Pong

During the late 1960s and early 1970s I played pinball at the arcades on Boston's Washington Street. My skills flourished and I competed against older wizards on machines such as Centrigrade 37 and Strikes and Spares. We loved the lights and bells accompanying our struggle to prevent the steel ball from ever dropping into the death hole.

Pinball machines were also very popular in bars up and down Commonwealth Avenue and I was # 1 on Royal Flush at Concannon and Sennett's Bar. My good friend FM and I played doubles against BU co-eds for beers. They were good, but we were better, but at a quarter a pint we could afford to be losers to pretty sophomores from New York, although none of us were ready for the November 1972 appearance of PONG.

Few of us had ever seen a computer, even though I had been a math major in my first two years of university. FM and I tried our hand at PONG. One hand and good eyes controlled the paddle and the game sped up the longer you kept the ball in play.

The 2-D table tennis game cost a quarter.

FM and I were soon the best in Boston, but we tired of the game and returned to pinball, which was a much more physical exercise.

Neither of us foresaw the future demise of pinballs in bars, but electronic games were the wave of the future and exiled pinball machine to museums or basement rec rooms.

No one plays PONG anymore, especially not FM and I.

We like drinking beer instead.

And we did in the 1970s too.

And so did BU co-eds, because some things never change.

The # Of Me

This morning I googled a friend's name. Nine of him lived in the USA, although the number dropped to one once I typed in his middle name.

There are over 66,000 Peter Smiths in the USA. They live in every state of the union and work at most professions. I know none of them.

Once I entered in my middle name, I became unique on Google, although there is a Peter Nolan-Smith in Canada, however he uses an hyphen between Nolan and Smith, so I am one out of 66,000.

1/66000 = 1 / 66 000 = 1.51515152 × 10-5

That's 10 to the 5th power.

Some maps are 1/66000.

Same as me.

The one and only of my kind.

But isn't everyone.

ps the photo is Keira Knightley from BEND IT LIKE BECKHAM.

She's one of a kind too.

Just like everyone in the world, past, present, and future.

American Fools - 2015

Yesterday Ohio Governor announced his candidacy for GOP candidate for president and explained his reason to join the crowded field by saying, "Why not?"

This rationale was better than answering, "What's it to you?", but he is miles behind the present party favorite, Donald Trump, who has been thrust into the lead after saying that all Mexican illegals are rapists or criminals.

The smug pseudo billionaire also spent the weekend attacking the 2008 GOP candidate John McCain's war record by deriding the former POW's status as a hero.

"“He’s a war hero because he was captured. I like people that weren’t captured.”

Trump served his country during the Viet-Nam War as a college student. I protested against the war. donald would think much of me, then again I have a full head of hair.

The rest the the GOP field isn't much better.

Rick Santorum was taught to eat kielbasa sausages by his parish priest.

Mike Huckabee believes in ET atheists

Scott Walker loves CABARET.

They makes Steve Jacobs seem presidential.

But never me.

Like Bernie Sanders I remain true to radical progressivism along with millions of others

Burn Baby Burn.

American Justice

To anyone who thinks America has solved its problem with racial hatred and inequality, these two photos tell the truth.

Asshole of the Week July 13

Cannabis has been legalized in several states and decriminalization laws are winning polls throughout the nation, however the forces of the anti-drug war have refused to wave the white flag of surrender and this week a retired Canadian police officer came up with a mass market pot breathalyzer for police to test drivers for reefer intoxication.

These devices are not yet on the market, but the police are struggling to find something to do now that they can not harass pot smokers.

So Asshole of the July 14 goes to Cannabix founder Kal Malhi.

Just say no to any laws on reefer and while you're at it, email or phone Cannabix to tell them what you think of their invention.

Now and often.

Cannabix Technologies Inc. 7934 Government Rd Burnaby, BC, V5A 2E2 Tel: 604-551-7831 Email us at: info@Cannabixtechnologies.com

Maneater

From my younger sister about my brother Michael Charles Smith.

"I was driving home tonight listening to vintage Hall & Oates and thinking of Michael.

Their song "Maneater" came on.

I remember it was a hit around 1984.

I came home to Milton from DC a few days before Christmas.

Mom and I were chatting in the living room and Michael came in as this song came on the radio. It was new and we both jumped up and started dancing all around the living room. Mom was sitting in one of the high backed chairs near the fireplace, laughing and smiling at us.

The song finished and we went back to our conversation. It was, to use an expression of Tara's, a "brain burn".

The moment stuck in my memory, not because it was a particularly special event like a birthday or a wedding. It was, a brain burn because it was a casually happy, spontaneous dance with Michael around the living room.

Fun.

My sisters loved dancing too.

MIss You Long Time - Michael Charles Smith

In the summer of 1995 my baby brother succumbed to the ravages of AIDS. I miss him every day along with the rest of my friends and family who died from that killer. I will remember them forever.

My brother's name was Michael Charles Smith.

He's the smaller blonde boy in the photo.

And still always the youngest.

Peanut Butter and Jelly by the painter Frank Holliday

Peanut Butter and Jelly by the painter Frank Holliday.

Out at his Bushwick studio.

Throwing Back Fish

Last weekend Bushwick heaved with artists, hipsters, dealers, and tourists enjoying a day of open studios in the rejuvenated industrial wasteland. Stuck in the city I bicycled over to Grattan Street to view a friend's paintings. Frank Holiday greeted me with surprise.

"I thought you'd be in the Hamptons."

"My old friends out East don't like my snoring."

"Well, I'm so happy you showed up."

"As am I." I quickly examined his new paintings. His bold strokes had been muted underneath a patois of color without any loss of dynamic force and we discussed the positive metamorphosis of his work.

Several other friends showed up to his studio and we sat drinking water, while recounting stories of the old wickedness in New York to young men questioning the city's status as America's Babylon.

"New York was dangerous back then. Every borough was scary," Steve Turtell explained to the twenty year-olds. "And the nightlife was small. The punk scene was maybe 500 people. The gay population was in the thousands. We were hidden from the mainstream, not like today. We had the Mineshaft, Toilet, the Anvil, places that can't exist now."

"A friend of mine and I were at the Anvil and the DJ announced that the first person to piss into some guy's mouth would win a six pack of beer." Frank wasn't mentioning the name, but I had a good idea who he meant, especially after he said, "And my friend came back a minute later with a big smile, screaming, "I won, I won."

We laughed hard at the remembrance of those lost times and friends. A handsome actor from Chicago asked what I was writing.

"A book about hitchhiking across the USA in 1974."

"I used to hitchhike all the time," Steve cooed with fond memory. "One time I was coming back from a folk festival in West Virginia. I was stuck out on the highway in Maryland and this guy stopped for me. He was looking for action, but I wasn't interested in him, so he got off the road and drove me all the way back to where he picked me up like he was throwing back a fish. Talk about a scary ride."

"I know what you mean." I had hitchhiked hundreds of times in the 60s and 70s. Strange people were looking for strange people. They were different times indeed, for as Charlie Manson said, "I was strange when strange meant something."

Ain't nothing like that now.

Pattaya Always Pattaya

Back in the 1970s Miami Beach was a neglected beach resort populated by ancient retirees in moldy art-deco apartment buildings. Elderly snowbird males dine at Wolfie's Deli sporting Sta-press shirts, plaid trousers, and gleaming white shoes. Attired in their polyester finery these septuagenarians trolled Miami Beach for blue-haired widows with a little extra income.

The tropical sun set early in Florida. Darkness was not an old man's friend. Females in their 70s looked 50 to a man with poor night vision. Desire youngified every senior female on Collins Avenue. The sidewalks emptied after dusk and the windows female compatriots in looked better than good after dusk and the sidewalks were empty by the end of dusk. Hotel windows glowed with TV lights and the ACs hummed to frost the bedroom to the temperature of the Belleville morgue.

That somnambulant elegance was vanquished by the trendification of South Beach in the 90s. The decaying hotels were renovated by New York hoteliers, the decayed rooms were filled with hipsters, and the night was animated by bars and discos for the first time since MIAMI VICE.

The city was re-born as a super-cool destination. Nothing kills a city faster than a hipster.

I lived in Pattaya from 1998 to 2008. The population was 90,000. A good mix of thai go-go girls, drag queens, and fugitive farangs. It was good fun and citizens avoided the Costa de Mafia like we had the pox, then Pattaya was discovered by the squares.

Luxury condos replaced decrepit beach resorts with hopes of replacing the its faithful clientele of European sex tourists with more fashionable tourists from the Pacific Rim.

Gucci instead of tee-shirts.

Prada took from knock-offs.

Upper-class Thais from Bangkok besmote by the need to flaunt their success with au courant styles have exiled the lager louts and steroid juice monkeys from Walking Street the same way Madonna pushed Meyer Lansky's widow off the throne of Miami Beach, however this transition will take time in Pattaya, for the city on the Gulf of Siam remains the most unfashionable city in Asia.

Dressing well is considered a sign of respect for yourselves and those around you, so Thais can't understand why farangs dress so badly in their wife-beater t-shirts, soiled shorts, and grubby sneakers. I expect nothing better from retired postal workers from South London and divorced accountants of Berlin.

Slobs are always slobs.

It's in their blood.

And they will save Pattaya for the scourge of the good.

The Racism Of Hipsters

The cult of modern hipsters was birthed by the gentrification of New York's Williamsburg. The men wore vests, plaid shirts, new jeans, and bushy beards. The women dressed normal. Beards got longer. The look was popularized by TV and Hollywood. The peak period lasted from 1999 to 2009, however the hipsters remained in hipster drag and recently I've been asking hipsters on the street, "Are you a Civil War re-enactor?"

"What do you mean?" they ask in a befuddled state.

"Just that you look like you spent your weekends celebrating old Civil War battles."

They don't tell me to fuck off, because hipsters are notoriously pacifists. They even say, "OMG." like a Valley Girl.

No one at Gettysburg said OMG.

But they were soldiers and not hipsters, who look like they fought for The South.

Maidens In A Row

London girls in the summer.

Despite what the GOP say, global warming is real.

Tangled Wire Theory

Last night I put my headphones on the kitchen table. The leads were attached to my iPad. The power chord was separated from the headphone wires by several inches. I fell asleep to dreams of Thailand. I do miss my family.

The next morning I woke early and went into the kitchen. The iPad is the same position on the table as the previous night, however the wires were in a tangle like they were the participants in a rattlesnake orgy. No one had entered the room during the night, so I was mystified by this phenomena of tangled wires, although two years ago I was working with Sean Bauer of PS 122 and as we put away long electrical cords for the theater, he said, "You have to twist the wires every time you wind them or else they spin in the plastic sheaths."

His explanation sounded logical, but I searched Google without finding any support to his theory other than one scientist suggesting the analogy that our bodies are comprised of billions of cells and even more nucleus only 20µm big, however our signature of DNA has a length of 3 meters if it were laid out in a straight line. Instead it is meshed by a maze of ever-changing knots by the constant motion of our bodies.

This made some sense to me, but tonight I'm videotaping the wires while I'm asleep.

I'm sure the tangles have something to do with elves.

Both have a mischievous reputation.

Rattlesnake Alert

Last week local wildlife officials were called to the Blue Hills south of Boston. A 911 call alerted authorities to the presence of a timber rattlesnake in a populated area. Officers captured the serpent and released into the Great Bog. My sister called me with this information and I asked, "Do you remember the winter Frunk saw a rattlesnake in the snow?"

"No." Her blunt refusal wasn't surprising, since she had been six in 1962.I had been ten.

"Frunk and I were walking home. It musts have been close to Christmas since it was dark early." New England was renowned for dreary winters. Nights were long and snow fell in November. "When we got to our house, Frunk said for me to look at the driveway. He pointed out a wavering shadow in the snow and said it was a rattlesnake."

"A rattlesnake?" she scoffed with a sigh. "You saw a rattlesnake in the winter. In the snow?"

My sister was a lawyer. She was an expert at grilling witnesses, but I was unafraid of telling the truth or a good story.

"Frunk saw it as a snake. I didn't know what it was, but I wasn't taking any chances and we ran into the house. Mom asked what was the problem and Frunk told her about the snake. She shook her head, until he pointed out the silhouette in the snow. It was about time for Dad to come home and she wasn't taking any chances and called the police. It must have been a slow day, because two patrol cars arrived within minutes and they drew their guns. Frunk went outside and showed them what he thought was the snake. The oldest cop pointed a flashlight and the snake became a piece of brown paper stuck in the snow. Everyone had a good laugh about it."

"I still don't remember it."

"No?"

"And I don't remember ever hearing about it until now."

"Oh." I nodded my head, recollecting that Frunk had sworn me to never mentioned the incident and the story died out after a week's ribbing. "Maybe I was just imagining it."

"You and your imagination. Have a good week."

"You too."

Later that evening I called my older brother. He didn't answer the phone and I left a message about the timber rattlesnake. He never returned my call, because some things only happened in the past and this was one of them.

John Cooper Clarke - National Trust

https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=CSh20pP2U5Q

THE DECLARATION OF INDEPENDENCE

IN CONGRESS, JULY 4, 1776

The unanimous Declaration of the 13 United States of America:

When in the Course of human events it becomes necessary for one people to dissolve the political bands which have connected them with another and to assume among the powers of the earth, the separate and equal station to which the Laws of Nature and of Nature’s God entitle them, a decent respect to the opinions of mankind requires that they should declare the causes which impel them to the separation.

We hold these truths to be self-evident, that all men are created equal, that they are endowed by their Creator with certain unalienable Rights, that among these are Life, Liberty and the pursuit of Happiness.

— That to secure these rights, Governments are instituted among Men, deriving their just powers from the consent of the governed,

— That whenever any Form of Government becomes destructive of these ends, it is the Right of the People to alter or to abolish it, and to institute new Government, laying its foundation on such principles and organizing its powers in such form, as to them shall seem most likely to effect their Safety and Happiness.

Prudence, indeed, will dictate that Governments long established should not be changed for light and transient causes; and accordingly all experience hath shewn that mankind are more disposed to suffer, while evils are sufferable than to right themselves by abolishing the forms to which they are accustomed.

But when a long train of abuses and usurpations, pursuing invariably the same Object evinces a design to reduce them under absolute Despotism, it is their right, it is their duty, to throw off such Government, and to provide new Guards for their future security.

— Such has been the patient sufferance of these Colonies; and such….

…. is now the necessity which constrains them to alter their former Systems of Government. The history of the present King of Great Britain is a history of repeated injuries and usurpations, all having in direct object the establishment of an absolute Tyranny over these States.

To prove this, let Facts be submitted to a candid world.

He has refused his Assent to Laws, the most wholesome and necessary for the public good.

He has forbidden his Governors to pass Laws of immediate and pressing importance, unless suspended in their operation till his Assent should be obtained; and when so suspended, he has utterly neglected to attend to them.

He has refused to pass other Laws for the accommodation of….

…large districts of people, unless those people would relinquish the right of Representation in the Legislature, a right inestimable to them and formidable to tyrants only.

He has called together legislative bodies at places unusual, uncomfortable, and distant from the depository of their Public Records, for the sole purpose of fatiguing them into compliance with his measures.

He has dissolved Representative Houses repeatedly, for opposing with manly firmness his invasions on the rights of the people.

He has refused for a long time, after such dissolutions, to cause others to be elected, whereby the Legislative Powers, incapable of Annihilation, have returned to the People at large for their exercise; the State remaining in the mean time exposed to all the dangers of invasion from without, and convulsions within.

He has endeavoured to prevent the population of these States; for that purpose obstructing the Laws for Naturalization of Foreigners; refusing to pass others to encourage their migrations hither, and raising the conditions of new Appropriations of Lands.

Independence Hall before photography

He has obstructed the Administration of Justice by refusing his Assent to Laws for establishing Judiciary Powers.

He has made Judges dependent on his Will alone for the tenure of their offices, and the amount and payment of their salaries.

He has erected a multitude of New Offices, and sent hither swarms of Officers to harass our people and eat out their substance.

He has kept among us, in times of peace, Standing Armies without the Consent of our legislatures.

He has affected to render the Military independent of and superior to the Civil Power.

He has combined with others to subject us to a jurisdiction foreign to our constitution, and unacknowledged by our laws; giving his Assent to their Acts of pretended Legislation:

For quartering large bodies of armed troops among us:

For protecting them, by a mock Trial from punishment for any Murders which they should commit on the Inhabitants of these States:

For cutting off our Trade with all parts of the world:

For imposing Taxes on us without our Consent:

For depriving us in many cases, of the benefit of Trial by Jury:

For transporting us beyond Seas to be tried for pretended offences:

For abolishing the free System of English Laws in a neighbouring Province, establishing therein an Arbitrary government, and enlarging its Boundaries so as to render it at once an example and fit instrument for introducing the same absolute rule into these Colonies

For taking away our Charters, abolishing our most valuable Laws and altering fundamentally the Forms of our Governments:

For suspending our own Legislatures, and declaring themselves invested with power to legislate for us in all cases whatsoever.

He has abdicated Government here, by declaring us out of his Protection and waging War against us.
Declaration of Independence

He has plundered our seas, ravaged our coasts, burnt our towns, and destroyed the lives of our people.

He is at this time transporting large Armies of foreign Mercenaries to compleat the works of death, desolation, and tyranny, already begun with circumstances of Cruelty & Perfidy scarcely paralleled in the most barbarous ages, and totally unworthy the Head of a civilized nation.

He has constrained our fellow Citizens taken Captive on the high Seas to bear Arms against their Country, to become the executioners of their friends and Brethren, or to fall themselves by their Hands.

He has excited domestic insurrections amongst us, and has endeavoured to bring on the inhabitants of our frontiers, the merciless Indian Savages whose known rule of warfare, is an undistinguished destruction of all ages, sexes and conditions.

In every stage of these Oppressions We have Petitioned for Redress in the most humble terms: Our repeated Petitions have been answered only by repeated injury. A Prince, whose character is thus marked by every act which may define a Tyrant, is unfit to be the ruler of a free people.

Nor have We been wanting in attentions to our British brethren. We have warned them from time to time of attempts by their legislature to extend an unwarrantable jurisdiction over us. We have reminded them of the circumstances of our emigration and settlement here. We have appealed to their native justice and magnanimity, and we have conjured them by the ties of our common kindred to disavow these usurpations, which would inevitably interrupt our connections and correspondence.

They too have been deaf to the voice of justice and of consanguinity. We must, therefore, acquiesce in the necessity, which denounces our Separation, and hold them, as we hold the rest of mankind, Enemies in War, in Peace Friends.

We, therefore, the Representatives of the united States of America, in General Congress, Assembled, appealing to the Supreme Judge of the world for the rectitude of our intentions, do, in the Name, and by Authority of the good People of these Colonies, solemnly publish and declare,

That these united Colonies are, and of Right ought to be Free and Independent States, that they are Absolved from all Allegiance to the British Crown, and that all political connection between them and the State of Great Britain, is and ought to be totally dissolved; and that as Free and Independent States, they have full Power to levy War, conclude Peace, contract Alliances, establish Commerce, and to do all other Acts and Things which Independent States may of right do.

— And for the support of this Declaration, with a firm reliance on the protection of Divine Providence, we mutually pledge to each other our Lives, our Fortunes, and our sacred Honor.

The Importance Of Size

Judging from the number of spam emails that I have received over the years about adding length and girth to a penis, I would have to assume that the typical porno-surfing male's sense of inadequacy is much greater than their anxiety of hair loss, obsession with obesity, and fear of impotency. Most online XXX films feature male performers possessing truly biblical Staffs of Moses. These seemingly impossible proportions are the goal of many men purchasing pills, pumps, and medical herbals from internet sites to enhance their girth and length.

I'm happy with the size of my penis, but just once I would like to hear a woman say, "Not with that you don't."

Many women say that size doesn't matter.

Last year I was at the Welkom Inn on Soi 3 in Pattaya. The girls there see a lot of action.

When asked if they liked big the most popular girl said, "I like small and fast too. Not hurt. And not take too much time."

Another libertine admitted, "Sometime when really horny. I like big. Good. But can't work later. Small better."

This doesn't prevent them from massaging the male ego.

The fellatio expert says, "Man always love to hear he have big penis. If not big, he believe big you tell him big. Stupid kwai."

My cousin Sherri did over 2000 XXX films, professed, "Size isn't important. Well, if it's a cashew then it's a problem, but otherwise most girls in the industry like a normal penis. Nothing too awe inspiring. And quick too. Guys with bog ones, not many of them know how to use it, plus when a guy with a giant cock gets an erection most of the blood leaves his skull so he grunts like a caveman. Gimme a nice Irish or Jewish guy any day. Cut too."

Of course there's the old joke about the size of President Clinton's penis.

"How do we know that Clinton has a big penis?"

"It had to be big to get beyond Paula Jones' nose."

The presidential mistress had a huge honker, but Clinton was no John Holmes.

So there you have it.

Here is a list of the average male Erect Penis Lengths for 10 species;

1. Humpback whale 10 ft.

2. Elephant 5-6 ft.

3. Bull 3 ft.

4. Stallion 2 ft 6 in.

5. Rhinoceros 2 ft.

6. Pig 18-20 in.

7. Man 6 in.

8. Gorilla 2 in.

9. Cat 3/4 in.

10. Mosquito 1/100 in.

One more thing, an ejaculation is never premature as long as you get it in.

I WANNA BE HIM by Peter Nolan Smith

A good percentage of the spam cluttering my email inbox are ads for penis enhancements. The rest range from Viagra and porno to baldness and obesity cures. None of them are very sophisticated, since they are aimed at bald fat man with sexual issues. I've had a good sex life, although not this year. I'm living in America and 56 year-old men don't get much action from sexually active women in their 20s, but I wonder if all that would change if I were the reincarnation of John Holmes.

This legend of porno starred in over 2500 XXX films in the 70s.

His penis was legend.

The other night I was at the Sub-Mercer. The crowd was texting friends and drinking expensive concoctions. I was easily the oldest man in the bar, although my pin-striped suit looked imported from Thailand not Italy. A woman stood beside me. Her eyes sized up my potential worth.

Older man maybe money.

"What do you do?"

"I sell diamonds." Women love diamonds.

"Really." The conversation quickly spun the globe to abruptly land on this following statement.

"I'm related to John Holmes."

"Let me see it." Brenda was a PR rep for Chanel.

"It?"

"Yes, it."

Brenda's height advantage came from stiletto heels. Blonde hair was a gift from a colorist. I guessed her age around 38.

"You mean 'it'?"?" I was playing dumb. John Holmes wasn't known for his smarts.

"Yes, your cock." Nice girls don't call your penis a cock. Brenda wasn't a nice girl, but she was fun.

"Here?" The bar was two-deep with the the hordes of New York nightlife.

"You want to pay for a room upstairs for privacy?" This was an invitation.

"What about the bathroom?" Rooms at the Mercer Hotel were expensive. The toilet was closer.

"What kind of girl do you think I am?" Her outrage didn't fly at 2am.

"The kind of girl who would want to know John Holmes' cousin."

"Cousin?" Her eyes narrowed as her mind calculated the genetic math. "A brother might mean you have a 10 inch cock, but a cousin could mean anything. I'll give it a rain check."

She walked off with a young rocker and tapped my beer can on her way out the door. I wonder if those vacuums really work for enlargement.

Not that it really matters.

The Rules of Modern Manhood

During my last sojourn to Pattaya I was sitting with Fenway's mom and several Thai women. They extolled my eating spicy food. I mentioned that most Thai men don’t eat food dosed with chili. The two nearby Thai men argued, “Kin pet dai.”

“So you eat sum tam?” I asked about the fiery mango salad.

“Can eat.” Mam was proud of my dining prowess.

“Thai men can eat spicy food." One of Mam's friends said pointing at the two Thai men. They were typically too macho. "Only gay men can’t eat aharn pet.”

I decided to follow this sweeping generalization with another.

“That means all farang men are gay because they can eat spicy food.”

“Not you. Khun kin dai.” Mam knew that I was all man. We had sex oftne, but she had never caught me watching ladyboy porno. I suffered no pangs of homophobia or glua gai, then again because of the massive changes in society no one knows what who might be gay, however there are some new rules sent to me by a good male friend

1: Under no circumstances may two men share an umbrella.

2: Any Man who brings a camera to a bachelor party may be legally killed and eaten by his buddies.

3: Unless he murdered someone in your family, you must bail a friend out of jail within 12 hours.

4: If you’ve known a guy for more than 24 hours, his sister is off limits forever unless you actually marry her.

5: Moaning about the brand of free beer in a buddy’s fridge is forbidden. However complain at will if the temperature is unsuitable.

6: No man shall ever be required to buy a birthday present for another man. In fact, even remembering your buddy’s birthday is strictly optional. At that point, you must celebrate at a strip bar of the birthday boy’s choice.

7: On a road trip, the strongest bladder determines pit stops, not the weakest.

8: Only in situations of moral and/or physical peril are you allowed to kick another guy in the nuts.

9: Unless you’re in prison, never fight naked.

10: Friends don’t let friends wear Speedos. Ever. Issue closed.

11: If a man’s fly is down, that’s his problem, you didn’t see anything.

12: Women who claim they “love to watch sports” must be treated cunts until they demonstrate knowledge of the game and the ability to drink as much as the other sports watchers.

13: Never hesitate to reach for the last beer or the last slice of pizza, but not both, that’s just greedy.

14: Never join your girlfriend or wife in discussing a friend of yours, except if she’s withholding sex pending your response.

15: Never talk to a man in a bathroom unless you are on equal footing: i.e., both urinating, both waiting in line, etc. For all other situations, an almost imperceptible nod is all the conversation you need.

16: Never allow a telephone conversation with a woman to go on longer than you are able to have sex with her. Keep a stopwatch by the phone. Hang up if necessary.

17: The morning after you and a girl who was formerly “just a friend” have carnal, drunken monkey sex, the fact that you’re feeling weird and guilty is no reason for you not to nail each other again before the discussion about what a big mistake it was occurs.

18: It is acceptable for you to drive her car. It is not acceptable for her to drive yours.

19: There is no reason for guys to watch Ice Skating or Men’s Gymnastics. Ever.

Speedos pour Le Cote d'Azur

I love the South of France.

Women go topless and no one really gawks at them.

The food is sublime and the Mediterranean changes color throughout the day and night.

Pure paradise, except during 'le Grand Depart', when tens of millions of French and Germans and Scandanavians and Brits pile into their cars for a vacation of the eternal Cote d'Azur. Most are drawn to the beaches and every day men slip into their Speedos and even skimpier bathing gear.

Speedos by Fabo.

A cod piece.

My friend Dave was in Antibes. My longtime friend called to gloat and I asked, "Are you wearing Speedos?"

"Why would I wear Speedos?" ughed Dave.

"For some action."

The South of France was renown for one-night stands and even-shorter liaisons.

No Speedos."

"Suit yourself, but even Pablo Picasso wore Speedos."

The dead painter had a museum in Antibes.

"Yeah, right." Dave chortled a laugh and hung up. He could afford to be happy on the Cote d'Azur, while I sat on the roof of the Fort Greene Observatory. At least I know one thing.

Pablo Picasso wore speedos.

And I'm not beyond going au natural in Goa.

Alive For Ever

Last year I was in London. A friend invited me to lunch at the Worseley, a well-heeled Mayfair eaterie. My friend was late. He dealt in expensive paintings by dead people. I ordered a draft beer in the bar and watched the people entering for lunch. A tall well-dressed older man was greeted by the maitre'd with utmost deference and with good reason. The gaunt guest was the actor Christopher Lee. Everyone's eyes followed the famed Pop portrayer of Dracula to his table.

Dignified, as would be expected for the game master.

Sadly Christopher Lee passed from this life in early June, however judging from the pair of men bracketing the painter, Tristam, Mssr. Lee had many imitators.

But only one living legend of Dracula.

Dead in life or alive on the screen.

Christopher Lee.

A Long Walk Through Brooklyn

The other evening I showed up to the Hotel McCarron for a vodka tasting. I had consumed a half a marijuana edible before getting to the rooftop event. My hostess greeted me. She had work to do and I sidled up to the bar for a few vodka-cocktails. The edible kicked in hard and quick. The young PR flack came over and whispered in my ear, "Are you drunk?"

"No, just fucked up." I didn't say on what. Kala was a reformed sinner and I preferred to keep her wondering, but this was her job and I exited from the fete onto North 12th Street.

I thought about taking the subway, then slid into a wall. A long walk would wear off the effects of the edible and I set off down Bedford toward Fort Greene. A group of men dressed as cows were posing for cameras. A girl ran across the street. Billy'burg was coming to life for the night.

Afros were very in.

Hydrants too.

And hats also stores, but I only had $10 in my wallet.

I kept on walking.

Williamsburg had been colonized by the hipsters and upper-class bankers, however graffiti marked the borders of the latino barrio bear the bridge. Economic cleansing was never 100%.

Wires ran across the sky.

The street got empty again.

Runaway puppets watched the sidewalk. They had scary eyes and I walked faster past the abandoned dolls.

The summer sun was setting in the west. The streets were in line with the solar system. Tonight Saturn would dance over the moon. I slowed my pace and took a couple of breaths. The edible was wearing off blood vessel by blood vessel. Fort Greene was farther away than my first estimate and I passed several bars without any temptation. I wanted to get home.

A woman's high heels hung over the wire mocking the nearby sneakers.

They had all seen better days.

Vacant lots were few.

Property was hot in Brooklyn.

The realtors promised condo buyers a piece of paradise.

Grass grew from the cracks.

The hydrants were strictly for show.

But everyone young wanted to live here.

They would live anywhere.

With anyone.

New York was a hard place to make it alone in 2015.

Less people lived south of the Williamsburg Bridge.

Mostly Hassidim.

They liked to keep to themselves.

No one was on the sidewalks.

Just some dead bikes.

An empty baseball field.

Even the big Hassidic shetl was silent and I wandered down to Kent Street.

The sun was setting past the east River and beyond the Hudson. I watched the sky change color. The breeze carried the scent of the sea on the night tide. I took a deep breath and got a rush from the edible. It was really strong, but Fort Greene was only fifteen minutes from here.

The flowers showed life.

The crashed car had no blood on the seat.

The parking under the BQE was a desert and I hurried up to DeKalb and over to Fulton where I ran into a friendly face.

Mike of Brooklyn Moon.

It was good to be back home, especially when you're high instead of drunk.