In the 60's, I moonlighted as a male stripper in stag films. Made a pretty penny slanging beef around WeHo. Til the unions got involved, you could get paid swinging the sausage for the broads.
Go ahead. Tell Woody Allen. You think I'm scared of that sweaty, nervous, little sniveling, stuttering sonofabitch Woody Allen?
I am not. I will fight him at the Whole Foods in Tarzan's after supper.