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FOOD REVIEW: ROSE. RABBIT. LIE.

Jan 29, 2014 3:41pm

You have probably seen the billboards, the blogger posts, the banner ads, the news spots, and maybe even the TV commercials (apparently people still watch TV?). Even a faux demonstration of grammarians protesting the gross...

EATING YOUR WORDS

Jan 08, 2014 2:19pm

There must be nights when Dayvid Figler has no idea what to write about, right? It happens to every writer at some point. There’s that great white space that needs filling, and you’ve already plumbed every possible emotional and physical conflict you’ve experienced, plus all the apocryphal stories you’ve heard on the barstool, and every original idea you come up with sounds like an episode of Law & Order.

Fortunately for Figler, he’s blessed with a life that has put him into contact with characters who would be unbelievable without the context of his own history: raised in Las Vegas, clerked for Sen. Reid, a lawyer at 23, worked at the elbow of Dominic Gentile in a number of high-profile cases, a stint in the public defender’s office handling death-penalty murder trials, appointed by Oscar Goodman to the municipal bench at age 36, and finally settling into a private practice … all while also writing terrific essays, poems and fiction.

It’s Figler’s time dealing with the sex industry that highlights his mini-memoir e-book, No Kids, No Scat, No Piss: A First Amendment Love Story (Not Safe For Work Corp). The title comes from a warning given to Raymond Pistol, owner of the Talk of the Town, by the FBI, when he first arrived in Las Vegas to open up Showgirl Video. But it might as well be the thesis statement for how to survive in the local flesh business. Figler uses a conversation with Pistol and his wife, Treasure, as the framing device for his own history defending, judging and witnessing the travails of the trade, from watching a film of a man fucking a chicken to death, to defending strippers’ rights to grind, to becoming friends with Pistol and Treasure, who, through a rather circuitous route, became the owners of the iconic pornographic film Deep Throat. Just 33 pages, No Kids screams for a follow-up of book length — it’s witty, historically and legally interesting, and not the least bit titillating — as Figler can only begin to touch on the cultural and, more importantly, personal significance of his experiences in this short work. So if Figler has one of those nights mentioned above, well, he’s got plenty to work on now.

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