[Editor’s Note: The following post is by TDV legal correspondent, Jim Karger]
Caution: Adult language that some may find offensive.
It was 3:07 a.m. when the caller ID illuminated: "Berwick."
I jerked the phone off the cradle.
"What the fuck do you want you evil bastard!? I told you that if you ever drunk-dialed me again I would hunt you down like the rabid animal you are and . . ."
"No, Karger," he interrupted. "This is serious," he said, no humor. "There is a story developing that only you can understand, only you can write. We need to be the first publication to seriously deal with what may be the most heinous government incursion on human rights in history," which he slowly pronounced "his-to-ry."
"My God," I said, "either another hooker roofied you in Panama, or they are drone-killing babies and house pets in Toledo."
"Neither," he said flatly. "It is much worse."
The ensuing silence was so disturbing I reached for the gin bottle I keep for emergencies on my night stand and drew deeply.
"Spill it you bastard! I can take it."
"They . . . those fucking Marxists in California," his voice quivered with anger, "are passing a law that will require porn actresses to wear eye protection. Take a look at your email."
I reached for the iPad and found this.
Gin, then comfortably in my mouth, shot out my nose, as I began to mentally deal in odd mathematical terms with the horror of what I had just heard.
"You are right. Only I can grab onto this kind of story firmly and spill it. It will be a slippery slope indeed," I smiled to myself, "but I will give it a shot."
He forced a laugh at the childish puns and I continued. "There will be immense personal danger involved in getting this right," I insisted. "The NSA will be all over me. That will mean a larger advance than usual, as I will need to become one with this story. Send me $10,000 dollars by wire before I change my mind."
I reached for the remote and brought up a 16 hour reel of adult films called "Classic Facials" that I had wisely filed under the heading "Education" on the Roku.
"Whatever you need," Berwick assured me. This one is going to be hard."
"It already is, Jeff, and I'm all over it," I hesitated, "or will be soon."
I hung up and contemplated how the video I was watching would be qualitatively different if the girls were wearing welding helmets or grinder goggles.
I then contemplated the law's impact on what is left of federalism in a dying police state.
"If it becomes illegal to give an unprotected facial in California, what will it mean to a porn actress who lives in the San Fernando Valley but travels to Las Vegas so she doesn't have to put on librarian glasses at the moment of truth?" I asked no one in particular. "To prosecute her would have serious interstate commerce implications."
My white Shepherd, Milo, looked up and nodded knowingly.
My mind raced.
The frontal assault on a hollowed out First Amendment overwhelmed me, wondering whether an unfettered facial orgasm is a form of speech, since almost no one can actually speak during that moment except to make dying animal sounds.
Over the next two hours I filled a notebook with scribbling, thoughts, but mostly wisdom.
It was 5:45 a.m. when I called Berwick back.
"I can't write it, Jeff. It is too serious. The legal issues would fill a book, and the business-implications cannot be overstated. This will shut down an industry larger than Hollywood. You will recall when Los Angeles County made the hideous mistake of requiring porn actors to wear condoms during filming in that county. Permit requests dropped 95%.
“And, no doubt, it will be the last major challenge to the Constitution before Obama takes the original parchment to the Lincoln bathroom and spanks his monkey on it before setting it on fire along with the source code to the Affordable Care Act with a cigarette butt before flushing it to hide the evidence."
I could hear Jeff in the background lightly weeping.
"It is OK, good friend," I said assuredly. "These are the final days, the ones you have predicted. We will all suffer, some more than others, but it will lead to new opportunities," which, even as I said it, I knew was a cheap, feel-good throwaway line.
"Yes!" he retorted. "Opportunity! That's it! I am going to see if we can manufacture a set of rimless high-quality goggles here in Acapulco, FOB San Francisco." He seemed giddy at the prospect and I was glad I could cheer him up, even if for a moment.
I said nothing and hung up the phone before sucking the last drops from the handle of Bombay Sapphire which I then threw at the television causing both to explode like glass bombs. I then smiled gently and sat silently in the dark thinking of what true love will look like going forward.
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