THE SILENCE IS DEAFENING!

Last week in a burst of inspiration born from stark boredom, I launched my tranny site. The format is simple: REAL photos...nothing pornographic....and a lot of informative text I've compiled over the years from dealing in close quarters with the transgendered subculture. And it should be a no-brainer. There are no commercial sites with any insider info. And there are no commercial sites that feature REAL PIX ONLY. In the world of disinformation and bait and switch, this seemed to be the viable approach.

So I solicited via e-mail the aid of The Village Voice publisher...and the leading advertising agency in the local adult ad biz, both of whom directly derive their livings from my hard work. And what did I get? Nothing! Silence.

Let's take The Voice first. Backpage is a Voice-sponsored site...but not THEIR brainchild. It was conceived as a Craig knock off by a terminated executive to whom the corporation owed a favor. Backpage now runs way in the black and part of its success (at least in New York) is credited to yours truly (and that's by the owner - not by me). When I suggested The Voice be my partner), all I wanted was a banner ad in the paper every week...and maybe a little tech help. Is that so much to ask of a corporation which benefits from my hard work every day? And the answer to that is a thundering YES! I got no response from the publisher. But I did get an immediate response from the owner of Backpage to whom I cc'd the correspondence. His take was "They're not gonna do it. Don't waste your time."

Every week, The Voice runs a huge ad for sexyblackbook.com, a new site they're attempting to launch. And for the first time, I checked it out. It's dog shit! Almost EVERY photo is fake plus...there's no information about the girls...or any editorial of an informative or entertaining nature. THIS is THEIR brainchild. Not surprising they wouldn't see the potential in my tranny site.

Then there's Somad, the "leader" in adult advertising. That leader status comes from chronology and NOT vision - at least at this point. I e-mailed them suggesting they send me photos of their tranny clients to whom I would give free advertising for two weeks. After that, Somad could sell at a 30% commission. That should have been easy enough. Yeah, right! Nothing. Add to that...every time they sell an ad in Extreme Magazine, they have me to thank. I negotiated the deal for them. They didn't even know Extreme existed. Every time they sell an ad in Escort Magazine...they have me to thank. I WAS Escort Magazine until I bowed out under faux mafia pressure. Without me, there never would have been Escort Magazine. I started it! And get this: They make 15% of my money on The Village Voice in exchange for which they do NOTHING! I do ALL my artwork at this point.

Wait! I'm not done! I was instrumental in helping that agency win two wars (with competitors) and they don't even have the decency to throw down a few minutes of semi-work to join in on a project from a guy who's kept them alive? Bogus. You could say that I'm a time bomb waiting to explode and nobody wants to get near me. But the truth is they've pissed off more than a few employees in their history. I'm not alone. It's a syndrome!

Whatever! Here's something I know that they don't: I can check the internet service provider of every visitor to my site. I don't know who they are but I DO know how they get on the web. And more than occasionally (like this morning on the tranny beat site), I see yale.edu...or cornell.edu. That's right! Either Ivy League students - or their professors - log on to see what Dollar Bill has to say about the escort biz. And you can bet your ass that the ivy leaguers not only look at the pictures...but read the text as well. Maybe that's the problem. I'll bet that the publisher of The Voice and the agents at Somad don't have the energy to read the kind of information they are NOT privy to because they sit behind a desk all day.

And finally, CBS Sunday Morning is over and I need to do some laundry before I enjoy this gorgeous day. I'm not gonna spend all day crying about how unappreciated I am by the people whose mouths I feed. I'm just not that neurotic.