by
Art Rambo
HARDCORE AND UNCENSORED
Here's the setup: In 1993, porn star Janine and Mötley Crüe bimbo squawker Vince Neil are on holiday somewhere in the Hawaiian islands with cam in hand, where they ride around in a helicopter, picnic, frolic on the rocky beach, and, finally, fuck. (As if Neil's dull and weighty presence alone is supposed to be worthy enough to hold our pre-screw attention. Blah.)
When the anticipated shag belatedly begins, it has little or no porn value (though up-chuck value certainly: picture the fleshy and expansive Vince Neil ass and hirsute scrotum bouncing up and down) other than the worthy white trash Cindy Crawford port of Janine and a faceless (her face is literally smeared out like the innocent on a Cops episode) blonde tart who enters later and swallows Neil's flaccid dong and administers a by-the-numbers dildo once-over on Janine.
There is something profoundly unfunny, even ugly about a flabby '80s MTV star, years past his prime (and—when this went to tape—in the midst of a failing solo career) who fancies himself some kind of porn stud while wielding his soft 200+ lb carcass around like it is something to behold; like he's the shit; like enough self-aggrandizing will make him bigger than life—like in those Reagan-era rock videos. Yuck.
Even Tommy Lee's home sex spin with Pamela what's-her-name was released against their will. This unsightly wonder was pushed forth by Vince himself who pocketed a bundle in the selling of the rights. As far as porn standards and stars go, Vince Neil ain't got nothin' on T.T. Boy, Peter North, Dave Hardman or the rest of the professional wood-for-dollars set. (And in pop, of course, Mr. Neil is the Elmer Fudd of rock 'n' roll.) Don't believe the hype.
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