The thesis of Apocalypse Burlesque is simple: it proposes that sex is where we can take the pulse of an era that has increasingly come to resemble the end times. We now know that the conditions to maintain life on earth are fragile. The ways to end life are many. Our impending doom makes us turn to pleasure yet our pleasures are the very tortures that Satan used to inflict on the damned. We no longer believe in the arch fiend but we keep up his memory in the sex acts we perform. Erotic asphyxiation is what we are into. Regardless of whether we practice it in our personal lives, we have our hands around the throat of the planet.
Apocalypse Burlesque uses satire and slapstick to zoom in on the details of hell. A child dominatrix, an old man in a retirement home for perverts, a world leader who undergoes gender reassignment, a star f****r who sleeps with conjoined twins, a coward who participates in a fisting contest, a rape victim who mistakes prurient interest for social approval, a husband who gets a surgically implanted "man womb," a woman who laughs when she orgasms, an activist who believes hate sex can change society for the better -- this is our world in a funhouse mirror. This is the garden of earthly delights when the earth is in peril and the delights involve pain. Ladies and Germs, God is worse than dead. He is impotent. Hubba hubba. Va-va-voom. It's the crack of doom in the boom-boom room.