Help Kickstart My Sex Tape
Thanks friends, family, and friends of friends and family, for stopping by to support my project. I understand it’s a little unorthodox, but I’m really trying to take charge of my own career and life. I really think this sex tape is exactly what I need to take things to the next level. I’m sure you have some concerns about this endeavor. I’ve anticipated them and arranged a short FAQ that should put any qualms to rest:
Why a sex tape?
With the explosion of niche media, it’s hard for an emerging artist to make himself a household name. There’s nothing that rockets you to superstardom like a spot on Johnny Carson’s Tonight Show once did. The closest thing we have is the sex tape. The sex tape turned Kim Kardashian from a big butt/smile combo into a one-woman industry. I want in on that, and I’m ready to be the captain of my own fate.
The difference between a sex tape and amateur pornography, is that this project will feature a notable public figure who is not an established porn star. Ideally, my sex tape would showcase me alongside the less famous sibling of an enormous celebrity. I’m hoping for Solange Knowles or Maggie Gyllenhaal. I’d settle for Clint Howard.
Any port in a storm.
Why should I donate?
There are a lot of hidden costs with a sex tape. First of all, there’s the VHS equipment. Finding a working 1990s video camera isn’t easy these days. But Josh, every cellphone has a camera in it, you may be thinking. And that’s true. But it’s not what I’m looking for. A lot of Johnny and Joanie Come Latelies in this sex tape game shoot videos on their phones. I don’t mean to split hairs, but that’s more of a sex digitally encoded file, isn’t it? Pam and Tommy Lee, the OGs of the sex tape world, shot their landmark footage in 1998, well before everyone had a movie studio in their pocket at all times. That’s the model I’m following.
A VHS release ensures a buzz around my sex tape. It’s not going to come and go in a day like leaked photos of a topless/bottomless starlet. If you want to see my sex tape you’re going to have to dig for it. Someone’s got to do the legwork of ripping it from a cassette tape to a digital file. It’ll be grainy and unfocused, like a sex tape should be. What are you, some kind of sex tape hipster, you may ask. No. I’m a classicist. Call me old fashioned, but I think sex tape means sex tape. Reliable analog technology is expensive.
Plus I need to rent a yacht.
What’s in it for me?
Great question. Like any Kickstarter, my project has a tiered rewards system for donors. I think you’ll be quite pleased with the perks.
Pledge $1 or more: Your name appears in the credits as a “Friend of Josh’s Sex Tape.”
Pledge $10 or more: Your name appears in the credits with any title you’d like, including Best Boy, Key Grip, or Butt Coach. (Note: The title of “Executive Producer” is reserved for the Rza, should he decide to become involved with the project.)
Pledge $50 or more: You can join me on location during filming and shout short phrases of encouragement to me and my scene partner. This is my first sex tape, so there will be a strict “no heckling” policy. I don’t want you ruining my big break. If you think it’s not going well, keep it to yourself. I don’t come down to where you film sex tapes and slap the camera out of your hand.
Pledge $100 or more: You can choose a location or sexual escapade that you’d like to see included in the sex tape, pending the approval of myself and my co-star. I’m telling you right now, though: No butt stuff.
Pledge $1,000 or more: You can invent and name a new sexual maneuver, and I will do my best to physically perform it over the course of the sex tape. If it flows organically, I will mention the name out loud, but no promises. Again, no butt stuff.
Pledge $2,500 or more: You can choose what I shout at the moment of sexual culmination. If no one backs the project at this level, I’ll revert to my standard, “Yippee ki yay, melon farmer!” which I picked up from watching Die Hard on basic cable.
Pledge $5,000 or more: You can appear in the sex tape as a background actor. I cannot assure you will be allowed to touch or make eye contact with Solange Knowles, Maggie Gyllenhaal, or Clint Howard.
Pledge $10,000 or more: You can personally cradle my head in your lap as I sob jaggedly into your thighs and wonder how my life has come to this.
If everybody pitches in, I’m sure we can reach my goal of $1,000,000 way before the deadline! Thanks so much for spreading the word and kicking in what you can!
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Will it feel the same when you tell me you love me over the phone? Will the peacefulness of those words still floor me from thousands of miles away?
I was conflicted. It felt like one eye was trying to look away while the other soaked it up. I felt the heat rise in my face. This was wrong. But it didn’t feel wrong.
Any nervous flyer knows the progression of descending panic: bile, sweaty palms, social awkwardness and self-induced sedation.
I know how it feels when the weight of darkness crashes down onto your chest in the middle of the night, and how you wish things would stop spinning because the axis seems tilted now. I know, love, I know.