Wearing influences on his sleeve like so many blobs of undigested mustard, Dough merrily skips down the road of collegiate avant-garde humor paved by such luminary loonies as Greg Dark, Jim Holiday, Joey Silvera and Henry Pachard. The results are a chaotic bag of mixed nuts which your average jerk off artist will probably fail to appreciate, which is a shame -- but then again, there's not much in the way of rock-hard action to keep them preoccupied either, so shame on Dough as well.

From the California University of Nude Theater, where students receive their diplomas (and carnal graduation presents) from a poolside location, we find Jamie Gillis with a sheepskin but little else in hand. It's a depressing situation made worse by the fact that T.T. Boy has stolen his girlfriend Meka.

With visions of suicide dancing like sugarplums in his head, Gillis attempts to drown his sorrows at a titty bar. And speaking of heads, he finds squeaky-throated Shawna Valentino taking a piss in the women's stall. Tempting Gillis with promises of ass-fucking, nothing ever comes of her verbal commitment, but she does manage to flush his noggin in the toidy after a modest tryst.

Trudging homelessly around town, Gillis peers into vans housing lipstick lesbians (Charlie and Bree Ann), only to be corralled on an all-nude talk show hosted by a guy in blackface imitating the legendary Jack Baker. (The director makes a cameo here, getting blown by Alexandra Silk and Katie Gold.) At this point reality is up for grabs, but T.T. and Jake Steed manage to d.p. a pizza delivery girl (Lovette) before the closing credits.

To Dough the humorist, we take off our hat. The sex, while plentiful, is about as perfunctory as it gets. Sorry, Jon.