Brand-new Masturbation Material

The new space has a muffled quality. At the old place, Frank was across the office, and we could simply talk across the room to each other. Here, Frank is about 6 feet away and I can’t hear a word he’s saying. This is a good thing. It means that I can play music by one artist over and over and no one will ever know. I was recently prohibited from playing Tom Waits after listening to The Black Rider all day every day for a few weeks.

Our space is incredible. So much natural light that we’re giving it away, and our new sales guy, Pete, has been rollerblading around (apparently he used to be pro, but he refuses to desk-grind the workstations). There’s that much room. And the neighbors have been more or less keeping to themselves, keeping the warfare down to a sullen hum. Paul fired the first shot by slipping a porn magazine in the stack of architectural journals they keep in the bathroom. We’re all waiting for a counterstrike.

The Blue Angels have been flying over The City, sounding like a cross between a thunderstorm and a Pterodactyl, which reminds me- it’s Fleet Week. If that wasn’t reminder enough, Paul keeps mentioning how much he loves Fleet Week as he smiles and rubs his hands together. In fact, he loves Fleet Week so much that he wrote an essay about it.

Reuben, when he’s not busy making porn for your ears, has been throwing together trailers for all of our films, a project that fills me with joy. Soon you will be able to masturbate at 10 times your normal rate to a 30-second clip of Treasure Island Media teasers. Don’t hurt yourself- lube up first.

Furthermore, Slurpin’ Jizz 2 is finished and at the printers- once they come in I’ll have a street date for you. Meantime, here’re some stills to tide you over: