C H I C A G O   A N T I S O C I A L
by Liz Armstrong

Rule number one: no creepy-looking dudes. Number two: no fat chicks. Otherwise, anything goes at Wicker Park’s Jerkstore,
HQ for Johnny Love’s frivolous,slightly depraved parties. For a little over a year, approximately once a month, Love’s been 
throwing these events with his Opaque Project promotions posse, most of them with offensive themes, such as Bali Disco
Bomb, a soiree marking the three year anniversary of the 2002 terrorist bombing of two Bali nightclubs;
Bela Lugosi Is Undead, a parody of goth culture; and Wet Hot American Slutbag, which requires no explanation. Every
Jerkstore event I’ve been to has had more half-naked people than the last. The goal is to get people
as undressed as possible, Love says, because “clothing is a tangible representation of uptightness” —when you shed your 
clothes you shed your inhibitions. While walking to Daddy’s Goodnight Blowjob last Saturday night (girls were required to
wear pigtails, guys had to have mustaches, everyone in pajamas) 
my two girlfriends and I passed a woman with spiky black hair
at the corner of Damen and Division. She looked us up and
down and scoffed, “What, are you guys going to that supercool
DJ party or something?” There seems to be a general disdain
around town for the elitist tone of Love’s parties, which are
RSVP only—though not exactly exclusive, seeing as how anyone
who finds out about one via Love’s mailing list, his announcements
on Friendster, or word of mouth can RSVP by e-mail and
get on the guest list. But plenty of people not only go, they go
and take their clothes off. And moreover, Love runs one of the
last live/work/party spaces still standing proud in the city.
A few other such spaces and events have all but closed down....