No Player For Beaver Country Day

The NBA will open the preseason this coming week and the league's commissioner declared that the players will be expected to stand during the National Anthem. The Lakers and Timberwolves linked arms in unity, but no one took the knee in protest of centuries of injustice against the black race.

In 2014 Silver banned the Clippers, owner for uttering racist remarks.

I couldn't find a single photo of him shooting a basketball, but he has been a longtime Knicks fan.

They suck and so does he, for telling the players what they can or cannot do.

But that's how the elite regard those beneath them.

As slaves.

The Freedom Of The Knee

During the National Anthem of a 2016 pre-season NFL game, 49er quarterback Colin Kaepernick knelt on the sidelines. He later stated to the Press, ""I am not going to stand up to show pride in a flag for a country that oppresses black people and people of color. To me, this is bigger than football and it would be selfish on my part to look the other way. There are bodies in the street and people getting paid leave and getting away with murder."

According to Wikipedia NFL players were not mandated to be on the field for the playing of the national anthem until 2009, when the United States Department of Defense began paying sporting organizations to hold patriotic displays.

Kaepernick also vowed to give $100,000 a month to various inner city charities dedicated the their communities and the pursuit of justice.

He topped playing football for the 49ers at the end of the 2016 season.

No NFL team has offered him a spot at the QB position.

Not the 0-3 Browns, Bengals, Chargers, 49ers or the Giants who have only scored 37 points in three games.

The protests have divided America.

Kaepernick and other players have received death threats and Trump has called for the firing of any protesting player neglecting that the 1st Amendment protects the Freedom of Speech.

More and more players have joined Kaepernick.

Jerry Jones the owner of the Cowboys too.

The NFL owners take no orders from anyone.

In the end THE STAR-SPANGLED BANNER is just a song , which was first sung at a sporting event during the 7th inning stretch of game one of the 1918 World's Series.

Congress adopted the song as the National Anthem in 1931, but it was sung at ball games until World War II.

99.99999% of Americans don't know the three other stanzas written by Francis Scott Keys to celebrate the 1814 defense of Baltimore against the British navy.

O say can you see, by the dawn's early light, What so proudly we hailed at the twilight's last gleaming, Whose broad stripes and bright stars through the perilous fight, O'er the ramparts we watched, were so gallantly streaming? And the rockets' red glare, the bombs bursting in air, Gave proof through the night that our flag was still there; O say does that star-spangled banner yet wave O'er the land of the free and the home of the brave? On the shore dimly seen through the mists of the deep, Where the foe's haughty host in dread silence reposes, What is that which the breeze, o'er the towering steep, As it fitfully blows, half conceals, half discloses? Now it catches the gleam of the morning's first beam, In full glory reflected now shines in the stream: 'Tis the star-spangled banner, O long may it wave O'er the land of the free and the home of the brave. And where is that band who so vauntingly swore That the havoc of war and the battle's confusion, A home and a country, should leave us no more? Their blood has washed out their foul footsteps' pollution. No refuge could save the hireling and slave From the terror of flight, or the gloom of the grave: And the star-spangled banner in triumph doth wave, O'er the land of the free and the home of the brave. O thus be it ever, when freemen shall stand Between their loved homes and the war's desolation. Blest with vict'ry and peace, may the Heav'n rescued land Praise the Power that hath made and preserved us a nation! Then conquer we must, when our cause it is just, And this be our motto: 'In God is our trust.' And the star-spangled banner in triumph shall wave O'er the land of the free and the home of the brave!

And that was before or after the protests.

Remember this is the Land of the ZFree.

And that freedom is for everyone.

A TASTE FOR THE EAST by Peter Nolan Smith

My first trip to the Orient was in 1990. My round-the-world ticket had many stops. One was Singapore. The Straits city was undergoing its metamorphosis from a colonial port to a gleaming metropolis of skyscrapers. Raffles was closed for renovations and I stayed at a cheap Chinese hotel in a decrepit godown. The walls climbed toward the ceiling without reaching their destination. A yard of wire covered the gap. The bedding was soiled by a thousand weary bodies and the languid fan spun with fatigue. I left the room and walked toward the harbor.

A rickshaw driver stopped me.

“You want ma.” His clothing was shredded by a decade of useless washes, his body was desiccated to bones wrapped in parchment, and his eyes shone with a dull want.

“Ma.” Horse in Chinese. The word had one meaning in New York City. “Where?”

“I know place.” His claw of a hand beckoned to accompany him.

Drugs were contraband in Singapore. The penalty for possession was death in the most grievous cases. A long prison sentence for anyone else foolish enough to challenge the system. Most arrests came from informers such as this rickshaw driver, who swore, “I not police.”

“I know.” Snitch maybe, but the appeal of opium was an old friend. I climbed into his vehicle and we traveled far from the towers of glass and steel. The streetlights dimmed in his neighborhood. Several doorways were populated by Indonesian transvestites. Others by Chinese whores. Men drank openly on the sidewalk in rebellion against the Singapore leader’s draconian measures for public misbehavior. The rickshaw braked with a whining screech.

“Here.” The driver looked over his shoulder to check for anything out of place. “My name Rami. This place good. Give $10.”

I handed over the money. We entered the battered house. The smell of opium greeted us. I tapped Rami and gave him another $10. “Half for you. Half for me.”

“You good man.” Rami smiled with two front teeth. The rest were brown as cigar butts.

An old woman of indistinguishable racial origins led us into a tiny cubicle. The furnishing were two wooden benches and a wax-covered stool. Sweat shadows marking the proper position for lying on them. Money passed hands and she shut the door. Rami produced tin foil, which he tore into two separate pieces.

“Sorry, no have pipe.”

“I know how to chase the dragon.” I opened my packet and dropped the black ball on the aluminum foil. Rami rolled two paper tubes. A candle was lit on the stool. Rami was an expert and I followed his lead.

“Good horse.”

Within minutes we were transported to another century before planes, telephones, and movies, when opium was king and I was its slave.

Years later I went back to find the opium den. A shopping mall stood in its place. It was selling nothing I wanted. Only fancy perfumes and expensive shirts. It was better that way for the rest of the world and I went to Raffles for a Gin Sling, looking for Rami every step of the way.

He had to be in the shadows somewhere.

Men like him never die.

Not if they know what is good for them.

Unsexy Cities 2017

Playboy recently listed Detroit as the nation's # 1 unsexy city.

Murder, rust factories, and overweight people are the LimpDs calling cards, nothing about Motor City says 'sexy' better than the MC5, Grand Funk Railroad, and Wendy Whitelaw.

But Detroit has competition from Asia, as indicated by the Global Sexual Wellbeing Survey released at the World Congress on Sexual Health in Sydney.

Three cities in Asia topped the list of places where people are having sex less than the global average of 106 times a year.

Singapore, Tokyo, and Bangkok.

Tokyo citizens are the most infrequent sexual practitioners at 48 couplings per annum. The Japanese are also the least satisfied with their sex lives. Limp T unrocks.

Small penises, no endurance, and too little of it as well. No wonder Japanese women shag brothers in New York city like they were racial engineering a new culture. Yo Nisei.

My ex-, Vee, worked at a Japanese karaoke bar in Pattaya. Sex was 3000 baht/session. The girls loved their job. The son of the Rising Sun shut their eyes and shuttered in less than a minute.

Sayonara teelak.

The most satisfied with the Nigerians at 79% who take 24 minutes to reach a happy ending.

Strangely the Chinese were seventh, which must be from eating friend alligator cock and bulls' balls.

Hong Kong (32 percent), Australia (40), Singapore (41), Thailand (42) and New Zealand (43) were all bottom feeders in the sea of sexual satisfaction.

"All work and no play."

Of course women don't orgasm as much as men, but that's because they spent so much energy trying to fake it.

But Bangkok as a non-erotic city?

You ride the Skytrain and see thousands of people in a zombie state of mass consumerism. Nana Plaza was a turn-off and Patpong even more of a buzzkill. Sitting at the Oriental Hotel I visual surveyed the guests and figured only 3 in a hundred were having sex having sex and I was one of them.

Most of the female staff were virgins.

Work is all important.

Same as New York.

Last week I attended a dinner party in Soho and asked, "When was the last time you had sex?"

Few wanted to answer.

Mostly because they were embarrassed and even worse they couldn't remember when.

The women thought my question was a crude come-on.

Then again the consumer class ony takes pleasure rom sopping.

To The East

Last week I flew fifteen hours to the Orient to deliver a very expensive handbag to a Hong Kong billionaire.

After checking into my reserved Kowloon hotel room a little before dawn I searched Moby Road for an open restaurant. Everything was closed, except for a 7/11. I bought a big can of beer and two rice cakes. The sun rose in the east. The air was sultry, sweat dripped from my face, and I sat by the waters of the Fragrant Harbor for the first in my life.

Old imperial Hong Kong had been the jewel of the British Empire.

Now THE WORLD OF SUZIE WONG was buried under concrete.

To the east lay China.

I cracked open my beer and ate the rice cake in two bites.

It was good to be back in Asia.

Amber Rayne - A Late RIP

From 2004 to her retirement from the Adult Video Industry in 2015 Amber Rayne ran wild as a goddess of lust over the screen of TVs and computers. Her performances covered every genre from lesbianism, no holds barred, and her heart's delight, bondage. Sadly Amber passed from this Earth in 2016.

A victim of a cocaine drug overdose.

This tragedy dumbfounded old school hedonists.

31 and gone.

But she lives on the internet.

Until Hell freezes over, because bad girls don't go to heaven.

# 45 = Asshole

Donald Trump had not taken off Labor Day Weekend.

# 45 has vowed to retaliate against North Korea with massive force, if the Hermit Nation dares to threaten the USA.

His Treasury Secretary has said that any expenditure to aid those affected by Hurricane Harvey needs to offset by cuts to other programs.

The estimated cost of the clean-up has been estimated to be $180 billion.

At a Houston shelter he said he had 'big hands'. Prostitutes have said he has small hands and and even smaller penis.

And lastly # 45 will appoint a coal executive to oversee the safety of the mining industry. Zatezalo, the former CEO of Rhino Resources, has a horrible record protecting miners, but what else can you expect from Fatso Trump.

# 45 means asshole and the asshole has another day to ruin this weekend.

Golfing hopefully rather than tweeting to nuke North Korea.

The Chaos of Police

The confrontation was not created by the police; the confrontation was created by the people who charged the police. Gentlemen, let's get the thing straight, once and for all. The policeman isn't there to create disorder; the policeman is there to preserve disorder.

Mayor Richard Daley Chicago 1968

Good Cop - Bad Cop

This painting captures a young white boy's fear of the police and it dates back to a period where cops were 'good'.

A recent adaptation reveals the terror of a small black boy confronted by a heavily-armed policeman.

None of these bastards are good, except at acting like stormtroopers.

Worse Donald Trump has reverse the Obama policy preventing the militarization of the police.

According to a report by Christian M. Wade of www,newburyportnews.com # 45 signed an executive order Monday restoring the military program, called 1033, which was curtailed two years ago by his predecessor, President Barack Obama.

The directive will allow the transfer of military-grade vehicles and weapons, including bayonets, battering rams, riot helmets and shields to police departments that request them through the federal Defense Logistics Agency, which oversees the program.

Boys with toys are okay, but not grown men, especially when their playthings have the ability to kill.

Resistance is not futile.

Not when all our rights are in danger.

Henri Flesh RIP

My good friend Henri Flesh passed from this earth.

We met in Paris.

The two of us worked at Bsir's in Hamburg.

Henri on the turntable.

Me at the door.

Back when we were young.