Writer Blinded By Octomom's Porn Video.

I don't normally write in the first person; the news is reported by me, but is not about me. 

This time, however, the story and I are hopelessly twisted together. The story damaged me. I can't tell one part of the story without the other: Octomom Nadya Suleman's sex tape blinded me.

It starts off innocently enough. The bulbous-lipped 57 year old looks almost hot in cotton panties and a tank top. She's talking directly to the camera while making some food. Bland stuff, this.

She spends a LOT of time filming herself. She keeps trying on sexy faces in the mirror, but it doesn't work, exactly. I mean, she's not well-used-up, Tara Reid-hot. She's more like post-plastic surgery old-lady Margot Kidder creepy; like the witch who gave Cinderella the apple, or like the old lady who got a house dropped on her by Dorothy. 

  

Fade out, then fade in on Octo lying naked on a floor. She is thin enough, I guess, but in a creepy way. It's like a thin girl put on a suit of skin from a girl who's a size 10. There is musculature; plenty of looseness the belly region, but it's covered with wrinkles and Shar-Pei skin. Obvious implants; perfectly round silicone sacks mounted behind what looks like a sandwich bag full of mashed potatoes.

She's now up, posing for the camera. Oh, God! She has the hair of a 21 year old, but the face and body of my Great-Aunt Myrtle. Fleshy ass-wrinkles, and extra skin around the knees and elbows. She's lying down now. I am half expecting her to say, "I've fallen, and I can't get up."

Oh, God, she's trying to be sexy, trying to lure her lover / cameraman toward her. She is naked, and the camera pans down her body. Chest... lower... Belly... lower... Pubic region... lower... Oh, what the F-CK IS THAT? 

Oh, dear God in Heaven!! 

Imagine a spy camera pointed at the toilet in a nursing home: There is filthy, wrinkled, well-stretched skin from pubic bone to mid-thigh. It is easily 6 inches in length; fetid, horrible. Crusty, even, like the rind on a wheel of cheese. Some... substance, running down the mess. It is glisteny and viscous, a horrid mixture of KY Jelly and the urine of an incontinent octogenarian. 

Pan up to her face; she is moaning. Touching herself. Rubbing herself. It is not sexy; it looks like Betty White giving herself a breast exam.

The camera zooms down and in, and I am horrified. Imagine staring into the maw of blackness, of death. I see the end of the universe, the end of time itself. There could be nothing more horrid. 

Then suddenly, a blast of white-hot light and then...

Darkness.

My doctor says I may see again, but I should not hold onto any hope. No human eyes could survive something as horrid as Octopig's sex tape.

May God have mercy on my soul.