Category Archives: Potpourri

10 Reasons Why I Like David Duchovny

By Sean Corcoran & Teddy Graham, Potpourri

1. The X-files. I loved this cult television hit with Duchovny perfectly portraying the cerebral, conspiracy-laden Agent Mulder. I’ve read that Duchovny was responsible for manufacturing some of the more outlandish character traits of Mulder. Was Mulder’s penchant for pornography a signal for Duchovny’s burgeoning sex addiction? You be the judge. Clue #1 for impending sex addiction.

  • 2. Workout Attire. My friend, who resides in the Upper East Side in Manhattan, recently spotted Duchovny getting some repetitions in at his local gym. I’m pretty sure David keeps an apartment there as well as in Milan, Paris, London, and Los Angeles. Anyway, Duchovny works out in plain black, and yes, he keeps his sunglasses on. Presumably, he catches an organic brunch afterward in the same gear.

  • 3. Pescatarian. At some point in the mid-90’s, David upgraded from vegetarian to pescatarian. The guy is nuts about fish! Duchovny has often extolled the virtues of the oils and amino acids found in fish. Fuel for creativity? Most definitely. Other notable pescatarians include Ted Danson and Conor Oberst. Need I say more?

  • 4. JV Basketball at Princeton. Scholar-athlete anyone?! Allegedly, he’s no stranger to the baseball diamond there either. It’s a shame Natalie Portman didn’t attend Princeton in the 1980’s because she would have been Duchovny’s 3 o’clock slop on a Saturday night (probably after a long night out with his buddies from one of the prestigious eating clubs).

  • 5. The Larry Sanders Show. The most memorable guest appearance on a program in the history of television. Duchovny plays himself, but with an uncomfortable fatal attraction towards Larry. And who can forget the hotel scene where he mimics Sharon Stone in Basic Instinct, giving Larry a bird’s eye view of the “gentleman.” High comedy lovers only. I’m not alone when I say Gary Shandling has David Duchovny to thank for that final Cable Ace award.

  • 6. Californication. I’m pretty sure this was one of the first reality television programs but was spun as a scripted series on Showtime. If it wasn’t reality TV, Duchovny obviously had difficulty discerning make-believe from reality after filming ended. Clue #2 for a man in the depths of a sex addiction binge. Is there anything sweeter?

  • 7. Red Shoe Diaries. This groundbreaking, psycho-sexual drama on Showtime put the “erotic” in erotica. Guess who narrated the series for several years? You guessed it: David Duchovny, or maybe just David Duchovny’s libido, which is a tangible, living entity capable of mind-blowing creativity or of salacious, blush-inducing bacchanalia. Clue #3.

  • 8. Sex Addiction. This guy put sex addiction on the map. Jesse James, Tiger Woods, Michael Douglas: those guys are amateur hour. Duchovny commented to Playgirl magazine in 1997 “I’m not a sex addict.” Who says that!? To Playgirl magazine?! That’s like Richard Nixon saying “I’m not a crook.” This guy’s status is legendary around Hollywood, and he STILL kept his wife. I bet Gillian Anderson from the X-files was no stranger to his trailer…you could cut their onscreen sexual chemistry with a hot butter-knife…you just can’t fake that kind of thing…

  • 9. Magic and Technology in Contemporary Poetry and Prose. This was the title of Duchovny’s unfinished doctoral thesis (not to be outdone by his undergraduate thesis The Schizophrenic Critique of Pure Reason in Beckett’s Early Novels). Who is this guy!? I wish I could sit under a fig tree, with Duchovny dressed as Plato, teaching me about things beyond my comprehension.

  • 10. Kalifornia. Are you ready for a dark, twisted roadtrip with Brad Pitt, Juliette Lewis, and various taboo sexual undertones? Do you think sex and violence each have one hand in the other’s pocket? David Duchovny does! I can’t not watch this movie. Ever. Although not very good, I like to fantasize about the behind the scenes interaction between the actors. I picture Duchovny as some cult-like ambassador for a radical underground sex scene, leading a young Brad Pitt and Juliette Lewis into a Clive Barker-esque fantasy world.


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    Books That Disturb Me (3 by Sean&Teddy)

    Sean and Teddy/ Potpourri
    By Sean Corcoran and Teddy Graham, Potpourri

    The Elementary Particles by Michel Houellebecq

    This nihilistic, brutal novel follows the disintegration of two brothers into adulthood. One brother secludes himself in the work of molecular biology, and the other loses his job as a school teacher as he falls into the throes of sex addiction. Of course, these characters have mother issues, leading to their introverted and protracted livelihoods. When Houellebecq isn’t graphically describing sex with prostitutes or online sex chat rooms, he fills some space with 1960’s California satanic death cults, their orgies, torture, and child sacrifice. I assure you he spares no detail! Certain to shock!

  • Sexus by Henry Miller

    The lascivious lothario, Henry Miller, begins his Rosy Crucifixion trilogy with this misogynistic, smutty masterpiece. When I think of the 1920’s and 30’s, I imagine a simpler time filled with picnics, jazz, a twenty percent unemployment rate and sex solely for procreation. Boy was I wrong! Chronicling the author’s “awakening” from the doldrums of existence, the novel follows Miller’s quest to become a writer by way of sexual conquests, philosophical musings and general penury. The book, basically a pornographic biography, is shocking even by today’s standards. Banned for several decades, Sexus remains a ribald read!

  • Last Exit to Brooklyn by Hubert Selby Jr.

    Holy smokes this book is messed up! Incidentally, Lou Reed claims it’s his favorite book. Composed of six separate parts, the book takes a bird’s eye view of 1950’s lower class Brooklyn. And what a view: transvestitism, prostitution, gang rape, hardcore drug use, and domestic violence are just a few of the upbeat topics Selby explores throughout the novel. Written with sporadic punctuation and King’s county colloquialisms, the book paints a vivid yet disturbing picture of the underbelly of society. If you want to take a look through the forbidden keyhole, buy this book and prepare to be changed.

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    The Life & Times of T. Graham, Gentleman

    By Sean Corcoran, Potpourri

    I found him slumped in the corner of a teamsters bar in the southwest corner of Brooklyn, a crumpled ball of one-dollar bills in his hand and several coffee stained OTB tickets protruding from his jacket pocket. The place smelled of stale sweat and the pungent aroma of Pall Malls, a sickly sweet mixture that attacked and then numbed the olfactory senses within minutes. An hour earlier, this hirsute character had been noodling his way towards the decolletage of an unwilling patron, spilling his cheap scotch down the backleg of her pants. He was one of the many monsters that appeared here at 6 every night, but he was also one of the best journalists in New York City, a spot-on reporter with ink stained fingertips, unwashed hair, and an unwavering dedication to his craft. Having never met Teddy Graham, I kept my distance, and saddled up to the bar for a Bud and a shot of some lower shelf gut-rot.

    I read the Daily News as I waited for my contact. I was a relative unknown in journalism, staking my fledgling reputation on some union nobody who was selling a story on corrupt HUD deals in Brooklyn. So far, he wasn’t showing. As I turned on my stool to depart, I spotted Teddy rising from his alcohol induced slumber, a disoriented look covering his ashen face. He soon started towards the bar, gaining more traction and stability with each step. In a matter of moments his left paw was draped around my neck as he ordered 2 Buds and 2 shots of whiskey. He turned to me with his drink raised and said “From one journalist to another.”

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    By Sean Corcoran and Teddy Graham, Potpourri

    I’m a newshound. Plain and simple. And Teddy has always had a nose for a scoop. Some have compared us to a modern day Woodward and Bernstein, investigative trailblazers with a penchant for the printed word.

    Needless to say, we were absolutely transfixed by the recent story of former felon and panhandler, Ted Williams. In the span of 48 hours, this street urchin has gone from the local Columbus recidivist to celebrated voice announcer. Teddy and I must admit that this man’s larynx must have been quilted from God’s own thread spool, and his vocal cords anointed with holy water and frankincense. As Williams fields offers from the likes of Kraft, MTV and the Cleveland Cavaliers, it’s clear the American people are suckers for a redemptive comeback story.

    Ted Williams 1 week ago. And, inevitably, Ted Williams 5 weeks from today.

    Teddy’s question, if he may be so bold, is “Has the American media juggernaut gone too far?” I caught a television interview where Williams, a recovering alcohol and drug addict, said “I wish I could take a nervous pill, but the Today Show’s psychologist said that wasn’t a good idea.” Admittedly, I had a bit of a chuckle at this statement as I watched Williams stoop to hug his estranged mother and praise the Lord for his kindness. I certainly don’t think a man who was living in a tent a week ago has the “chops” to voice announce every Cavaliers game, but hey, you never know.

    "I don't need a nervous pill, I don't need a nervous pill, I don't need a nervous pill, I don't need a nervous pill..."

    The fast paced American media is already preparing Williams for his inevitable downfall. Hopped up on fame and attention, this poor soul will eventually burn out, relapse and slide back into his hole; his fame is their creation, and his destruction their encore.

    – Good luck to Mr. Williams as he reprises Wolfman Jack’s role in American Graffiti. Out of sight!

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