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Never Plan Revenge

November 23, 2017 1 comment

I love revenge. I love the release of stress over what’s been done against me when I am able to get even. However, I would never plan or set up a situation to get revenge. I wait until an opportunity falls into my lap. I’m not talking about big, dangerous acts of vengeance; I’m talking about small things that cause me a loss or a humiliation. I won’t bring bad karma on myself by engineering an act of revenge.

It comes to mind a situation many years ago, when we were high school kids. There’s a neighbourhood park where we’d all gather on warm summer evenings to talk, laugh, and make dates with girls who always joined us in the park. Two girls from a wealthier neighbourhood were often there; one was named Judy and the other was Barbara.

I was hoping to date Judy, a slender blond girl. I was chatting with Judy when the rumble of a Harley-Davidson motorcycle came up the street and into the park. It was Marv Morton, who I knew from school. He was from the other side of the tracks, so to speak… the working class district. I was from the upper middle class neighbourhood, and the two girls came from the really rich neighbourhood on the other side of the main street.

Marv rolled up on the mint-green bike, and the girls left me and went to ogle the Harley. I was sitting alone then. I saw Judy climb onto the motorcycle behind Marvin and the pair rolled away to the rumble of that big engine. Barbara came over to me and we talked a while. But it was Judy that I wanted. I soon went home, as did Barbara.

About ten years later, I pulled up in front of my office building in my new, silver Oldsmobile rocket 88 hardtop. A guy in a postal uniform was on the sidewalk, emptying all the business mail out of one of those green collection boxes where mailmen pick up the mail for their route. I recognized him as I stepped out of my car.

“Hi Marv,” I said. He looked up, saw my suit, saw my big car, and with obvious embarrassment, he took his heavy, loaded mail sack and slung it onto his shoulder. He nodded at me in silence and trudged away to go door to door with the mail.

That was all I needed to get my revenge. I did nothing to set it up, but just as Marv had bested me with his motorcycle in the past, I bested him by being a business executive with a nice car while he was a basic hourly worker. I felt fine.

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Abba Da Gooch

November 15, 2017 Leave a comment

I didn’t know his real name. To all the men at the club, he was Abba Da Gooch. Da Gooch was a colourful character. He’d hang around the poker table for hours until he’d decide to sit in on the game in progress. He played quietly, and sometimes won a bit, sometimes lost a bit. Nobody knew where Da Gooch got his money or what he actually did with his days.

Like a character out of a Damon Runyon novel, he slouched around in loose fitting striped trousers that were crumpled onto his well-worn penny loafers. His shirt was plaid flannel; very out of place in the poker club. His mustache was too long, and his hair was a black, greasy-looking mess under a stained, pork-pie hat.

Da Gooch was something of a mystery among the players. All of the players were what we called ‘rounders’; guys who got around the city, doing various kinds of business, usually for cash. I don’t think they were criminals, just street guys, taking care of business.

I had a job as a courier. One day I get called to a pickup from Templeton Cosmetics. At the Templeton office I am given a small, gift-wrapped box, with instructions to deliver it to Morris Gross, with an address in a very expensive part of town. It was the same as any of a hundred calls, until I got to the large, splendid home and knocked at the door.

A uniformed maid answered the door. I told her why I was there, and she asked me to step inside. She called out that it was for Mr. Gross. The maid walked away, and I stood waiting. After a minute, Mr. Gross came down the wide staircase. My eyes bugged out of my head; Mr. Gross was Abba Da Gooch. His hair was carefully combed, there was no hat, and he looked good.

It was like Da Gooch was another guy. He wore a silk robe in black, with a gold crest on the right breast. His slippers were polished black patent leather. He called me kid, said he didn’t know I was a courier, and took the box from me. He called out for Lorna. A beautiful teenaged girl in jeans and a T-shirt entered from the next room. Da Gooch handed the box to his daughter and asked her to go try it on.

I turned to leave, and Da Gooch stopped me. He said that I was the only one that knew of his double life, and his real name. I assured him it was just between him and me. He slipped me a $20 tip and ushered me out the door. I wonder which life was his real life, the character at the poker club, or the elegant man in the splendid house. And how did he earn his money? Only Mr. Gross knows.

Men are childish, women are women.

November 6, 2017 Leave a comment

There’s a big deal on television. It’s called the Super Bowl. It gathers a vast amount of attention and costs people a vast amount of money. It doesn’t mean anything. The Super Bowl is meaningless, yet a great deal of false meaning has been injected into it. Fanatics pay thousands of dollars for seats that are worth thirty bucks. They could even watch it for no charge, in their own homes, with their own snacks and get a better view to boot.

Any sort of fanaticism is not a good idea. Things like Nazism, Aryan Brotherhood, Super Bowl and so on. This obviously doesn’t include harmless fan preferences like fans of Bruce Springsteen, The Beatles, Harrison Ford, Dolly Parton and so on. Not all Super Bowl fans are childish and some women do as some men do for the big game.

Although some people paint their faces and even their bodies in the colours of their preferred team, it is childish. It’s fun, it’s troublesome and it’s childish. There are women who cook and serve special snacks to be consumed during the game. It is a game, remember. It’s only a game that for some reason commands great attention and much money.

Well, not for some reason – for the reason that it’s a business enterprise. The people that own the teams, the stadium and the series of games, spend much money to hype up the interest in their business. Fanatical fans should remember that it is not really a game, as in a game people play for pleasure like bowling and poker. It is somebody’s business. The painted faces and heaps of snacks are all in celebration of someone’s very successful business promotion.

We all know that men are childish. It’s true that little boys grow up to be big boys with big toys. It’s true that little girls grow up to be women, and they take care of life more properly than do men. We have to mention that while men behave childishly, women also have their oddities.

Women prepare their faces like painting on a canvas. Black lengthening material is applied to lashes. Colour is applied to upper lids, sometimes with sparkles in it. Dark lines are drawn around the eyes and beyond their corners. Skin is enhanced with skin coloured crème. Lips are enhanced with colour, sometimes two shades on one lip. Cheek bones are accentuated with highlights and shadows carefully applied. Breasts are usually prominent when the woman is proud of them.

There’s not room for all the hair and body enhancements to be described, so we’ll end here… except to say that women are odd too and should willingly forgive men for loving their trucks and painting their faces to show their fanaticism.

Men are childish, women are women

October 30, 2017 Leave a comment

There’s a big deal on television. It’s called the Super Bowl. It gathers a vast amount of attention and costs people a vast amount of money. It doesn’t mean anything. The Super Bowl is meaningless, yet a great deal of false meaning has been injected into it. Fanatics pay thousands of dollars for seats that are worth thirty bucks. They could even watch it for no charge, in their own homes, with their own snacks and get a better view to boot.

Any sort of fanaticism is not a good idea. Things like Nazism, Aryan Brotherhood, Super Bowl and so on. This obviously doesn’t include harmless fan preferences like fans of Bruce Springsteen, The Beatles, Harrison Ford, Dolly Parton and so on. Not all Super Bowl fans are childish and some women do as some men do for the big game.

Although some people paint their faces and even their bodies in the colours of their preferred team, it is childish. It’s fun, it’s troublesome and it’s childish. There are women who cook and serve special snacks to be consumed during the game. It is a game, remember. It’s only a game that for some reason commands great attention and much money.

Well, not for some reason – for the reason that it’s a business enterprise. The people that own the teams, the stadium and the series of games, spend much money to hype up the interest in their business. Fanatical fans should remember that it is not really a game, as in a game people play for pleasure like bowling and poker. It is somebody’s business. The painted faces and heaps of snacks are all in celebration of someone’s very successful business promotion.

We all know that men are childish. It’s true that little boys grow up to be big boys with big toys. It’s true that little girls grow up to be women, and they take care of life more properly than do men. We have to mention that while men behave childishly, women also have their oddities.

Women prepare their faces like painting on a canvas. Black lengthening material is applied to lashes. Colour is applied to upper lids, sometimes with sparkles in it. Dark lines are drawn around the eyes and beyond their corners. Skin is enhanced with skin coloured crème. Lips are enhanced with colour, sometimes two shades on one lip. Cheek bones are accentuated with highlights and shadows carefully applied.

There’s not room for all the hair and body enhancements to be described, so we’ll end here… except to say that women are odd too and should willingly forgive men for loving their trucks and painting their faces to show their fanaticism.

Looking For My Unique Woman

October 30, 2017 Leave a comment

There are some amazing women in literature. I need to find a woman as fascinating and desirable as Lisbeth Salander is in Stieg Larsson’s ‘The Girl With The Dragon Tattoo’. To find a woman like her, in my reality or in my fiction would be exciting beyond imagination. I need to find a woman equally unique about whom I could write.

In ‘The First Deadly Sin’ by Lawrence Sanders, a bold, sensual woman named Celia Montfort was unlike any other woman I had ever met in a story. She was completely different from Lisbeth Salander and fascinating in different ways. Both characters had large parts of their lives hidden. Not out of fear of attack or anything like that. It just was more comfortable for them to keep themselves to themselves. There was not a lot of soul-searching and plotting to be as unique as they are – it was just the way they are.

All characters one creates must quite naturally be based on characters one has known in life. Usually, one takes characteristics from several acquaintances and weaves them together into one interesting character. I am pondering my unique woman as I begin to create her. I remember a time several decades ago, when I found myself in a huge rockabilly nightclub in Savanah, Georgia. Center stage there was a young blonde woman singing and shaking. There were two physical characteristics of that woman with which I will begin my search for my unique woman.

She was more than six feet tall with a gorgeous avalanche of lively, radiant, bouncing blonde hair flowing out from the ten-gallon straw hat she wore. Her shape was hidden behind her large bib overalls. The effect was enticing, because her large breasts, narrow waist and parts of her hips flashed creamy white skin through various openings in the overalls. Bare feet projected out of the long legs of the overalls.

I hope to use her as a framework for my uniquely exciting woman. If I can properly imbue her with unique characteristics, I might be able to write stories about her as a heroine or anti-heroine. I expect a challenge because of her unique size. Admittedly, it does give me an open opportunity to use her size to justify some of her unique characteristics. At the same time, it might go against my ability to make her sexy or intimately appealing. I will just have to start a story and let it lead me to answers.

Blights On Society

October 25, 2017 Leave a comment

I have come to hate television commercials. They interrupt one’s entertainment, often with bland, unattractive salesmanship. To be sure, some are imaginative, entertaining, and well produced. All the same, they’re irritating. I must come clean: I’ve created and produced dozens of commercials, for which I apologize. I didn’t put them on the air or anything like that. I just wrote and designed them. In any case, advertising is an ugly blight on society.

Packaging is outrageous! Packaging is made of glossy, polluting materials that appear to be as expensive as their contents. Sometimes, we can hurt ourselves just trying to get at the little product inside. Yesterday I opened a fresh box of raisin bran. The large box is strong, heavy, and printed on all sides with full colour artwork. Inside the box was a bag of some kind of cloudy material that was almost bullet proof. I don’t know what it’s made of, but it cannot be opened without a scissors. Now with the bag out of the box, I’m left with this beautifully constructed, full colour printed large cereal box.

That box, and the way it looks, is for the store shelf. It’s to attract your eye and lure you away from the other manufacturers’ boxes, all of which are bidding for your attention and money. It’s shameful that we have the box at home, with all that art and printing on it, and it just goes straight into the recycle bin.

I recall two brands of laundry detergent of different packaging, name, and price. The contents of the boxes were the same. One had the beautifully printed box, and was more expensive. The other was in a plain, less expensive box, and it was a cheaper product. The only difference between the two was that one had little blue granules in it and the other had little red granules in it. That was just for show – the stuff was the same.

Would we buy the Raisin Bran without the box? Certainly! They just need to print the name brand and contents on the bag, and that’s it. Deduct the cost of the fancy box, and the consumer gets the goods without the stuff for the bin. However, some competitive brand would put out a much more beautiful, attractive, and expensive package and win away some consumers. That means the bag brand has to do the same, and soon we’re back to excesses that are unnecessary. We’re just spoiled.

Advertising agencies create the box designs, as well as the magazine ads, the flyers, the radio and television commercials, and the banners on the Internet. They are polluting our broadcasting with pitches of every kind, loud and soft, smart and stupid.

I apologize for interrupting your viewing with my commercials, although they did bring you the programming free of charge.

Appreciate Your Youthfulness

October 24, 2017 Leave a comment

If you are fortunate enough to be young, you should realize that it’s a wonderful state in which to be. It will not last forever, and age hurts. It slows you down and makes you sick. If you’re really wise, you’ll lay off the alcohol, smoke grass not more than once or twice a day, and never touch the chemicals at all. They’ll set you on a path to premature old age.

Your complexion, now smooth and glowing will eventually turn to creases and wrinkles. We can be proud of our creases and wrinkles. For one thing, it means we have survived for a fairly long time. That means – for most of us – that we have acquired a good deal of wisdom. Don’t think you know so much now, because you don’t. You’ll find out a decade from now that you knew nothing, comparatively speaking. The decade after that will again make the preceding decade seem empty by comparison, and on it goes.

If you think of how much you learned from age ten to age twenty, you have no reason to think that this intellectual growth will stop at thirty or fifty or whatever age. Some people, of course, learn nothing much after they’re nineteen. They decide that’s the limit, and so they limit themselves. Personally, I fill my mind with more wisdom, more information, and more details every day, and I’m almost eighty.

One of the most beautiful women in the world in her time, Elizabeth Taylor said that she appreciated her silver hair because she believed each hair represented a lesson learned, an experience experienced. We can age, and if we’re lucky, we don’t mature too much. I still find delight in simple things, in things I learn day by day. At the same time, I have lived a productive life, honoured all my obligations and responsibilities, raised a family, earned money, paid mortgages and everything a productive person does.

When summer returns, my Honda GoldWing will come out to provide some fun. Just remember that you will never look better than you do now and you will never feel better than you do now. Don’t squander it. Live, love, play, work and study because your time is now.