Porn Valley. A carving knife is to Wankus like a hacksaw is to the movie, Hostel. The bird is ready for slicing and Wankus asks Sox, his right hand man at KSEX, if he wants to take a crack. Sox, mumbling something about the grain of the meat, is politely declining and Wankus asks if I want to take a crack. I mumble something about the grain of the meat. Wankus cracks up. He does the job himself and a switchblade in the hands of a greaseball has a cleaner effect.

Precision cuts of turkey or not, Thanksgiving is becoming something of a tradition at the Wankus household. He said something about getting there after two. And because I found myself spending half the morning and afternoon on the Kayla Quinn story, I thought I might be running late. Turns out, no. Tyler Faith’s answering the door and telling me they just got up, and I fill Wankus in on what Quinn had said. Apparently he got a voice mail from her as well and wanted to know what the kidnapping business was all about. I tell him about Hacienda Heights, and he seems highly amused that a porn story has the dateline of Hacienda Heights. Meanwhile, his one dog’s nuzzling me under the arm as I tell the story. This is the sweetest dog I’ve ever run into. Conceding that this lovable animal might be an idiot, Faith says they found him tied to a tree or something like that. He looks like a composite dog- the body of a Dachshund, maybe, and then go figure from there. With sweet eyes and a beautiful disposition, he’s a love pig.

I ask Tyler if the dog’s gay and she seems to think so. She tells me the male dogs in the neighborhood all want to fuck him. Which makes you wonder exactly what dog is gay in this case. Wankus’ other dog Hunter has figured out a way to open the refrigerator and help himself to the gravy boat. He has to fight me for the meatballs. I win.

For all intents and purposes, Faith’s dog, Italy, is keeping quiet, though Faith will be the first to admit that Italy can be “a litle bitch”. Faith tells a story how Italy won an Internet beauty contest that may or may not have been rigged. It’s pretty funny.

There’s also more space now that Tristan Ryan, the house guest is gone. Wankus told the whole story on KSEX recently, and it was the porn equivalent of The Man Who Came to Dinner with Wankus playing the part of the harried landlord. A team Tyler contract girl for maybe two minutes, Ryan set up shop in the living room, threw a mattress on the floor and half the area became her bedroom, according to Faith. You’d have to walk over her to change the channel on the TV. And Ryan also had an interesting way of unwrapping aluminum foil packages then crashing for nine days at a time. The smell it left wasn’t exactly the toiletries counter at Macy’s. I’m also hearing a story about two brothers in the porn biz who were caught taking a bath together.

I ask Faith if this is true. She swears, yeah. I make a mental note that I got to get Faith some time with about three shots under her belt and a tape recorder running. Wankus remembers the time she talked about her abortions on KSEX. The next day he sees the headlines and thinks to himself, oh fuck. Maybe this is one time he’ll want to keep her off the Internet. But Faith sees the story and thinks it’s a knee slapper.

Rock manager/promoter Jon Finberg gets there sometime after three, and Finberg is out to set a record for Jager shooters. Around six in the evening he apparently succeeds; and, after making a 9-1-1 call to the shitter is found in the front seat of his car, establishing acquaintance with his dashboard. With Finberg out like a light, Wankus is suggesting devious methods to fuck with him, but they sound all too elaborate, especially under the influence of tryptophan.

Finberg, once believed to have been lost in a Tsunami, walks back into the house after a two hour nap, though he can’t believe he was out that long. But Finberg swears he feels great.

If a Tsunami doesn’t get you, Jagers straight down the hatch stand little chance.