A Bedside Chat on Married Lust, Trust & the Bonobo Way by Dr. Susan Block. Opening up our spectacular new Womb Room in the little Love Church of the Bonobo Way in the village of Bonoboville, Capt’n Max and I are back in the sack, celebrating three decades of lawfully-wedded love and sex-revolutionary marriage from our new broadcast bed. Continue reading on Dr. Suzy's Journal...

Get Well Capt'n Max +Happy Birthday to Me & Group Therapy for All by Dr. Susan Block. Capt’n Max had a stroke. I wish it could say that’s a joke. Or the good kind of stroke – a stroke of luck, a soft caress, a pleasure stroke. But no, unfortunately, Max had a stroke of seismic – or “ischemic” – pain… which is, in a way, a very bad joke that the body plays on the brain. The technical term is cerebrovascular accident (CVA), but everyone calls it a “stroke” – though it’s really more of a strike – less a caress than a bullet to the brain, or, in Max’s case, an unexploded bomb that forms a blood clot blocking the flow of blood as well as oxygen to the cerebrum, causing (in Max’s case) sudden and severe damage. Continue reading on Dr. Suzy's Journal...

Dedicated to Love, Marriage, a Free Palestine & the Bonobo Way + We Beat tRump (again)! by Dr. Susan Block      It’s our 32nd Wedding Anniversary! Thirty-two years ago, my Prince Charming – Prince Maximillian Rudolph Leblovic di Lobkowiz di Filangieri, pioneer LA underground publisher, international artist, designer, antiwar activist, sexual freedom fighter, free speech fugitive (at one point) and bon vivant – and I entered into the kinkiest kind of human bondage there is: we got MARRIED. Continue reading on Dr. Suzy's Journal...

by Dr. Susan Block. No doubt, I’m not your typical Yale alumna. I’m not a propertied billionaire or even millionaire—legacy or self-made—nor a tenured academic, scientist, CEO, lawyer, stockbroker or journalist embedded with the MSM, like many of my distinguished classmates. Nor did I get my MRS degree to marry one. However, I did marry a Prince—with no principality, fortune nor (truth be told) pot to pee in—and we’ve stayed married for over 30 years. more...

It’s our LAST live DrSuzy.Tv broadcast of 2020, the year that met its “match” in Hell. As Baba Wawa might have said, “This was 2020.” And oh what a annus horribilis it was… Not at all what we expected, to say the least, when we broadcast the first show of 2020. Of course, now we know because, as they say: “Hindsight is 2020.” I’m not sure if “they” mean a Happy Nude Rear, but here we are. Happy Nude Rear, Brothers and Sisters, Lovers and Sinners!

This marks Prince Max’s and my return to the *eargasmic* magic of radio. Both of us have long histories (since the 1970s!) broadcasting live on over 150 local, nationally syndicated and pirate radio stations around the world—from Yale University’s WYBC-FM to San Felice’s Radio Meridian—which we touch upon on our virgin “F.D.R.” internet radio show, aka podcast. Though we’ve enjoyed broadcasting live TV, aka video, on HBO, public access and the internet—we’ve missed broadcasting in the “Theater of the Mind” as can only be done on radio, so here we are doing it again. We call this series “F.D.R.” in tribute to my mom’s erotic political crush, U.S. President, Franklin Delano Roosevelt. F.D.R also stands for “F*ck Da Rich.” By “rich,” we mean all billionaires (except maybe MacKenzie Scott), high-digit millionaires, the Military-Industrial Complex (including the Space Farce’s new Handmaid’s Tale “Guardians”) and other multi-billion dollar corporations and complexes. What do we mean by “F*ck”? Listen…

Ahoy there and welcome aboard Capt’n Max’s Birthday Cruise, one of the few pleasure ships sailing through the Coronopocalypse. Though Capt’n Max isn’t really a Captain; he’s a Prince on both sides of his family, Lobkowicz (Czech Dad) and Filangieri (Italian Mom). That and 20 bucks will buy us a bunch of royal blue balloons; in other words, it’s pretty worthless. But what we lack in capital, we make up for in a life of love, adventure and bonoboësque sexual revolution. It’s also the 6th anniversary of The Bonobo Way: The Evolution of Peace through Pleasure which was my birthday present to Max, a gift that he, a pioneer publisher (The LA Star, Love, Hate, God, Finger, The Brentwood Bla Bla and Beverly Hills, the Magazine, among others), published six years ago. Considering current events, the message of the Bonobo Way of peace through pleasure is more timely than ever!

by Dr. Susan Block. Happy birthday to my captain, my prince, my prime mate, my partner, my publisher and the love of my life, Capt’n Max! And Happy 5th Anniversary to The Bonobo Way, which was Max’s birthday present—and which he published—on November 8th, 2014.

by Dr. Susan Block. The Bonobo Way is on its way back to AASECT, the biggest, most esteemed sex therapy and education conference in the world. \AASECT 2019 Here We Come! I’ve been a member of AASECT, the American Association of Sex Educators, Counselors & Therapists, for over 15 years. Of course, I’m a little different from more conventional sex therapists. I’m a “Therapist Without Borders.” Though I respect AASECT certification, I choose not to get it for myself, so that I can continue conducting sex therapy and education “my way” which, in addition to more conventional sex therapy techniques, includes fantasy roleplay, guided masturbation, phone sex therapy, erotic theater therapy and other perfectly legal, but AASECT-forbidden practices.

by Dr. Susan Block. Did I spill wine all over myself at last Saturday’s Bunny 420 Passover, Honey? Because I’m decked out in burgundy everything for this show, from my big wine-colored hat (a gift from HBO) to my Manischewitz-colored high-heeled boots (another gift from a boot-fetish fan). What’s the favorite wine of a Jewish American Princess (JAP)? I wanna go to Miami! That’s an ancient joke, before climate change and corruption turned Miami Beach into an alligator and human lizard-infested swamp. Now maybe Palm Beach and Mar-A-Lago are places to whine for, but watch out for the sex-worker police! Emboldened by the rather loosely defined SESTA/FOSTA laws, they’re charging any woman with “human trafficking” if she accepts money from any man… for just about anything.

by Dr. Susan Block. Easter bunnies gather ‘round the Seder table in the Womb Room for Easter Eve, the second night of Passover and 4/20 festivities in the little Love Church of the Bonobo Way in the Womb Room sanctuary of our new Bonoboville. Officiating in my Easter pastel pink and blue priestly robes, fringed tallit, a Medieval-style Christian cross and a Star of David (woven for me by Twin Towers inmates from the threads of their prison uniforms) around my neck, a “Lox et Veritas” g-string (made for a Sex Week at Yale when I spoke to the Chai Society), a Virgin of Guadalupe bracelet (given to me by Ana when I was in the hospital last year), a 420-green Agwa lei and matching JuxLeather finger flogger, big pink rabbit ears on my Easter hat and (off and on) Star-of-David shaped sunglasses, I, the Irreverend Dr. Susan Block, channel the spirit of the Great Bonobo Spring Easter Bunny 4/20 Matzah Goddess…

by Dr. Susan Block t’s Groundhog Day, and like Punxsutawney Phil, I poke my head out of my little hole in the ground, after over a month of hibernation. Not only do I declare an early Spring, I broadcast “Sex, Fun, Wisdom” and Valentine Season Love live from the Womb Room of the little Love Church of the Bonobo Way in Bonoboville. Not that there’s much of a congregation for this show as we don’t invite any guests or volunteers; it’s just us Bonoboville homies in da house: Abe Bonobo runs tech, Ana and Miguel fluff the set, Mars FX switches, Lily Garnet live-tweets, Harry Sapien and Gideon Grayson run video cams, Onyx Devall shoots stills, as Blossom Green to my left, chats with our Facebook Live fans while Capt’n Max to my right, steers our Ship of Fools for Love… and lust. Last but not least, Betsey, our 93-year-old canine angel, is on guard in her puppy parka, protecting us from harm.

by Dr. Susan Block What an intense Scorpio birthday weekend, packed with passion, beauty, horror, outrage and ecstasy. Intensity and passion are marks of the sign of Scorpio, symbolized by the scorpion who stings as well as the dove who makes peace. It’s a Bonoboville special celebration of Scorpio LIFE… with death always somewhere around the corner, just a madman’s gunshot, a fiery gust of climate-changed wind or a heart attack away.

by Dr. Susan Block The 25th wedding anniversary is a big one, awarding the couple a silver “loving cup” in honor of fulfilling their marriage vows for a distinguished number of spins around the sun. Celebrating the 25th feels like gaining admittance into an elite club of veteran couples of all kinds, from reactionaries to revolutionaries, from Mike and Karen Pence (together since 1985) to Keith Richards and Patti Hansen (since 1983) to us (since 1992!); this imaginary couples club is made up of people who really don’t have anything in common at all, except being married more than 25 years.

by Dr. Susan Block Two of the most gorgeous (inside and out) and glorious flowers of womanhood to bloom upon the planet, Penthouse Pets Layla Sin and Christiana Cinn, bring Spring to Bonoboville on DrSuzy.Tv. Ambassadors for peace, love, female empowerment, male pleasure, great sex and sensuality, these “Pet Sisters” in “Sin” (and Cinn) use their formidable Weapons of Mass Seduction—charm, wit, warmth and their own exquisite bodies—to spread the good news of the Penthouse Philosophy and Penthouse Global Media, including Penthouse Variations, which has just published three excellent new erotica books, Quickies, Three-Ways and Anal, with Cleis Press.

by Dr. Susan Block “Remember, remember the 5th of November,” quotes the classic “V for Vendetta,” one of several symbolic erotic themes for this effervescent gathering of artists, nudists, exhibitionists, rappers, comics, actors and sex rƎVO˩utionaries in the Womb Room of Bonoboville, LAX on November the 5th, 2016. From fiery speeches to anal art, boobie cake, naked masked dances, political comedy, Bonobo Way birthday-spankings and sexual confessions to Scorpio Communion, with this amazing show, to quote “V” again, “Together we give them a 5th of November that shall never, ever be forgot.”

by Dr. Susan Block There’s a big bully in town, and he’s picking on porn stars, but you could be next. Seriously, you could, and you will, unless you—that is, we—stop him. The bully is one Michael Weinstein, CEO of the LA-based AIDS Healthcare Foundation (AHF), wannabe California Sex Czar, a Mafia boss for the New Age Nanny State. Herr Weinstein’s latest nonconsensual gambit into our bedrooms is the atrocious, expensive, misleading, nonsensical and downright tyrannical California Proposition 60, on the ballot November 8th. Pretending to “protect” adult performers by requiring that they wear condoms, Prop 60 actually would force them to either leave the state, go underground or don the equivalent of hazmat suits while having sex, even if they are a married, monogamous couple

Yes indeed, this show is the ultimate tuneful top-off to a wonder-filled 24th wedding anniversary week of bacchanalian celebration with bonoboësque friends, lovers, lawyers, icons and porn stars, and an almost continuous stream of music (traditional symbol of 24th wedding anniversaries)—from rap to classical to improvisational to “Making Whoopy” on the ukulele—transporting us to new heights of sublime ear-otica, compliments of the effervescent, eclectic jazz of Elvis Schoenberg and members of The Orchestre Surreal.

By Dr. Susan Block Just the Tip (for now)… THANK YOU, Brothers and Sisters of Bonoboville, for giving Capt’n Max and me such a fantastic, orgiastic, bacchanalian and bonoboësque 24th wedding anniversary send-off from such a pleasure-packed, endorphin-high Womb Room! Thank you for wearing lavender (especially by accident) in observance of the 24th. Thank you for playing your mellifluous musical instruments, strumming our strings, tickling our keys and dancing through our garden naked and free.

By Dr. Susan Block Hosting a live pro-sex variety show less than 24 hours after a horrific multiple mass murder in the City of Love is a little bizarre. But it’s a “healing” kind of bizarre, like pushing yourself to have sex when you’re under-the-weather, physically or emotionally. After you get into it, very often you feel better. And sometimes it even helps you to get better. This sexual healing part of what I call the Bonobo Way of peace through pleasure.

Capt’n Max, a.k.a., Pr. Maximillian R. Leblovic di Lobkowicz di Filangieri, was born at the Vatican Hospital in Rome, on November 8th 1943. At the tender age of seven, he and a horde of other deposed royal families of Europe set sail on a big beautiful ship, eventually arriving in the Great Promised Land of Montclair, New Jersey. There he grew up to be a truly revolutionary publisher of such titles as The LA Star, Love Magazine, Hate, God, Finger, Meetings with Remarkable People, The Brentwood Bla Bla, Beverly Hills, the Magazine and many more, pioneering the first “reader-written” media which exploded in the Internet Age, becoming the behemoth we now call “social media.”

By Dr. Susan Block It’s our 23rd year of lawfully wedded love and lust, and Capt’n Max and I start the celebration early, just the two of us “partying like bonobos” in bed, climaxing in each other’s arms, the arms we’ve gotten to know so well but, happily, never tired of, lo these 23+ years. Wild and kinky as we are, we’re also very much married, sharing and being “witnesses” to each other’s lives, creating and constantly recreating the romance that just seems to deepen and grow between us as we age. But no couple is an island. Certainly, we aren’t! As much as we cherish our two-way intimacy, we need our Bonoboville community to keep us from going insane or letting our monogamy turn to monotony. One reason our “monogamish” (with a hat tip to Dan Savage and the forthcoming Tao Ruspoli film of that name) marriage seems to work is that we share our love, lust and romance with our Bonoboville of friends, lovers and interesting strangers.

Seems like just 22 hours… but it was 22 years ago that I tied the marital knot with the love of my life, and Saturday night we commemorated that auspicious, legally binding (all that bondage language tells you something about marriage, doesn’t it?) human mating ritual with a rolling party at the Green Horse bar, a squirting-screaming orgy in the Bonoboville kitchen and another epic episode in the ongoing “show” that is our conjoined Saturday night lives...

To protect the birthday person against such awful influences, the tradition of the birthday party evolved, surrounding the individual with love, laughter, music, gifts and entertainment. This works. At least, it has, so far, for me. I’ve tried other methods, but I find that the best way to ward off the “evil spirits” of shock (am I really that old?), stress (shouldn’t I have accomplished more by now?), fear (what’s going to become of me?) and foolhardiness (maybe I should prove I’m still young by climbing to the top of the Golden Gate Bridge again) is to throw a big, balloon-filled, debaucherous, orgiastic birthday bacchanal of love, laughter, music, gifts, entertainment and lots of sexual activity with beautiful people hanging out in their birthday suits.

Dark Phoenix: Is he honoring or mocking the Birthday Babe when he wears one of my hats in the group shot. Who cares? He’s a consummate entertainer and takes lighting birthday candles to a higher level when he practically sets my butt on fire with a smoking hot fire spanking. Then, of course, everybody wants a fire spanking. What can I say? It’s hot!

What a sizzling hot show this is, not so much in an erotic as in an emotional way. The temperature rises in heated debate on the topic of Sex & God: How Religion Distorts Sexuality, featuring the best-selling author of the hot new book of that name, as well as a celebrity atheist, a lovely libertine, a Wiccan, a couple of somewhat incongruous Sex Workers for Jesus and one practically certifiable religious Christian maniac. The dialogues and stories are riveting and telling about the state of God and sex in our society. More about that under Featured Guests and Weapons of Mass Discussion. But thank Goddess, it’s not all talk (otherwise, I might have to host a regular talk show). We also partake in our traditional topless “Bonoboville Communion” (thanks Jello Shots LA) and the holy (or holey?) Pussy Pipe, and enjoy orgasmic Sybian rides in the after-party. What a way to kick off the Merry Masturbation Month of May: with Faith-Based Sex! Amen and Awomen. Please pass the Holy Water lube…

Check out the After Party! Hot booty all around...

These days, committed, long-term marriage is going out of style, and for good reason, since most marriages don’t last unless the couple is forced to stay together. But for my Prince and me, wild renegade pair that we are, the old marital tradition holds true—20th anniversary true—and what better reason to host another fun-filled, Commedia Erotica-inspired, Sybian-riding, Speakeasy sex-celebration than twenty truly fantastic years of lawfully wedded love, lust and bonobo revolution? Like any good wedding night, we soon cross the threshold of vows and proclamations, and get right to the Womb Room bed, where the “honeymoon period” is never over—especially if by “honeymoon” you mean sex.

This year, Passover not only coincides with Easter Eve, but overlaps another ritual—Saturday night’s live broadcast of The Dr. Susan Block Show….So, blending ancient traditions from different religions with a generous helping of Speakeasy-style Commedia Erotica and ethical hedonism, I host my own exotic, erotic, comic, agnostic interpretation of a Passover Easter Eve Last Supper Seder Bacchanal with porn stars, friends and lovers—and guess who is coming to dinner? Back from the undead, He rises….Zombie Jesus! Or is that Elijah? Max? Whoever’s Res-Erection this is, He’s not the only Jesus at the Seder; from Last Supper Jesus to Bunny Jesus to naked-and-bound-to-the-cross Jesus to Divine Interventions adorable Baby Butt Plug Jesus (who just sits quietly on the table throughout the Seder, but gets quite a bit of X action in the after-party), Christ is all around us.

It’s my birthday! Many years ago (I won’t say how many—I don’t want to shock you), I emerged…I wish I could say it was from my Mom’s vagina, but I was a Cesarean. Maybe that’s why I’m bisexual: trying to crawl into a vagina so I can emerge from it, born again…

It’s our 21st wedding anniversary! Finally, our marriage is old enough to drink in California. So what else is there to do but throw a big old bacchanalian celebration of “monogamish” love, lust and healthy, good-natured debauchery? Probably a lot of things, like say, see your doctor, slow down, retire, act your age, make out your will, etc. But maybe one of the secrets to Pr. Max’s and my marital longevity is that we’ve never acted our age or “grown up” at all. We are perpetually at play—with each other, with our Bonoboville friends and lovers and with you, my darling reader—and so the momentous occasion of our 21st anniversary turns into one big orgiastic play-fest to the collective merriment of all. To continue reading the blog about this show, Click Here! To watch this show now, Click Here!

Date: 08/17/2012 Vegas is packed with people who play it safe in life, then blow all their hard-earned cash into the mouths of machines that light up like a lover’s eyes, mid-climax. Then there’s the sound of Vegas: all that beeping and squealing, bizarrely resembling orgasm after mechanical orgasm. As long as you keep caressing those sensitive slots with money shots, it never stops. Vegas-style gambling is a Weapon of Mass Seduction. Personally, I prefer to place my bets on my own relatively high-risk work and play: my amazing 20-year marriage that most folks said wouldn’t last, my unconventional sex therapy practice, my uncategorizable show and my belief in ethical hedonism and the Bonobo Way of peace through pleasure. The odds of winning the kind of “games” I like to play are riskier than black jack, and the path to victory is a minefield littered with losers, lovers, foes and friends who trip your every step. But the joy is in the playing—in doing it, as the great gambler Sinatra sang, “My Way.” And every so often, if you play long, hard and “my way” enough, with a little help from Lady Luck, you might win.

Length: 106:23 minutes Date: 09/15/2012 Most Yalies and well-read Republicans will know that the title of the first part of this show—“God and Sex Week at Yale”—riffs on famed, conservative, National Review founder William F. Buckley’s 1951 diatribe, “God and Man at Yale,” which is often said to have fired the first shot in the right-wing war on higher education in the arts and sciences. Basically, they don’t want you to study any other book than the Bible. That sounds like a bad joke, but did you know that in both the Republican and Democratic conventions this year, no other book but the Bible was quoted? No poetry, no prose, no rap, no Shakespeare, no Socrates, no Kahlil Gibran, no Benjamin Franklin. Just the Bible. The Bible’s a great book and all, but there are others, brothers and sisters! The reactionary right-wing war on liberal arts education reaches its apex when it comes to sex education, which happens to be very popular with students who would like to learn a thing or two about sex. Neocon religious crusaders are on the march at Yale and other campuses, trying to take students back to the sexual Dark Ages. As those of you who know me know, back in 2002, as an alumna, I helped Yale undergraduates start a special elective week of sex education called Sex Week at Yale (SWAY), where students of all kinds could—if they so chose—learn about sex, love and relationships from a wide range of experts, sexperts, professors, porn stars, scientists, sex toymakers, ministers, rabbis, revolutionaries, born-again virgins, and each other. It’s been great—spreading “Sex Week” to college campuses all around the country—and it’s gotten bigger every year at Yale. But then, in 2011 – 2012, partly because of its success and popularity, SWAY came under attack. I write about this in detail in my Open Letter to Yale President Richard Levin, citing some of the spurious reasons that the man I call President Dick—now on his way out of Yale—scapegoated and censored Sex Week—from a Title IX complaint over on-campus sexual harassment that had nothing to do with SWAY and everything to do with an entrenched, over-privileged fraternity system—to the controversial new Yale in Singapore project, to pressure from extreme, anti-sex, right-wing factions; in particular. one rather new, very conservative group which named itself “Better Yale” (a subjective title, if ever there was one) and then renamed itself “Undergraduates for a Better Yale College (UBYC)”. The letter generated a lot of responses on the blog, including a few from the co-founder of UBYC himself, Yale College senior, Eduardo Andino. Since, like Jesus, I believe in reaching out to those who try to attack me, whenever feasible, I suggested taking this debate to the air, invited Eduardo on the show, and he accepted. The show starts with Eduardo on the phone from Yale, attempting to explain and defend his extreme right-wing point of view and UYBC’s attacks on Sex Week at Yale. Of course, I counter his specious contentions and reactionary double-speak when necessary, but I also want to give him a chance to give his “side.” Let’s just say I give him more of chance to speak than Bill O’Reilly gave me. Then I open up the conversation to my in-studio guests, including several prominent “Goddesses,” performers and directors in the adult industry that UYBC so excoriates, as well as our very own Max and Tasia. So, the first 45 minutes is a passionate political discussion about sex education, censorship, religion, repression, rape, abortion, tolerance, empathy and love, and the last 45 provides a serving of sex education, Dr. Suzy style, with generous side orders of humor, spontaneity, eroticism and fun. Our very spiritual, sexual, libational “communion” ritual with the Agwa gods lubricates a quick and easy transition between the two sides of our brain. We also discuss the recent rioting in the Middle East by Muslims upset over ridiculous depictions of Mohammed in “Innocence of Muslims”—a so-called film that easily has the worst production values of any famous movie in history—made by an anti-Islamic Coptic Christian, financed in part by an American organization called “Media for Christ” and supported by notorious, Koran-burning Christian Pastor Terry Jones. What does “Innocence of Muslims” have to do with sex education on college campuses? Not much, and that’s the point. Anti-sex education crusaders like Eduardo, often say that sex is dangerous. It may be, though education tends to make sex less risky rather than more. And current events prove—pretty vividly—that religion is a lot more dangerous than sex. These folks have been rioting, setting fire to buildings and murdering innocent people—including one of America’s great, truly heroic ambassadors—not over sex, but in the righteous name of God.

Air Date: 06/09/2012 It’s another unforgettable orgy in the Womb Room. And what is the cause for celebration this time? To quote the sagacious inscription on the goblet I received as a gift: “It’s My Fucking Birthday!” And what a bon anniversaire bacchanal of epic proportions it is, commencing with me popping out of my own cake (concocted by RadioSUZY1 producer and passionate cake fetishist Tasia Sutor, assisted by artist Yossie Vardan), surrounded by some of the world’s hottest sexpots, sexperts and sex maniacs in full-on, ecstatic celebration mode. Then things really go off! And by “things” I mean most of my guests’ clothing as we pile up more beauties in the bed for Sybian rides, spanking, pole-dancing, Adult Play Parlor sex toys for all, Kinky Eddie sex toys for me, sword swallowing (both the sideshow and fellatio variety—at the same time!), as couples and clusters sex it up until the break of dawn on various beds and couches of the Speakeasy, in celebration of the very first “sex act” of my long and rather sexual life. Yes indeed, brothers and sisters, we are all born from sex. With all due respect to the Virgin Mother, real mothers are not virgins. Neither are fathers. Sex is what brings us into the world, and sex is what motivates us to stick around for a while. Praise be to the power and glory of sex! It keeps you young. And you keep me young. At least you—my readers, listeners, lovers, viewers, friends, clients, tweeps, my awesome, ever-changing socialist/capitalist BonoboVille community—keep me from ever growing up. The proof is in this party. Thank you all for helping to make my crazy marvelous life possible.

Air Date: 06/09/2012 It’s another unforgettable orgy in the Womb Room. And what is the cause for celebration this time? To quote the sagacious inscription on the goblet I received as a gift: “It’s My Fucking Birthday!” And what a bon anniversaire bacchanal of epic proportions it is, commencing with me popping out of my own cake (concocted by RadioSUZY1 producer and passionate cake fetishist Tasia Sutor, assisted by artist Yossie Vardan), surrounded by some of the world’s hottest sexpots, sexperts and sex maniacs in full-on, ecstatic celebration mode. Then things really go off! And by “things” I mean most of my guests’ clothing as we pile up more beauties in the bed for Sybian rides, spanking, pole-dancing, Adult Play Parlor sex toys for all, Kinky Eddie sex toys for me, sword swallowing (both the sideshow and fellatio variety—at the same time!), as couples and clusters sex it up until the break of dawn on various beds and couches of the Speakeasy, in celebration of the very first “sex act” of my long and rather sexual life. Yes indeed, brothers and sisters, we are all born from sex. With all due respect to the Virgin Mother, real mothers are not virgins. Neither are fathers. Sex is what brings us into the world, and sex is what motivates us to stick around for a while. Praise be to the power and glory of sex! It keeps you young. And you keep me young. At least you—my readers, listeners, lovers, viewers, friends, clients, tweeps, my awesome, ever-changing socialist/capitalist BonoboVille community—keep me from ever growing up. The proof is in this party. Thank you all for helping to make my crazy marvelous life possible.

Maybe you find communal ecstasy, or what author Barbara Ehrenreich calls “collective joy,” through praying in a packed church, cheering your team at a sporting event or dancing in your seat at a rock concert. Or maybe you prefer to find it the good old-fashioned way: joining in a friendly neighborhood orgy. That’s how we do it here every once in a while at the Speakeasy, and we do it to the max in this Erotique TV anniversary fornication fest, exploring and celebrating group sex in the digital age. With a dozen erotically intertwined, practically naked, male and female bodies sucking, screwing and squirting on and around my broadcast bed, this show ranks as the biggest single orgy in the Womb Room yet (Eros Days have had more people having sex but they were spread out all over the Speakeasy). Factor in the thousands of listeners and viewers worldwide participating digitally, and I believe we can honestly call it an orgy of Olympian proportions. And it’s the Bonobo Way–at feeding time (cake, Agwa, squirt and semen). The fact that our Erotique Sex Party falls on the eve of the 10th anniversary of 9/11 just renders the whole damn orgy even more sacred and profound, as we are celebrating ethical hedonism in the face of terror, communal love instead of mindless killing, and “double vag” over double-crossing the public. Amen and Awomen.

Having just broken a long and light-headed Yom Kippur fast, we’re hungry for it here at the Speakeasy…and by “it” I mean the deliciously funny and sexy new indie film, Hollywood Sex Wars. Just released with an R rating for its scintillating scenes of nude bouncing boobs plus assorted party drugs, HSW focuses a comical yet illuminating light on the Darwinian battle of the sexes raging on the mean streets of Hollywood where “guys try to get laid and girls try to get paid.” On this stimulating RadioSUZY1 broadcast, HSW’s creator and some of its sexiest, funniest cast members—plus one sultry LA journalist and a guy in a chastity belt—talk shop, sex, drugs, relationships, fetishes, Wall Street, Hollywood, cum shots in R-rated movies, Orthodox Jewish sex practices, revolution, true love and so much more (see Weapons of Mass Discussion below), as well as frolic on my bed with vibrators, dildo swords, Vulva Puppets, 911 panties, squirting cocks and Agwa.

Maybe you find communal ecstasy, or what author Barbara Ehrenreich calls “collective joy,” through praying in a packed church, cheering your team at a sporting event or dancing in your seat at a rock concert. Or maybe you prefer to find it the good old-fashioned way: joining in a friendly neighborhood orgy. That’s how we do it here every once in a while at the Speakeasy, and we do it to the max in this Erotique TV anniversary fornication fest, exploring and celebrating group sex in the digital age. With a dozen erotically intertwined, practically naked, male and female bodies sucking, screwing and squirting on and around my broadcast bed, this show ranks as the biggest single orgy in the Womb Room yet (Eros Days have had more people having sex but they were spread out all over the Speakeasy). Factor in the thousands of listeners and viewers worldwide participating digitally, and I believe we can honestly call it an orgy of Olympian proportions. And it’s the Bonobo Way–at feeding time (cake, Agwa, squirt and semen). The fact that our Erotique Sex Party falls on the eve of the 10th anniversary of 9/11 just renders the whole damn orgy even more sacred and profound, as we are celebrating ethical hedonism in the face of terror, communal love instead of mindless killing, and “double vag” over double-crossing the public. Amen and Awomen.

Though last week at the Speakeasy began with a shocking betrayal (more on that later), things took a sweet turnaround when the Bonobo Gang, friends and lovers stepped out in our big black Obama bus to the 40th anniversary party at the Pleasure Chest, helping men, women and everyone in between hump comfortably since the 1970’s. And though we are still trying to repair the damage left in the toxic wake of our ex-producer’s rampaging exit, it’s nice to be able to take a break from all that to do a stimulating RadioSUZY1 show exploring the fine art of teaserama. That is, teasing…and pleasing, from saucy and retro to freaky and nouveau, where fetish meets burlesque for a body shot. Tonight’s guests range from blood orgy vamps who pierce themselves for your pleasure right on the air, to a whipped cream pie-playing, topless, cheesecake-style pin-up, burlesque dancer. Because why throw a pie in a face when you can slap it on some pretty titties and then lick it off?

Jetstreaming into June with a cast of high-fliers, veteran sex performers, hot fledglings, hip producers, feminist hemp activists, soaring superheroes, flying pink piglets and bouncing blonde bonobos, this fun and boobalicious episode of The Dr. Susan Block Show climaxes with an epic chain spanking of flying palms and fingers, dedicated to spanking out the American Perma-Wars and spreading peace through pleasure around the world.

Fetishe Outré LaVeauX! features sexy Shayla LaVeaux, sultry Lady Olivia Outré & fabulous Robyn Migel, producer/director of "The A-Z of Fetish" (featuring Dr. Suzy, Shayla & Olivia!). Everybody piles into Dr. Suzy's Broadcast Bed, and explores various fetishes, from areolas to anal sex, spanking to wanking, nudity to crudity, with various callers as well as each other. Un peu de français (Fetishe Outré LaVeaux--ooh la la!)...Lots of hot flaggelation, cropping, Nipple-Huggers, ice games, naked fun, dildo play, happy orgasms and more, winding up with Kim's topless twirl and Dr. Suzy dancing on the bar! Plus: The Love Doctor defines "Dubyaism" as the dark, deadly fetish for nonconsensual torture, humiliation and snuff porn with a military-religious-frat-boy motif; not good clean sexy fetish fun. But this show sure is!