I’m Troy Moreno. You may recall me from such videos in Machofucker,
Maskurbate, Desperate Householes 2, and Break-in Motel or,
more vulgarly via Internet pirates and tube sites, “BBC”,
“Negro”, “black stud”, “black thug”,
“preto”, “negão” and other anonymous, two-bit racial
hang-ups. I don’t do porn but, like you, I watch it and I’ve noticed a very peculiar
thing: like pop hits – at least the Top 40 – porn has gotten motherfucking
redundant right down to the faces. Correction: especially down to the faces!
It used
to be there were styles . . . nuances that set studios apart, appealing to
differences that make up the world around us. Then again, it used to be a lot
of things. With so few – or diminishing – differences in our worlds (because we
increasingly live in self-affirming cyber pockets) one can argue entertainment
is a natural casualty. After all, if television executives can’t, or won’t, do
much better than silly reality shows ad nauseam, then why expect more from
pornographers? To put it in context, a funny thing happened to me not too long
ago. While visiting a particular porn site I, momentarily, thought I had
entered the wrong address. It’s gotten so that I can’t discern a real
distinction between Timtales.com and Fuckermate.com — apart from the camera
work and logos. (But, hey, if that is as good as it gets, then it ain’t saying
much.)
Compare
the archives and there are the same guys fucking the same guys in the same way.
Is it one studio or two? It’s hard to say. And it is not a question of another
new face in the overly rapidly produced updates (because you know as well as I
do that he’s bound to get overexposed in two months’ time) but, rather, putting
out real differences altogether. For starters, an actual cast of porn stars
instead of the frequently scooped up Grindr fuck-me-and-forget-me-nots would be
good. Those star performers, in turn, require a story to show off their star
quality. Otherwise the models appear as adrift and unremarkable as Howard
Hughes’ aerial fight sequences in Hell’s Angels before he added the
backdrop of clouds and mountains to reinforce the action. But, hey, what is a
storyline, to say nothing of plot and characters, when the scene is projected
in HD and 4K and every other technical clarity to impress? Besides, dude has a
big dick! And…so…? He’s supposed to be lugging a big dick: he’s in porn.
Porn is full of big dicks and tempting asses. And, anyway, every anonymous
pervert with a camera and Internet access posts pictures of his thing. But
where are his other star qualities – selling points – besides the donkey
appendage —- and hailing from Latin America (but that’s another article altogether)?
For
instance, does he dance? Does he ride a motorbike or play an instrument? Can he
act or do impressions or gymnastics? Does he cum multiple times? Can he do
push-ups with that dick or fold laundry with his ass? Hell, to look at the
recurring models on the two websites mentioned I have to wonder does he even
eat — or is homeboy holding out for brittle skinny to come in style??
From
tops to bottoms, Timtales and Fuckermate share more than just a post code. Same
models with same demographics doing the same wham-bam-thank you ma’am playbook.
Porn is the new Sunday mass: so predictable you can set your watch to it. One
knows what to expect and when to expect it. I get more surprises from watching
Scooby-Doo re-runs.
Maybe
the sticking point has to do with who is cast (and, specifically, the policy of
redundant casting!). Maybe the rushed format of weekly video updates is, well,
saturating. The dearth of any real, relatable fantasies is an obvious culprit -
boy meets boy is more…interesting than porn star meets porn star —- again -
and maybe, too, porn studios suffer from their own rigid typecasting. Alas,
some finger-wagging has to be directed at the directors, themselves, since the
production value, per se, of the weekly updates is none too lacking. Their
videos are, indeed, glossy, well-lighted and crisp. They’re just,
unfortunately, glossy, well-lighted and crisp of more of the same.
It’s not
that I’m jaded. I’m simply looking to be entertained. Surely the talent pool of
gay ass multicultural Barcelona extends deeper than three nationalities and ten
to twelve faces.
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