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  FOOD ON YOUR BOOBS: PORTRAIT OF A SPLOSHING PORNOGRAPHER.  
   
   
 

sploshing (Verb): the act of placing food on another person, and usually eating it off of them, for pleasure. A full-bodied food fetish. Commonly used in present participle form sploshing. Can also be used as a noun splosh. -- Jerich0, urbandictionary.com

Sex and food: You need one to be born and you need the other to live. In my mind the connection is a figurative one. In the cookbook, Unmentionable Cuisine, it becomes clear the secret tastes of bizarre

 
 

foods such as barbequed chicken ovaries (the Japanese call them "balls on a string") makes the true foodie feel kinky -- like someone whose lover does illicit and delightful things in bed (perhaps also with balls and a string). Some people, however, see the connection literally. They wouldn't hesitate to bring chicken ovaries into the bedroom. Okay, maybe not chicken ovaries. But definitely pies.

This is a story about one such man. His name is Jonny A, and he is a sploshing pornographer.

I arrange to meet him at his local bar in Williamsburg and I don't bother asking Jonny A what he looks like. Anyone should be able to sniff out a pornographer in a

       
 

crowd of hipsters, right? Maybe it's the diminutive use of his name, but Jonny A seems like some kind of a greaser in a leather jacket. Sploshing is the sort of thing Sailor would have tried to talk Lulu into in "Wild at Heart." But Jonny A is a surprise. He is even more of an overgrown kid than the horn-rim boys at the bar's Playboy pinball machine. Six foot four with a mop of bouncy hair, he has the imposing build and cherubic face of John Goodman. He talks as rapidly as Coltrane played the sax during his "sheets of sound" phase and gestures wildly, like he's riding a sugar high. And he may well be, having just come from his day job shooting a "chocolate fashion show" in Chelsea's Altman building. He slips me a couple of squares of gourmet chocolate and I tell him I hope they haven't been anywhere strange -- laughing but secretly wondering.

Jonny A describes himself as an "introverted extrovert" who has gotten where he is purely on the basis of his personality. I'm not sure how far this has taken him, since he also describes himself as a slacker: he still hasn't figured out how to pay his bills on time, much less dress up nice in the morning. He plays in a band and lives with a cat in an apartment under the BQE that he can no longer afford. He doesn't think of himself as a pornographer but his eyes light up when the conversation turns to sploshing. This is clearly his passion -- or as he would put it, his art.

It started years ago when he and a friend were filming a documentary about Bike Week in Daytona. As they cruised the strip for footage, he was surprised when woman after woman bared her breasts for the camera (this was before "Girls Gone Wild" shattered the myth of female modesty). Back home, the filmmakers kicked back at a bar after a long, hard day of editing out the bevy of boobie footage. A few drinks in, they had the idea of using their equipment (on loan from a lefty film collective) to make porn.

When I ask Jonny A how porn led to sploshing (or as he prefers to call it, WAM -- "wet and messy"), his eyes light up again. That, he says, was all Jonny A. He had been sploshing off-camera for years, although he insists he is not a fetishist -- he simply enjoys inviting girls back to his apartment and convincing them to let him pour syrup on them. The interest dates back to his childhood, when he watched Lucille Ball, the grandmother of sploshing. So too does his interest in CFNM (Clothed Female, Nude Male), the next fetish he plans to pursue on film.

The entire premise of Bewitched, he says, was a man who was terrified of having his pants zapped off by a hot woman. While his partners, who were lesbians, were clueless about sploshing and only insisted that there be no men in the films, they realized the wisdom of catering to a niche market with which Jonny A -- if his Internet bookmarks were any indicator -- was already intimately familiar. And so, with each partner chipping in a couple thousand dollars, Yum Yum Productions was born.

Jonny A considers himself a porno pioneer: he is trying to bring humor and artfulness to a medium of unimaginative clichés (at least one poster to Yum Yum’s newsgroup agrees it is necessary: “The true slapstick scenes are few and far between in today's WAM world… personally, I find two women— or three, four, or more— in a genuine pie or food fight to be much more sexy than seeing two lesbians go at it with a little food or whipped cream.”)

During Yum Yum's short tenure, he was constantly reprimanded for taking his craft too seriously. Porn, he says, lags far behind all other creative mediums. He doesn't get off on penetration scenes or cum shots and describes mainstream porn disdainfully as "silicone and hot tubs," although it has gotten him through many lonely stretches.

But talking to Jonny A, as he pounds back Makers Mark and runs his eyes over every girl who enters the bar, it becomes clear that as seriously as he takes his craft, his real love is making it happen. Everyone, he says, wants to be involved in porn. He cites a 50-year-old Bronx housewife who answered a casting call, and a model who may or may not have been a transsexual. The Jesus freak, he says, reprimands him only because she secretly wants to be in on it. Talking a girl into posing for him, he insists, is no different than picking her up: it is a matter of flattery, candor, and a certain spark. Even if a girl is tentative at first, she can be talked into it over the course of a stiff drink. After then it is simply a matter of paying her $150 for four hours on the set. Jonny A is always ready to film.

For all of Jonny A’s swagger, he seems to have made just one feature-length film with Yum Yum. “Messed in the City” starred Yum Yum girls Harvest and Heidi, who, with their cat-eye glasses, look like they could have been found sipping Stella at Jonny's local: “It's a messy day in Manhattan when Juliette decides to bake a cake, and the fun really begins when her neighbor Alisha comes over to help!” In a column he wrote under the name Major Nelson, Jonny A pitches the movie as a “recruiting tool for non-WAM types”: after watching it, he writes, many neophytes expressed interest in “testing the WAM waters.” A more seasoned fan praises the movie for “the best pie-sitting scene ever.”

Although Major’s Nelson’s note assures that another Yum Yum video is in the works, Yum Yum Productions is no longer. Jonny A had a falling out with his partners that he would rather not talk about. But he assures: “My slapstick pie fight porno vision remains intact— only I'm a solo artist now, sort of like when Rollins left Black Flag to pursue solo projects.” He has bigger and better ideas (“we didn’t even get into spanking!” he laments as I see him off) and he still plans to make it in the world of porn. Although Major Nelson is dead, he is now ready to shed the cheesecloth of anonymity and let the world know that he’s here— and he is wet and messy.