After Sandy, ten of us had volunteered specifically for this mission. I was still woozy from donating blood, but I hung on tight to the van as I swung back and forth, dipping an arm inside, swinging it back out again with a fresh Hustler, flinging the magazine to an open-mouthed boy on a stoop, swinging back in for the next copy.
We were behind schedule. We’d wasted a half hour painting a giant red cross on either side of the U-Haul, and then Ed spent another fifteen minutes finishing a girly-girl on the hood, as if anyone wouldn’t already know our mission.
Our mission as the Volunteer Porn Brigade was to help the blacked-out victims of Hurricane Sandy by delivering first aid and distributing traditional non-electronic pornography.