Warning!: an epidemic of cornholing-for-cash is upon us.

If you’re young, gay, and/or hard up for bucks, you may very well fall prey to whoring married men and lecherous geezers who are rabid for cock.

Alexyss K. Tylor — cable access hostess of the Atlanta-based Vagina Power and YouTube sensation — is ready to bust some ass wide open and expose the urban skin trade … with a vengeance!

Alexyss (you know you’re in for something good just based on that spelling) is a modern kind of gal who teaches us that our gonads are essential factors in our self-actualization.

She reminds me of a Liberal Arts school sociology professor and that lady in Times Square who warns me that the Rapture is nigh. Alexyss seems fueled by a perfect balance of anger and highly-functioning craziness.

I’ve encountered plenty of broad daylight freak-outs and I can say there’s often a grain of insight or even brilliance under all the mania. Alexyss doesn’t need a tin foil hat to get her message across; hers is an unintentionally yet blistering comical genius, part self-help, part gutter talk. If S.C.U.M Manifesto scribe Valerie Solanas had an outlet like this, she might not have tried to assassinate Andy Warhol.

La Tylor’s all-time showstopper has got to be Alexyss K. Tylor’s Warning To Gay Boys (above), a cautionary public service seminar/diatribe that became a massive YouTube hit during the month of August. The Nightcharm staff still continues to watch it each morning with their coffee — as new insights are gleaned with each fresh viewing.

What’s Ms. Tylor’s thang? Imagine a distaff Dolemite performing an All-Male XXX spoken word reading of Neneh Cherry’s trash-talking “Buffalo Stance” as she psychically channels every Flavor of Love contestant as highlighted on E!’s The Soup.

And while the written word can never hope to do Alexyss’ delivery justice, it’s an honor for me to present you with the Nightcharm staff’s Top Ten Favorite Alexyss K. Tylor Gay Men Warnings/Moments.

Yes we’ve cataloged and commented on each of these mind bending, eye-opening, life-affirming bon mots courtesy of our favorite Vagina Monologuer:

(10) “You got the wealthy white men that will come into a black neighborhood or whatever– that will pick up these young black boys and screw them all in they asses and go home to they wives! They have an addiction to having these black boys fill ‘em up with black dick!”

Alexyss doesn’t just get in your face when it comes to dick. She gets all up in it.

There are red flags that signal you may be addicted to hot beef injections. Have you developed callouses from using dumpsters as leverage while some guy with prison tattoos tenderizes your haunches?

Are you affectionately known on the street as “Turnstile” or “On Ramp”? Do you average more than four post coital alleyway Coke bottle douches a week? If so, it’s half-past intervention time for you.

(9)“They feel the ejaculation gratification because they cummin’ and leave these black boys where they found ‘em, give ‘em three or four dollars or a damn crystal snack or somethin’.”

We all have goals, but are hard work and discipline enough to realize them? Probably they are, but that requires a lot of effort, so fuck it. I’m not working for the Man. If success is all about knowing opportunity when it knocks, then think about all those opportunities you let slip away every time a stranger rolls down his car window and offers you a wad of ones or a hit of Crystal meth for a grunt session in his back seat?

Nobody plans to be a whore — it just happens. Maybe you got rejected by eHarmony, failed the Army’s psych profile, or you need subway fare. Either way, anonymous sex is a serious problem, unless it can help you get what you want. Then you’re upwardly mobile and oversexed. It’s the American Dream.

(8) “And these boys runnin’ all up in they mouths and bendin’ ‘em over and dominatin’ ‘em and bustin’ they assholes out! And they fell satisfied, they feel rejuvenated.”

So if feeling fulfilled, powerful, and euphoric isn’t your thing, then don’t pay someone for sex. Have a real and meaningful marriage where your sense of dignity and independence will slowly be eroded to nothing over many years until a divorce lawyer demands half your income. That’s the sort of screw job God intended.

(7) “And they got these signs like ‘I will work for food’. They will fuck for food! They will! They’ll suck a dick for some food! They’ll suck a dick for some money! And they out there rationin’ out the dick!”

A nosediving housing market, outsourcing, layoffs, Thousand Years War, rising health care costs, and an energy crisis are putting us all one step closer to the intersection of Crackwhore Boulevard and Hustler Row every minute. Figure by 2015, every man who’s able to sit or stand for more than thirty minutes will have been drafted. We may all be sucking dick for something at this rate. I’ve already passed by signs declaring “Tug Jobs For Tuition” and “Double Penetrate A Former Attorney General” on my way home tonight.

(6) ” ‘I just like to suck dicks. And I will suck yo’ dick! For whatever you give me!’ There was no particular amount that he had in mind. ‘Whatever you can scrape together. I likes to sucks dicks!’ That’s what this young, good-looking boy who you’d never know was gay told my friend. And I was like ‘Damn!’ “

OK, I’m gonna level with you: there are three things we’re all going to do in our lives at least once, even if we’re afraid to admit them in public. Everyone will kill a stranger and get away with it. We’re all going to accidentally sleep with a family member. And everyone last of one us will charge someone to ride our ride.

I’m already two for three and I haven’t hit thirty yet. I’m not condoning selling your body because you’ll A) Enjoy it and B) Rake in the cash. That’s just crazy talk. Sure, it can fill that yawning chasm in your self-esteem, like the kind that makes me start all those fires. It will make you cooler and more popular, especially if you start young. The point is, if you’re gonna put out, set a firm price. Your street value ain’t getting any higher.

(5) “I guess they got little baskets in they pockets, holdin’ up signs saying they will suck-a-dick-up-until-they-hiccup! For a fee! Or just a piece of bread or a sammich or somethin’! See, it’s got to that point!”

This lady needs a nationally syndicated talk show that airs at 4 p.m. just in time for the kids to get home from school. She doesn’t trigger seizures like Tyra Banks. She’s at least as qualified as Dr. Phil. She’s less bent on world domination than Oprah. I hope that all her catchphrases like “hittin’ the walls”, “layin’ pipe”, “workin’ the middle”, “bustin’ assholes out”, and the astounding half-spoken, half-scatted “Suck-a-dick-up-until-they-hiccup” will become part of the public lexicon.

(4) “Man, it would just fulfill all they dreams if they could get one o’ them young boys around the corner. They act like they half bent-up and feeble and shit, got arthritis and they can’t hardly walk! Let one o’ them young dicks come around! They pull that tobacco out they jaw and put that whole dick up in they mouth! Forget that walker! Take that knee brace off! And bend over on the bed and let them young boys fuck ‘em all in they ass!”

There’s a study that took place somewhere conducted sometime by someone who may exist that revealed the frightening numbers relating to sexual exploitation by the elderly. Gay men age 18-30 stand an 85% chance of being enticed by hordes of marauding elderly men.

OK, I’m not saying the geriatrics are bad. They’re just an amoral, predatory menace out to violate our firm, nubile bodies. At rest they have the morals of alley cats; when aroused they have the strength of grizzlies. So take it from someone who’s learned the hard way: the next time a kindly old gent approaches you on the street to ask for directions or to help him through the crosswalk, sweep his legs and beat him down.

Don’t be a statistic.

(3) “These old men wearin’ these damn Depends Pampers! And they wearin’ these Pampers ’cause they assholes done fell out! They bottoms have been knocked out ’cause they had so many damn huge goddamned King Kong dicks up they ass!”

It’s the well-kept secret that the Adult Diaper industry doesn’t want you to know: having King Kong-sized shaft constantly crammed up your cavernous chute takes its toll. Our grandparents are now paying the price. The reckless sodomy of yesteryear has left many a once tight-as-a-drum tingler worn out and ragged. You think all those kindly old ladies in those Depends ads got that way by accident? Those are some rode-hard bitches.

Millions of anally promiscuous baby boomers are set to retire. Their threadbare tails are going to need the added security and that dime’s coming out of your pocket and mine. And what about all the prolific porn stars who’ll someday move into their twilight years after decades of selfless ass pumping? Will there be retirement homes for them, much less the constant supply of bladder control products they’ll so desperately need? Will there?

Truly they are the greatest generation.

(2) “You got a lotta women that got bowel problems too ’cause they takin’ damn big dicks up they ass, whole damn yards of dick all up in they assholes trying to compete with white girls and trying to compete with the gay boys!”

Well that’s what you get when you try to keep up with the Joneses. Rear-ending is a sacred contract between two or more who might be on a first-name basis. Straight people are making a mockery of it.

Keep in mind that Alexyss’ matronly co-host is actually her own mother (!?). Watch as she offers up only a modicum of interjection as Alexyss lets the filth fly, appearing either deeply mortified or half-asleep. Few of us would be so nonchalant about unleashing a barrage of smut upon our Mommies, but Alexyss is too busy keeping it real to dial it down for anybody.

I’m vowing to do the same to my Mom the next time she starts with the sass back. I dream that these two will have their own sitcom called Bustin’ Out! where they play thinly-veiled cover-ups of themselves who help people with their personal problems. Their Guy Friday would be Billy Dee Williams. Alexyss’ mortal enemy: Jackee Harry.

(1) “Everybody’s takin’ dick up they ass!…Except me. Now I can’t…I don’t wanna try that right there…I just talk about this, I’m not bold enough to go there.”

I’m not sure if she’s protesting too much or not. Her Secret Garden could be dewy fresh or it could have a tramp stamp above it that reads “Rocco’s Rumble Room”. Only Rocco knows for sure.

For me, it’s a constant war of nerves between those two nagging voices in my head, the one that says “Throw your legs open like it’s the Sale of the Century!” and “Consent, schmonsent!” and the other that urges “What about our tenth grade abstinence pledge?!” and “But we’re going to Jesus Camp this summer!”.

The best solution I’ve found is to be a heat-seeking tramp in private, then claim I’ve only heard about wanton man-wrangling secondhand. I think all of us can agree that we each have some kind of shameful, sexy double life that we live in fear will be revealed to our judgmental and unforgiving peers.

And by all of us, I mean all of you, not all of me.