Well, I'm profoundly relieved that a Google search of my name finally makes this weblog first as opposed to the porno actor who happens to have my name.
Which reminds me of a funny story. Several years ago, back when Times Square was still sleazy and not like the family-friendly version of the Strip in Las Vegas (minus the casinos, but not the garishness), a good friend of mine called one afternoon and wanted to know if I had any plans the next night. I said no, and asked her if she wanted to get together. She asked me if I was sure. I said of course, albeit a bit mystified. So when we got together the next night we made a detour to Times Square and she took me to the window of one of the grind houses. It said "Live Sex Show featuring Randy Paul." I assured that I have never been paid for it, nor did I have any expectations of being paid for it. I only regret that she didn't suggest that I bring my camera as the sign was gone the next day when I showed up with my camera.