I recommended earlier that if you don’t care for the **Master’**s brand of humor you should stay out of his threads. You appear to be obsessed with convincing all of us to leave instead. It’s not working.
Enough with the junior modding and threadshitting. You don’t have to like every thread. I suggest you find some you like. Another post like this will earn you a warning.
No warning issued.
never mind
If the moderators wish me to alter my behavior on the board, they have but to speak; I will comply, or face the Banhammer, as they and I are well aware. It is not my message board, and Mum taught me to play nice. Common courtesy.
For those of you wishing to note, keep track of, and comment upon my self-indulgent bloated boring incoherent walls of text, don’t miss the one over in the Game Room; no one there has told me how much I suck yet.
However, I propose a thought experiment for the interested and the self-aware: how likely are you to SHAME a guy who has chosen the forum handle of Master Wang-Ka?
When not at work today, I will post the tale of Jailbait Brian, for the interested and the morbid. At work, though, I must be content with lurking and brevity. No doubt some of you will find this a relief…
Shame? I would wear it as a sign of accomplishment and respect.
And lotion. Lots and lots of lotion.
Master, I don’t know what vagaries of the forking path has brought you back to our door, but - don’t you ever leave us again!!!
The Master.
Have you considered choosing a different door?
Dear Master, if certain select members of SDMB are not telling you that you suck badly, that would be a sign that you were, you know, sucking badly. Now, I’m off to the game room, fairly trembling with anticipation.
I don’t recall your earlier incarnation here, but having read this and the Green Death thread , I have to say…I think I love you.
- JAILBAIT BRIAN
Jailbait was another interesting fellow. He was a stunningly beautiful 20 year old college student who was pretty enough to appeal to either gender, and a knack for looking several years younger than he was. He was still trying to work out his sexual orientation. I believe he finally settled on “bisexual,” although I wasn’t there for the final resolution.
Weirdly enough, we knew each other; he’d been in one of my classes at the university, and almost freaked out BADLY when we saw each other at the shop; he was approaching the counter with a couple of gay movies to rent, when he saw me standing nearby.
He stood there with his mouth open. I demonstrated my mastery of body language by lowering my eyelids to half-mast, grinning wryly, and making a dismissive wave of the hand. Translation: “Dude, don’t sweat it. I won’t tell if you don’t.”
When Helen showed up, he tried to get to #5, but was beaten by Mad Charlie, a thing he later was glad for when Charlie staggered out of the booth with Roger Rabbit eyes, clutching his crotch. Jailbait was considering stepping into the booth, but wasn’t sure what had happened.
Helen abruptly stepped out of #4. Jailbait immediately got interested in the Big Board.
Helen looked him up and down. Jailbait briefly made eye contact, then back to the Big Board.
Helen came and stood next to him. They wordlessly examined the Big Board. Together. Sorta.
Jailbait glanced her way and gave her one of his patented sideways grins. She flushed, and broke eye contact. After a moment, she moved over to #11, glanced at Jailbait, and stepped in and closed the door.
Jailbait thought about it for a moment. Was that a “come hither” look? Still, he wasn’t sure he wanted to end up like Mad Charlie. Still… how often did chances like this come along?
So he stepped into #10, closed the door, and waited. After a moment, the sound came on in #11, and her light shone through the hole. He dropped a couple tokens, and started his own movie.
And they sat there, each staring at the hole for several minutes.
Finally, Brian ducked low enough to see through the hole. He saw Helen hunched over, staring back at him. Both of them immediately jerked back out of sight.
(Well, now what the hell do I do?) he thought.
After a minute, he had an idea. Taking a felt tip out of his pocket, he drew smiley faces on the fingertips of both index fingers. He then dropped to his knees and slooowly raised one finger up at the gloryhole, and gave a low whistle… (tweet?)
Then he slooowly raised the other finger, next to the first one, and whistled again… (tweet-tweet?)
He heard Helen snicker. Ah, good, I’m gettin’ somewhere…
Turning the two fingers to face each other, he whistled some more. “Tweet? TWEET tweet! Tweet, tweetle tweet tweet tweet. TWEET!”
And then both fingers turned to face Helen again, and began dancing in unison, as Brian whistled “Tea For Two.” Helen about came unglued. Finally, she came close enough to the gloryhole for her face to be seen.
“Is this how you charm the girls?” she asked, laughing.
“Not usually. But I saw what the last guy got, and I figured I’d risk something less vital,” he replied.
Helen covered her mouth and giggled. “So… was HE breaking the rules… or was I?” she asked.
[At this point, a long and detailed conversation of gloryhole etiquette took place, with attention to nuance, detail, and general good manners. I will redact the gory details in the interests of avoiding a long, self-indulgent, boring, bloated wall of text. Although I did find it funny that they apparently kept feeding tokens into the machine to continue playing videos that neither of them were watching.]
“So… um… you know, I feel kind of silly, talking through this hole…” Brian started.
Helen’s face adopted a look Brian could not recognize… but he decided it was neither excitement nor lust. “You know,” she said, sadly, “I have a son who’s almost your age…”
And Brian realized, with some disappointment, that he would not be making the Sign of the Beast With Four Ears. At least, not with Helen.
TO BE CONCLUDED
This needs to be made into a Netflix series.
… must… not… laugh… in… office…
Was it this gopher?
I fully expected this thread to be an ancient one when I opened it. Imagine my delight when it wasn’t (you probably don’t need to imagine it - your own delight was probably similar). 
How do we know you are a Master, though? Do you have some credentials?
Something ensued, that’s for damn sure.
And Master Wang-Ka, please let me add my voice to the chorus welcoming you back, praising your stories, and threatening you with dire, dire consequences if you ever leave us again.
Hail to the Master!
You are one of many who have kept me coming here for… can it be fourteen years already?
I have an honorary doctorate from Miskatonic. Does that count?
TLDR.
OTOH, the OP’s tales of porn shop intrigue kept me interested. Thanks OP.
Now you’re scaring me.