All right, bitches, I won’t sugarcoat it:

Rome is burning.

Lately, I’m looking at everything — everything — around me and finding it all fucked-up. Mass hysteria has set in. I wouldn’t trust this clown car cast of Republican Presidential hopefuls to give me a passable handjob, much more pull this nation out of decline. All I could do this past Saturday as I beheld international recording sensation Lana Del Rey performing a song on SNL about a chick apparently getting cock-blocked by frickin’ video games while looking like a doped-up cocker spaniel and sounding like an IBM computer that got roofied was think how much dick she had to take to get that record deal. Why is Smirnoff employing a glorified replicant hooker as their spokesmodel? Was Denise Richards busy? Half the cast of Jersey Shore has book deals under their belts, and the other half is presumably preparing albums of spoken word poetry.

I feel like the misanthropic offspring of a doomed one-nighter between Travis Bickle and Tyler Durden, neither paying my ass a dime in child support.

Even gay porn, which used to provide me a shameful thrill and carefree break from reality has been leaving me feeling hollow. Is it that as the condoms have come off the star quality has diminished exponentially? Maybe it’s that the newest title in my library is from 2004? Could it be that I’m sick to my dick of all the callow Timmys, Tobys, Colbys, Kellys, and Rileys whose names end with naughty, naughty boy Y vowels?

Anyway, I was reminded of everything excruciating that currently plagues the medium last week upon receiving an email press release via Cybersocket. Now, there’s nothing more transparently self-serving than a press release, but this bitch — which was blasted to millions of addresses — took the cake. Apparently, some twink named Riley Price is — No! Please! Don’t say it!” — retiring and leaving a huge hole in our collective consciousness. Stop. The. Fucking. World.

The hell are they talking about?, I mused, slack-jawed, as I read this incredible piece of tripe. “WTF!? Who gives a shit!?” my esteemed colleague David K. emailed. What we encountered was akin to the Pethouse Plaything confessional sequence from Amazon Women On The Moon, and I’m still laughing out loud.

Prepare yourselves to believe again.

I can’t even convey how little Riley Price — sounds like a Little Rascal or something — means to me on a basic human level, so little in fact that I can’t even be bothered to research him. Years back Esquire did a hoax feature devoted to a fictional model named Allegra Coleman (actually then-unknown Ali Larter) as the next-big-thing nobody had even heard of, so it’s possible that Riley is just an invention. Hell, he could be a photo composite of any number of generic, dead-eyed A&F models for all I know or care.

The only entertainment value to be gleaned from this mess in my inbox is the hilarious po-faced tone — as if Streisand or Garbo were calling it quits and going into isolation — combined with unbelievable douche Riley’s lunatic self-aggrandizement. “We never thought we’d see the day when a top porn star would willingly walk away from a successful career, but that’s exactly what Riley Price is doing. Today he officially announced his upcoming retirement from adult performance. Although Riley’s fans will undoubtedly be sad to see him go, they can take solace in the fact that he’ll be even more active behind the camera as he directs and manages his website…”

I’ve taken the liberty of picking out the best parts.

Riley on the crippling burden of fame and the transcendent power of re-invention:

“This has been a long time coming. I’ll still be doing LIVE shows. It’s just that performing with other models will cease. I need to focus on producing. I think I have proven myself as a performer. I’m ready for the next chapter and a new challenge. I want to be the best producer in gay porn. I can be it, too – but I’ve come to the realization that I can’t spread myself so thin. I care about the big picture now. This isn’t about Riley Price anymore, it’s about the life of a company. The Riley Priceless site is like my child. And it’s gotten to the point where I just want more. Performing feels old to me. It’s time to change the direction of my life. This is just a case of my heart, soul, and body all saying, ‘You’ve done porn performance. Now let’s try something different. It’s time to move on.’”

You always know you’re in for something seriously batshit when a trick refers to himself in the third person.

Riley on being a trail-blazer:

“It’s important for me that when people sit or stand to watch porn one day they say, ‘Yeah, he’s good. But he’s not Riley Price.’ I’ve earned that. People might think I’m a bit bold for saying that, and that’s fine. But I think it was Madonna who said, ‘I’m tough, ambitious, and know what I want. If that makes me a bitch, okay.’ Madonna has been a huge fire in my heart. I know it sounds queeny and cliche, but it’s the simple truth. Ask anyone that knows me.”

Jesus, I’d ask somebody to stick a dick in his mouth, but I’m convinced he’d still go on with the talking.

Riley on the heartbreak of sex symboldom:

“I have a heavy conscience. Everyone around me knows it. Aside from taking on production full-time, I am doing this because I want to have a boyfriend. A normal one who would care if I was performing with other men. I have been around infidelity. To perform and have a boyfriend – I’m not cool with, unless he was a porn star himself. But I’m not going down that road again. We all know how that one turned out, and that took a lot out of me. I got over it and I’m not doing that again. I wasn’t treated right, and that wasn’t right. That hurt. When I am with someone and I love them, I give them everything. I am as invested in them as they are in me. I have been burned a few times, and I don’t want to do that to anyone myself. I am a fan of loyalty. And as long as I stand, I always will be.”

Two dicks! Please! Can we try two dicks?!

Riley on life after gay porn exceptionalism:

“It’s much more relaxing. I work, edit, jog and listen to a lot of music. I’m also not afraid to eat an ice cream cone anymore.”

Pull the goddamned curtain down. The Wizard is dead. I’m hoofin’ it back to Kansas.

Riley on his muse Jason Sechrest…and the art of being Riley Price:

“He’s been the Phil Jackson to my Michael Jordan. He’s helped to improve me. He makes my life better, and he makes me feel protected. He calls me and I feel really good. It wasn’t easy to leave where I came from, but Jason really pushed me and took me further. He’s been a friend just as much as a manager. If you wanna be Riley Price – and you can be – just contact Jason. He’s my guy. Riley Price really respects J.”

Don’t fret, Riley. It’s time for the little bird to spread its wings and fly free from the nest. We mere mortals will get by. Somehow. Don’t do. Riley. Just be.

Just be..

© 2012, Shawn Baker. All rights reserved. Nightcharm.com