In this age of porn uber alles, it's getting tough for Mr. R. to maintain his standing as Mr. Raunch, but he's in there trying. And what better device for keeping up with the Miss Joneses than to make narrator-hero Gareth Brendan not only actively bisexual (accent on the hetero, though) but also a kink-merchant in the no-holes-barred, Larry Flint mold. Macho is Gareth's Hustler, his second publishing project. His first one (the book's first and far less unreadable half) is an eight-page L.A. ad-rag that his power-rich uncle gives him on a silver platter--Uncle John uses the ad-buying to launder dirty money. With the help of adoring Chicana CPA Verita and more-adoring gay photographer Bobby (son of evangelist Rev. Sam Gannon), Gareth turns it into a hot porn item but runs afoul of Mafia-connected distributors and the leatherboy set--when he rescues gang- and dildo-raped Bobby from queen Kitty's S/M revels. Julio, king of the barrio, bails him out with Chicano muscle, however, and Gareth can go on to build the Macho empire: centerfolds with King Dong and ""cunt coiffeurs,"" a string of hotels and print spin-offs, and unfortunate, Big Climax drug connections. Spacey, Viet-vet, born-rich Gareth is just about the least charismatic of Robbins' climbers, but he's functional enough for innumerable coke-snorts and pure-porn thrusts and throbs with Verita, Denise (she prefers Rev. Sam's electric wand), Eileen and Marissa (Ã trois), Bobby, a surfer, and--the obligatory Robbins childhood secret--Uncle John! ""'Was it good for you?' she whispered."" She's got to be kidding.