Our latest offering of obscenity is smeared across these 96 pages like a bad outbreak of genital warts. So indulge yourself in this monthly disease that we all love to call Exotic Magazine.

The Jim Goad Experience--Lesbians, Kiddie Porn, & Extortion
First off, I just want to remind all of you...this is all Goad's fault, man! A lesbian friend of mine smacked me last
week because she thought I was responsible for last month's much-adored "What's with all the Lesbians?" feature. And I can't tell you how many compliments I received on the porn-by-children article, not to mention its lovely inset visuals. OK, maybe they weren't compliments. Apparently, someone out there is trying to exploit our editorial content in all
it's questionably disturbing glory in an attempt to scare our faithful advertisers right off of our filthy little pages. Kind of funny when you think about it. The porn-by-children feature was not about child porn, but in fact children who direct and produce pornography. Also known as a FUCKIN' PARODY!!! Same goes for most of our content these days. But then there were the goddamned lesbians! Now personally, I've never had any problems with lesbians. I mean, they keep to themselves, and as I see it, this means that there are that many less women out there that could potentially fuck with my life. BUT BI-SEXUALS?!!! THAT'S A WHOLE DIFFERENT STORY ALTOGETHER! Leave it to a woman to be so indecisive that she can't even figure out if she wants the hard stiff one or the carpet-lickin' casserole. Maybe it's not indecision; maybe it's greed. Bisexuals are the ultimate control freaks. They want it all, man...your best friend, your girlfriend, your boyfriend, his sister, and most importantly, they want whomever you want. What's with the bisexuals? Perhaps it's our entire fault. I mean, it's the ultimate fantasy to get it on with two hot babes at the same time, right? You're rollin' around on the sheets with your head buried in her crotch while her little sister is servicing your plumbing. Sounds great, and yeah, sure, I've been down this road before and lived to tell the tale. But these little trios are ultimately cursed. Either you're gonna fuck one of 'em better than the one you were supposed to be focused on, or they might just decide they'd rather slurp on the pink taco than having your hairy nutsack bouncin' on their chin. Now, myself and Mr. Goad are part of a minority here at the office that find it unnecessary to assemble multiple (female) partners to bust our nut. And since last month's issue was released, I've noticed a newfound sense of hostility and aggression amongst this proud band of snatch soldiers. You can't even talk to a girl at Dante's anymore without having to outdazzle, outmaneuver and all but wrestle a potential score from these predatory bisexuals. And to make matters worse, depending on their mood, tomorrow night they're gonna want to fuck you. They'll steal your date one night and then blow you the next day to apologize. You go out for a drink to celebrate making up, you fall in love with a new stripper you've been looking for all your life, and then your little bi friend steps in, and it's all over.

So there, now hopefully you can hate me now, too. I'm buckin' for prime-time after all, and the Goadster had taught me the importance of pissing off entire cultural masses, rather than picking on some pathetic strip club that needs an English enema. Actually, Jim Goad taught me another valuable lesson as well: Never, leave naked pictures of yourself on your computer. I had noticed some strange smirks spread across the faces of not only Goad, but others in the office as well. Eventually, amid a drunken pool game, one of my associates informed me that they had discovered my bare uncensored essentials while "innocently" examining the contents of my hard drive. (OK, it wasn't 'hard'--I was relaxed.) Now, these gentlemen did not consider the talent involved in capturing the proper angle in attempting to take a self-portrait of this nature. You try holding a camera with your feet. for crissakes! But all other details aside, my privacy had been violated, and I was pissed!!! Not only pissed that my co-workers had seen my unit, but that they might possess hard (yet semi-flaccid) evidence that could be used to exploit my body's sacred temple! We can only wait to see on this, one I suppose. Hopefully, Goad will find a new religious group to crucify or some white-trash controversy to embrace. Just keep your weapons of written destruction away from my cock, goddammit!

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