by Howard Stern
Howard Stern:
You are probably the most evil piece of Jew Drek in the area! You
hurt anything that is not Jewish. Your life is; harming others with your evil
talk! That spade; nigger;darkie; no-talented-brillo-headed-colored- person
you laugh with, makes us vomit! She only ass-kisses your family and Jews in general! She even mocks her own kind...but try: as she might, she will never
be white. Her only talent is to laugh like an idiot. She looks like a little black boy on her face-----and her reformed breasts look like when they are released, 20 cockroaches will crawl out from under them. Not even her own kind
can deal with her....so she keeps her nose up the foul-smelling Stern ass to make a living. Without Stern, at her advanced age, she could not even make a living selling her foul body!
.........You say all priests are gay...well just look at those ugly
looking, dirty-smelling jewbastard-rabbis with the little box-hats on their foreheads....and all the jewfaggots who head the jew groups, and the rabbis who are queer and who molest little boys and girls. ..... Speak about your own kind you mokie-bastard swine! Your bitch mother and dog father must be the devil to have whelped a piece of slime like you. If it were not for the N.Y. faggot Jew, you would have no ratings. You will never; make it across the country, because there are no Jews across the country. Jews only foul the air in N.Y., Florida and parts of California. The only thing you cause is hatred. We are thankful your ugly, stinking Jew wife dropped her Jew fetus...one less jewbastard
You've Been a Bad Girl, Haven't You?
Spanking, Stripping, Shaving, Butt Bongoing, and Beyond
CHAPTER 12
I find it one of the great ironies of my life that when I was single, I couldn't get most women to even look at me, let alone sleep with me. But then, as soon as I became a popular radio personality, all these women start coming out of the woodwork. Unfortunately, by then I was married and I wasn't about to break my vows. But thank God I have an outlet to sublimate these deep, dark desires. I have a show.
"He looks like a chicken. Ninety-five percent of what he says is about sex, take the sex away, and he has no act, and he'll go nowhere. . . It's a shame, because he does have talent."
-- Jack Paar
As far back as Washington, D.C., I realized that there were enough men in the same boat as me, so that bringing vicarious sex to my show would be a good career move as well as a great means to satisfy my sexual longings. We started out with a version of phone sex. Women would call in and tell us about their sex lives. Then, we wanted to see what these girls looked like, so we invited them down to the studio.
But seeing them wasn't enough. I had read an article about some French broadcasters who had actually had sex live on their show. Not to be outdone by a nation of sniveling cowards, I put the call out for a woman to come in and have sex with us. I was married, but Fred, one of my writers, was single. And sure enough, one girl came
down. She wasn't half bad-looking either.
At DC-101 we had a big horseshoe-shaped console. So this girl came in and because we were in a glass-enclosed studio, I grabbed a remote mike and Fred, the girl, and I got under the console. We started off by making noises that simulated sex.
After a few minutes, this girl got into it. She started getting into it way too much for me, but this was the first time that I saw Fred get sexual. They started making out and he was ripping his pants off. She was ready to go all the way right there under the console, but I pulled the plug on it at just the right time.
It wasn't until we got to WNBC in New York that we were actually able to get women to come in and take off their clothes on the air. It happened for the first time on our first Christmas party show. We had listeners call in and if they had some weird talents, like being able to belch Christmas carols, we had them come up to the studio. We put out some booze and the next thing we knew a girl was running around the studio throwing off her top! It was insane. It was like watching a librarian on a vacation in the Caribbean. Two piña coladas and she's bumping and grinding with a little native guy on the beach. Then Monday, she's back at work.
But we had our first taste of nudity and there was no stopping us. In fact, a few months later, I decided that until we could get girls to come down and take off their clothes for us, I would punish the listening
audience. After the show's opening theme, I came on the air in a grave monotone.
"You people are being punished today. Until a naked woman agrees to come on this program, until a woman in our audience comes down here and takes her clothes off for me, you people will be punished. We'll just sit here until you get it together. No bits, no fun, just boredom," I said.
We got a false report that a Swedish blonde named Inga was coming down to strip at four o'clock, but she didn't. Then I really began to torture my audience. I played a Partridge Family record. I played Judy Collins singing "Send in the Clowns" complete with dogs whimpering and babies crying in the background.
"Now we're going to play 'How Much Is That Doggie in the Window?' and you people can sit and listen to it. Don't turn it off," I ordered. It only got worse. A few Steve Rossi songs. "You Light Up My Life." "The Night Chicago Died." It got so bad that Robin even tried to recruit some women on the NBC studio tour to strip, but to no avail. Later that afternoon, a woman called up and promised to come down the next day.
"One condition," she said. "As long as Robin is in the room. I don't want to be alone with you."
"I don't want to touch you, I just want to look at you. I haven't seen a new naked body in ten years. I just want to look at you so I have something to fantasize about. Is that too much to ask?" I said.
Meanwhile, we finished the show with Bobby Vinton, Nancy and Frank Sinatra, "Jean," "Harper Valley PTA," "I Am Woman," "Candy Man," and "The Ballad of the Green Berets."
The next day we hit pay dirt. Waiting for us in the studio was not one, not two, but three girls! One was a comedienne named Maria, up from Philly, who promised to play Dial-a-Date naked. The second was a red-headed stripper named Destiny, and the third was Cathy, an incredible blonde. She was a natural breathtaking beauty, a girl next door who was about to do the wildest thing she'd ever done in her life. In fact, she was so shy about taking her clothes off that she brought along a male friend and made him take off his clothes, too, before she would. It was wild.
Knowing the hypocrites in management at NBC all too well, I immediately made the studio a closed set. I had Gary, who had just started working for me around this time, tape newsprint all over the
glass windows. Then I assigned both Gary and Fred to keep everybody out. I didn't care if the general manager or the program director or even Grant Tinker showed up, they weren't getting in.
"Three naked girls! Three naked girls on my show!" I screamed and Fred began to play some strip music.
"Maria's pants are off," I began a play-by-play.
"Destiny is bumping and grinding and taking her clothes off," Robin reported.
"The guy is naked! Cathy is naked!" I exulted.
"This is disgusting," Robin said.
"This is great!" I corrected her.
I put Maria into a chair so I had an unencumbered view of her 38C assets and we began her Dial-a-Date. Just then there was a commotion outside the studio door. I later found out that most of the NBC executives were outside trying to get in. And one of the NBC corporate lawyers was adamant. He demanded to be allowed in.
"I'm sorry," Gary said. "We're not allowing anybody in here."
"I NEED TO BE IN THERE, GODDAMNIT!" the suit exploded. "I'M A LAWYER. I NEED TO HEAR IF SOMETHING OBSCENE IS GOING ON."
This guy was out of control. There was no way he had to see what was going on. His job was to listen, not to look. But man, did he want to look! He created such a fucking scene that he really came off like a dirty old man.
The censor turned on his slimy heels and stormed away. Here was a guy who was in charge of le
cturing me on decency looking every bit the peep-show customer.
"My mother said I'd never get a naked woman in here." I was gloating. "I've got three." I called her up.
RAY: I'm totally disgusted.
HOWARD: She's got a D cup, just like you! I told you I'd get a naked girl down here!
RAY: And when your daughter gets older, you're gonna have her listen to this nonsense?
HOWARD: Emily doesn't think I'm her father. I told her her father is a Harvard professor.
We went back to Dial-a-Date and Maria made her choice. Then we got another girl to strip for Greg the engineer, who missed the initial nudity.
"It's really weird, Robin, during the whole thing with all those girls taking their clothes off, I was not really that turned on, believe it or not, because I love my wife," I said.
"Why lie to me, Howard?" Robin asked.
"Ssshh. Alison just called up and she won't even go on the air with me," I said. Alison had sounded really pissed. "I just wanted to test myself. I wanted to see three naked women to see if I was really in love with my wife."
"You had some question?" Robin was ruining everything.
"There was just one little iota of doubt. Every once in a while, a man questions himself. And as I'm looking at all these naked girls, I'm saying, 'I love my wife. My wife has a beautiful body. She's my friend, she's my lover, she's my confidante.'" Was anyone buying this bullshit? Just in case they weren't, I added, "This is proof positive that I love my wife more than anything in the world. And I can look at more naked women and not be turned on."
But looking was soon not enough. Like a desperate junkie, I had to seek new highs. I started spanking women on the air.
Girls would let me undress them. First I'd pull down their pants; eventually I'd remove their panties. They'd get over my knee, arch their back, and I would make them ask for a spanking. As I slapped, I made them ask me for more. "You've been a bad girl, haven't you?"
"Yes," they'd eventually reply.
Then they would ask me to spank them harder.
"Are you sure you want this? Is this what you really want?"
"Yes," they would moan.
I even spanked Jack Nicholson's Playboy centerfold girlfriend, Karen Mayo-Chandler, after he had done the very same thing.
Then it got kinkier and kinkier. I invited guys to come in and spank their wives in front of me, then it was girls spanking other girls. I was slowly running out of perverted things to do.
Enter Tula, the transsexual, fresh from the Donahue show. She was so voluptuous she'd fooled the James Bond movie producers, who featured her as one of the Bond girls. I've got to admit that for a guy without a penis, she was pretty good-looking.
"Hey, Tula, pull down your panties. I want to see how real your phony vagina looks. That's not real private parts. That's a surgical
scar with a scab on it."
"Oh, yeah, you couldn't tell the difference," she said in her deep voice.
"I sure could. Pull down your panties. Let me examine you. It can't smell very good because it can't clean itself. There must be deposits in there from everyone since the James Bond movie."
I really pissed her off. She came over to my side.
"Take off your pants first," she said. "Let me see what you've got."
"I don't have any problem with that. You're a guy." I stood there in my underpants and she grabbed my balls and cock with those big manly mitts of hers. Some things a doctor can't change.
I popped the biggest fucking boner. Some guys really know how to handle the goods. She was a pro.
After a seductive struggle, which I lost, Tula refused to show me her man-made vagina. My guess is the whole damn mess looks like one giant scab. She stripped down to her panties and I've got to admit, the confused fucker looked good.
After the thrill of spanking transsexuals and lesbians wore off, I turned to shaving. We asked female listeners to come in and shave in front of me. A few times we even offered them free concert tickets to shave. One time we got a married woman to come up and shave herself. Her name was Maria and her husband was a big fan of mine. She was really cute. Brown hair. Big jugs. When she entered the studio, we started playing "Happy Days Are Here Again." Over Fred's sound effects of an electric razor, I started singing:
Lather up your hairy lap
Don't you listen to all that other crap
When Howard's on no one takes a nap
Lather up that hairy lap
Happy days are here again
The transsexuals, Tula and
Howiener (me), exchanging
shaving tips.
She didn't like Jackie and Fred being there so I kicked them right out. Robin wanted to leave, too, but I forced her to stay, although we arranged Maria's chair so Robin couldn't see what was going on.
Maria lathered up and started to shave. We needed a bowl of hot water to rinse her razor off so we grabbed Jackie's cereal bowl. We're always using Jackie's bowl or coffee mug for some skeevy scam, but he doesn't care. Jackie's one of those guys who uses the same mug every day without rinsing it out. It's always full of stains, spit and piss. Then he mixes his tea with a fucking pencil. It's disgusting.
Me, I only drink from paper cups, I'm so terrified of germs. This guy is healthy as a horse and I'm the one who's always getting sick.
So this girl was shaving her fucking disgusting pubic hairs all over his cereal bowl and he ate from it the next day. I wanted to vomit. I hope he enjoyed his Lice Krispies.
Maria stood there naked with her thighs spread, shaking with nervousness. When she finished I asked her if she wanted to be spanked. She lay down across my lap.
"First of all, your behind is gorgeous," I said, inspecting the merchandise. She was shaking more. "What are you uptight about?"
"Nothing," Maria said.
"This is your fantasy, right? Okay, say, 'Howard, my master, please spank me.'"
She repeated after me. I spanked her and she began to laugh.
"You could do it a little harder," she said.
"You getting excited?" I asked.
I do all-male burlesque with Gary, Jackie, and Fred (left). Audience members at a live
club appearance bobbing for tampons.
"I listen to him and I have to turn it off. It gets so foul. He talks about smelling underwear and he's got the bobbing for tampons. It grosses you out." -- Gary Collins
"Yes," she sighed.
I gave her a few more whacks and released her.
"This was a great show. We can go home now," I pronounced.
"All the hair is gone?" Robin wondered.
"Everything," I said. "It's all in Jackie's cereal bowl"
Stripping, spanking, shaving -- the possibilities were endless. We competed with each other to figure out new ways of getting women to get out of their clothes and new things to do to them once they were in the buff.
For some reason our supply of women started drying up. We hadn't had a naked woman in a week. That's when I had a brainstorm. A very dim light went on in my head.
One day we had two phone sex girls up to give a demonstration of their craft. When we found out that one of them was actually a nude model for art students, we saw great potential there. We chipped in and paid her to model nude for us while we drew her.
Jackie, Fred, Gary, and I would become artists. So I bought easels, paints, and berets. Yes, we wore berets on the radio with our headphones on and I put a call out on the radio for girls to come down to model nude for us. They came in droves. After all, this was a legitimate
My drawing . .. Fred's attempt. ..
venture. There was nothing vile about it.
Leonardo da Jackie...and Gary's worthless piece of shit.
We brought in a model who was posing with her right arm in the air like a Michelangelo sculpture. Jackie, Fred, and I really tried to capture the beautiful flow. In our sketches y
ou could see that we really tried to draw her. Gary just stood there staring at the girl. When we saw his drawing we burst out laughing. He just wanted to gape at this naked woman and paid no attention to his art. Her stupid arm isn't even up in the air. And check out the pubic bush and wishbone tits. Nice shoulders. Where the hell are her hands? Talk about pencil necks! And what's with that expression on her face? But he did spend a lot of time on his rather feminine and intricate signature. That smelly bastard. We haven't had another nude model since. He blew the whole thing.
Drawing led to painting and soon enough we were having naked girls up every St. Patrick's Day so we could paint their breasts green. Paint was always applied with little cotton balls that allowed me to feel up my studio guests without actually cheating on my wife. (I walk a fine line.)
We even began subtle little games among ourselves, games the audience had no knowledge of. I devised a shoe trick that benefited
Jackie, Fred, and Gary. Whenever a woman came in wearing a miniskirt, I would compliment her on her shoes.
"Wow, I love high heels," I'd say. "Can I see those shoes?"
The unsuspecting female would swivel her chair and stick her shoe up on the console, so I could examine it. Meanwhile, Jackie, Fred, and Gary looked right up her dress. Every girl fell for the shoe trick. The guys got to see Tori Spelling's underwear that way.
Tori was just the beginning. Our next conquest was the famous porn star Ginger Lynn. I got to spank
her, but it wasn't easy. Ginger was dating Charlie Sheen at the time, and at first she didn't even want to take off her clothes. But I went into my patented "Stern Whining" and a few minutes later she was buck naked and lying across my lap. I gave her a nice spanking. She had one of the most incredible bodies I had ever seen. It was a real turn-on.
"Oh, my God, Charlie's going to be so upset," Ginger worried. "I'll tell him that it was only the radio, I wasn't really naked and getting spanked." But she was naked and she did get spanked and I didn't think Charlie was going to buy that bullshit. A few weeks later, Gary tried to book Charlie Sheen for our TV show and we heard that he was furious and he wanted to beat the shit out of me because I had his girlfriend naked over my lap. As if it was my fault. This is a girl who's fucked everything that breathes in her porno movies and he was mad at me.