Balk Porn and the Case of the Purloined Proposal [Updated]

Got an email this past weekend in reference to this post. Came from an individual who read Gould's proposal in its entirety. Last weekend, a few folks end up at a bar, gather around a table, and one attendee pulls multiple copies of the proposal from her purse. Said copies are passed around, read, and readers find themselves "collectively aghast at its bone-shattering awfulness." Reportedly, it's "painful" to read. Supposedly, Gould as recently as a week ago declared she wouldn't be writing a memoir because writing 8,000 words about herself was too depressing, and she couldn't imagine writing 80,000 words about herself. I guess this is the part in the post where I'm supposed to say something insightful, but the only thing I can think to say is just because it sucks doesn't mean it won't sell for $250K-plus in a matter of days. I guess that's the breaks when the idiots are driving the clown car.

Updated: Another anonymous emailer who was present for the proposalakkake concurs: "I was there when that book proposal came out. And I'll tell you with remorse, as someone who has been trying to stick up for Emily: it's abysmal. It makes me sad."

Related: "I Have a Book Proposal in My Pants."

From Talking Penises to Clearcutting Vaginas: The Alex Balk Story

Balk counters recent rumors regarding his sexual orientation by obsessing about "vagina-deforestation."

"Do you really want to live in a world where Denise Richards' vagina goes untrimmed?"

Whatever you say about Balk, you can't say he doesn't care.

Next Week? No More "Sex and the City" Posts. Maybe.

I got: "You are a madam. Congratulations. You know your whores."

Also, do we need to, like, start a fund? To, like, pay for Balk to be waxed?

I worry about the poor fellow. What with the summer coming. You know.

Whoregate

While the Spitzergate shit continues to hit the proverbial fan, my personal feelings are probably best summed up with an exchange I had with Siege earlier today, in which I said something to the effect of: Men fuck whores. Who cares. The thing I suppose I find mildly fascinating is how everyone knows this, but everyone uses morality debates to disguise the reality of America's relationship to the story, which is: We are curious. And that is human. Fascinatingly, one of the most insightful and moving pieces of writing on Whoregate came from none other than Alex Balk. (Although, one cannot help but wonder what My Cock would have to say on the matter. My Cock?) Oh. I forgot something. Thanks to all the Newsweek readers who have sex with prostitutes for sending me their letters from johns.

I guess what I’m saying—or not saying—is who the hell knows why we do what we do? One of the five people whom I consider vastly more intelligent than myself once told me his theory that human beings “nearly always end up working out traumas and rejections and fears in their sexual desires,” and I don’t doubt the essential truth of that. Why did Eliot Spitzer screw whores? Maybe it had to do with all those Monopoly games. I don’t know and I don’t care; the only thing this story proves to me, once again, is how badly we fuck ourselves up when it comes to sex. At the end of the day it’s probably just easier to say “My cock made me do it.” You don’t have to look at any of the deeper causes that way. Which just seems like a tragedy for everyone.