"The more I suck," says Ron Jeremy, "the more they love me!" This simple truth elevates Jeremy to the ranks of Jenna Jameson, Chasey Lain and the combined casts of the Shut Up And Blow Me! series. But Ron Jeremy is much more. He’s one of porn’s most recognizable stars, and easily the one most likely to be recognized without makeup. Hipsters everywhere delight at his presence in music videos and indie films; he’s also hit the cutting room floor of most John Frankenheimer movies.

But the heterosexual Jeremy–assuming that self-fellation counts as masturbation–isn’t talking about his onscreen skills. Instead, he was telling me what to expect when his traveling roadshow arrived at the upstairs bar at Studio 54, where it played June 15 and 16.

This was the Manhattan debut of his nightclub act that’s been playing all over the country. Jeremy sounds very excited about the two evenings, but he’s usually excited over anything that’s either profitable or edible.

And that’s the only fat joke we’ll make about the chubby Casanova affectionately known within the industry as "The Hedgehog." You know you’re in trouble when even Al Goldstein goofs on your waistline, but Jeremy has ridden his schlubby looks to even greater fame over four decades of porn. He’s a bright guy, too, which is why he’s now using nightclubs to cash in on his strange fame.

The show gets running before 11. The master of ceremonies is a moonlighting pimp manager from the West Coast’s Xtreme Pro Wrestling franchise, and he’s throwing down some bad burlesque humor. As he tells his cornball jokes, I check out what kind of crowd has come out to see Jeremy. I was expecting a fairly strong Opie & Anthony contingent, but those types are a relatively small part of the crowd. The bulk of the scene gets made by those tired-ass downtowners who are responsible for liquor ads continuing to look like it’s still 1992. There are also some older folks who seem to have gotten lost on the way to a swingers’ convention. A few hardcore hipsters are around, and there’s that creepy Berkowitz type who’s always hanging around Meow Mix in grimy t-shirts. One corner booth has some gorgeous gals doing the lesbo thing, along with a few scary-looking Sister Georges.

All in all, it’s Jeremy’s kind of crowd. It isn’t long before Ron himself steps out to entertain everybody. There’s some kind of gag where the weasely MC announces Ron can’t make it, and then the lovable porn star strolls out and gives the cretin a half-assed wrestling move. It’s probably a crowd-pleaser in the heartland. Then Ron starts spewing out his own amazing comedy routine. There’s plenty of humor inherent in being an unattractive porn star, but Jeremy also gets lots of mileage from big-dick jokes and some shtick that dates back to when Pat Cooper was trying to get his Friar’s Club membership.

Sadly, this isn’t followed by Ron introducing a bevy of lovely dancing girls in feathered boas. It seems that his act is really a touring Shock Jock program. This makes sense as a business plan, but he’ll never get the lead in a touring production of Sugar Daddies with this kind of public behavior. He brings up some ladies from the audience for a popularity contest. It’s a pretty weird mix of women. There are two who look to be in their 40s, and another gal who Ron implies is that female cop who was kicked off the force after posing for Playboy. The ladies begin by peeling bananas and demonstrating oral prowess. As the first begins, Jeremy leans in and asks, "Do you find her appealing?"

That’s kind of a weird moment. Anyone who’s heard Jeremy speak for extended periods–which is to say, anyone who’s ever said "hello" to the guy–knows that Ron is an intelligent and savvy fellow. It’s hard to know what he is thinking as he cracks that kind of joke. Is he talking down to the crowd, or is he simply continuing his own special brand of good clean fun? There probably aren’t many people who know about Ron’s deep philosophical bent. Maybe a bad banana joke is just a bad banana joke.

If Ron’s speaking down to the crowd, then he’s certainly got the right idea. "Go, bitch, go!" shouts a tubby guy as a lady takes down some of Chiquita’s finest. It takes a second look before I realize he may actually be Smally Paulie, the little-dicked construction worker who had a brief porn career thanks to Howard Stern. We don’t bother asking, because what does it matter? The guy would still be a douchebag.

But then, this isn’t really our crowd. And maybe it isn’t really Ron’s crowd, either. The event is a guaranteed moneymaker, though, and everyone’s having a good time–especially when two Asian lesbians steal a segment by making out onstage. Ron hands out a few gift bags of sex toys to the ladies and announces he’ll be back later.

Much like Ron himself, this tacky new burlesque could go all night. At $10 a cocktail, it must make the folks at Studio 54 very happy. Al Goldstein’s walking around; he’s supposedly taking part in one of the upcoming skits. Unfortunately, Ron takes a pretty long break. Some girls walk by with their brand-new autographed Polaroids, so he must be working the crowd somewhere. Everyone’s getting their money’s worth, and Ron will likely soon have a slew of copycat acts competing for his audience. Dennis Rodman will need some quick cash soon. But, as with Traci Lords, Ron Jeremy can say he got there first.