Dignity-schmignity. Who needed it in Weimar Berlin? I tell ya, got WAAYY more than I bargained for when I read this sourcebook by Mel Gordon. This is an ugly picture of the degraded depths of which human beings are capable; some in order to survive, and others who will pay to have their unchecked impulses indulged: "The very first thing foreigners noticed in Berlin were whores..." The sex workers had a simple motivation: "Only foodstuffs mattered." Desperation drove countless numbers of men, women, and children of all social levels into prostitution. Gordon lists 17 types of female prostitutes alone, including "gravelstones"-the deformed; "munzis"-pregnant women, and "medicine"-child prostitutes "12-16 who were 'prescribed' by pimps, posing as physicians." Indeed, there "seemed to be almost no bottom age for those seeking physical companionship with children. And virtually no end to willing girls and boys." And what about the superfreak sex tourists looking to have their most perverse desires fulfilled?-"These lurid Baedekers of the night were indispensable pilots for lost souls." Charlie Sheen is a Boy Scout next to them, and reading about the variety of weirdo "needs" that existed (and were, presumably, fulfilled), makes Cosmopolitan magazine's saucy "what-a-man-wants-in-bed" articles seem positively quaint: "...animal lovers, worshippers of obese Dominas, sadististic teachers, bare-hand flagellants, incestuous necklace fetishists (I don't even want to know what that is), urine-drinkers, bondage freaks, high-heel stompers, and s***-sniffers." There are people who had sexual fetishes for noses, ears, hands, legs, shoes and stocking, breasts, buttocks, hair, purses, music, clothes, underwear, beds, fabrics, and flowers. Reading about how the line between sex and violence got even thinner in the lustmord (sex murder) section was even more repulsive. It got to be too much for me. Don't get me wrong; I'm giving this book 5 stars for being well-written, dutifully researched, and richly illustrated. It's good history. And I'm sure it will be a valuable source for young artsy types looking for edgy fashion inspiration, cool band names (Kontroll-Girls, Sugar-Lickers), or just looking for an "epater le bougeois" attitude to adopt a la Madonna. Personally, I'll never read it again; to me it was ultimately crushingly depressing, and way too rich for my blood. I felt so soiled after reading this book that felt like taking a scalding bath spiked with Lysol.