Stormy Daniels

Carl and I broke out all the stops on September 12. After weeks and weeks of anticipation (Carl had bought the tickets back in July), we went to see Stormy Daniels in the rocking town of Winchendon, MA. She was performing her comedy act in The Church, an event organized by the Winchendon History and Cultural Center.

At around 7:05 PM and with an almost full house, she stood in front of the church podium and was not struck down by lightning. Instead, with a stained glass Jesus and his lambs looking upon her, her voice a bit breathless with nerves, she told stories of her life in the underparts of America, a life built upon pornography. I came away with a real appreciation of her courage and hard, relentless work—though, as she pointed out, given how many orgasms she has had in her lifetime, it hasn’t been all bad.

She does need a new sound system. The one she has is all glitter and shine, but the sound quality is less-than for those sitting in the back row where Carl and I sat (you know, just in case God decided to blame the woman again.) The consequence of the muffled sound was that I missed some of the jokes and nuances.

But there was still fun to be had hearing what we did. She told of her experiences as director of and actor in pornographic films and the niceties of that work; responded to the repeated question, “How little is it?”; shared stories of her daughter’s take-no-guff toughness and honesty—a quality learned, no doubt, from her mother’s own calling-out of BS; and told a few accounts I’d have preferred to remain behind closed doors, not for their raciness, but for their discursiveness.

Which is another of my takeaways: I wish she had an editor. 

Far be it from me to judge, given the devil on my shoulder scoffing and moaning and groaning at every word I tap that I need an editor. But most writers do. Stormy has the timing of a good comedian, and the bravery to get up on the podium with Jesus behind her and tell her truth. But by cutting the dross—like a porn star drops her clothes—the edginess of Stormy’s world could meet the reality and soul and humanity of the real Stormy Daniels: Stephanie Clifford.

And here is my final takeaway. Stephanie Clifford has important things to say. I think her reason for doing these shows is the same reason she is famous in the world beyond the titillation of pornography: because the man she met years ago, who was then able to carry on a conversation, is now an irrational, dangerous narcissist who has the keys to the nuclear weapons. She wants those who come to her shows to know they’ve been lied to. To inform themselves of the truth—what she calls her receipts. And to vote.

Stormy Daniels said she will be back in New Hampshire at the end of October for a paranormal extravaganza.