Dvdasa - The Complete Archive

To understand the archive’s disappearance, you need Episode 73.

Titled ironically, this episode featured a guest named Jennifer (a porn agent). David Choe, in a manic state, began describing a violent sexual fantasy involving a 14-year-old Korean girl. It was roleplay. It was "edgy." It was also a felony to record.

Asa pushed back. Bobby walked off set. The audio captured the sound of a room realizing they had crossed a line that no Patreon or YouTube monetization could ever return from.

The episode aired live. Within 12 hours, the internet exploded. The Daily Mail picked it up. Anonymous death threats to the sponsors (including Vitamin Water and Adidas) flooded in. Choe went into hiding. The show was deleted.

But the internet never forgets. And it never forgives. And crucially, it never returns the tapes. DVDASA - The Complete Archive

If you were cruising the internet in the early 2010s, you remember the golden age of the long-form podcast. It was the era of The Joe Rogan Experience, WTF with Marc Maron, and The Champs. But nestled in a category all its own was a show that was equal parts art project, therapy session, and stand-up routine: DVDASA.

Standing for Dvdasa Very Difficult Art School Alternative, the show was the brainchild of world-renowned contemporary artist David Choe and adult film star Asa Akira. For a few chaotic, brilliant years, it was the most compelling audio on the internet. And then, almost as quickly as it began, it vanished.

Today, "DVDASA - The Complete Archive" is a holy grail for fans—a fragmented collection of episodes that provides a candid, unfiltered time capsule of a specific subculture in Los Angeles.

Subreddits like /r/dvdasa and /r/DataHoarder have stickied mega-threads. Look for posts titled "My final 86+ episode dump" from users like "BobbyTriviaIsGod" or "ChoeSurvivor." These typically use Base64 encoding for link obfuscation. It was roleplay

What made DVDASA different from other talk shows was the "DVDASA Family." It wasn't just about Choe and Akira; it was about the revolving door of cast members who became staples of the show. There was Money Mark (the introvert on the turntables), Pony, Yung Pappy, and the enigmatic Distruction.

The show created its own vernacular and inside jokes that fans still use today. It was a place where high art met "failing upwards." Listeners tuned in not just to hear interviews, but to hear Choe navigate his messy love life, his gambling addiction, and his philosophical musings on why he couldn't stop destroying his own life.

In the current media landscape—sanitized, brand-safe, algorithmically flattened—DVDASA is prehistoric. It belongs to the era of Tim & Eric, Wonder Showzen, and early Cum Town. An era when "edgy" was a value proposition, not a cancellation vector.

But re-listening to the archive (the safe parts) reveals something profound: David Choe was documenting the disintegration of the male ego in real time. He was a rich man who hated himself. A famous artist who wanted to be anonymous. A sexual deviant who was terrified of intimacy. Bobby walked off set

Asa Akira, by contrast, was the anchor. Her segments are clinically sharp. She deconstructs the economics of sex work while sitting on a sybian. She is the only person in the room who understands consent as a mechanic, not a joke.

The tragedy of the archive is that it was never meant to last. It was a bonfire. And we are the archaeologists picking through the ashes, wondering if the heat we feel is genuine insight or just the lingering burn of an era where you could say anything—right up until the moment you couldn’t.

The magic of DVDASA was the chemistry between its hosts. David Choe, already a legend for his Facebook stock gamble and his murals, was the chaotic nucleus of the show. He was raw, vulnerable, manic, and relentlessly honest. He turned his life into a performance piece, dragging his friends (and enemies) into the spotlight.

Asa Akira provided the perfect counterbalance. Sharp, witty, and incredibly articulate, she grounded Choe’s sprawling narratives. While Choe was the "tortured artist," Akira brought a grounded perspective from the adult industry, often challenging Choe’s worldview or validating his insanity with a sharp laugh.