It's possibly the one event where you could tap a neighbor on the shoulder and deadpan, "Would you please shove this hot poker in my ass and take a picture?" and not get beaten senseless for it. Hell, it may even get you a date. Hungry freaks of all shapes and sizes come out to the annual San Francisco shindig known as the Exotic Erotic Ball. Usually

deal. The featured acts included War, King Norris from the Howard Stern Show, San Francisco-faves Creeper Lagoon and Swarm, porn impresario Matt Zane, the delicious Shane and Shanna McCullough, samba groups Pandemonium and Aguas de Bahia, dancers from Encore, the Gold Club and Mitchell Brothers, and let's not forget to mention master of ceremonies Nina Hartley. And then perhaps to bring us all back to earth, the antithesis of everything easy on the eyes--Lemmy and Motorhead. Got to love Lemmy. One

Small And Go features some nifty collaborations with The Dust Brothers (famous for their work with the Beastie Boys), looks like a band on the brink of serious national attention. Samba group Pandemonium may have solidified my plans to hit the next Rio Carnival. King Norris proved to be devastatingly average.

Backstage was a clusterfuck, unfortunately not of the literal kind. TV crews cornered giant Santas with five foot glow in the

exotic, sometimes quite erotic, and definitely one of the better people-watching events you're ever going to attend. At what other 20,000-plus person event could you go to a coat check and leave everything except the cock ring and your Polaroid? More importantly, where do you keep the extra film?

This years bash, the 20th, was the second held in the 50,000 square foot Cow Palace (please, no bestiality jokes), with three full halls of debauchery. It was huge, almost too huge. Looking out into the main hall, the vastness gave the illusion of only being half full, if you were looking at the seats. But the floor of the main hall was packed and humping to whatever was thrown on the stage in front of them.

And that turned out to be a pretty good

look at him and you'll want to start a band too. Remember the world before MTV? Before you had to look like a Backstreet Boy to get in a band and get chicks? But I digress.

There was also the other master of ceremonies, Paul Nathan, although the only memorable thing he did was introduce Marilyn Chambers as the star of Deep Throat. Whoops. Very, very smooth. You know that moron where you work that makes you think to yourself, "How the fuck did he get this job?" Same thing.

Of the on-stage talent, War definitely got the loudest response as the grand finale. Lemmy addressed the crowd in his own inimitable way, "We are Motorhead. And we are here to kick your ass," and then they did, in ear-bludgeoning fashion. Creeper Lagoon, whose latest album I Become

dark dicks and presidents with stained-dress love dolls hanging from their crotches. I learned what it's like to be in the middle of a paparazzi massacre when Dennis Rodman, complete with stripper entourage, arrived in a 20-foot stretch limo.

A similar massacre, although not nearly as big, greeted Andy Dick (of News Radio fame), who was backstage doing his own interviews. He later went on to become the only person in the history of the show to look repulsed when offered the chance to worship Ms. Hartley's ass.

As always, the audience showcase of Mr. and Ms. Exotic Erotic and the costume contest were big hits. Way too many dick costumes to mention, and wouldn't you know it, the biggest one ("The Magic Johnson") won. The Ms. Exotic Erotic

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