Episode Report Card Gustave: C- | Grade It Now! YOU GRADE IT Kiefer un-klad
By Gustave | Season 2 | Episode 19 | Aired on 04.14.2003
And now the moment we've all been waiting for and warned against: naked Kiefer. Kiefer lies on the floor of Doc In The Box puking his guts out while José, Luis, and Slam go over his vomit with a metal detector. Wow, I'm so turned on! Meanwhile, a strategically placed arm with a gun blocks our view of his naked butt. Meanwhile, TeutonicTerrorDude unfurls a sleeve full of sinister-looking instruments. And when I say "sinister," I don't mean "fun, sexy 'n' sinister." I mean sinister. We're talking the kind of porn you have to fly down to South America to see because the people who are performing in it are political prisoners. Now, when I saw last week's previews and saw that Kiefer was going to be naked and tortured, I was totally excited. I had no idea that they were going to actually show, um, torture. I thought they were just going to show "Fox" torture. You know? Like when they have lesbians on Fox, they don't show gray-haired, crew-cutted gym teachers wearing flannel shirts -- they show Tiffani-Amber and Mia Kirshner? I was thinking Kiefer would be bound and gagged, and they'd play with his nipples until he got really sweaty. I didn't think it would be so hardcore.
But then, I'm one of these people that members of the BDSM community would like to hurt...and not in a good way. I'm a tourist. I love the idea of S&M, but not the actual execution. For instance, there's this S&M bar here in NYC called The Lure. Apparently, The Lure is considered really passé by "real" S&M people. Like when everyone at my high school was going "punk," there were people who gave themselves Mohawks in their parents' garages with a razor, and then there were people who went to a salon like John Dellaria's and said, "Give me a Mohawk!" The former looked down on the latter and called them "posers." The Lure is considered a "poser" S&M bar. The guys there don't go to biker shops to get their leather -- they go to Barneys. And I am considered a poser, even amongst the crowd at The Lure. When it first opened, I went a few times with some friends, and I lost my mind. These men looked so hot in their leather outfits and their cigars and their nipple rings. I was in heaven. So then I actually get into conversations with some of them and they're all, "Are you into water sports?" or "Could I put this cigar out on your chest?" and I'm like, "Could we just make out?" I'm like the S&M equivalent of one of those white high school kids who listens to rap, wears track suits and baggy jeans, and says "yo" a lot, but when my Honda Civic breaks down in Compton, I freak out and call my parents on my cell phone to come pick me up.
Then there was this one guy I went on a few dates with, who confessed to me that he was really into being spanked. I thought, okay, I can handle this. If you're into it, I'm into it. Sure, I have a low pain threshold, but if I'm the one doing the spanking, I can totally deal. Or so I thought. I pictured that I'd hit his butt nine or ten times, get off on how butch I felt, and then we'd have hot sex. Turned out that he wanted to be spanked for hours. Hours! And that's all he wanted to do. Let me tell you something: it is really hard to keep hitting someone you aren't angry at. In fact, it's really boring. Like, if the television were on, I'd start watching it. Then my arm started to ache to the point where I thought I was developing carpal tunnel syndrome. Also? I was doing it wrong. He kept correcting my form. Apparently I was supposed to be using more of my wrist -- the opposite of everything I'd learned in tennis lessons. Plus, I was supposed to be straightening my fingers and holding them closely together -- or apart, I totally forget now. It would be like, "Uh, thank you sir, could I have another? Oh yeah! Oh, and remember what I said about keeping your palms flat?" The whole thing turned into one of those really bad junior high gym classes where everyone makes fun of you for throwing like a girl and all you want to do is get the hell out of there, go back to the library, and read old issues of Life Magazine.