something about amputees. Luke Ford is an amputee? I didn’t know that. Then I thought, perhaps Luke just likes having sex with amputees? Then I thought, isn’t it women who like having sex with amputees, not men — at least not heterosexual men? Then I thought, Luke Ford is capable of any and everything, so who knows? I decided to buy a copy — for research purposes only — to find out the truth.
I discreetly picked up an issue and made my way to the checkout stand. Unfortunately, there was some kind of hold up at the front of the line. A price check had been demanded by a dude buying Big Butt Magazine, which I don’t read. I don’t care how much they try to charge me for my copy of Penthouse Forum, I’m sure not going to make a scene. Buying porn is embarrassing enough without having it announced throughout the store. Some people have no shame. I have copious amounts of shame.
I’m already sweating bullets when who should sweep into the store? None other than my arch-nemesis Cecile DuBois. What the heck is she doing here? Cecile and I had a huge falling out a few weeks ago over the “adult” turn my blog had taken. Many an angry email was exchanged. I tried to blame Luke Ford, saying I was merely quoting from his memoir and that she had developed a totally wrong impression of me. “I’m a gentleman,” I explained. Cecile was having none of it. Now what is she going to think if she sees me buying Penthouse Forum?
I look down at my feet. I hunch over trying to look small. I comb my John Edwards-like bangs over my eyes.
I tried everything hoping Cecile wouldn’t recognise me. But of course she did. She approached and said, “Hi.” We made uncomfortable small talk. She was in the neighbourhood for Russian language camp. Needing a break from her studies, Cecile was looking to buy a copy of Doris Day Fan Weekly.
Cecile asked me what I was reading. “Jewsweek,” I said. Cecile said that she didn’t like Jewsweek. “Madonna’s in every issued. How lame is that?” she observed. I pointed to the essay on Samuel David Luzzatto, failing to mention that it was written by Britney Spears. That seemed to win her over a little bit.
Then Cecile asked me if I was feeling unwell as I looked flushed. Just at that moment my hands, perspiring profusely, lost grip of the Penthouse Forum I was hiding behind my back. It fell to the ground at her feet. Cecile looked down. She looked up at me. Then down at the magazine again. She looked up at me again, this time with tears in her eyes, and said accusingly, “I knew it.” I tried to explain that it wasn’t what she thought. I was merely doing research for my fan blog. But Cecile was already running out of the store crying, “Get away from me. I’m a delicate flower.”
I hate Luke Ford.
I was in a foul mood when I finally got home. The last thing I wanted to do was to read his interview in Penthouse Forum. Yet the more I thought about it, the more I came to understand that amputees need love, too — even if it is in the (chubby) form of Luke Ford. I opened the magazine to Luke’s interview only to be immediately distracted by a horrible full-paged picture of a man in a plaid shirt with a big grin on his face. Luke looks like a gay Scottish porn star who has just been informed that the lighting is ready and he will be needed to join his fifteen male co-stars on the set in a matter of moments to start filming his gangb*ng scene.
I begin reading the interview. I’m disappointed because it quickly becomes clear that it has nothing to do with amputees at all. It’s just another publicity effort by Luke to whip up interest in his autobiography XXX-Communicated: A rebel without a shul. Luke talks about his fascination with Playboy, Penthouse, and Hustler as a young man: “I didn’t actually have the nerve to initiate sexual congress with a real life woman, so my form of sexual expression was with pictures until I was twenty-one.”
“Sexual congress”? Hahahahahahahahaha!
Twenty-one? Hahahahahahahahaha! (Hey, maybe that had something to do with your use of the term “sexual congress”? Hahahahahahahahaha!)
I keep reading. My amusement quickly turns to horror: “In the years leading up to my conversion to Judaism, I became so religious that I actually went a year without masturbating. It’s incomprehensible to me now.”
Eeeeewwwww! Too much information.
You have to appreciate that these words are printed just millimetres away from that awful picture of a reclining Luke Ford with a huge grin on his face. The mind races. Mental pictures are formed. My stomach churns. Vomit spews — all over my copy of Jewsweek magazine. Now I have to drive to Fargo, North Dakota, and risk seeing my arch-nemesis Cecile DuBois again, to buy another copy.
I hate Luke Ford.
July 26, 2004:
Déjà Vu All Over Again
It took awhile but Luke Ford finally got off his rapidly expanding posterior to interview me for his upcoming book on Jewish journalism. Not that I’m Jewish or anything, but I do chronicle the life and times of one of America’s leading Jewish intellectuals. I suppose Luke took his sweet time because of his self-effacing modesty, but I was still a little bit annoyed that he ignored me for so long.
Once he was through with me, I decided that Luke is overrated as a deep and probing interviewer. I was left feeling unsatisfied, used, and very angry. The interview started slowly. The middle bit was boring. The ending dragged on and on. And then all hell broke loose. Here is the transcript and all the ugly details of the subsequent fight — and I mean that literally. (Get well soon Luke. I’m so sorry!)
My telephone rang at 3:37 pm Saturday, July 24, 2004:
Luke Ford Fan Blogger: Good afternoon.
Luke Ford: Hi, it’s Lickfardmate!
LFFB: Who? What?
LF: It’s me, Lickfardmate!
LFFB: Is this an obscene phone call? If so, missy, could you please call back at around midnight?
LF: No, it’s not an obscene call. And I’m not a missy. I’m a man — or at least somewhat mannish. You know me. It’s Lickfardmate!
LFFB: Oh, sorry about that, sir. I know you? Hold on, let me get my address book to see if I have a listing for a Mr Lickfardmate.
LF: Yes, it’s me, Lickfardmate!
LFFB: Relax, sir, I’m looking … Nope, I don’t know a Mr Lickfardmate. Are you trying to sell something?
LF: No! It’s Lickfard from the Internet, mate.
LFFB: Oh, you mean Luke Ford from the Internet?
LF: Yes! That’s what I said, mate.
LFFB: No you did not. Oh I know, it must be your horribly nasal Australian accent. You had me all confused.
LF: That must be it. I’m sorry, mate. My accent is just awful. Like the rest of my countrymen, I sound like a ridiculous cartoon character. I’m hoping that if my new books are successful and I make a lot of money, I’ll be able to hire a voice coach to teach me how to speak properly.
LFFB: Well, we all can’t be Englishmen. But I agree, that does sound like a wonderful idea. So how many books have you sold so far?
LFFB: How many copies of A History of X have been sold since its release in 1999?
LF: Four, mate.
LFFB: Hmmm, interesting. You know, I’d really love to chat with you for hours and hours, but my sock draw is calling and I have some very important re-arranging to do. So, quickly, is there anything I can do for you? You’re not calling about that five star Amazon.com review of your memoir that you asked me for a few weeks ago are you? I’m sorry about that. It’s still on my list of things to do. I promise to go back and look at XXX-Communicated again as soon as my therapist gives me permission. After reading your autobiography in June, I had to seek professional treatment because of the part about your, er, “sexual congress” with Kitten Natividad. It caused me to have terrible nightmares that disturbed my sleep patterns. I hope you understand.
LF: Actually that’s Cathy Seipp’s fault, mate. I didn’t want to put any “adult” material in the book but she insisted. She was my editor after all, and I always do what she tells me to do. She’s probably more responsible for the book than I am.
LFFB: Yes, I could certainly see her influence in both style and content.
LF: Cathy asked for co-writing credit, you know. She was very insistent but I refused, mate.
LFFB: She must be so disappointed not to be more closely associated with your book.
LF: I’ll say, mate!
LFFB: Could you please do me a favour and stop saying “mate”? It’s really annoying.
LF: I’ll try, ma…, er, sir.
LFFB: That’s better.
LF: The reason I’m calling is to interview you for my new book on Jewish journalism.
LFFB: Thanks, I’m flattered. But it sure took you awhile. I thought you were going to interview everyone in the Hebrew, Yiddish, English, and Australian speaking worlds before getting around to me. But here’s the thing: I’m a private person. I don’t think I want my business all over the Internet. So I’m going to have to turn you down. I’m sure you understand.
LF: No, actually, I don’t. I write about and publish pretty much everything that happens to me. Like the time I had sex with Kitten Natividad and she asked me to sick my …
LFFB: Please stop.
LF: I’m sorry. I forgot about your night terrors.
LFFB: That’s okay. I’m slowly getting better.
LF: Oh, I have an idea. How about I interview you about me?
LFFB: That sounds just fabulous! [Sarcasm is completely lost on Luke Ford. — LFFB]
LF: So how come you started a Luke Ford fan blog last December?
LF: Boredom.
LF: I’m boring?
LFFB: No … I mean, sometimes, I guess. I was probably just bored at the time.
LF: You don’t like it? I have permalinks now. That’s why I switched.
LFFB: No, the reason you switched was that you wanted to use Blogger’s “publish to multiple blogs” option to save time copying and pasting the exact same content to your various blogs.
LF: I can’t fool you, huh?
LFFB: No you can’t. And why do you have to post the same material to two or more blogs?
LF: Is that wrong?
LFFB: I wouldn’t say that it’s wrong, but I do think it would be better if you separated your blogs completely. Put the serious, intellectual material on Protocols, and the funny, personal stuff on LukeFord.net.
LF: So I should ditch the Your Moral Leader blog?
LFFB: Yes, the title is too in-your-face. Also I hate the Blogger ad at the top of the page. It screams “dilettante!” I thought you were a respected professional.
LF: I am! That’s why I need permalinks.
LFFB: You don’t really need permalinks. But if you insist, why not spend a little money, move to Typepad, and hire someone to create a unique template for you? I think this was Jackie D’s idea. You really shouldn’t be using a generic template from Blogger. The move to Blogger has severely damaged the Luke Ford “brand.”
LF: Yeah, I do tend to shoot myself in the foot from time to time. What about the content of my blog? Do you like it?
LFFB: Hmmm, I guess. But it’s awfully Jewy. Virtually every post these days seems to be about Jewish matters. All the more reason to separate your personal blogging from your Protocols blogging, I think.
LF: But I am Jewish. It’s personally very, very meaningful to me. Who knows where I would be without my faith?
LFFB: I don’t know, dude. I just think that you risk alienating your Gentile readers. You used to be funnier when you weren’t so Jewy.
LF: You’re not a very nice person are you?
LFFB: No, I guess not. Hey, I just noticed that I’ve got some lint in my bellybutton. I have to go and bathe. Bye.
LF: Hold on a moment! Are you still there?
LFFB: … Yes. What?
LF: Let’s talk about my new book The Producers, which can be purchased here, here, here, and here. You really liked it, huh?
LFFB: Actually it wasn’t that bad.
LF: Wow, that’s the nicest thing anyone has every said to me about my writing! I’m touched.
LFFB: Really?
LF: Yes, really! Most people ignore me.
LFFB: I wonder why?
LF: Jealousy.
LFFB: That must be it! The Producers was surprisingly interesting. I especially liked the interview with the producer of the television series “Mike Hammer.” The Edgar Scherick interview at the end was moving. The best part was the chapter about Bill Sargent, the man who wanted to get the Beatles back together in 1975. That was fascinating. Yet the book could have been even better.
LF: How so?
LFFB: Well, I think you are very good at conceptualising projects. Researching. Writing the first couple of drafts. And then the wheels kind of fall off. It’s the final stages of book writing that I think you struggle with.
LF: That’s Cathy Seipp’s fault. Blame her. She’s my editor. It’s her job to fix the problems at the back end of my writing projects.
LFFB: Right. But I think she missed a couple of things with The Producers. The book desperately needed an essay to tie everything together and guide the reader. And there were a couple of typos and factual errors she missed, too.
LF: Such as?
LFFB: You had Elvis Presley dying in 1997.
LF: Opps.
LFFB: Actually, I was surprised just how few of these little errors there were. The book was very professionally done.
LF: Thanks, you aren’t so nasty after all.
LFFB: No, I’m not.
LF: Can I call you again some time to talk about me some more?
LFFB. That sounds wonderful, except that I’m about to go out of town.
LF: How about when you get back?
LFFB: Umm, let’s see, I would really love to but I think my phone is failing.
LF: Buy a new phone.
LFFB: Yeah but there’s a phone shortage, I’m afraid.
LF: A phone shortage? I’ve never heard of such a thing.
LFFB: Well in Canada you have to buy your telephone from the government and there is something like a five year wait. With socialism there are always shortages. It’s really awful.
LF: Can I call you in 2009 to talk about me?
LFFB: The five year wait is a best case scenario. It could be five years. It could be fifteen years. It could be twenty-five years before I get a new phone. So how about you call me again in, say, the year 2029?
LF: Okay, thanks.
LFFB: You’re welcome. Goodbye.
LF: Goodbye, mate.
Sunday morning Luke sent me a transcript of our phone conversation. I asked for a few minor changes. Luke obliged. But when I asked him to change the word “sucks” to “stinks” in the question about his move to Blogger, he refused. I only asked in the interest of accuracy as I very seldom use bad language. I was having a bad day. My computer crashed. My car wouldn’t start. And my air conditioning broke.
It must be that time of the month for Luke as he threw a bizarre hissy fit over the matter. Here’s Luke’s account of the dispute:
I started to run into problems with my fan blogger before 8 a.m. Sunday, July 25. I asked him for contact info for his friend Rebecca Schoenkopf. He replied, “Why?”
I replied: “Because I want to ask her out on a date. Also I want to interview her for my book on Jewish journalism.”
He replied: “Yeah, but she’s a Roman Catholic.”
I replied: “Luke Ford fan blogger, I don’t tell you how to run my fan blog. Don’t tell me who I should or should not interview for my book. I get this all the time and I’m sick of it. If you don’t want to give me her email, why don’t you email her and ask if she’d be willing to talk to me. She could be a black lesbian Buddhist for all I care, so long as she has worked in journalism. Sheesh, why do I have to explain something so elementary.”
Luke Ford fan blogger replied: “Luke, relax, girly-man. I just wasn’t sure if you knew that she wasn’t Jewish. That’s all. Truth be told, in my opinion, she knows more about Jewish journalism than most Jews do. Her email address is [email protected]. Just tell her you interviewed me and I gave you her name.”
Luke Ford fan blogger sent me about a dozen more emails when I did not go along with every one of his requested changes to his transcript. I agreed to most of them but I wouldn’t change the word “sucks” to “stinks.”
I emailed the Luke Ford fan blogger that I preferred “sucks.” It was more pungent.
He replied: “I would prefer it the other way please.”
I replied: “Nope.”
He replied: “Huh?”
I replied: “I am not making the change you requested.”
He replied: “Luke, I don’t think that’s appropriate. I’m asking you again to make that change. If you do not, I will have to ask you to delete my interview completely.”
I replied: “You said the word ‘sucks.’ I prefer it to ‘stinks.’ That word and the interview stands, whether you like it or not. I am not your servant.”
He replied: “Before I agreed to the interview with you, I asked Cathy Seipp if she thought it was a good idea. She said it’s fine since Luke will let you read the transcript and change things if you want. I guess I was under that false impression. As you know, Saturday afternoon was not the best time for me to conduct an interview — my computer had crashed, my car wouldn’t start, and my air conditioning was broken. I rarely, if ever, use words like ‘suck’ (ask my friends, it’s not in my character). You caught me at an extremely perturbed time and I think now you’re taking advantage of it. If the wording doesn’t change, I will not be able to help you any further with any project you may be working on and I will dissuade my fellow Luke Ford fans from helping either.”
I replied: “I don’t think we’re really fighting over the word ‘sucks.’ Along with your courage and independence and vision and self-made thing comes this unpleasant bullying and control-freak quality.”
He replied: “Calling me a control freak is way out of line. You don’t know me and you’ve never met me. We’ve only spoke for 30 minutes. To pass such psychological judgments is irresponsible and rude on your part. Unfortunately, I don’t think we can reach an amicable conclusion about this. I will now be forced to tell others not to talk with you — including Rebecca later today. I am the moderator of the Luke Ford fans listserv and I will be sending out an email to all the editors later today to tell them of my unprofessional and discourteous experience with you.”
I replied: “Go for it.”
He replied: “FYI, I have told Rebecca not to speak with you. As well, I have sent out an email to all Luke Ford fans advising them not to talk with you.”
I replied: “That sucks. Oh, and you’re fat and have a pot belly.”
I was willing to move on realising that Luke is the temperamental artist-type, but his last comment really pissed me off. I know I have a slight weight problem, but to say that I have a pot belly was really over the line. Unfortunately, I lost my temper and really let Luke have it. Here is the transcript of my phone conversation Monday afternoon. I apologise for the bad language, it really sucks:
I want my whole thing down. I want nothing to do with you. I’m fat with a pot belly? Who the fuck do you think you are? I can make you not fucking breathe. Everyone else will be polite and send you a letter like Benyamin Cohen [Luke had an eerily similar dispute over the word “sucks” with the poor editor of Jewsweek magazine a few weeks ago, who, I’m sure, had no idea what hit him. — LFFB]. I’ll stop you from breathing. Do you understand me? You can put that up there and quote it. I’m just telling you something right now. I will crush you with fucking lawyers. And that will just be the fun part. That will be the part of your day that you fucking enjoy when you run out of fucking money. Now take it the fuck down. You phoned me under false pretenses. Take the whole fucking thing down. And you’ve got that shitty thing on Benjamin Cohen up there. What the fuck is the matter with you? Do you want to win friends here and get any kind of cooperation? I’ll put your name all over this fucking place. I’ll send out emails to everyone in this fucking town and nobody will take your fucking calls when I’m finished. I’m just telling you something. You’re fucking with the wrong guy here.
In retrospect I know that I over-reacted, especially with the use of the f-word, which I seldom use in everyday life owing to the fact that I really do try to be a gentleman at all times. I was willing to forgive Luke but I just didn’t want anything to do with him for a few days. Unfortunately, he decided to visit the Luke Ford Fan Blog building Tuesday afternoon. Here is what Luke had to say about our confrontation, which again mirrored a very similar fight that Luke had years before with Hustler’s Mike Albo, as related in XXX-Communicated: A Rebel Without a Shul, which you can purchase here, here, here, and here. It’s weird how history keeps repeating itself:
Tuesday afternoon, I walk from my 10 x 20 foot hovel to the magnificent 10-story headquarters of Luke Ford Fan Blog Publications. I slump down on a brick bench beside the entrance and wait for Luke Ford Fan Blog features editor Rebecca Schoenkopf.
Suddenly a door flies open and the Luke Ford fan blogger — fat, bald, heroin-addicted — charges out. [Again with the “fat” comment! Luke just won’t give it a rest. And he wonders why I keep flipping out. Also I’m not bald (my hair is merely thinning). And I don’t do heroin (I smoke crack). — LFFB]
“Get the fuck off the property!” he screams. [Once again sorry about my use of the f-word. Normally I don’t speak this way. Honest. — LFFB]
“I’m just here to meet Rebecca for lunch,” I explain.
He’s not interested. He grabs my jacket, shakes me, and knocks me down.
From the ground, I see a burly Luke Ford Fan Blog Publications security guard looking on.
I pick myself up and scurry over to the sidewalk, hoping the Luke Ford fan blogger will leave me alone once I’m on public property. He doesn’t. I back down the street as Rebecca walks out of the building.
“Come here, you pussy!” yells the Luke Ford fan blogger, his round face contorted with rage. I can’t help smiling.
People stop to watch. A man in a car cheers for a fight, but I have no stomach for it. My last fight was in sixth grade. I lost.
Although the Luke Ford fan blogger is a tubby three-pack-a-day smoker, his homicidal anger scares me. [Really it’s all an act. I’m not in the least bit scary. And stop calling me fat, damnit! — LFFB]
He picks up a metal chain and swings it above his head. “You wanna die or do you want to stop writing about me?”
I say yes, unable to stop grinning.
“What are you smiling about? You think this is funny? Do I amuse you?”
He lunges for my neck and smashes my head repeatedly into a light pole. My life flashes before my eyes.
I feel awful about smashing Luke’s head repeatedly into a light pole. Yes, he did call me fat, amongst other things, but it was still wrong of me to react in the way I did. Fortunately, Luke won’t be pressing criminal charges. Better still, his head injuries won’t effect his blogging according to the neurosurgeon taking care of Mr Ford. I explicitly asked the doctor if Luke’s injuries will somehow diminish his blogging in the future. The doctor replied that perhaps in terms of quantity Luke may be slowed for a few days, but after the bandages have been removed there is no reason to think that the quality of Luke’s blogging will change. As the doctor put it: “You could stick Luke’s head under a bus and run over it countless times and this still wouldn’t lower the quality of Luke’s writing.” That’s a compliment, I think.
Update: Here is a picture of me after hearing that Luke is going to be okay. I told you I wasn’t fat.
August 25, 2004:
Do You Want To Marry Luke Ford?
Of course you do!
Oh, I suppose if you brainstormed for a hundred thousand million billion zillion years you might be able to come up with one lame reason not to marry Luke. But you don’t have the time. Your biological clock is ticking, and Luke isn’t getting any younger (or thinner) either.
Where to begin on your quest to become Mrs Luke Ford?
These days a (good) man is hard to find, and a (very good) man, like Luke Ford, is especially rare. To snare such a man will take lots of initiative, dedication, and saleswomanship. Let’s face facts, ladies. When it comes to romance, it’s a buyer’s market and you’re selling.
Preparation is the key. This means reading everything you can find on Luke Ford. I suggest beginning your research with the Luke Ford Seeks a Wife blog (recently renamed, for some indeterminate reason, “I’m Better At Getting Under Your Skin Than Scabies.”) Check out the July 18th post to see if you meet Mr Ford’s perfectly sensible requirements for a mate. For example, do you have a hip-to-waist ratio of 3:2? Do you have long, silky hair? Long arms and legs? A symmetrical face?
Yes? Good. Next, start building your personal Luke Ford library. Here is a short list of books that should be part of your collection:
1) XXX-Communicated: A rebel without a shul. This is Luke’s life story. The future Mrs Luke Ford should read this work forwards, backwards, sideways, everywhichway until it is committed to memory.
You may be saying, “But isn’t XXX-Communicated self-indulgent gibberish? Isn’t it full of poorly developed stories, cut and pasted IM conversations, and perverse sexual encounters? Surely it can’t be worth $30 (plus shipping and handling)?”
Ah, your frugality will serve you well in your new life as Mrs Luke Ford. And yes all these criticisms are well-founded. But read, and study, XXX-Communicated you must. Fortunately, Powell’s has a sale on XXX-Communicated in PDF format for just $4.80. Luke’s other new book The Producers is also just $4.80. Just think, you can purchase both XXX Communicated and The Producers for less than ten dollars. Wow, what a deal!
2) Reading Luke’s memoir will lead you to discover that Luke has a, um, “problem.” A mental problem, of sorts. Don’t worry. Virtually everyone has emotional baggage of some kind or other. Are you perfect? Didn’t think so.
To be more precise, Luke suffers from NPD (narcissistic personality disorder). You can read about his condition in a blog entry from Barefoot Jewess, who, I gather, knows/knew Luke intimately. Ms Jewess offers her considered analysis of Luke “Net Psycho” Ford:
And so, enter, “BigBad”. A well known, even infamous poster, blogger, “journalist”, “writer”. I find it rather amazing that so many of us can string a bunch of words together and that somehow that gives us status as “writer” …
To this day, I do not understand why suddenly, I entered a world inhabited by whackos (unless living in LA had something to do with it). And let me tell you, there are moments when the moniker “whacko” says it all …
The central thing to understand about pathological narcissists is that they have a “slippery inner narrative” (not my insight). Which means that they can create personalities and behaviours disassociated from themselves, certainly ones wherein they can let their rage loose, just like Amalek [Ford]. Why? Because they are faithless. Which means that they are loyal to nothing and no one but their image …
They are not in touch with anything about themselves because in essence there is nobody home. Severely pathological narcissists are very much like Amalek. Moreover, they can be dangerous to the mental health and life of others.
Pathological narcissists are emotional vampires. You find yourself doing all the work, in fact, filling in the emotional and human gaps for them …
When you are no longer of use to them, they discard you.
Don’t end up bitter and angry, like Ms Jewess. Instead, look for a good book on how to have a successful relationship with a sad soul who suffers from NPD. I’m afraid I have limited knowledge in this area. I did briefly check out Amazon.com and found a couple of books that might be worthy additions to your personal library:
3) Okay, let’s jump ahead. The big day has come and gone. Now you’re married. You’ve moved into the hovel. Woo hoo!
What next? Being a good wife. But what does this mean exactly? It means being respectful toward your man. The fabulous Laura Doyle explains all in her wonderful book The Surrendered Wife:
Respect the man you married by listening to him without criticizing him, insulting him, laughing at him or making fun of him. Even if you disagree with him, do not dismiss his ideas …
Respect means that when he takes the wrong freeway exit you don’t correct him by telling him where to turn. It means that if he keeps going in the wrong direction you will go past the state line and still not correct what he’s doing. In fact, no matter what your husband does, you will not try to teach, improve, or correct him …
Stop telling your husband what to do, what to wear, what to say and how to do things, even if you think you’re helping. As much as possible, mind your own business …
Your husband may make a pronouncement that sounds silly … the first step in respecting your husband’s thinking is to let him think out loud without criticizing, laughing at, dismissing, or insulting him.
Instead, say with as much kindness and sincerity as you can muster, “Whatever you think” when he is telling you his ideas. For instance, if he comes up with a nutty thought that he should change jobs, and this strikes terror in your heart, you say, “Whatever you think.” If he says he thinks the kids should learn how to ski, and this sounds dangerous to you, say, “Whatever you think.” If he says he thinks the two of you should go out to dinner, and you think you should save money and eat at home, say, “Whatever you think.”
What fabulously wonderful advice. I just have one quibble. Regardless of what your husband says, your response should be, “Whatever you think, dear.” Adding the “dear” on the end is more respectful, and I’m sure Luke will appreciate you for it. Remember, respect is the key to being Mrs Luke Ford, aka Surrendered Wife.
This is just a start. I’m sure that there are many other books that you will want to add to your library. For example, you may be interested in Home Comforts: The Art and Science of Keeping House, by Cheryl Mendelson, which teaches women how to run a home, or in this case, a hovel. In olden times, back in the ’50s, women didn’t need to read books about how to cook and clean for their menfolk. I’m referring to the 1350s, the good old days before women got all uppity and difficult. But there’s help at the bookstore. You just have to know where to look.
September 9, 2004:
Is Luke Ford a Genius? (Part 1)
When Luke Ford proudly announced a couple of months ago that he had an IQ of 185, I was somewhat taken aback. Okay, I was somewhat more than somewhat taken aback. It seemed an awfully high score for Mr Cut & Paste. Not that I thought Luke was lying. Of course not! I merely assumed that a gigantic mistake had been made somewhere. Perhaps one day at Seventh Day Adventist Sunday school, Luke’s class had been given an intelligence test, and as the teacher read out the results above all the din, racket, and mocking laughter, Luke misheard his score. 18.5 sounds a lot like 185, doesn’t it? Yes it does!
Nothing over the past few weeks caused me to question my theory: not Luke’s hyperactive blogging; not Luke’s memoir of his days as a p— journalist; and not Luke’s latest book, a meandering series of transcribed interviews with Hollywood producers. Well, nothing, that is, until the reviews for The Producers: Profiles in Frustration started to roll in.
First, a boy friend (not “boyfriend”), Roger Jacobs, slobbered all over Luke’s “massive exploration” on Amazon.com, coming up for air to say that one interview alone (Don Phillips) is worth the cover price. Jacobs’ suck-up ends: “The Producers: Profiles in Frustration is a piece of work that I would never thought an autodidact like Luke capable of, namely a book that is a must-read …”
I didn’t pay too much attention to Mr Jacobs’ review. Having been bombarded with emails from Luke demanding that I, too, write a five star review of The Producers for Amazon.com, I assumed that Mr Jacobs scribbled something quickly just to de-spam his inbox.
Now comes Jeffrey Wells. I have no idea who Mr Wells is, but his site looks very professional and he has a link on the Drudge Report. So I assume he must be pretty important. Imagine my surprise to read: “There’s a kind of low-key genius in Luke Ford’s The Producers: Profiles in Frustration …”
Oh my god, I thought, there’s another dude out there named Luke Ford who just wrote a book called The Producers: Profiles in Frustration! What are the odds of that?
Wells continues: “In a way you can almost feel The Producers: Profiles in Frustration taking flight inside you after you’ve finished reading it, like a bird.”
Wow, this other Luke Ford must be a wonderfully talented writer!
Wells: “Ford, an ace-level gossiper and story-teller (his website, www.lukeford.net …”
This is part two of three blog posts that will form the basis of my new book, Luke Ford: Genius or Retard, which will be published later this year by iUniverse Press. Surprisingly strong sales of the e-book versions of XXX-Communicated and The Producers reveal a huge demand for writings by, and about, Luke Ford. iUniverse has asked me to help serve this market with an unauthorised biography, generously offering an advance of $300,000. I agreed. Who says that there is no money to be made from blogging. And unlike Jessica Cutler, I don’t have to take my clothes off! Not that I’m opposed to nudism; in fact, like Rebecca Schoenkopf, I’m an enthusiastic exhibitionist. It’s just that no-one wants me to strip to help promote my book. Odd that. Speaking of my favourite nudist, Rebecca has agreed to write the Foreword, wherein she will make the case that Luke Ford is a retard, in addition to his many other failings. The rest of the book will consist of my argument to the contrary.
Jeffrey Wells’ claim that Luke Ford is a “genius” (see below) may seem implausible to many. I have to admit, it initially struck me as completely, totally, absolutely, and utterly absurd. But after much thought, I have come to see things differently. Please let me explain.
Over the past few weeks, I have been reading a great deal of Noam Chomsky, the MIT linguist and radical activist. Chomsky has been described by the New York Times as “arguably the most important intellectual alive.” According to the Chicago Tribune, he is the most cited living author (eighth all-time, trailing Freud and just ahead of Hegel and Cicero).
Although Luke Ford is not (yet) on the top ten list, there are many striking parallels between Chomsky and Horrid Boy. Chomsky and Ford are both handsome, charismatic moral leaders. Both are prolific writers (Chomsky of political pamphlets; Ford of narcissistic blog entries). Both are Jews (Chomsky real and self-loathing; Ford pretend and self-loving [figuratively and literally]). And both have numerous celebrity followers (Chomsky: Ben Affleck, Matt Damon, Bono; Ford: Raquel Devine, Heather Hornay, Fluffy Cumsalot).
But it’s the contrasts between the two that I will explore in part three of this series. These differences are profound. If I can show that Luke Ford is the superior thinker, and thus worthy of at least seventh place on the all-time list of intellectuals, can there be any doubt that Our Moral Leader is, in fact, a genius?
To be continued …
September 25, 2004:
Norman Geras Interviews One Of Luke Ford’s “Lady” Friends
Perhaps I’ve been overly influenced by Cathy Seipp’s fan blogger, because I half expected her to answer Norm Geras’ question “Who are your intellectual heroes?” with “Cathy Seipp!” I was relieved that she didn’t. Her list, although suspiciously short, is impressive enough. And yet someone is missing. Who could that be? Hmmm, let me think … Oooh I know, the seventh (at least) greatest intellectual of all-time: Luke Ford!
Miss Seipp’s appalling oversight disappointed and, frankly, hurt me (deeply). I’ve been putting off completing my “Is Luke Ford a Genius?” series of essays, and I suspect that this is the reason why Mr Ford was cruelly overlooked. I’ve searched the Internet and found, much to my surprise, that Chelseureka Paprika isn’t the only one who forgets to mention Our Moral Leader when these sort of lists are compiled. If only I’d kicked my ass last week and finished my argument that Mr Ford is a genius, I could have singlehandedly saved him from the public embarrassment and emotional anguish of being slighted by his supposed “best friend.”
Alas, I’ve been suffering my own emotional anguish these past few days. My $300,000 book deal with the once fabulous people at iUniverse Press has fallen through. Apparently there was a misunderstanding. I compared and contrasted Luke Ford with Noam Chomsky so often in my book proposal that the once fab people at iUniverse were left with the mistaken impression that I was planning to author … I mean write an unauthorised biography of Chomsky. When I explained that it was Luke Ford, not Noam Chomsky, who secretly directed a p___ video and was sixtysomething sexaholic Kitten Natividad’s toyboy, the once fab people at iUniverse inquired: “Who the f___ is Luke Ford?”
Me: “Only the most successful author … I mean writer at iUniverse Press!”
Once Fab: “Okay, we’ll look at his websites and get back to you.”
Me: “Cool!”
0.003 nanoseconds later, the once fab people at iUniverse Press called me and demanded their $300,000 back, which is something of a problem in light of the fact that I already spent it.
To celebrate my good fortune, I decided, using Luke Ford as my role model, to start hanging out with hookers, strippers, and elderly p___ stars. Big mistake. You see these women are very, um, materialistical, and it didn’t take them long to go through all my funds, what with all the diamonds, furs, and trips to Capri — not to mention booze and drugs — I was buying. Then, much to my surprise and disappointment, all my girlfriends left me! Bummer.
But I did find out why Luke Ford, despite being a best selling ebook author … I mean writer, is so poor. Considering the sort of “ladies” he socialises with, it’s a wonder that he isn’t in debtors prison. Further proof, I tell you, that Our Moral Leader is a genius!
October 17, 2004:
Luke Ford Made Me Cry
When one reviews a book, one should read said book before one critiques it, should one not?
Not necessarily. I don’t think I read a book cover-to-cover until I was 20 (or so). When I was a young, far from studious schoolboy and my English teacher assigned a book report, I would make up a novel in my head. This was much quicker than actually reading some stupid book. And it worked, too. Until, that is, I got caught and my teacher started questioning me all accusingly-like. Fortunately, I have a wonderful talent for being able to cry — with real tears — on command. So I pretended to cry.
Admittedly, I can be quite manipulative at times — okay, pretty much all the time. In fact, a couple of days ago, my mother said to me that I was the most dishonest person she’d ever met. She really said that. OMG! What a terrible thing to say to her own flesh and blood. I was so upset that I vowed then and there to stop being deceitful. I’ve made this promise before, but this time I meant it. From now on, I told myself, I will never tell another lie. So far so good.
Speaking of horrible people, I see Luke Ford has a new book. It’s like he’s got a freaking book factory down at the hovel. Every couple of week’s another tome comes off the Luke Ford conveyer belt. This one’s called Yesterday’s News Tomorrow: Inside American Jewish Journalism.
Obviously Luke has a system for writing books. Yesterday’s News Tomorrow is structured just like The Producers. It begins with “What They Said,” a series of quotations. Next, a couple of Luke’s “friends” contribute Foreword essays. Then comes the body of the work: a whole bunch of interviews, in this case with Jewish journalists (I think).
I don’t want to be mean but in accord with my new policy of being completely honest at all times, I would like to say something about the manner in which the book starts. Either Mr Ford thinks that he has so much credibility as a social commentator that he can afford a few jokes at his own expense, or he thinks that he has no credibility whatsoever and thus some nasty remarks can’t possibly do him any damage.
A reader not familiar with the Luke Ford œuvre may wonder what he got for his $35.95 (hardcover), $25.95 (softcover) or $6 (eBook) after reading comments like: “I don’t understand what you are doing here. Who’s your publisher?” (Rabbi Shmuley Boteach), or “Dear Mr. Ford: I do not wish to be included in your book. If there is anything negative about me or my family in your book you will hear from my attorney” (Rabbi Sheldon Zimmerman).
Such opening remarks don’t inspire a lot of confidence in Mr Ford’s stature as a player in the world of Jewish journalism. But they’re not nearly as damning as Robert Avrech and Matt Welch’s Forewords, which are brutal — totally, absolutely, heartbreakingly brutal. Poor Mr Ford, I thought. These are your friends and yet they write terrible things about you, such as:
Betrayal fascinates Luke Ford. It’s his life. Luke betrayed his father, a prominent Seventh Day Adventist minister, when Luke converted to Judaism. Luke betrayed his second “father” when he sacrificed his friendship with Dennis Prager to work on an unauthorised biography of his hero. Luke betrayed Judaism when he became lukeford.com, the preeminent journalist covering LA’s sordid, mob-infested p___ industry. Luke betrayed his Orthodox synagogue when he lied about his work and told the rabbi that he was a “freelance journalist who writes about crime for a Japanese magazine.”
OMG!
Then Matt Welch says:
I’ll never forget the first words Luke Ford ever spoke to me. “So Matt,” he said, shaking my hand. “What do you like to think about when you jack off?”
OMG!!
At this point I decided to put the book down and take a shower.
Upon picking up Yesterday’s News Tomorrow, I learned that, according to Matt Welch, Mr Ford is, allegedly, a serial liar, a failed actor, a p___ freak, a borderline racist …
OMG!!!
Again: these are Mr Ford’s friends. It’s all so sad. I couldn’t help myself. I started to cry.
Soon my tears of pain turned to tears of joy as I began reading all of Luke’s Jewish journalism interviews. Yep, every single one. I didn’t skip over any of them. Nope. Read ’em all. Unfortunately, I can’t remember what they were about so I won’t be able to summarise them here. But I do know that they are good, supergood. They are so moving that upon reading them — all of them — I felt like a bird had taken flight inside me (or something).
I’d love to chat about Luke’s new book some more. It’s good, supergood. All I can say is that it’s probably one of the best books ever! I’d put it right up there with the Happy Hooker by Xaviera Hollander (the first book I read cover-to-cover) and the Bible, which I haven’t read but I hear is good, supergood — just like Yesterday’s News Tomorrow.
Anyhoo, I have to run. I’m going to dinner with my mother. I think I’ll tell her about my new job: I’m a freelance journalist who writes about crime for a Japanese magazine. Honest.
October 10, 2004:
How About Some Moral Leadering?
When I decided to hitch my wagon to Luke Ford’s serial killer van, I did so in the expectation that soon I would be zooming toward fame, fortune, and enlightenment in Our Moral Leader’s slipstream.
Yet here I sit one year later and I swear we haven’t gone anywhere. No fame, no fortune, and no enlightenment. My once pretty John Edwardseque smile has long since turned into a pissy Dubyaesque scowl. Hey, you try sitting in a little wagon for a year and see how much you like it!
A couple of days ago I finally wandered over to the nearby newsstand in search of moral uplift. After carefully studying Playboy, Penthouse, and Big Black Butt magazines, I came across an inspiring article by P. David Hornik in the American Spectator on industrial animal husbandry and the ethical case for vegetarianism:
if we can get along (especially in light of modern nutritional science) just as well by eating tasty vegetarian dishes, what’s the justification for all that slaughter? Why not remove at least that much blood and violence from the world?
There is much biblical support for that outlook. In Eden before the Fall, Adam and Eve eat only the “herb bearing seed” and the “fruit of a tree yielding seed”; the animals have already been created, but there is no mention of killing and consuming them. We first hear about that only in regard to Abel, the keeper of sheep, when humanity is already in a fallen state. Indeed, after Eden the Bible allows meat-eating but takes it very seriously, giving the Hebrews the stringent regulations that are now known as the kosher laws …
Is this not the sort of writing that one should expect from the Luke Ford Family of Blogs™? Yes it is! And yet what we get are countless stories about the sexual transgressions of rabbis. Why? Voyeurism can’t be the answer. Obviously not! Our Moral Leader isn’t that kind of dude. I suppose his posts are intended as moral uplift by way of demonstration of what not to do. Yet the probability that I will convert to Judaism, become a rabbi, and start having sex with 12 year olds is, at best, 50:50.
Here’s a suggestion. Why doesn’t Mr Ford write about vegetarianism? This is one of his (many) areas of moral expertise. For instance, I understand that Seventh Day Adventists practice vegetarianism. Is this true? Is it for Biblical reasons? Was Jesus a vegetarian? If not, why not? What is the Orthodox Jewish position on factory farming? Did the ancient Hebrews practice genetic engineering on their livestock and give their pigs steroids? Is Mr Ford a member of PETA? If so, are PETA girls horribly skinny (like Ann Coulter) with disturbing stick-like arms and legs? I’m thinking maybe they are. Also, are they easy? During sex are they quiet (good) or do they prattle away about how Dr Atkins was 260 pounds when he died (bad)? Please help me!
October 11, 2004:
More To Love
Remember when Luke Ford was the Internet’s leading humourist?
“NO!”
Oh.
Well I do. Or at least I think I do. Admittedly its been awhile since Mr Ford was consistently funny. Something happened about six months ago. I’m not sure what, but I suspect that it might have something to do with Mr Ford’s stunning success as a book author. Riding tall in the saddle, he probably started to look down on the blogosphere and his little army of fans. “I’m too good for them,” he may have thought to himself. “Blogging is for losers. Blog reading is for even bigger losers. Suckers!”
Yet every so often, Our Moral Leader comes down from his high horse and using his brilliant book authoring intellect creates an amusing blog entry or two. I think my favourite Luke Ford genre is the sniffy review. This is where Mr Ford goes to a religious lecture — with a book to entertain himself during the boring bits — fidgets, rolls his eyes, and sighs deeply, before heading home to write up a critique. I don’t know why this amuses me so. But it does remind me of the old saying: “Those that can’t do, teach. Those that can’t teach, teach gym. Those that can’t teach gym, lecture about G-d. Those that can’t lecture about G-d, attend lectures about G-d, fidget, roll their eyes, sigh deeply, pull out a book, read during the boring bits, and then race home in their serial killer vans to write sniffy reviews for their blogs.” Really, it’s quite a popular saying.
My second favourite Luke Ford genre is the cut and pasted IM conversation with a busty babe. Consider, for example, this convo with put-upon “best friend” Miss Seipp:
Mr Ford: Darling, precious, how are you feeling?
Miss Seipp: Better but still coughing!
Mr Ford: ooooooh, poor boopie
Mr Ford: Are you sure you are not a C cup?
Miss Seipp: Not since I lost a few pounds
Mr Ford: ahh
Miss Seipp: Went to the Pacific Dining Car for breakfast this morning and saw Frank Luntz the Rep pollster.
And I thought I was lame and boring! It does wonders for my self-confidence to discover the mutual vapidity of these two.
Or consider the following IM exchange with another of Mr Ford’s intimates, “professional girlfriend” Ms Vicki:
Ms Vicki: yea i want to go into porn
Mr Ford: are you a dancer or escort?
Ms Vicki: Escort
Mr Ford: whoa
Ms Vicki: big girl right
Ms Vicki: i’m on a diet
Mr Ford: what is your height and weight and measurements?
Ms Vicki: 44DDD
After visiting Ms Vicki’s website things are starting to make sense. Miss Vicki lives with fellow “professional girlfriend” Ms Rose. Both are (very) sexy BBWs. Just think what happens when Our Moral Leader’s book royalty cheques roll in and he invites these two lovelies over to the hovel for some cuddling. Let’s look at the tale of the tape:
Ms Vicki: 5’6″ 287 lbs
Ms Rose: 5’9″ 352 lbs
Mr Ford: 5’5¾” 226 lbs
Combined these three lovebirds weigh in at 865 pounds. Now we know why Our Moral Leader sleeps on the floor: structural engineers have yet to design a bed that could support all that concentrated lovemaking.
I also have a new hypothesis as to why Mr Ford has not been as productive of late. Perhaps when rolling around on the floor with his voluptuous ladyfriends, poor Mr Ford got caught in an unfortunate position and his head was horribly squished. Six months later and his brain still hasn’t fully recovered.
Posted inPersonal|Comments Off on Luke Ford Fan Blog Archives From 2004
At a singles event organized by Dennis Prager in 2002, this Costa Rican legal assistant hit on me and we went out a couple of times. She later said her supervisor told her to go to this event but to avoid Orthodox Jews because “they only want to f*** you.”
Luckily, she met me and I was nothing but honorable.
Comment: I was once trapped in a small room for some time with nothing to read but a Judith Krantz novel. So I did, to stave off claustrophobia.
The naive shiksa protagonist, new to the city, told her more experienced shiksa friend that she wanted to have some fun, but was wary of getting tangled in a relationship. Her friend immediately advised her, “Fuck Jews!”
So she did. Even more than her friend.
Mrs Krantz is a Wellesley alumna. Think there might be some lingering issues there?
A quick look at the list of top political donors for 2014 reveals a striking fact: At least a third of the most generous 50 mega-givers were Jewish.
A quick look at the list of top political donors for 2014 reveals a striking fact: At least a third of the most generous 50 mega-givers were Jewish. In fact, contributions from Jewish billionaires and multi-millionaires dominated the top 10 spots on the list.
Striking, yet unsurprising.
Political activists have known for years that members of the Jewish community are over-represented in the field of political contributions.
And now, with the 2016 election cycle beginning to warm up, these Jewish donors are on the minds of all prospective candidates.
The 2014 list represents donors who were active between presidential election cycles. Some gave directly to parties, or candidates, but most of the money went to Super PACs, the main cash vehicle that will oil the wheels of the 2016 presidential campaign.
Conservative Pundit tweets: Sad to see Haaretz propagating tired anti-Semitic canards about the influence of Jewish money on American politics
Posted inAmerica, Jews|Comments Off on Meet the Jewish Billionaires Shaping the 2016 Presidential Election
While millions of Republican primary voters have chosen Donald Trump as the party’s nominee, Bill Kristol and a small but well-heeled group of Washington insiders are preparing a third party effort to block Trump’s path to the White House.
Their plan is to run a candidate who could win three states and enough votes in the electoral college to deny both parties the needed majority. This would throw the election into the House of Representatives, which would then elect a candidate the Kristol group found acceptable. The fact that this would nullify the largest vote ever registered for a Republican primary candidate, the fact that it would jeopardize the Republican majorities in both the House and Senate, and more than likely make Hillary Clinton president, apparently doesn’t faze Kristol and company at all. This is to give elitism a bad name.
One would think that the Trump opponents would have substantial reasons for pursuing such a destructive course. But examination of their expressed reasons shows that one would be wrong. Their chief justification for opposing Trump is that he is not a “constitutional conservative” and in fact is “without principles” and therefore dangerous. The evidence offered is that he has supported Democrats in the past and changed his positions on important issues.
Yet in seeking a candidate to carry their standard, the Kristol group has approached billionaire investor Mark Cuban, a figure uncannily similar to Trump. During the presidential election year 2012, the Hollywood Reporter noted that, “in February, billionaire sports and media mogul Mark Cuban was seen hugging Barack Obama at a $30,000-a-plate fundraiser for the president’s re-election bid.” Cuban was also a visible campaigner for Obama four years earlier. A fan of Obamacare, Cuban wrote a column for Huffington Post just before the 2012 election titled, “I would vote for Gov. Romney if he were a Democrat.”
…All these dishonesties and flim-flam excuses pale by comparison with the consequences Kristol and his “Never Trump” cohorts are willing to risk by splitting the Republican vote. Obama has provided America’s mortal enemy, Iran, with a path to nuclear weapons, $150 billion dollars, and the freedom to develop intercontinental ballistic missiles to deliver the lethal payloads. Trump has promised to abandon the Iran deal, while Hillary Clinton and all but a handful of Democrats have supported this treachery from start to finish. Kristol is now one of their allies.
I am a Jew who has never been to Israel and has never been a Zionist in the sense of believing that Jews can rid themselves of Jew hatred by having their own nation state. But half of world Jewry now lives in Israel, and the enemies whom Obama and Hillary have empowered — Iran, the Muslim Brotherhood, Hezbollah, ISIS, and Hamas — have openly sworn to exterminate the Jews. I am also an American (and an American first), whose country is threatened with destruction by the same enemies. To weaken the only party that stands between the Jews and their annihilation, and between America and the forces intent on destroying her, is a political miscalculation so great and a betrayal so profound as to not be easily forgiven.
What Horowitz is revealing is that there is a great divide coming among elite American Jews.
There are Jews who are globalists and Jews who are nationalists. The Jews who are globalists have got to go because they have led us astray and refuse to acknowledge their mistakes and they, like the Wall Street Journal’s Bret Stephens and Bill Kristol, are making common cause with Hillary Clinton.
The Jews who are nationalists are welcome to lead. There are Jews who are ex-Marxists — the neocons! — and those that are anti-Marxist like David Horowitz and Joel Pollak and Trump’s consigliere and Communist hunter Roy Cohn.
You’ll notice that the Jewish anti-Semites like John Podhoretz have been the ones attacking Trump supporting Jews first.
David Horowitz incidentally has been a great friend to me over the years. I have known him since I was 15 years old when I once worked for Alan Dershowitz. He is now a Trump delegate and I know he will have Trump’s ear on the issues that matter regarding world peace.
There’s a case to be made that Trump is to be our first Jewish president. His daughter Ivanka is a Jewess and has borne two Jewish children. So, too, may be his daughter Tiffany, who reportedly goes to Kabbalah. Trump was raised by Jewish allies of his father after his father got early onset Alzheimer’s, and if you listen closely, you can hear the rhythms of Yiddishness in his cadence.
What the neocons of the Bill Kristol variety fear most is a loss of access and with Trump they know they have no purchase. They fear alpha males taking over. They should have lost that access long ago.
But the alt right is wrong to see a Jew lurking behind every major American foreign policy failure of the last fifteen years. There are, after all, sometimes evangelicals who participated. I kid but only slightly.
What we should be looking to do is figuring out a way for the Trump Jews to reassert their rightful place in Judaism and in Jewish life. And fortunately they’ll find a home with Trump just as Trump’s daughter does. Indeed Trump’s daughter is connected to some of the more powerful Jews in New York through her husband but also through her love of Rabbi Menachem Mendel Schneerson.
The real Jews are starting to understand Trump’s power.
Sheldon Adelson — the alpha Jew — makes no bones about being an Israel firster and there’s indeed something honest about that. He loves his people — the Jews — and he will back Trump with $100 million only to the extent that he thinks his people will benefit.
Lurking underneath the support of Hillary Clinton over Trump by some of the more secular and left-wing Republican Jews is the following question: Have these missionary wars really been good for the Jews? Undoubtedly they have not been. They have wasted our time, our treasure, and our will on savage Afghans and Arabs.
Making America Great Again makes the world safe for Jewry.
David Horowitz was right to call Bill Kristol on his bullshit.
Posted inJews|Comments Off on David Horowitz: Bill Kristol: Republican Spoiler, Renegade Jew
In this May 15 lecture, Rabbi Dr. Aaron Rakeffet-Rothkoff calls Donald Trump the next president of the United States. “The [New York] Times are having a field day shooting at Trump…”
Posted inDonald Trump|Comments Off on The Next President Of The United States
* This is what it’s like to live under a hostile elite.
I’ve never seen a Hunger Games movie or book but I know the plot line of Psycho Hostile Elite in Capitol City dominating the powerless who reside everywhere else (very North Korean btw).
This is the future they have planned for the little people.
Anyway we are in the early phase. Very Stalinesque these relocations of mass populations. As Steve has documented the elites are forcibly reclaiming urban core real estate all over the country. It’s part and parcel of the Liberals dumping liberalism for neo-Leftism. No more Mister Nice Guy when it comes to low IQ violent minorities. Just eject them.
But there’s a fly in the ointment. The urban cores are the high value targets for terrorism, bioweapons and yes nukes.
* One bug/feature of this plan is that the suburbs are, geographically, vast. Core land, near the office towers and opera houses, is inherently scarce, while increasing your radius increases your land area by a square power. It’s a simple law of geometry.
Which is to say, you don’t actually have to trash all your suburbs by parachuting in poor, dysfunctional residents evenly across the region. You simply have to threaten havoc indeterminately across a wide enough range of targets for the county executives in Westchester and Nassau to come to their senses and offer up enough sacrificial neighborhoods / school districts in which to build the new public high-rises. The really important suburbs can thus be spared. And the better-located towers near the Brooklyn Navy Yard, etc., can then be repurposed.
* Alcoholics have a name for this kind of delusion; the geographic cure, the erroneous idea that merely by moving you can solve all your problems. Reality is pathologies invariably are part of the package of us all. Which has been the experience with those cities like Chicago who knocked down the projects and found the crime of the former residents merely spread out thanks to Section 8.
At a loss how moving to suburb would make anyone more accessible to public transportation nor jobs, spare lawn care, construction trades and kitchen help.And in suburbia those jobs are often filled by illegals. There is no public transportation in Westchester County, NY spare sporadic bus service and commuter trains back into NYC.Nobody moving out there is moving closer to a job.
* Poor people impose negative externalities on those around them. It follows that they should live near as few people as possible. Within NYC, that means distant suburbs, not densely populated Brooklyn.
* Old conventional wisdom: The suburbs are a byproduct of dumb housing policy. The suburbs are soul-deadening. The suburbs are bad. The suburbs are finished.
New conventional wisdom: We must move the underprivileged to the suburbs.
* The current policy, of subsidizing poverty in expensive cities, makes no sense, but this Obama initiative makes even less sense. At least if you live in a poor neighborhood in Brooklyn you can commute to a job at Starbucks in a more expensive part of town, and have a shot at applying for a decent-paying government job at the department of sanitation or something. In Westchester, your odds of getting either kind of job would be lower.
In the suburbs, poor NAMs have to compete with middle class WAs for Starbucks jobs; in NYC, the middle class WAs are drawn to higher-end retail jobs, leaving more room for NAMs at big chains.
A better idea would be to go in the opposite direction: base the Section 8 stipend on the national average. Then the poor would migrate to states with low costs of living, like Mississippi. Those states are also magnets for manufacturing, due to their low cost of living and lack of unions. Trump’s trade policies would drive more manufacturing there.
* Why not just move all the violent dindus on to reservations? It’s basically what Chicago did to its human urban blight by sending them out to Rockford and Dubuque.
* Barack Obama has been stymied by a Republican held House of Representatives for the past 6 years. He and all his liberal supporters believe these reactionaries stand in the way of the progressive agenda to perfect America. The best way to eliminate this reactionary influence in American politics is to resettle solid Democratic voters in suburban Republican districts. The wealthy whites who settle in places like Brooklyn will keep Brooklyn Democratic, while the African Americans settled in Westchester will make Westchester more Democratic. Do this all over the country, and Republicans slowly but surely begin to lose House seats. Why aren’t Republicans this crafty?
* The objective is to create Suburban Bantustans, where the residents/inmates will be isolated from the metro core and its billionaire playgrounds. To the designers, the lack of public transport access is a feature, not a bug. In their view, most Section-8ers don’t have jobs anyway and the few who do can easily and cheaply be backfilled with a compliant illegal.
Posted inBlacks, Crime, Diversity|Comments Off on Subsidizing America’s Poor So They Can Move To The Surburbs
"This guy knows all the gossip, the ins and outs, the lashon hara of the Orthodox world. He’s an [expert] in... all the inner workings of the Orthodox world." (Rabbi Aaron Rakeffet-Rothkoff)
