The Dirty Show came to L.A.* (NSFW)

Once upon a time, there was a guy in Detroit called Jerry Vile. He was in a band called the Boners. He went on to start a newspaper called Fun. Fun was like the original Vice, only much better and not as nearly as annoying. Fun eventually evolved into Orbit, which I'd term as the original alternative alt-weekly. Instead of covering local politics, Orbit covered local porn stars, drug fiends and night-crawlers. Orbit was amazing. Orbit is also where I scored my first writing job after college.

It would take forever to explain the Orbit Years, so I'll just tell you that it was way more fun than should be allowed by law. No one partied harder than the boss (and many tried). Sex, drugs and punk fucking rock were the order of the day in that office.

But what made Orbit special was the insane amounts of talent that graced the masthead. Guys like Paul Zimmerman and Glenn Barr and Tristan Eaton and Doug Coombe and David Keeps and Brenna Sanchez and I could go on. You probably don't recognize any of those names, but they're all fantastic artists that have influenced me in ways I'll probably never be able to fully comprehend. And it's all good.

Post-Orbit, Jerry Vile (AKA Jerry Peterson) went on to found "The Dirty Show," a wild erotic art show that's now been in existence for more than a decade. This past weekend, Jerry brought The Dirty Show to L.A. for the first time.

It has held in a truly seedy hotel in downtown, with each room decked out with art. A (pretty wasted!) Suicide Girl named Chloe played hostess. And there were so many Detroiters in the house I couldn't tell if I was at home or in heaven.