An investigation into convicted killer Sarah Johnson’s claim that she was raped in an Idaho jail while awaiting trial for her parents’ murders concluded that the teenager is a "liar" and her allegations unsubstantiated.

Following a three-month probe into the jailhouse rape allegations made by Johnson, who is serving life without parole for the 2003 shooting deaths of her parents, Alan and Diane Johnson, a team of sheriffs from outside jurisdictions determined that her story "lacked credibility."

But Johnson’s supporters say the investigation’s findings are yet another example of the corruption and bias against Johnson from the Blaine County Sheriff’s Department.

"Basically, we have the wolves investigating the coyotes," Patrick Dunn, an investigator for Johnson’s defense team, told Courttv.com. "There’s too much conflict of interest. This investigation should have been done by the U.S. Attorney’s Office."


Penny Flame Set To Sizzle This Weekend At Rouge
Award Winning Starlet Makes Her Feature Dance Debut in Van Nuys

LA Direct Models

Penny Flame(Studio City) If you stand too close to the fire, you’re bound to get burned, but if you think you can take the heat, Penny Flame is set to light up the night this weekend at Rouge Gentlemen’s Club.

Thursday April 20th – Saturday April 22nd, 2006 AVN Award Winner and FAME Award nominee, Penny Flame, will take the stage in several sizzling performances nightly that may just cause extreme cases of internal combustion. Don’t say we didn’t warn you!

Penny, who recently performed at Rouge for LA Direct Models Award Winners and Contract Stars Up and Comers Night is honored to have been asked back to make her solo dance debut and said, “I am really excited to do this, I will have a change bucket on stage for any extra quarters you may have on hand and if I fall on my head and break my nose don’t laugh at me, ok, hahahaha, just kidding. Tell your friends and bring them too.”

After each stage performance, Penny will be standing by for nude lap dances, polaroids, and autographs. Merchandise including copies of her latest skin flicks Girls Night Out, Who Let The Whores Out, and Collectors Editions of Blazed and Confused are available for purchase for those who want to see this hot, young starlet in action.

Rouge Gentlemen’s Club is located at 14626 Raymer Street in Van Nuys, CA 91343. Please call 818-786-1822 or visit www.rougegentlemensclub.com for show times and more information.

Penny Flame is nominated for the 2006 FAME Awards. To vote for her in the categories of “Favorite Adult Actress”, “Hottest Body”, and “Favorite Breasts” please visit www.thefameawards.com and cast your votes now.

Penny Flame is exclusively represented by LA Direct Models and is available for scenes, photoshoots, feature dancing and more. Please contact LA Direct Models at 818-752-5080 or visit www.ladirectmodels.com for more information.

LA Direct Models is the exclusive booking agent for feature dancers at Rouge Gentlemen’s Club.

LA Direct Models and Penny Flame media inquiries may be directed to Janie Liszewski of High Profile Media at 661-607-4891 or jj@highprofilemedia.com.


Toddler falls under truck’s tires during birthday party

NAVASOTA  — A 2-year-old Houston boy died after being accidentally run over by his uncle during the child’s birthday celebration, officials said.

Joseph Donis died from head trauma at a Bryan hospital after being flown by helicopter from a home south of Navasota where the accident occurred on Saturday.

Grimes County Sheriff Don Sowell said Joseph’s uncle, Enoe Sandoval, was moving his truck from the carport to give Joseph and his sister more room to play.

Joseph apparently tripped over a toy and fell into the vehicle’s path, Sowell said.

Sowell said the death was accidental and no charges will be filed.

The boy’s parents, Israel and Gladys Donis, were at the home when the accident occurred. The family had gathered to celebrate Joseph’s April 8th birthday.


Fayner Posts: I borrowed the porno Pirates from Tyler the other day. I watched it. I’m gonna review it some time this week, but before I do I must say how angry I am about one thing in the movie.

I quickly scanned through the cast list written on the back cover. I noticed that only one performer in the movie was absent from the box cover’s cast list, and that performer was Brian Surewood.

What the fuck is going on here?????????

I mean, if anyone in porno is a pirate it’s Brian Surewood.

Simple as that.

But no, Tommy Gunn gets top male billing in Pirates while Brian is left off completely.

Judge for yourself, okay?



Fayner Posts: So I snorted cocaine and gun powder yesterday. I said I would do it.  But since I am forbidden from doing blow at my house per TR’s order, I found myself pulling off Topanga onto some side street and snorting it right there in broad daylight.

I see it as cocaine with a punch, but not as bogus as when assholes dice up meth into the coke. I’m sure all the added energy was purely in my mind. I instantly felt like becoming an African child about to go to war, just as the description I found said I would.

The only downside was the horrible black colored snot I kept blowing out of my nose all day long.

I recommend it to everyone with adventure in their heart.


Fayner to snort gunpowder and cocaine!

#1) I hope and pray he overdoses. Is it wrong to pray to God that someone dies a horrible death? Could use some clarification on that one.

#2) I don’t know if it is "good" to pray for his death, but…what is "good" anyways?

#3) I think it would be hilarious is he had gunpowder residue left in his nostrils and pharynx and somehow it got ignited by hot cigarette vapor.

#4) I hope he tries to cut the shit with a rusty razor blade on a large flint-rock table in a room with a nice cozy fire burning in the fireplace. 

#5) The only gun powder that should go up his nose should be expelled from the barrel of a 45. 

#6) i want to buy a cordless nailgun and just staple fentanyl fentanyl patches to him until his lungs fill with fluid and he drowns on what he’s choking on because he’s been telling us how dangerous a life he’s living and how on the edge he is, yet he’s still alive. all i want is to watch him gurgle some strange fluids filling his lungs then die as his bmr plummets. then crucify him in public, like jesus who his people killed.

#7) he has aids 


Fake Cops Rob Exotic Dancer At South Bay Motel

from KTVU.com

SUNNYVALE — Two men — claiming to be police officers — handcuffed, gagged with duct tape and robbed an exotic dancer in her South Bay motel room early Friday morning before escaping with $3,000 and other valuables.

The Sunnyvale Department of Public Safety said they were investigating the 1 a.m. crime in which two men, who were not wearing police uniforms, allegedly showed the woman a black handgun and told her they were police when she opened her door.

The suspects immediately entered the room, handcuffed the woman and placed her in the bathroom, telling her not to leave, police said.

The pair took the woman’s "personal property," police said, including an undetermined amount of cash. She was not injured.

"They came into my room and acted like they were the police," Katie Harris, an exotic dancer from Orange County, told KTVU. "They handcuffed me. Duct-taped me…They threatened me with a gun. They asked me where was my money. I told them in the safe. They stole $3,000…They put me in the bathroom and told me to stay in there. They said they’d be back in an hour."

One suspect is described as a Caucasian man in his mid 20s, 5 feet 11 inches tall, with a thin build and long, dirty blond hair in a ponytail. He was wearing a black jacket, a black plaid long-sleeve shirt and blue jeans. He was also wearing eyeglasses.

The second suspect is described as a black man in his mid 20s, 5 feet 10 inches tall, of medium build with short black hair. He was wearing a blue plaid long-sleeve shirt and blue jeans.

Click here for the Video Interview


‘South Park’ Creators Skewer Own Network

from Yahoo Entertainment

Banned by Comedy Central from showing an image of the Islamic prophet Muhammad, the creators of "South Park" skewered their own network for hypocrisy in the cartoon’s most recent episode.

The comedy in an episode aired during Holy Week for Christians instead featured an image of Jesus Christ defecating on President Bush and the American flag.

In an elaborately constructed two-part episode of their Peabody Award-winning cartoon, "South Park" creators Matt Stone and Trey Parker intended to comment on the controversy created by a Danish newspaper’s publishing of caricatures of Muhammad. Muslims consider any physical representation of their prophet to be blasphemous.

When the cartoons were reprinted in newspapers worldwide in January and February, it sparked a wave of protests primarily in Islamic countries.

Parker and Stone were angered when told by Comedy Central several weeks ago that they could not run an image of Muhammad, according to a person close to the show who didn’t want to be identified because of the issue’s sensitivity.

The network’s decision was made over concerns for public safety, the person said.

Comedy Central said in a statement issued Thursday: "In light of recent world events, we feel we made the right decision." Its executives would not comment further.

As is often the case with Parker and Stone, they built "South Park" around the incident. In Wednesday’s episode, the character Kyle is shown trying to persuade a Fox network executive to air an uncensored "Family Guy" even though it had an image of Muhammad.

"Either it’s all OK, or none of it is," Kyle said. "Do the right thing."

The executive decides to strike a blow for free speech and agrees to show it. But at the point where Muhammad is to be seen, the screen is filled with the message: "Comedy Central has refused to broadcast an image of Muhammad on their network."

It is followed shortly by the images of Christ, Bush and the flag.

A frequent "South Park" critic, William Donohue of the anti-defamation group Catholic League, called on Parker and Stone to resign out of principle for being censored.

"The ultimate hypocrite is not Comedy Central that’s their decision not to show the image of Muhammad or not it’s Parker and Stone," he said. "Like little whores, they’ll sit there and grab the bucks. They’ll sit there and they’ll whine and they’ll take their shot at Jesus. That’s their stock in trade."

Parker and Stone did not immediately respond to a request through a spokesman for comment.

It’s the second run-in over religion in a few months for the satirists. Comedy Central pulled a March rerun of a "South Park" episode that mocked Scientologists. Isaac Hayes, a Scientologist who voiced the Chef character on the show, resigned in protest over the episode.

"South Park" again got the last word last month with an episode where Chef was seemingly killed and mourned as a jolly guy whose brains were scrambled by the "Super Adventure Club," which turns its members into pedophiles.

Only last week, "South Park" won broadcasting’s prestigious Peabody. Awards director Horace Newcomb said at the time that by its offensiveness, the show "reminds us of the need for being tolerant."


Fayner Posts: This is Allan MacDonell, my former boss at Hustler. I got a lot from him and for that reason I’m giving back. This is an excerpt from his book Prisoner of X about his adventures at Hustler up until he was fired. Me reprinting this chapter in no way means I feel the same way about Larry Flynt and the whole Hustler world as Allan does. Free speech is our last freedom and I support it until I die. I suggest you go out and buy it today, and to show how fair we are may we also suggest buying Larry’s many books too.


IT TAKES A special person to work at Hustler magazine for 20 years

and not crack up. From the dawn of the Reagan Administration well

into Bush II, I was bombarded daily by sharply focused images of

naked women and bare-assed men locked in the most primal and

private activity human beings engage in other than defecation, and

I’d been shown that too. I viewed these images, literally 1,000 every

day, through powerful magnifying lenses ground in Germany. I

evaluated each photograph for its prurient appeal, and selected the

most effective among them to be presented to a drooling audience,

a large portion of which would have paid a month of their salaries

to spend a week on my job.

As a writer, I cranked out service pieces on how to dump a

girlfriend before she dumps you, on romancing welfare mothers,

on capturing for a moment the erotic affections of rich women,

crazy women, gorgeous women, angry women, new age women,

promiscuous women, aging women, and women with severe eating

disorders. I clarified at least one mystery of the universe in a feature

titled “Creeps: Why Women Love Us.”

I’d been airlifted to a remote Nevada highway and embedded at

a house of prostitution there. I’d infiltrated a convention of soldierof-

fortune mercenaries, and penetrated San Quentin Prison’s death

row to interview a man convicted of murdering two consecutive

wives. I’d tagged along to the south of France with a planeload of

porn starlets who plied their trade to private fans at up to $5,000

per scene. I’d spent three hours in a cell with a tape recorder and

one of California’s most notorious serial killers. I’d hopped a redeye

to Atlanta, Georgia, where I delivered a staggering cashier’s check

to the second ex-wife of family-values congressman Bob Barr.

I entered the strange and titillating environment of Larry Flynt

Publications as a married 27-year-old clinging to the shreds of a

Roman Catholic education. Tentative at first, jumpy around all the

sexual triggers, I quickly adopted a jaded sensualism which was put

to the test once my wife had split. Acclimating well, I assumed a

supervisory position within the hotbed of anarchy and depravity at

LFP. I hired and indoctrinated others to the Hustler way. I directed

talented underlings in the creation of aberrant literature and curiously

lewd photographic scenarios. I trained attractive young

women to compose debauched sexual memoirs, and then I made

suggestions for improving their grammar. Hustler was not the vilest

magazine on the market, but we tried.

Private sex videos never intended for public consumption

crossed my desk, souvenirs that purported to show Ted Turner in a

manic kinky mood with Jane Fonda, young Pam Anderson satisfying

the singer from Poison, Chuck Berry despoiling a string of

anonymous partners, some of whom treated Chuck (if indeed that

was Chuck) to a bite of poo, Anna Nicole Smith playing the nude,

inebriated seductress in a hotel bathtub, Mick Jagger captured by

a crafty, spread-eagle stripper barely one-third his age, and Courtney

Love cavorting with Scott Weiland of the Stone Temple Pilots. I

came away with the opinion that all of these tapes were probably

authentic, but I had learned to mistrust reality at large.

In 1998, I was plunged into the chamber pot of national politics.

Suddenly, at the height of the frenzy surrounding the impeachment

of President Bill Clinton, my actions were creating headlines in the

Washington Post and being cited in New York Times and Wall Street

Journal Op-Ed columns. There I was on prime-time TV, arguing

public morality with big-haired news-channel blowhards. Functioning

as equal parts reporter and vandal, I hounded down adulterous

Congressional hypocrites wherever Larry Flynt’s lure of a milliondollar

reward could flush them out. Before the smoke and mirrors

had cleared, the Speaker-elect had resigned from the United States

House of Representatives in the face of my insinuation that Hustler

had uncovered proof of his extramarital follies.

After having saved Bill Clinton’s pasty ass, if not his legacy, I

continued to guide staffs of writers and artists in producing the sarcasm,

muckraking, celebrity bashing and go-for-the-throat

eroticism of America’s most iconoclastic stroke book, as well as

being overlord on a half-dozen ancillary publications—Taboo, Barely

Legal, Chic, Asian Fever, Busty Beauties, Honey Buns. At 46, a

seasoned veteran of hardcore anti-journalism, I reigned over a fiefdom

of quick-witted geeks with graduate degrees and no concept of

a career path. Then I made one crucial blunder in my relationship

with Larry Flynt, a faux pas so colossal that I must have committed

it deliberately. Soon after, I was fired.

From my first day as an axed employee, casual acquaintances,

relatives and former co-workers told me I should write the book on

Hustler. To everyone who didn’t have to write it, the book was a nobrainer,

but I had to wonder: What is the specific idea? Do I intend

to produce an exposé of Larry Flynt? How do you pitch a tell-all of

a man who is on record as having had sex with a chicken?

Oprah tosses up her hands: “The man admits to raping a fowl.

Are you telling me there is more?”

In fact, there is plenty more, but this book racket is turning out

to be more work than I am accustomed to. Trying to make things

easy on myself, I reached out to several former Hustler co-workers.

Many of these are decent, conflicted men and women. A few are

porno scumbags. I asked everybody the same questions: What had

working in the peculiar biosphere of LFP been like for you? What

memories typified or evoked the experience?

Most everyone agreed that their Hustler tenure had been weird

and less than entirely pleasant. All the former employees I contacted

shared one common thing that separated them from me: they’d come

to Larry Flynt Publications, and then they continued on their way,

having outgrown the Hustler environment. Maybe it wasn’t a question

of growth for all of them. Perhaps a few had simply burnt out on the

beaver shots, the institutionalized paranoia and the unrelenting satire.

The point is, these burnouts had moved on. My growth, if that’s what I

chose to call it, had all been confined within the structure of LFP.

I’d come in as an assistant nobody and risen to the top, like

scum on a cup of hot chocolate. If this progression had occurred at

Condé Nast, I’d be pushing my publicist for a five-page profile in

Forbes. When we met during the filming of The People vs. Larry

Flynt, actor Woody Harrelson, who portrayed Larry in the movie,

said, “You’re the guy who’s got the best job in the world.” If so, why

did I start my car every morning, then sit behind the wheel for 10

minutes debating whether or not to open the garage door?

A tougher question might be: how did I thrive so long in a

bizarro world of bodyguards, cracker-rich hillbillies and high-gloss

cumshots? Now here is an interesting question of character: what

the fuck was wrong with me?