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John Perry Barlow, pictured, the former lyricist for the Grateful Dead, cofounder of the Electronic Frontier Foundation, and one-time roommate of Valley bad boy Sean Parker, threw a party Saturday as a benefit for The Center for Sex & Culture. It's too bad this invitation arrived late, because the party sounded like a doozy, with the promised attendance of "Famous porn stars, infamous porn stars, and miscellaneous sluts." Does anyone who went have a report? And pictures please? The long, insane, and hilarious invitation after the jump.

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—> B a R L o W F R i e N D Z ——->


<This is one of a series of occasional outbursts to people I like.
Please let me know if you'd rather not receive it. But you'll miss
some great parties if you un-subscribe...

I do try to keep this list to actual friends - by that I mean folks
who might bail me out of jail - or, at the least, people I've met and
liked instantaneously. Some of what I report here is too personal to
be of general interest. Nevertheless, please feel free to forward or
post elsewhere anything you think merits wider distribution. I'm
responsible for these words, but I don't claim to own them.

If this broadcast feels impersonal, I hope you will remember that
individual responses generally elicit personal replies. And even if
I'm sometimes too swamped to write back, I delight in hearing from

you.>

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SAN FRANCISCO BARLOWFRENZY TONIGHT (SATURDAY, SEPT. 22) FOR SEX! & CULTURE!


Okay.

For some of you, there has been such a prolonged silence from this little outpost on the electronic frontier that you might have thought I'd died, or taken vows, or taken it on the lam, or gone completely over to the hard stuff.

Moreover, there are likely some of you who had no idea until just now that you'd been placed on some guy's spam list and are wondering where the hell you might have met the below-signed. (Hint: Drugs, on your part, could have been involved; possibly you were on the Island of Manhattan; most likely, the sun wasn't shining. Or something. Maybe I just liked your smile. I'm pretty arbitrary.)

Or! Possibly! You are more closely engaged with me and my general condition and know that somewhere between Jerusalem and Burning Man, the spondylolisthesis that long has threatened to unmoor my spine from its appointed seat atop my sacrum finally broke the last little vertebral latches and slid forward enough to make it so that I can no only walk as though I were drunk even when I'm sober.

I can, and probably will tell you many more dire tales around such matters but screw that. And I do mean literally.

BECAUSE! TONIGHT! SATURDAY, SEPTEMBER 22, ON THE OCCASION OF THE VERNAL EQUINOX AND BECAUSE I BLOODY WELL FEEL LIKE IT, ESPECIALLY NOW THAT I TEMPORARILY CAN'T DANCE:

I will throw a BENEFIT in San Francisco on behalf of

THE CENTER FOR SEX AND CULTURE

What better time to encourage a free-ranging carnal nature in all my fellow incarnate beings that at a moment when my own potential ability in this regard seems slightly up for grabs? I mean, seriously folks...

I've always been pro-choice in practically every single extent (with, of course, due consideration for the Buddha/Christ/Vishnu/Prophet/Zoroaster/Etc. regard for compassion to all sentient beings, etc.), but scarcely has wild option meant so much to much to me as it does just now when I might find myself in somewhat sketchier communication than usual with zones south of my heart.

NEVERTHELESS!!

TONIGHT

I Present You An Opportunity

To Throw It Down For

THE CENTER FOR SEX AND CULTURE

So That Even If The Worse Should Happen

Following Two Impending Spinal Fusions

AND

OLD BARLOW NEVER GETS ANY AGAIN,

*YOU* STILL WILL!!!

AND

IN ANY WAY YOU LIKE IT!!!

So:

SATURDAY, SEPTEMBER 22

AT TOAD HALL

210 CLAYTON STREET (TOWARD FELL FROM HAYES, JUST NORTH OF THE PANHANDLE)

FROM 8:00 UNTIL THE COPS COME AND STAY

I WILL SPONSOR A BARLOWFRENZY THAT WILL FEATURE:

*LAP DANCES WITH DOCTORAL CANDIDATES

*LAP DANCES WITH BEAMING ILLITERATES

*NUBILE OPERA

*STRIP POLKA

*TOURETTE'S KARIOKE

*SPIKE-HEEL SPRINTS WITH PARIMUTUEL BETTING

*MYSTERY BOX AUCTIONS

*BLINDFOLD ADVENTURE TOURS

*FAMOUS PORN STARS

*INFAMOUS PORN STARS

*MISCELLANEOUS SLUTS

*RACIST/ANTI-FEMINIST/CLASS-IST/AGE-IST/ABLE-IST/UNGIFTED-IST JOKES

*UNSPEAKABLE PRACTICES

*UNMENTIONABLE ACTS

*LARGE SEQUESTERED SPACES, INDOORS AND OUT

*MANY HAPPY AND SURPRISING OPPORTUNITIES TO BE GLADLY RELIEVED OF YOUR CASH

ALL FOR GOOD FUN AND A WORTHY CAUSE!

(MOREOVER, no animals will be harmed without their explicit consent.)

In case you think this is all just fun and games, we are deadly earnest as befits us here in the Bayarean Smugbelt. The Center for Sex & Culture is no fucking joke.

It is, in fact, the winner of two Best of the Bay awards. They know how to throw a sex party (not that claim this will be one), teach how to have multiple orgasm in one easy lesson, broker peace and freedom between dykes, leather daddies, pie-fighting ballerinas, and cultists of whatever hue.

If you're in favor of sex or in favor of culture, or better, both, as I am, then I hope you'll favor the Center with a donation whether the door or tucked into the lingerie of one of our winsome cultural attachés.

OK? All ist klar? Of course it is. Just as Nursie likes it.

The usual BarlowFrenzy principles apply — BYO everything. Consume it all or take what's left with you lest my surrogate parents spend blank days wandering among your ruins. Leave no trace and take no memories.

If you're not in San Francisco, which you probably aren't, and you know someone here that you think I'll like and won't be too freaked out by the possibility of Tourette's Karioke, pass this on to them. I do ask for two somewhat embarrassing exceptions to this principle:

First, please be merciful about inflicting truly excruciating pervs on us just to test our limits — I know, I see the paradox — but some shit just ain't right, if you know what I mean...

Second, try to limit the number of odd-smelling persons about my own age who really must tell me about that cool time they were backstage with Jerry. The aromatic combination of unself-aware conservatism, over-delayed dentistry, cheap weed - and hell, how can I say this? - changing schedules for one's own diapers that were as slack as they'd been for the kids back in in the commune.... Well, it kinda made me wonder the other night in Mill Valley if closing the Sweetwater Saloon wasn't ok after all. Please don't send us too many of these. I'll be grateful when they are.

Other useless advice: Carpoodle. Parking will be as it often is in San Francisco. Nevertheless, I have magical parking karma that I can brag about it without screwing it up. I really do. Some of it might rub off on you. Try your luck along the Panhandle. Tell the Parking God that Barlow sent ya.

Or you could just take a bus, Gus. The 21 Hayes , 33 Stanyan, 43 Masonic, and 71 Haight buses will get you close. You could be one of The People for a change.

I know. I know. Sounds like a heap of trouble. But just remember that for a modest donation to the Center for Sex and Culture, you could find yourself later tonight murmuring such words as these:

"I am blind, I am deaf, I am crippled, I have no sense of smell nor taste. All I have left to me is touch, and, BABY, I LIKE THE WAY THIS FEELS!!!

Whatever. I think it's probably worth going out of your way to attend. But that's me. Come. Bring lots of unmarked bills, carry no ID, wear dark clothing, and be prepared to gone for at least three days. Trust me on this one. You will be glad you did. Come.

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