Grammar school neighborhood kids coming down the hill from the Fort Greene monument commemorating the Continental soldiers who died on the Prison ships during the War of I dependence beneath the American elms, so yellow in the last throes of autumn, them kicking the leaves as they go as do I
ps the Prison Ship Martyrs Monument, is a 149-foot-tall Doric column constructed of Deer Isle granite
Everyday spam promoting the use of various male-oriented products floods my email inbox.
Increase your sperm load.
Grow 3-4 inches of penis instantly.
Viagra for renewed sexual vitality.
Having lived in Pattaya throughout the 90s and 00s I understand their targeting a man in his 50s surrounded by go-go bars, bars, and promenades of promiscuity. A man with my demoraphics wants sex and he wants it now, but there was a urban legend particular to Pattaya that the local hospitals were bodybagging 50 to 60 middle-aged western males per month.
The Thai coroner was kind with his cause of death, however their cardiac arrests were usually the result of too much excess at one time, for freed of their purgatorial lives in the West, farang men hit Pattaya like a cowboy off the range.
These lustful pilgrims spy the girl of their porno fantasies onstage at a go-go. She's less than half their age and some objects of desire are even a third as young, since old boys arrive in the Last Babylon like it's the fabled elephants' final resting place, however chronic penile dysfunction was a buzzkill for an old timer in bed with a 19 years-old go-go dancer with skin smooth as silk.
The old gits remedied this affliction with a Viagra. 'Blue boys' revved his heart to energize his loins for a 'money shot'. His temples throbbed with pain from the overload to the system and the farang ignored the warning lights until a capillary imploded in his heart.
A groan and a clutch of his heart frightened the go-go girl, who fled the hotel room and the next morning the old geezer was put into cold-storage by the Pattaya Police.
I can understand why farang men buy sexual performance drugs, but why would anyone in the USA buy the stuff, since none of them are having sex with the living?
There was only one answer.
American men were purchasing Viagra, penis size growth pills, and pumps to aid their masturbation, while watching internet porn.
Viagra to get wood.
Zinc pills to increase sperm load to masturbate.
Endurance drugs to lengthen the time of masturbation.
A scary thought, which was why I don't shake any men's hands in America anymore.
There was no telling where it's been.
Worst was when the Pentagon announced that they wanted to dose the mountain troops in Afghanistan with Viagra to aid their breathing in the high altitude.
Now that's some real military genius.
Have a bunch of soldiers take Viagra and walk through sheep-ridden mountains with Superman erections for eight hours.
They would be better off with coca leaves.
Of course that was against the law.
Pattaya has cured me of porno and I don't even feel the need to be an ancient XXX star ever since having met my hero back in 1986.
That winter I was staying North Hollywood with my cousin. Sherri was a veteran porn star.
One evening the phone rang.
The mumbling caller was Harry Reems, the star of DEEP THROAT. He was bad shape from drugs.
We called the 911. The operator informed me that EMS didn't go to that address anymore, since Harry had reached his limit of near-death experiences.
Sherri and I drove over his Hollywood Hills bungalow. The trip in the rain on the Hollywood Freeway was life-threatening, since my cousin was legally blind.
Upon arrival we found Harry sprawled on his bed at death's door. We brought him back to life from a minor overdose.
In the morning he was back to normal and ready to meet his public, who were demanding another stellar XXX performance. He asked if I wanted to be an extra.
I turned him down, because even if you haven't skated on thin ice, sometimes you have to know when to hang up your skates.
Last year I was lucky enough to visit with Amos Poe, famed independent film maker. I had recently spoken with him at his apartment in Stuy Town. A mesmerizing journey through his life from Palestine to New York to Europe and the pople he met along the ride. If you have a chance see BLANK GENERATION, which he made with Ivan Kral, another giant of the Underground.
After spending a lovely night in Houston, JFK and his wife boarded the presidential jet for a short hop to Dallas. The crowds lining the route applauded the president and his hostess, Mrs. Connolly, commented that Dallas loved him and the president replied, "That's very obvious."
A second later a single bullet and then another struck JFK.
November 22, 1963 was a bad day, however a video shows that he had a good time in Texas.
The love was real and real now too.
Johnny Boy we miss you.
To view the lovely night in Houston, please go to this URL
https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=jQlw-U8l6YY
The night Barack Obama was elected president, people danced in the streets of New York. Our man had beaten the GOP. I looked into the eyes of a man my age and we started crying, not out of joy, but in relief of having endured the lost years since November 22 1963.
Obama was one of us. He took office two months later. The presidential limousine drove him from the inauguration stage to a series of parties. Thousands of supporters glad-handed their president and at the end of the festivities Barack Obama found himself in the White House.
He had it all.
The Oval Office.
The Red Phone to Moscow.
The Briefcase.
They were his along with two wars in Asia and a shattered economy by billionaire tax breaks.
That evening he must have looked at his wife and said, “What now?”
If I was Michelle, I would have said, “What about the Kennedys?”
"What do you mean?"
"Who killed the Kennedys?"
"That's a dangerous question." And he dropped the subject.
The President had eleven years of access to the deep, dark secrets buried by various agencies; Roswell, Martin Luther King, Pearl Harbor et al. We had too many questions, yet nothing new came to light during his administration and considering the body count for asking the wrong questions, I can appreciate his patience.
It takes time to unbury the truth and even fifty years after the fact and it doesn't look like Obama is going to get it for us either before his access is gone.
So who killed the Kennedys?
Someone knows, but they ain't saying, but according to the Rolling Stoners, "It was you and me."
