welcome the congregation, explaining the Meaning of Eros Day, brought to us by the living legendary Lasse Braun. Then, flanked by a bevy of dazzlingly nude and wingéd Eros Angels, stunningly sexy ladies of all ages from 19-45, including Annie Body, Tai Ellis, Cheyenne Hunter, Mindy Main, Daisy May, Cyn Moore and Cara Lott, all holding flickering Eros Day cock candles as we deliver the Eros Day Prayer, accompanied by the deep baritone of “Airplane” Jive Brother Norman Alexander Gibbs:

Praise be to the Power & Glory of Eros!
God of Lust, God of Love, God of Life!
Radiant Phallic Planetoid! Holy Spirit of Sex!
O Eros…Give Us the Breath of Life!
O Planetoid…Come Close to Us Tonight!
Release the Spirit of Sex Within Us,
The Spirit that Created Us From Sex,
The Spirit that Infuses Our Every Moment with Our Sexuality,
The Spirit that Makes Us Horny!
Praise be to the Power & Glory of Eros!
Live Long, Fuck Well, Touch Others,
Peace on Earth, Pleasure for All !
Amen…Awomen…
Happy Eros Day!

After our prayer, the lovely, topless Kayla Raynes sings an Aria to Eros in a divine soprano that seems to rise up through the 18-foot-ceilings of the Speakeasy, permeating the Heavens Above with its sweet clarity. The almost (but not quite) religious solemnity of the moment is then broken with a wild cry of passion, a different kind of aria, as Annie Body squirts a great gorgeous geyser of female ejaculate all over my broadcast bed, baptizing us all in her Holy Water. This is her prayer to Eros, for Eros to come to her, to come to all of us...

Almost immediately, her prayers are answered. Eros comes on a wing and prayer (and not much else) in the human form of the disarmingly charming Tulsy Ball whom RadioSuzy1TV viewers will remember from November's "Born Again Squirting Spanksgiving" show. Wearing nothing but angel wings, Eros joyously zooms in for a landing in my bed of squirt, happy to spread love, lust and life throughout the universe and be adored by His giggling priestesses, all of us made up tribal-style by Annie. Then the Heavens open again, and Eros’ hot mama Aphrodite (Venus to the Romans), also totally nude and breathtakingly sexy, enters my Bed of Eros. Everyone worships Aphrodite, played by our favorite chica from Chicago , Shay Lynn (with David Goldner and the Goldner Girls), in her second Eros Day appearance, even more bubbly and more buxom than she was last year. Since Annie was Aphrodite for Eros Day ’06 Circus of Sex, she crowns Shay Lynn “Eros Day Aphrodite ’07,” and seals the immortal transition with a deep kiss. Then the worshippers line up: First cute-as-kansas Daisy May (last seen on The Dr. Susan Block Show as a Porn Clown in XXXmas Saturnalia) licks the Delta of Venus of Venus. Then Tai squirts for Aphrodite. Then Cheyenne Hunter enters our Boudoir Temple of Eros, peels off her peel-on pants, stands on her head and opens her spectacular silky smooth legs for Aphrodite and Eros to sanctify, which they do, with loving tongue kisses (bisoux-bisoux!). Blessed by the Gods, Cheyenne proceeds to turn herself into a human pretzel, sticking her feet behind her head. This makes Eros’ planetoid rock-hard, and he rubs it between his hot mama’s big boobs; then several Eros Angels vie to suck, stroke and adore His divine rod. Ah yes, it’s good to be a God! Adonis, the handsome human beloved of Venus, is played by Andrew Andretti, as his favorite nymph Mindy Main strips off his human clothes, revealing his Godly nakedness, including his rising planetoid, which also gets the immortal treatment from all the other Eros Angels. Then kat steps into the scene, naked except for some tribal bracelets, a fringe skirt and a mysterious Bedouin mask. She picks her giant boa Alice up out of her basket and does a mesmerizing Snake Dance to Eros before the Speakeasy congregation as Eros and the naked Eros Angels shake and moan behind her. Next Teka-Lark Lo reads an erotic poem, Annie Body leads Cara Lott in on a leash sucking her strap-on planetoid, and Baadmaster appears to give naughty Cara a few hard whacks. Then some hot chicks from Babeland present us with vibrating Silver Bullets to enhance our Eros Day, Roberta Morgan of Mikey & Mandy shares her angelic tits, and our mellifluous opera singer Kayla Raynes squirts up a storm of Holy Water for Eros that Sissy Maid devoutly drinks like a Catholic schoolgirl taking her wafer.

Just when it seems the Eros Day festivities can’t get much more festive, in comes the President of the United States , singing! Everyone knows I am not a fan of the current White House resident, having frequently called him a dickhead and a war criminal. But on the Eros holiday, we open our hearts, our legs and our doors to all, even dickheads and war criminals, as long as they leave their WMDs outside. So, the President (Andrew Ableson) marches into the Womb Room with his cabinet, all of them wondering what to do about the latest terrorist threat, whereupon the Heavens open up (again!) and Jesus Christ Himself (the beatific Trevor Murphy) appears, first in a Biblical robe, then (because it’s Eros Day?) he strips down to His rather skimpy loincloth. In the spirit of Eros, Jesus and the President sing a tenderly romantic gay love duet, “My Savior Did Appear,” and dance a little pas de deux. Just in case we’re not being blasphemous enough here, a Catholic priest (Curt Bonnem) steps up to sing “The Morals of Society” while flashing his frilly panties from under his cassock. All these characters are in the cast of the marvelous, critically acclaimed operetta “The Beastly Bombing,” now in its second run at the Steve Allen Theater of the Center for Inquiry in Hollywood, returning to the Speakeasy, with director/writer Julien Nitzberg and composer Roger Neill.

From opera to orgasms to operetta to more orgasms, to spanking, squirting, beautiful bondage and just dancing to the bacchanalian beat of DJ Thomas Lann and Pat Harper, with Lion’s live drumming, Eros Day gets progressively more erotic and erotically more progressive. Yes indeed, Brothers & Sisters, Lovers & Sinners, the Spirit of Eros is the same sexy trickster spirit that infused the anti-war movement of the Vietnam years with passion and an erotic fervor that is sadly lacking in the anti-war movements of today. But the Spirit of Eros is alive and well at Dr. Suzy’s Speakeasy. Amen & Awomen. Please pass the condoms. After we get up off the bed to dance, Eros flies up onto the bar, flirts with our pretty blonde barmaid Sarah, then carries her lovely redheaded green-corsetted friend Jo up onto the Hollywood Love Rug for some intimate Eros-making. Meanwhile, another handsome naked Eros (human name: Beamer) sprouts wings (the turquoise ones I wore for the Eros Day '05 Counter-Inaugural BALL) and drives Annie and me on a wild ride around and around the Speakeasy in the Chariot of Eros. Soon all the girls are taking rickshaw rides, making out in the backseat of the chariot, and I am being kissed and licked by so many Eroses and Aphrodites that my face is all lipsticky red. Nancy gives Tulsy Eros a blowjob, Annie takes care of Beamer Eros and Cara Lott sucks off AIN Editor Steve Nelson (hopefully, he'll give her a good review), and Juliano examines the lovely Ariel. Mark the Republican puts the George W. Bush mask on Bobby Bonobo and sticks him into my arms. I feel kind of silly holding a Dubya Furry, but it feels good to turn this dangerous war criminal into a cooperative little ape. Later, Wallace Dorian a.k.a. Wallace Jackson, the faux director of Canaan Brumley’s film within a film within a film (like those Chinese dolls) about the Speakeasy, puts on the George II mask in an attempt to pre-emptively invade the Bar.

Then into the Speakeasy walks Bono. Well, he looks just like Bono and sings like Bono, at least to someone who is not a Bono buff (I’m a bonobo buff, not a Bono buff). Whoever he is, he's a fantastic musician, and the Bonobo Gang is thrilled to have this international ambassador of peace, music and masquerade celebrate Eros Day with us. So he puts on a mask (all of the major celebrities at Eros Day wear masks), whips out his guitar and belts out “Street with No Name,” "One" and other classics like “Hotel California” and “Knocking on Heaven’s Door,” and we all sing, dance and screw along, knowing this is just a nice talented guy named Pavel Sfera, not the Great God Bono Himself, but feeling like we’ve gotten through Heaven’s Door with VIP passes.

Suddenly seized by the Spirit of Eros, heretofore mild-mannered Julien Nitzberg jumps up on the shoulders of Matt Cornel (who plays the Sergeant in The Beastly Bombing, as well as Extreme Elvis, having performed with our friend and LUVeR Frank Moore, charging around the Womb Room and through the Bar, apparently looking for a chickenfight (or cockfight?). I climb on Annie’s back and we head in that direction, but wind up falling in a heap of bonobos, which is just as well as we probably wouldn’t have won a cockfight, although Annie is sporting a very nice cock. From porn stars to painters, our body-painter-in-residence Gregory Beylerian takes the lovely Vivian and Tai’s semi-nude bodies as canvases and paints upon them stunning works of art, incandescent Kandinsky on skin. Then the amazing Alma Cielo, another fellow Yale alumna (’95) whom you may remember as the lovely violinist who plays with the Nymphs of Zorbacchus in “Zorthian: Art & Times” and at our "Zorthian & Yale Art Salon," pulls out her fiddle and blesses us all with her deeply passionate melodies and exquisite musicianship. She plays like the great God Apollo, bringing the Speakeasy to an even higher level of sublime Eros appreciation, and she continues to play as Rachel Dawson reads an erotic poem. Are we at a coffee house or a swing club? I used to go to both separately, always wishing I could go to one place that was both. Of course, I never found a place like that until we created the Speakeasy.

So then I’m strolling around all these beautiful people, bonobos, clowns, artists, porn stars and Eros angels wearing Squirt for Peace, Eros-Zine tank tops, lingerie, leather, macramé bondage or nothing at all, when whom do I bump into but Jesus Christ. He’s very sexy in a saintly sort of way. I give Him a hug of appreciation for His divine singing, noticing a stiff wooden…um...cross(?) rising heavenward between His legs, and rubbing gently against the V of my crotch, finally settling the question of “Was Jesus Celibate?” (for me anyway). So I taketh the Lord to my bed, where I begin to initiate Him into the Cult of Eros. We speak about LOVE, one of Jesus' favorite subjects. Then sultry Cheyenne appears like the Temptress in the Garden of Gethsemane in a peacock feather mask and nothing else. Jesus is pleased with her striptease and the way she speaks fluent Arabic, close to His native tongue of Aramaic. We praise the Lord for His openness, and He reminds us that He's always liked hanging out with hookers when not walking on water or suffering for our sins. Alas, when Cheyenne tries to pull off the robe of Christ, He glares at the Arabic-speaking Harlot as if she is indeed some kind of terrorist and heads for the Bar. So much for the Last Temptation of Christ. Not one to waste her erotic mood, Cheyenne jumps into my lap and goes down on me with religious passion, speaking in tongues, both Arabic and Cunnilinguistics…

Speaking of eating, have I mentioned the delectably decadent Aphrodisiac Buffet? This one features Gene’s sumptuous chocolate truffles with Agavero Tequila Liqueur, Chinese Aphrodisiacs, celery (to freshen the semen), suckable lollies, some of the biggest, meatiest, most scrumptious oysters I have ever slurped up (thank you, Mariscos!), corkscrew pasta and chocolate-dipped strawberries. And then all the sex toys. Gotta have sex toys. Featured for Eros Day: Babeland Silver Bullets and baby pink Doc Johnson Pocket Rockets. Ah, if only we could shoot these bullets and drop these rockets, instead of the other kind on our so-called “enemies,” we’d have a better, more erotic, less thanatoxic world.

Of course, with Perma-War surging all around us, that kind of peace-through-pleasure world is a pipe dream, a bonobo fantasy, a vision of the divine and, perhaps, the insane. After all, the Ideal is the Enemy of the Real, and the reality is that "we’re at war." Or anyway, our country is in the War Business, with Thanatos as CEO. But on Eros Day, we tie Thanatos up in macramé and stuff Aphrodite's panties in His mouth, and the Spirit of Eros rules. Beautiful peaceable naked angels carry us off into orgasms, beating the drums of life