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My Friends Don’t Like Me

May 25, 2017 Leave a comment

We’re all old now, between 75 and 80. I just found out that when we were kids, my friends didn’t like me. I’m assuming this, because I haven’t seen any of them in about 55 years, and contacts through Facebook have my old friends rejecting me. One guy said, “Yeah, I’ve thought of you over the years, too,” and blocked me from contact.

I met Danny on the street one day, in front of the office of another old friend that was his lawyer. Danny acted as if he had ants in his pants, and feared he’d catch Ebola from me if he didn’t get away quickly. The lawyer is the only one that seemed to respect my role in our old group. I’d like to meet with him and check on what was my persona when we were pals. I can’t find him. It seems he was disbarred and cocaine addicted.

All of us dated girls from the same pool off girlfriends, and belonged to the same high-school fraternity. I don’t remember being slighted at all, but I was aware that I was different from the other guys, in several ways. For one thing, I liked to be by myself a lot, and would show up suddenly out of the darkness. It caused some mystery about me, that I liked, although that’s not why I did it.

My friends were interested in sports. They followed professional teams, and played baseball, football, hockey, and basketball when facilities were available. I did not participate in either following the professional teams, or playing personally. I might be drawing, painting, sculpting, or working on my car. My cars were part of my mystique, I know. I think I also read more than they did, although I’m the only one that did not go to college.

I can remember an occasion when friends were at a sweet sixteen party for one of the girls. We were all between 16 and 18 at the time. I arrived late, as usual. The party was in a covered, open  air dance place on a sandy beach. The waves rolled onto the shore barely 30 meters away from the dance floor. It was gorgeous at night, like a pool of radiant young people enjoying life.

I pulled up out of the darkness, into the flood of light on the sand. The car was a glistening, black Jaguar XK140 roadster. Of course there was a distraction among the party people, and I can imagine that a lot of the boys, my friends, were put off by it. Of course, now I know they were right, but at 18, I was as dense as is any teenager.

I was oblivious to the difference at the time, but my family must have been wealthier. I really saw our bunch as all equal, but apparently my father’s successes made me a figure of irritation. I wish I’d known then, and I wish I didn’t know now.

The Easier Life of Good Looking People

May 19, 2017 Leave a comment

If you’ve been looking at the coverage of the presidential madness in the USA, you might have noticed that almost all the reporters are good looking. I noticed that all the men wear dark suits and white shirts with tasteful ties. The women, on the other hand, wear simple, tasteful, form-fitting dresses in warm, basic colours. The forms of the women to which the dresses cling are slender and shapely.

It’s doubtful that there were no plain women applying for jobs of that kind. Obviously, the employers chose applicants with equal qualifications and better physical appearance. Are they really wrong? It’s a visual medium, so the picture should be as attractive and inviting as possible.

When we watch small, local television stations, we often see attractive, young people working their way up toward network jobs. Sometimes, there is an older person that  did not make the grade, or preferred the easier life in the smaller market. Perhaps people that are less good looking make careers in radio or journalism. Perhaps they had made it into a major market when young, and then cut back when older and not as good looking.

Jacketman

I admit that I was a good looking person when I was young, and I know how comparatively  easy was my life. I remember when times of dances, parties, and proms came along, several friends would be concerned about getting dates. Most of the boys liked to go ‘steady’ with one girl. It saved them from the trauma associated with social interaction in the teen community.

When I made calls in large offices, the receptionists always seemed happy to see me. They enjoyed telling me about the current situation in the office. That meant I could go into my meeting, knowing who was having a good day, who had a fight with a staff member, who liked donuts and who liked croissants. It all helps to put clients in the right mood for your pitch of whatever you’re pitching.

Women regularly use their physical attractiveness to get things. The butcher offers a better cut for the regular price. The grocer puts an extra pomegranate into the basket. The boss lets her have a long weekend. Maybe someday, she’d marry the boss.

Maybe the good looking young man in the parking lot will enjoy a relationship with a lady who is a lawyer, or a judge, or a doctor. In any case, if you are good looking, there are still some problems, but life is easier.

King’s Life

May 8, 2017 Leave a comment

Bartholomew King was proud of his eccentricity. He knew that he was regarded as a shallow, slow-witted, trust-fund child. By the time he was 28, he was well established as a wealthy nut. Fortunately for Barth (as people liked to call him), he never had to earn a living. His parents had accumulated a substantial fortune in the medical marijuana industry, growing and distributing through their burgeoning chain of greenhouses. Unfortunately, they lost their lives prematurely, while testing their design for a four-seated hang-glider.

Of course, Barth immediately sold the marijuana business and closed down the development of the hang-glider design. As a result, he was sitting on almost three million after-tax dollars. He did regard himself as the king, at least in the large county where he was highly influential. As such, he demanded exclusivity – in everything.

He had a ranch built to his own, eccentric design. He had Brigham Coachworks build a custom body of his own design. He had it built on the chassis of an Alpha Romeo Disco Volante, the most exclusive car he could find. The Disco Volante body was discarded and the new body was constructed of aluminum.

There were many opportunities for a prolific social life laid at Bartholomew’s feet. He was hesitant, because he was never certain which woman might be the most exclusive. He attended dinner parties, if the guest list was sufficiently exclusive. He attended sporting events only if the event was rare, such as polo for blind players. He was introduced to many very beautiful women, but he was unable to feel certain of the one of a kind that he sought.

On a rare evening out, with one of the women who hoped to be The One, Barth saw The One. It was not the woman with Barth. Rather, it was a woman who sang on the small stage of the club they were in.  After they ordered, Barth looked casually toward the stage. A woman stood at the microphone in baggy, blue denim bib overalls, singing a twangy country song. A keyboard player, a guitarist, and a drummer backed her up. The woman’s face made Barth’s stomach flip. She was gorgeous, almost exactly the face he created in his mind to be the exclusive one.

She appeared to be more than 6 feet tall. Barth was an average 5’9”. Barth’s problem was, he didn’t like country music, or the rural wardrobe. The drinks arrived at Barth’s table, and he clinked glasses with his date and sipped his Highball. The country song ended and Barth turned to look at the stage again. The woman had dropped the baggy overalls and kicked them aside. She stood in the spotlight in a blazing green Spandex body suit. It fit so tightly, it looked painted onto her body. She had the shape of an oversize mannequin, virtually perfect. She began to sing a love ballad, “The Nearness of You,” and the mellow tones of her deep voice infused Barth with passion.

Barth knew that this woman was the exclusive beauty he sought. He unashamedly ushered his date out the club door and put her into a taxi. The outraged woman made a scene throughout the club, and people knew that it was just Bartholomew King being Barthish. He gave the driver one hundred dollars and asked him to take her wherever she wanted to go.

Barth returned to the club and boldly went backstage. In an open area, the trio of musicians were sharing a joint. In her dressing room, the woman… The One, was sitting at her makeup table.

“I’m Bartholomew King,” he said. He extended his hand. She ignored it.

“I know who you are,” she said. “Where’s your date?”

“She had to leave,” he said. “I wonder… would you come to dinner with me tomorrow evening?”

The woman stood up and looked down at Bartholomew. She put her hand on his shoulder and walked with him toward the dressing room door.

“I want you to know something, and remember it,” she smiled. “No. Never, nay, no way. I only date exclusive men. You are so common.” She gave him a gentle push out into the passageway, and closed the door. He heard the click of the lock.

The (Drudge) Lady of the House

May 1, 2017 Leave a comment

We all knew that Claire’s home would be perfect, as always. I confided in Lois that it was difficult to understand her horrible personal taste in clothing, considering the flawless design and colour pallet. Her home is the epitome of aesthetic perfection, yet her wardrobe seems to be made of dishtowels and drapes.

“I suppose it takes all kinds,” Lois said

“Some kinds of aesthetic decisions should be stopped,” I said.

“How could one do that?” Lois said. I paused a moment.

“I’m going to confront her with it,” I said. “I’m going to ask her why her home is so perfect, yet her fashion sense is lacking.”

About ten days later, after I had confronted Claire about her aesthetically perfect home and less attractive garments, I phoned Lois.

“What did she say?” Lois said.

“She dropped her clothes off, right there in the kitchen,” I said. “Then she said, ‘What do you see?”

“What did you see!” Lois screamed into the phone.

“I see a stunning body, a gorgeous face without a speck of makeup, flowing black hair and legs that are long, and beautifully shaped, as is all of her. That’s what I told her. She said that she used to dress in fashion, with good aesthetic designs and fabrics. Men would not take her seriously, nor would they leave her alone. She shows herself to men that she chooses, and the rest of the time, she lives her life unmolested.”

The Top Whores

April 19, 2017 4 comments

We’ll list eight presumptive whores. The eighth example will be the least whorish. We’ll work our way down to the number one whore in our survey.

  1. Jacqueline Siegel is no spring chicken at 46, but she happily married David Siegel, who is 77. In this case of least whorish of the eight whores might have real feelings for her husband. He’s a nice looking man, and a billionaire. Would she have married him if he was of average worth? It’s possible in the Siegel’s case.
  1. Joan Dangerfield is a gorgeous woman of 59, not a youngster, to be sure. However, she gladly married the fine looking gentleman of 95, Kirk Kerkorian. Might she have married him if he did not own sixteen billion dollars?
  1. Kristy Hinze is like a ray of sunshine. She’s married to a Silicon Valley billionaire named Jim Clark. Does she love only Jim, or Jim plus his billions?
  1. Tamiko Bolton is a yoga instructor, age of 40. She has a lovely Asian look to her, and is married to a man named George Soros. You have probably heard of him. He’s 82 years old, and possesses several billion dollars. Love and money is a rich mix.
  1. Wendi Deng was a Chinese American successful businessperson when she married Rupert Murdoch. She was 48, he was 87. She didn’t need the money, so why was she a whore anyway?
  1. Kristen Georgi, a 23 year old manicurist married morbidly obese oil billionaire Joe Hardy. He was 85, and he married another youngster not long after this one walked. Are they whores, or do they just like old, fat men?
  1. Ricki Schenk withholds her age, although one can see she’s no youngster. All the same, she’s marrying Karl Wlaschek. Karl is 94, and I’m sure Ricki is much younger than half that age. It seems whorish to me.
  1. Milania Trump is the number one whore. She’s married to one of the shittiest people on earth, and her regret is etched on her lovely face, in repose. He’s not even as rich as he claims, but is getting richer every day. It’s YOUR money he’s stealing, Americans!

No Longer Alone 3 – Spider to Fly

March 22, 2017 Leave a comment

Lenore walked right up to the flustered Naomi, and took her face in her hands and kissed her full on the mouth.  For a second, Naomi pulled away.  Then the soft warmth of the thick lips enveloped her mouth and then her senses and she kissed back.  She opened her mouth and accepted the long lingering tongue that Lenore pushed against her own tongue.  Suddenly filled with guilt and doubt about her feelings and urges, Naomi struggled away from Lenore and began pacing back and forth.  Lenore went to the plump, white sofa and reclined languidly, letting her gossamer gown fall open, displaying the magnificent long, dark legs and firm, lean thighs.

The maid entered with a tray and delivered vodka gimlets to both of the women and departed silently.  Lenore sipped her drink before she spoke softly, almost in a whisper.  Again, the silken voice pulled at Naomi’s emotions.

“I didn’t mean to offend you,” Lenore said.  “I’m not a lesbian, and I’m sure you’re not either.  However,” She paused to take another sip from her drink.  “You’re a very attractive person… and even though we’re both women, it’s a treat just to look at you.”  Naomi blushed.

“Thank you,” she said, looking away.  “The truth is, you’re the most beautiful woman I think I’ve ever seen.  Being with you… uh… near you… seems to be exciting.  But I don’t know why.”

“Yes you do,” Lenore said.  “We’re both vital, exciting people, yet our unique professional and social situations cause us to be alone… and lonely”.

“Yes,” Naomi agreed, and looked up into Lenore’s eyes.

“And the truth is, if either one of us was a man, the other would want to be his lover, right?”  Lenore proposed.

“Yes, I guess so,” Naomi admitted.

“I want to make love with you,” Lenore said, “even though you’re a woman and so am I.  I am drawn to you… in fact, I hunger to see you naked and to feel you… taste you…”

“I…  I feel the same way toward you,” Naomi admitted reluctantly.  Lenore looked at her with an amused smile and spread her long legs. Naomi turned and put her face in her hands.  Lenore stood and went to her, put her hands on Naomi’s shoulders and turned her around.

“Don’t be afraid.  You would love to feel wanted right now, wouldn’t you?”  Naomi admitted that she would.    “Well,” Lenore said while she gently pushed Naomi back in her chair, “Please.”  Lenore knelt in front of Naomi and pushed her skirt up past her thighs.  Naomi shuddered.  She thought that not only was it a long time since she’d been with a man, but no man had ever made her feel this way… this free… to do anything she wants, to realize her fantasies.

No Longer Alone 2 – New Acquaintances

March 21, 2017 Leave a comment

“Come on, girl.  It’s the weekend, and us boss-girls deserve some relaxation too, don’t we?”  Lenore said.  She took Naomi’s hand and led her to a corridor at the back of the dining room.  At the end of the corridor a small, private elevator opened and they stepped in.  After a short, quick, upward surge, the door opened and Lenore led Naomi into the huge, splendid apartment.

“Make yourself comfortable,” Lenore said.  “I’ll be right back.  If you like, there’s a powder room just over there.”  Lenore went quickly and smoothly up a winding staircase.  Naomi went into the powder room.  It was tastefully decorated with large tiles on the walls and floor, and well-lit mirrors.  She checked her hair, her lipstick, her clothing, and realized she was behaving as if she was with a man she’d just met.

Naomi returned to the spacious living room and chose a comfortable, white leather easy chair to sit in.  A few seconds later a uniformed maid entered.  She was a petite girl with very black, smooth skin.

“What will you have, miz?” she asked, smiling with a wonderful array of gleaming white teeth.  Naomi asked for a vodka gimlet and watched the girl walk away.  Her legs were long for her height.  There was something about her that puzzled Naomi, but she didn’t know what it was.  ‘Am I so desperate’ she asked herself ‘that I’m turning into a lesbian?’

Lenore descended the stairs with flowing movements that gave one the sense that she was floating, weightlessly.  Her tall, lean, muscled body was wrapped in a sheer gossamer gown that trailed down the stairs behind her.  Naomi could see her magnificent contours through the almost transparent green garment.  The long legs were the most beautiful she had ever seen, and the woman’s waist was almost too small to support the broad back and chest with it’s small, tight breasts.  Her hips flowed smoothly into firm thighs and she walked toward Naomi with gliding strides like a runway model.  Naomi gulped as she felt a gush of awkward embarrassment.