The Pornographer’s Daughter

By Kendra Holliday | November 8, 2014

The Pornographer's Daughter

The Pornographer’s Daughter

Have you ever seen the classic porn film Deep Throat starring Linda Lovelace? It’s the one where a woman’s clitoris is located in the back of her throat, so she gets off deep throating cocks in a talented and silly fashion, to the delight of men everywhere.

Man, I wouldn’t mind having a couple extra clits in fun places – how about my ears, armpits, and oh, I don’t know – my VAGINA?? Did you know pigs have clits located in their vagina? WTF God, why’d you drop the ball with us humans?? No wonder we love bacon so much!

But I digress.

Deep Throat was a huge sensation back in the 1970’s, and was shown in mainstream movie theaters in an effort to capitalize on the sexual freedom fad making its rounds in the United States.

Except, not everyone was on board.

Some people in power wanted to SHUT IT DOWN, and punish the people distributing it in a ruthless and unreasonable manner.

Enter The Pornographer’s Daughter by Kristin Battista-Frazee. (Don’t you love the cover??) Kristin documented her family’s terrible tangle with the powers that be, and it got pretty crazy.

The Battista’s family life starts out normal in 1970’s Philadelphia – Kristin is a toddler, her dad’s a stockbroker, her mom’s a housewife.

Then her dad is offered an opportunity by friends to make some extra money on the side distributing the porn film Deep Throat. He goes for it.

All is well until the day he’s arrested at work in a harsh and fucked up fashion by the FBI. The charges? Transferring moral obscenity across state lines.

Suddenly, shit gets REALLY interesting. In a matter of pages, the book went from ho-hum to engrossing.

Who here is a fan of First Amendment rights??

Lady Lascivious Liberty!

Lady Lascivious Liberty!

RAISING HAND.

Over and over, Kristin’s dad kept getting arrested, and not one time was it justified, in my opinion. He was pushed down into a pervy rabbit hole, despite looking like a nerdy chemist. Stripped of his hard-earned, legit stockbroking license, he was pretty much forced into a world of smut salesmanship, running a strip club (I LOVE HONEYSUCKLE DIVINE!) and sex stores.

It’s just like when they fire a schoolteacher for starring in a porn ten years prior and exiling her from teaching the next generation because she had a public sex life – what good will that do? The morality police only drive people to the place they fear – into the hole of “depravity”.

I found myself in the same boat – I too was policed by morality. Four years ago, I was sued for this blog. What a joke! I DO NOT believe sexuality and freedom of expression is wrong.

The FBI even tapped his phone and searched his garbage! WTF!

The whole story is very mobster/Italian/Jewish/New York. So if you live in the Midwest or West Coast and would like a taste of deep throat pastrami or spaghetti with meatballs, you should dip into this book.

Imagine rooms brimming with cold, hard, cash. Cash the government resents on the grounds of morality. And strippers mixed with booze without a license. Oh, the horror!

Meanwhile, Kristin’s mom goes crazy over the whole ordeal, and overdoses and ends up in the loony bin.

Just like my mom! Only my mom endured the death of a child, drug abuse, and more.

Life is NOT boring. We could all write a book.

I’m so glad Kristin did. What a unique perspective to share! A fascinating pop culture sociology lesson.

But then, after the smut dust settled and things got back to relatively normal, Kristin ended up marrying a normal stockbroker – the first and only man she ever slept with! What? You mean she didn’t end up in the porn business??

Nope.

It just goes to show you – you can be raised as an enterprising pornographer’s daughter on the East coast, and end up “boring,” or you can be raised as a conservative electrical engineer’s daughter in the Midwest and end up a freaky slut (ME!)

Kristin talks about having odd conversations with her dad – when she visits his porn shops in Florida, she asks him what his best selling products are. Right away he whips out a Pocket Rocket. I’ve had a couple Pocket Rockets, and can testify to their value! They’re pint size and pack a punch! I had a blue one and a green one – I nicknamed the green one “Incredible Hulk.”

I, too, have had odd conversations with my dad, featuring penis pumps, lesbian porn, hookers and my titillating line of work.

When a Vice reporter asked Kristin if she saw the movie Deep Throat, she said she finally checked it out last year, and had to admit, “The way Linda Lovelace could give a blowjob was pretty special.”

We should ALL strive to give special blowjobs.

And exercise our SEXUAL FREEDOM!

God Bless America!

AND BLOWJOBS!!!

AND CLITS IN ALL THE RIGHT PLACES!

Comments

Ashly 2014-11-09 03:27:12

Will try and get my hands on it in Germany sounds like a good read. I bet 98% of the morality police have got porn stashed cupbcupboard, in my humble opinion they are all wankers. I just love your blog blog, you write with so much thought and hounasty ,plus you are eye candy!
Keep up your good work”
Ashly
Next time you are over this way the coffee Is always on

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Skippy1 2014-11-09 08:13:02

Love it! You can never judge a book by its cover nor can you people.

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Dan 2014-11-09 16:18:18

Yes, as Mary Roach reminded us in Bonk, a distant relative and great-niece of Napoleon, princess and all, Marie Bonaparte moved her clit surgically 2x; so she could orgasm during sex. Where were Betty Dodson and her Sex For One: Or Lonnie Barbach and her For Yourself; or Joani Blank of Good Vibrations when the Princess needed her 100 yrs ago? Love the comment about bacon; I love breaking a fast with bacon. Now I know why.

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