Lucky Number Seven: Behind the Green Door

I am biased in my love of my next "best porn pick." It was 1972 and two bizzare brothers, Jim and Art Mitchell, exploded on the screen with their Fellini-like fuck film "Behind the Green Door." It was a 35mm and like a three ring circus, grotesque and riviting, erotic and a true cock-lifter. Starring the Ivory Snow girl, Marilyn Chambers, whose body demanded you chomp on it and lick all her interior organs with a lizard-like tongue, munching on her clit and pussy lips with gusto and aplomb. Johnny Wad and his huge cock plummeted the hairy holes and sundry pussies that sauntered across the big screen in this captivating descent into hedonism that today's film directors are incapable of in their anemic video format and their low IQ efforts of smut production. Lacking brains and creativity, the porn films of today are like mass produced candy bars: Bad for your brains and teeth; your erogenous zone deadened by the anethesia-like viewing of today's Internet and video porn.

I loved the Mitchell brothers. They were pot smoking hippies with a true love of excess, sex and booze. On every trip I made to San Fransico to visit the O'Farrell Theatre (a strip club owned by the Mitchells) I would be the recipient of two to five of their dancers to suck my cock dry and the girls would use my beard as a mop to sop up pussy juices. In fact, one weekend when I was featured at their theatre I fucked six women on stage. I thought there were seven women so I saved my come shot for the last girl. There was no last girl so I never got to come and to this day I'm still pissed off about that. The manager that night (a Friday night festival) was Hunter S. Thompson who was so coked up that white power had covered his whole face. I felt as if I was at the Domino sugar factory. As a joke, Hunter had one of the girls strap on a 14 inch black dildo and run after me on stage to fuck me in the ass. I ran off stage faster than Ron Jeremy can run up a restaurant tab.

Unfortunately, the Mitchell Brothers' relationship with one another devolved into a tragic fratricide where Jim drove to his little brother's house in February of 1991 and shot him; I covered the ensuing trial for Penthouse. The jury convicted Jim of premeditated voluntary manslughter, for which he was given a rather light sentence of six years in prison, three of which he spent at San Quentin. The Mitchell Brothers were the best of the porno world and worst of the adjusted. I miss them both and those "good old days."