I HAVE LONG maintained that our economy is moving from an industrial base to a pornographic one.

The pornographic industry currently claims over 11.5 million employees nationwide, all gyrating and inserting clever things into their little dark places, fueling the stunning economic boom of the 1990s by their single-handed invention of the Internet. Smut is the cornerstone of the new America: It only makes sense that it should follow the sublime example of our Bolshevik forbears and form a soviet.

Live Nude Girls Unite! documents the ongoing struggles to unionize among the flesh-artists of San Francisco's Lusty Lady (a sister to the same-named aristocratic filth-art gallery in our fair city). Sadly, the film is, at its bitter heart, the product of a dull, self-obsessed, Judeo- Lesbian mind. The dreary first- person narrative, obsessed as it is with tepid issues of family and Feminism (the very word infects me with bile!), blights the film even as the scar of surgery blights the full breast of the erotic dancer.

Moreover, the film lacks the conviction to display wantonly those lovely, dappled vaginas and pendulous labia that are its secret raison d'être. Trust me, my friends: No one truly believes this film forwards any meaningful political position. And while the sight of a rousing proletarian action rouses my John Thomas as earnestly as the vision of a supple clitoris winking in the golden light of late September, this film is so tepid in its political aspersions that I was forced, for the duration of its 70 sexless minutes, to gaze in mute pity at my flaccid manhood.

How I looked forward to the proper tone of sexuality smeared delicately across a political drama! How I longed to see an intelligent unity of filth and political allegory! Alas, all I was offered was the prolonged whine of a sexual dilettante, endlessly bemoaning her hackneyed fate at the hands of the bourgeoisie.