A review of Rev. Phil Sano's "Bike Porn II: Bikexploitation"

By the Afternoon of Friday the 13th, when Dingo the Clown (my Baby Daddy) rolled the big, bike-propelled, Airstream-like trailer he calls home into my yard, so he could hold down the fort for my every-other-weekend furlough, Many people had already asked me what I was planning to DO with my time off.
Now, with Pedapalooza beginning in an already jam-packed PDX weekend, the choices boggled my mind. The choices included Plunderathon (a Pirate-themed Pub Crawl), The Rose City Sirens (an all-queer burlesque show), Gay Pride, and other such delicious atrocities, but I decided the best option was to set out in a random direction, and see where my feet took me!
Well, they took me to the corner of 24th & Clinton, (the Clinton Street Theater, for those of you…) where my dear friends & compatriots, Mr. & Mrs. DeJerk, had staked out the first two spots in line for the 2nd Annual Bike Porn movie night. I remembered that some of the best fun I had last year was entertaining the crowd waiting in line for the FIRST Annual Bike Porn Show. Though I was low on funds, and feeling commitment-phobic, I decided to stay while, even if I didn’t actually stick around for the movies.
The 2nd annual waiting-in-line was awesome! In one of his Sauciest moves to date, Ben (of Here Comes A Big Black Cloud)showed up dressed like a UPS guy, sporting “…a huge package for Rev. Phil” secured to his groin, like a 3 ½ foot codpiece, and carrying a clipboard. As the opening of the door was postponed later & later (Phil, you may be surprised to learn, was delayed by quite a bit), and the crowd was growing restless, an impromptu Limbo contest broke out, with Ben’s “package” as the Limbo stick. Unable to resist the temptation to bark like an MC, I egged those fools on, while the crowd chanted & howled, until a full-blown improv comedy show, starring some of the Bike City’s naughtiest comedians, broke out right there at the Box Office (Get it…BOX office?).
It was really too much fun, my friends. I decided to stay when they opened the doors. Well, really, it was after I talked to Phil, who had an awful, deer-in-the-headlights look on his face (not the good kind of headlights, I’m afraid), and I could tell he was having a rough time, and leaving would have been rude.
Inside, still more delays, and more improv. There was a very funny reel of before-the-show slides, and The Violent Femmes playing loudly. Can you say Dance Party on the Stage?
Now, in the 1980’s, when I was a teenage punk, Clinton Street was where I lost my Rocky Horror Virginity. I was also a teenage improv comedy champion. And as I jumped on & off the stage, taking & giving stage where the feeling was right, whooping out dirty comments, the music of my youth providing the soundtrack, I longed to go back in time 20 years, and back up my teenage self when she said, “No, Mom, it’s NOT a phase!” I wanted my mom & my teachers to see me: 35 years old; 2 kids; a stack of bills; grown-up worries about my career & the recession; multi-colored hair touched with strands of well-deserved grey; dry-humping, hollering, & throwing stuff in the front row of the Clinton St. Theater, along with hundreds of other bike punks.
I cried real tears of joy, my people!
There was a pre-show performance that looked to be about half improv, involving a tall bike, four humans, and lots of making out. HOTTT!
FINALLY, the movie started. I was SO worth the wait. This is ground-breaking work, friends: redefining sexuality, transportation, and media all in one dirty little package! Clever bits like “Sex in the Bike City” were juxtaposed with soft-core comedy thrillers, and real live gore, both human & velo. I ate it up! I could have watched more, but sadly it was over all too soon.
Ok, there was a lot of gore. Rev. Phil promised “Bikexpliotation,” and he delivered. Since I am a fan of Phil’s home surgery movies, and have bit my nails through the video of him pulling the gauze out of a hole in his knee - several feet of it- and re-packing it), I was surprised at how deeply disturbed I was by the footage of Gabe’s broken hip. It went on for a long time, and his tangible agony was amplified by the big screen.
I felt sick. I just want to say: Gabe, I’m really sorry you broke your butt. Thank you for letting us all watch. Oh, and you have a really nice fanny...
...pack.
The moral of the story here, folks, is that YOU ARE MADE OUT OF MEAT! Meat with brains, that can register pleasure or pain, depending on whether you choose to touch it tenderly, or to tenderize it.
As for the delays, and the frustratingly short show, the Rev. Phil Sano is a master at pulling things out of his ass. His ass, and any other orifice, permanent or temporary, he can pull something out of, in order to entertain. But one man, and a few devoted Velophiliacs cannot do it all alone. We need more bike porn! Therefore, I am asking all of you perverts with home video technology (you know who you are) to go out and make us some fodder for our spank banks. Start now, so you can make next year's deadline early, and not stress Phil out.
Did you hear me? I said GO OUT AND MAKE IT WITH YOUR BIKE RIGHT NOW! And be gentle when you beat your meat. It's really all you have.