Blackhumouristpress's Blog

November 1, 2019

Last Tango in Detroit

Rick asked Tony to watch his house for a few days, feed and let the dogs out and bring in the mail. Tony didn’t mind the idea of camping out at Rick’s house for a while. There was beer and food in the refrigerator and they had the Center Ice NHL package on Direct TV. Tony loved it. If he wanted to watch any game going on, he could- Vancouver, New York, Montreal Las Vegas… All of them.

Tony played hockey, sold hockey equipment, coached a youth hockey team and then more recently, a woman’s hockey team. Rick’s wife entertained the idea of being the women’s team goalie but hated the idea of being shot at, putting on so much equipment and having to stand in front of the net while everyone else got to skate around. Rick told Tony that his wife wasn’t too keen about many of the women on the team but one in particular who just happened to become Tony’s girlfriend since he became the team’s coach. Her name was Susan and she was tall with red hair. Susan liked to go to hockey games and listen to live music. She was a lot of fun but outspoken when it came to shitty goaltending. Part of why Rick’s wife Donna decided to quit was Susan’s comments such as Donna couldn’t stop a cock between her legs anymore than she could a puck. Tony shrugged it off. Hockey is not for everyone and everyone does not like everyone.

Tony had a men’s league game later one night. He boiled a pot of pasta and could only find butter to put on the noodles. The only television at Rick’s house was in the master bedroom. Tony put the television on by hand since he could not find the remote control. For about 5 minutes Rick stood there manually holding the button for the channel to go from 5 to 770-1 for high definition. Detroit was playing Edmonton. Edmonton was off to a good start and Detroit was about where they have been for the past five to six years- nowhere. Tony balanced the soupy plate of pasta while changing the channel to the Islanders against Carolina when the whole plate of pasta fell onto Rick’s bed with a black fitted sheet. Tony swore a bit and scooped the pasta back onto the plate and ate it without a thought. He fell asleep that night on one side of the bed while watching the highlights of the day’s games. Tony’s team lost earlier that night but he was a plus 1 and had two assists playing defense. At the next game, Rick thanked Tony for watching his place and taking care of the dogs. He had one question though for Tony- what the fuck did you do in my bed? Tony thought about telling Rick the truth but created a funny story instead.

“Susan is an old film buff and so she brought over a copy of Last Tango in Paris and we watched it in bed. I then went and got your Land O’ Lakes out of the fridge and rammed it up her ass while recreating the scene after watching Marlon Brando do it… I didn’t use the whole stick of butter. I put back about half in the fridge.”

Rick smiled but was a cross between shocked and jealous. He then thought about having toast that morning with the butter that went up a woman’s ass. He couldn’t remember tasting a difference.

At the end of season party, the boys on the team showed up to the apartment of one of the transplants from Boston. There they all were on the roof of a high-rise drinking and waiting for the lobsters to be boiled. Donna stood glaring at Susan and Tony who were talking quietly to one another and kissing a bit. Donna had just enough drinks to feel brave enough to confront the couple.

“You know what? I might have sucked as a goalie but you suck as a human… Both of you actually. What kind of a tramp allows a man to put a stick of butter up her ass, then fuck her in the ass of a friend’s bed, make a fucking mess and then not have the decency to take the sheets and simply wash them… That’s not enough! Then take the stick of butter and put it back in the fridge. It’s disgusting at a minimum. Kinky and exciting for my husband but repulsing for me…”

Susan studied Tony’s face while he nervously laughed and smiled. Tony had two women angrily looking intently into his face. Susan demanded an explanation.

“Babe… It was watery pasta that fell off the plate while I was watching hockey one night. That’s all it was plain and simple. I hate to pop Rick’s bubble but there was no anal sex… But I thought it would be a funny story. I can tell you this- Rick loses his man card for telling his wife something so lurid such as that. Somethings like that are better left untold between men…”

October 25, 2019

Make it Easier and Easier

Wilbur sat in living room of his apartment trying to watch METV on an old Zenith television that he had inherited from his mother before she died sometime ago. He also got a few bucks and a nice couch and Lazy Boy recliner too.

 

As a man of fifty years of age, Wilbur was a wreck.  He was morbidly obese; he needed medication for his blood pressure, for diabetes, for his enlarged prostate and his depression. He lived alone with three cats and a lot of mice. His apartment was nothing but tunnels from room to room. Once a year, the poor janitor would have to get a dumpster and clear out all the shit Wilbur collected so that he could pass Section 8, so that the owner of the building living off the board walk north of South Beach in Miami could get his guaranteed money from the government.

 

Wilbur called the Police to report that the new tenants above were constantly playing loud music, drinking and smoking weed. The compassionate dispatcher explained to Wilbur that all were legal now.

“I don’t know if you are aware that playing one’s music loudly is a culturally acceptable way to enjoy music today.  You may not enjoy it so loud but many do. It is no longer illegal to play loud music. Your complaining impedes on their ability to enjoy music in their own home the way they are accustomed to. Marijuana and alcohol is legal too. We will not send officers out for something like this. I suggest you get some ear buds and listen to whatever interests you… Okay? Have a nice day…”

Wilbur began to cry tears of frustration as all the glassware in his place rattled. He could hear all the lyrics to the song. It wasn’t quite Rap and it wasn’t quite singing. It was sort of whiny droning like a Gregorian chant with reverb, heavy bass and a pitch corrector.

“Bitch… How do I wanna kill you and love you jus the same. It a thin line between choking you and loving you, girl. You take my shit and I love you but I cain’t be with you and I need you… Yo pussy, you ass, making love an then sodomy, my homies say I need a lobotomy cause I love you girl, my precious dichotomy… Pain and ecstasy when you laying next to me… I jus might marry you after they arrest me…”

 

There was a knock at the door. It was his food delivery service. Two double Whoppers with Cheese, large fry and a large Diet Coke. The delivery guy was holding his nose while standing in the doorway of the apartment. The place was one big litter box and the pungent smell of cat urine was overwhelming. The cats cried as Wilbur ate his meal, watched Jerry Springer on mute while listening to progressive radio. The topics of the day ranged from three year olds declaring their gender identity as “Gender Fluid”, allowing profanity in public places and in the media for emphasis, the elimination of any presidents on money or the word god on anything in public. Wilbur thought about the time he ordered via Amazon some really large Victoria Secret lingerie and wore it for a while to see if it would make him feel pretty, attractive and possibly more positive about who he was. Wilbur walked around the apartment listening to music in peach colored fuzzy slippers, a peach robe, a peach brazier size 45 DD and matching thong. Wilber wore the outfit for days until he saw a bunch of females model lingerie in high heal shoes on television, hawking sexy lingerie and dongs. The pretty thing parading around in lingerie with her cute dimple holding a 12-inch black dong brought Wilbur to reality. They were so elegant and thin and Wilbur felt bloated. Wilbur reasoned that he might get some homophobic fireman unwilling to give him CPR someday because of how he was dressed and so he went back to wearing his Cleveland Browns jersey and a pair of sweat pants.

 

It was getting late. Wilbur spent a whole day doing not very much and tomorrow there will be about the same for him to do. He eased into his Lazy Boy chair and hooked up the catheter to a bag of peritoneal dialysis solution to cleanse his failing kidneys while he slept. He then hooked up CPAP device that helped with his sleep apnea. Leave it to Beaver was on. Wally and Beaver were called in from the garage where they were working on a soapbox car for a race. They sat down to dinner. Ward with his suit jacket off, slicked back hair with a hint of gray. June with pearls and bright lipstick and a smart dress with an apron on was doling out mashed potatoes. Wally and Beaver told their parents how “swell” the soapbox car was coming along. Wilbur fell asleep thinking that maybe way back then, that’s when things were really, really good. Nah… So many things to make life easier today and it keeps getting easier. After all easier is better, right?

October 9, 2019

Eluding Illusions

Filed under: america,elections,humor,humour,poem,Uncategorized — blackhumouristpress @ 4:17 pm
Tags: , , , , ,

Poll tax extortion truth abortion

Everything heard is a distortion.

Syntactical practical magical illusion

Pull the rabbit from the hat but it smells of skunk

 

What you think you thunk after reading

Subjective junk passed off as news of whatever slant of your choosing. Your side is pure, your side righteous while fighting the devious, oblivious, contentious opposition.

 

The latest sham, the latest scam rides the subliminal at a minimal. You think you understand, you think you comprehend. It’s designed to confuse you, program and use you… Thank you for your time… God bless you.

September 5, 2019

From Hockey to Yoga

Ali sat in a massage chair at a mall waiting for the Lululemon store to open. The name Ali is short for Alistair and Ali was tired.   How tired? He played hockey late night and then went out to have one with some friends after their game. Ali never got mad a the dumb decision making of the once a week guys on the team who panic when they get the puck and dump it or fire a shot at your head instead of making a pass. The same type of player will look you in the eye when you’re open and decide that they have a better option- a 1 on 3 perhaps with stone hands that will assuredly end in losing the fucking puck… Sorry, the thought of that makes me a little crazy. Where was I? Oh yeah…

So Ali was parked at the Lululemon store Saturday on Woodward in downtown Detroit. He sat in the car as his wife took their twin girls inside to try on over priced yoga pants while he watched a parade of Tigers fans walk towards Comerica Park to catch a game. There were bars on wheels where a dozen people pedaled a device around downtown while drinking and listening to Salsa Music. That seemed like a good time to Ali. Ali got a text.

 

SO THE GIRLS ARE A SIZE TWO AND THEY HAVE BLACK. IT WOULD COME OUT TO ABOUT $160.00 WITH TAX FOR BOTH OF THEM.

 

Ali would have liked to sit in the bleachers for $10.00 but he was sitting in the car waiting close to an hour while stick figure twin daughters tried on over priced Lycra. He had a response for his wife.

FUCK THAT… WE FIND SOMETHING AT THE GAP.

 

Ali’s wife had a response…

 

HOW MUCH DO YOU SPEND BUYING YOUR BUSTOUT BUDDIES DRINKS AFTER HOCKEY GAMES? HOW MUCH DO YOU TIP THE CUTE LITTLE THING BEHIND THE BAR? I’M GONNA GUESS THAT WITH THE COST OF HOCKEY, DRINKS AND TIPS, YOU’RE PRETTY GODDAMN CLOSE TO A COUPLE A PAIRS OF YOGA PANTS.

 

Ali stood his ground. He said no to the girls and settled for headbands and scrunches for their wrists and not their hair. The twins were disappointed. He took his wife and the girls to Mexicantown. The ladies wanted to go to Greektown. They ate their Mexican food in angry silence. When they got home, their 3-month-old puppy had shit all over his cage and smeared it all over his fluffy coat. The house smelled… Well, like shit. Ali’s wife weighed in while he cleaned shit off of the cage and she hosed a howling puppy in the backyard.

 

“You will go buy those fucking pants tomorrow… Hockey last night, hockey tonight and hockey tomorrow. Summer league playoffs, right? And possibly stopping off for one. Isn’t that what you guys say to one another? Let’s stop off for one and then you close the damn place. I have to hear how tired you are and how sore you are. Bullshit to that… You either go back downtown tomorrow or go to the mall. The girls asked for one thing each for their birthday and even though Lululemon seems expensive to you, I can tell you that it is less money than the CCM triple XXX asshole stick with the 100 flex and Crosby fucking curve you sent me into buy… I’m supposed to know that you’re a fucking lefty too? And so I go back to get a righty for a mere $250.00. I saw the price of that and almost fainted. You pitch a fit over $160.00 for your daughters’ pants. I have news for you- those yoga pants will last a lot longer than your overpriced stick that Crosby gets for free after you pay the fucking ransom for it… Are we clear on this?”

Ali got into a fight at the night game early in the 3rd period, took a shower and waited at the bar for the guys. He wanted to punch his wife but found someone on the ice to take it out on. Ali told the boys at the bar that they needed to cover him because he needed to buy yoga pants in the morning. He got home at 1am. The puppy got excited in the cage at the sight of Ali and not only shit but pissed. It was about 2am when he got the cage cleaned up. He picked the pup up and let him sleep on his chest while watching the NHL channel until he fell asleep on the couch. About 7am, his daughters came down the stairs like it was Christmas morning. Ali, smelling a bit like gin, snapped at his daughters and told them that they needed to get to school and that there would be no opening presents until after school. The girls were nearly in tears and his wife stood above him on the top step with folded arms and tight lips.

Ali decided to get to the mall up north and buy the damn pants. Two pairs. He guessed that 9am would be opening time but was wrong. He sat in the massage chair while old people walked around getting exercise before stores opened at 10am. Ali knew he was in the doghouse and constructed a beautiful text.

 

I FORGET A LOT OF SHIT THAT I EXPERIENCED IN LIFE. IT’S SORT OF LIKE SEEING A MOVIE YEARS AGO. I SAW IT A LONG TIME AGO BUT FORGOT MOST OF IT. I WILL NEVER FORGET THE DAY WE MARRIED OR THE DAY THE GIRLS WERE BORN. I REMEMBER EVERY DETAIL OF BOTH DAYS. THEY ARE THE MOST IMPORTANT DAYS IN MY LIFE. I AM GETTING THE PANTS AND WE WILL GO TO MEDIEVIL TIMES TONIGHT… THEY WILL BE IN BED BY 9:30. I WILL OPEN THAT EXPENSIVE BOTTLE OF WINE WE BOUGHT IN NAPA. I WANT YOU TO WEAR THAT BLACK NIGHT GOWN WITH THE DENTAL FLOSS UNDERWEAR. I WILL PEEL THOSE OFF OF YOU AND FLING THEM LIKE A SLINGSHOT ACROSS THE ROOM. I WILL LIGHT THE CANDLES AND PLAY THAT MUSIC YOU LIKE… I HAVE TOLD THE GUYS THAT I CANNOT MAKE TONIGHT’S GAME EVEN THOUGH IT IS A PLAYOFF GAME. YOU AND THE GIRLS ARE MORE IMPORTANT THAN HOCKEY TO ME AND THAT IS SAYING A LOT. I LOVE YOU.

 

Ali loved hockey a lot and it might have been a tie between hockey and the women in his life but he did the right thing and for that, he wanted a pat on the ass. And every man wants one.

August 24, 2019

Raider Nation in a Green Bay Tent City

Wayne would watch the people traipse across his lawn during football season to the Mecca of NFL football stadiums- Lambeau Field in Green Bay, Wisconsin. He wondered how he could extract some of that cash that was flowing freely on game days. Sell beer or peanuts? Allow people to park their cars on his front lawn? Sure that would be good for $20.00 and maybe two cars could fit over the sidewalk. The idea came to Wayne to put up a tent in his backyard and post it on Airbnb. Picture a tent, a big tent and then picture a house you would not want to go into.

Wayne was a Vietnam veteran who was 100% covered by the government for his exposure to Agent Orange. Wayne would walk through the jungle devoid of foliage after a plane would drop the defoliant. At the time, it was no problem. He was under 20 year of age and vibrant. As time went on, he had crazy mood swings, inability to concentrate and problems procreating. He lived in the house with a mail order bride who could not speak English. She could speak Thai. The house crawled with bugs and the bugs didn’t bother Daisy, the Thai wife of Wayne. She kept the house clean except for the room where Wayne slept with the three German Sheppard dogs. Wayne had a hard time sleeping and staying asleep so he slept in what would have been the family room if they had a family on a mattress on the floor. Wayne watched graphic porn and Westerns and slept with loaded guns under his pillow in the family room with the dogs. Daisy slept upstairs in a clean room with a clean bathroom. During the day, Wayne would rough fuck his wife who he could not speak with and then he would go to the gym. Oh he would scream things in English with the logic that if he yelled loud enough, she would understand.

 

Wayne was indifferent to football but understood that it was a religion in the area and thought to make enough money to pay for him and Daisy to go back to Thailand to see her sick mother.

There were blow up beds and beanbags and a black and white television that only pulled in two channels locally in the prestigious tent. There was a plastic pool in the backyard with a fire pit and he got Wi-Fi as the bonus for whoever decided to pay the $200.00 a night when all other options were not possible.

It was a beautiful August evening in Green Bay. The Packers were playing the Raiders. Jaime, who did jail time for offenses with an unregistered gun as a young man, learned automotive in jail and opened his own garage in Oakland. Jaime was that rare success story. He wore a black hair net under his Raiders hat with a straight brim cocked to the right. He wore a plain white tank top shirt under a starched white shirt with only the top buttoned. He wore baggy trousers and shiny black dress shoes. Jaime got a ticket to Milwaukee and hired an Uber driver for $200.00 to drive him 90 minutes north to Green Bay. There were no rooms to be had practically down to the Illinois border due to vacations and the Packer game. Jaime settled for the tent.

Jaime looked at the accommodations with his wife Teresa and made a declaration.

“Mother fucking pinchy Hillbilly motherfucker is charging $200.00 a night to fucking camp out in his backyard… And motherfuckers like him went to the moon? I say bullshit to this bullshit…”

Teresa was used to their small stucco ranch in Oakland that was kept immaculate. The lack of screens on the window and the barking of the dogs scared her. The naked lady magazines on the floor of the bathroom that had piss stains on the bowl, shit like concrete splattered on the bowl, whiskers in the sink and chunks of meat pulled from between Wayne’s teeth were stuck to the mirror.   Shock and horror.

After the game, Jaime stood in the backyard talking to his help at the garage back in Oakland. He was telling his guys to get right on one car and tell the old bitch with the Oldsmobile that they were waiting on a part. Wayne sat in the backyard in a lawn chair drinking a beer, glaring at Jaime, who was wearing a Ken Stabler jersey over his Cholo clothes. The Raiders won by a field goal. Wayne attempted to make conversation with his guest but it went wrong, as was often the case.

“Do you and your senorita come from Mexico or did you make the trek from Guatemala? You people all look the same to me. I went to Tijuana once back after the war. I got the clap down there banging the broad who starred in the donkey show… They still got the donkey show down there?”

The ridiculous stereotyping and ignorance incensed Jaime

“Motherfucker… Did I see your white ass in Deliverance? Where you the dude fucking that fat motherfucker in the ass? I was born in Oakland. I am as American as your white ass and let me ask you something, pendejo… How does a motherfucker like you land a 12-year-old bitch looking like fucking Beetlejuice? How much you spend on yo woman?”

Wayne laughed at his houseguest, excused himself and returned with a case of Wisconsin beer and a bottle of tequila. Over the course of six hours, Wayne learned what it was like to live on the mean streets of Oakland as a Mexican gangbanger who did jail time and then became an entrepreneur. Jaime learned what it was like to have served in a really bad war and what it was like to kill people, take drugs and just try to make it day to day in a foreign land as a teenager. Jaime learned what it was like for someone like Wayne to have done something for others that wasn’t appreciated or wanted. They found common ground outside an Airbnb tent in Green Bay… And lived happily ever after. The end….

August 3, 2019

New and Improving…

Motorized scooter headed fast towards me, grocery store jousting like Medieval Times towards the fat free, low sodium, stress reducing, diet drink with aspartame.

 

A moment of silence to reflect. A shot of Botox and a pill to get erect. You can wave like the queen on the float, trying to undo all the things you were thinking, last week when you were overdrinking.

 

Don’t let the bumper sticker define you, they might find you at a moment of weakness looking at your shoes giving crumbs to the birds.

 

You wanna know what I believe, what I think, what I’m doing? GPS my thoughts and interrupt it with an ad. “Take two of these with vodka when you get really sad…”

 

I’m virtually happy when I’m mad and smile with a frown with the ear buds in. It appears as though I’m talking to a friend, tread mill walking in lieu of progress until the end. Maybe Nietzsche could teach me, try to reach me and make sense of the modern day.

August 2, 2019

Saudade or BS in English

Elise waited for Bill for about an hour at the bar of a new gluten free, vegan restaurant in that hip new area of the city where anyone over the age of forty, looks out of place. She had two organic wines from a small winery in Oregon and felt safe knowing that there was no DDT, herbicides, pesticides or Agent Orange in her wine. She was rail thin with long, straight hair that she constantly put behind her ears as she read from her phone.

Bill posted pictures of himself on a dating site. Bill was not a thin mountain man looking guy. He was sort of a chubby man who loved to correspond with women he never met and had no intention in meeting. After hours of writing back and forth with Elise, poems and even a song he composed on his acoustic guitar, the time had come to meet. Bill forced the meeting when he descriptively described what he was going to do to when he got Elise in a bed. It went something like this-

 

I will cover the bed in rose pedals. Carlos Antonio Jobim will be playing softly. The aroma of lavender will fill the air from the candles that will alluminate the room just enough for you to see my face and I to see yours. Nothing will need to be said. I will start kissing your arms so gently that it will feel as though I’m hardly touching you. I will kiss your neck so softly while holding the base of your neck. I will gently kiss your top lip and then your bottom. We will become one. I will whisper sweet things in your ear in Portugues- É pau, é pedra,
é o fim do caminho
É um resto de toco,
é um pouco sozinho

 

Elise read and re-read the message that made her a bit moist every time she read it. Bill had no intention in showing. He knew no Portuguese, owned no candles and lived in the basement of his mother’s home. It was all just a game to him and he thrived on the correspondence. Nothing more. While she waited for Bill, he dropped the bomb on her. In Portuguese. Loosely translated- I found another woman. I ain’t coming.

 

Eu encontrei o amor da minha vida … tristeza profunda para lhe dizer.

 

 

The bartender who looked a little bit like the 1970’s relief pitcher, Rollie Fingers or Salvador Dali with a ridiculous waxed mustache. A skinny man with a healthy libido who saw an opportunity to land another good looking sad chick sitting at the bar having a melt down. He asked Elise if he could read what was written. Two more wines and beet salad on the house and the Uber driver whisked them away to the studio apartment of the bartender. He happened to play ac

acoustic guitar. He happened to know Jobim songs in English. His neighbor had a rose bush and he had one Yankee candle that he lit that smelled a bit like citrus that masked the smell of unwashed clothes. Was love found and nurtured from that day on? I would have to say no. There are many men who set the table just for other men to eat upon.

July 17, 2019

America- 2020 Poor Vision

America 2020- two visions one schism.

One part Racism one part socialism and stir to a boil.

 

Bubble gum bubble gum in a dish which candidate do you pick? Attack the president and hope it sticks before the electorate gets too sick.

 

Some salute the flag and some kneel… this is a free country do what you feel… Unless you don’t think or look like me. In that case you’re the enemy.

 

Children, I have to warn you

Because I’ve been to California.

Needles is not just a city and there’s a reason the parks are so shitty.

 

The woke spoke and want to build moats along Nevada and near Philly. Those fly over red states are just dang silly. Gun loving hicks chasing queers in big trucks.   I just can’t believe those xenophobic fucks. They don’t even like Starbucks.

 

There’s no reason for a border

Things will work out and we’ll keep order.

We are making preparations, free college and reparations. How could the middle class have reservations?

 

AOC- can you see? We’re on the cusp of anarchy. All the people you might reach are in favor to impeach the president, undocumented residents, in an unprecedented age devoid of decorum a la Jerry Springer. It’s okay to shout when they speak and give them all the finger.

 

24-hour news propaganda that overloads the subliminal. At a minimal it looks like a mushroom cloud that covers the sun. Nowhere near where we once begun. Where do we begin?

July 10, 2019

Catfish… Yum Or She’s Perfect on Paper

Jake had friends that had met women from other countries on line and it really worked out well for them. There was Chuck who corresponded with a Thai woman working in Cairo at a hotel. Chuck back around the time Morsi was deposed by the military in Egypt, went to collect the love of his life and bring her back to his two-bedroom palace in Detroit. It didn’t matter that for six months his wife needed her phone to correspond with Chuck. A whole lot less fighting.

Paul went to Bogotá in Columbia and found a beauty of a woman who liked to cook and liked to clean and do whatever Paul was in the mood to do. Being twenty years his junior was a strong plus.

 

Jake decided to try his hand. Jake met Ann on a dating site for intelligent people. Jake was so intelligent that he never stopped to think that maybe corresponding with strangers in Dubai, might not be… intelligent.

 

Ann- Hey, my name is Ann. I saw your profile and you look totally for what I’m looking for in a man.

 

Jake saw a tall, thin, woman with a beautiful face and was hooked like a fish.

 

Jake- My name is Jake… I live in Milwaukee. Where are you?

 

Ann- I am the daughter of a Basque fisherman who lived in Belgium. I grew up speaking Basque, French, Flemish and German. My Amona, that is Basque for grandma, would have me all summer in San Sebastian. What about you?

 

Jake- We went to Door County a lot. It’s in northern Wisconsin. Your English is really good.

 

Ann- Merci

 

Jake stood at the computer waiting for Ann to say something and then after a few hours, she gave her telephone number but claimed in didn’t work in Dubai. They kept corresponding via the site. Jake had a few drinks one night and received a picture of Ann in a bathing suit and was out of his mind with desire. Ann would write to Jake often and then not for a while. Jake would stare at the screen like a dog watching a door for their master to return. After weeks, things seemed to be heading in a positive direction and the desire to meet Ann grew so strong that Jake was consumed all day long with thoughts of being with her. It was like those men you hear about in jail that receive letters from women on the outside. Those men are willing to break out of jail just to meet those special women. Jake was of the same mindset.

 

Jake- Listen I have free time and have always wanted to come to Dubai. I have a passport and I think you and I have something special between us. I dream of you with my eyes awake.

 

Ann- Oh my god! I totally feel the same way. I want to serve you breakfast in bed and massage you. I want to come to the states and eat at Outback with you.

 

Jake- Outback?! Um… I don’t go there ever. Have you been there?

 

Ann- Well we can go somewhere else too. Hey, I don’t want to spring this on you but if you do come, would you mind terribly taking care of something for me?

 

Jake- What’s that?

 

Ann- I have some money that I left in an account in Kenya that I cannot leave the country to get it. Would you mind terribly making a stop for me? I will tell you which bank to go to and they will give you the money we need to start a new life together. I cannot wait to leave Dubai and begin our new life in Milwaukee. I want to eat sausages, eat cheese and drink beer. When you get here, I am going to make love to you until you beg me to stop. I cannot wait to feel your hands all over my body. We will be one and it will be the greatest experience of our lives. Hurry my love.

 

Jake would have gone to the moon for her and just about did. He hopped on a flight to Nairobi. Upon landing, he grabbed the first cab he could find. He woke up hours later with his hands tied behind his back. Across the room were two men watching a soccer match on a small television, both were smoking. Jake asked what was going on. A large man with braids and a large gap between his front teeth stood and rubbed his belly.

“I am more attractive in a bathing suit… Let’s talk about getting some money.”

Love is often not what it appears to be and that is sad when you think about it.

July 3, 2019

The 4th Of July

 

Nike might be likely to incite thee.

Kaepernick the flag in the nick of time to celebrate independence. Mike Pence, polls twice a day and the electorate is on the fence. Toxic hate of illegal residents and on the other side against the president. I’ll take the fifth on the forth.

 

It’s legal now- take hit. Mellow out- that’s it. Drink, gamble and smoke. Now here’s the real joke- that skunky shit ain’t your granddaddy’s dope. You can deny the gateway as they search for the right way to balance the books and pay for it all. Want a preview? Here’s a clue of what they’d do for you- those that stood for the debate weren’t even second rate in the eyes that watched and glazed over.

 

Meanwhile over at the DMZ, Little Kim for a photo op, hoping a handshake might stop radiation over South Korea and Japan. Sweat trickles down my back, Iranian uranium is back on track. The time draws closer. It’s too hot, it’s too wet and maybe there is a problem at the border. Those poor people drinking water from a commode, while the nation angrily might implode like it did once back with Lincoln. It all just leaves me thinking. There will be a military review that’s not meant for you this 4th of July. A show of strength with troops and tanks like Red Square on May Day… May day… May day. We going down…

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