Somewhere Under the Rainbow – The New Day

Somewhere Under the Rainbow – The New Day

First off, don’t get pissed at the long absence between posts.  I have begged for input from contributors and faithful readers only to be met with silence.  If your worried about the NSA, the FBI, or any other agency of the federal government monitoring you reading this blog it must be because your guilty of something.  If you have done nothing don’t worry, your still as useless as you were yesterday and will be more useless tomorrow.

Some of you wonder why didn’t I blog about anything during June or July?  I needed some time to pass for a lot of reasons, one day I’ll explain it if you can’t figure it out.  Yes, this blog deals with the salacious nature of our mortal existence because that’s where the real reasons for our morality or immorality lie.  Being human begs for a carnal action in a mortal existence.  Being an American and a mortal demands behavior so carnal it borders on (if it is not indeed) Epicurian.

I constantly listen to everyone I can and the conversation is always the same.  “I did this or that with whoever and I feel so guilty or I have these fetishes and I love it when I get into it but I am so scared that if anybody finds out they will never speak to me again.”  STOP IT!  That is where this blog and the Holy Bible have much in common, both publications report the depravity of the human condition.

So all posted material begs the question:  What are you gonna do about it? Or, how do you choose to live?  How do you dare judge anyone given that you are a human being?  How can you not judge anyone given you commune with humanity?  OK, so screw the philosophy lesson.  Let me get to the dirt, so you can feel superior to the rest of the lowlifes, perverts, deviates, hypocrites and assorted assholes that occupy the same planet as you.

The dawn was breaking and the darkness was fleeing the warm living room.  Decorated like a 1950’s summer home with tapestries and crochet panels in picture frames the two fine female bodies gently sweating on the big couch, enjoying a gelatinous but firm vibrating dildo while in a torrential embrace.  Violently but steadily pushing their lower regions while in a deep unrelenting kiss as they both strived for a mutual orgasm.

 

Rosalinda’s brown body glistened in sweat as her happy place dripped in pleasure.  

Sue Anne’s blonde hair accented her hazel eyes as she moaned squirting from her vagina, gritting her teeth as her ‘fuck face’ dissipated in heavy breathing.  It was the day after,…it was Thursday, June 27, 2013 the day after the Supreme Court struck down the DOMA Act.

 

Sue Anne and Rosalinda were getting married on Fire Island in three weeks.  This now seems no big deal since Governor Cuomo allowed gay marriage in New York State over a year ago.  But it was a real big deal to Sue Anne who can now get on Rosalinda’s Medical insurance through the Federal Government.  Rosalinda is a Lt. Colonel in the United States Army.  Sue Anne is a Veterinarian.

Dominic, Rosalinda’s brother, works at a Body Shop in Queens and frequents one of the local drinking establishments in Nassau County.  I have known Dominic for about 12 years (I have known Rosalinda since the 80’s) and he asked me to join him, Rosalinda and Sue Anne up at Fred’s place in Ulster County for the weekend, so I packed my bags and traveled.

It was boiling hot during the day, the steamy heat drove us all inside during the day and we hung out at night.   Fred had about 18 acres, a large heated pool, two barn’s a stable with four horses and a huge house.  Dominic talked to me and Fred while we hung out in the garage working on Fred's lawn boy/tractor/mower. 

“RJ, you gotta talk to Sue Anne, she’s a Catholic, made communion and everything and now she’s gonna marry my spic dykeasaurus sister who has her coming in colors.”

I looked at him with disappointment, “what do you want me to tell her Dom?”  “Aint what she’s doing a sin?” “What is she doing Dom?” “Marrying another woman, aint that a sin according to the Bible.”  “If the Bible is taken literally from the old Testament point of view “no” Dom.  But if taken from a new testament point of view it might be.  Either way it doesn’t matter what we think or say, they love each other in a number of different ways and they want to commit to each other Dom…and they will.”

“So why don’t you do the ceremony RJ?”  “Because I am a minister of the Gospel of Jesus Christ and my Church does not acknowledge or participate in solemnizing same sex marriages.”  “Because it’s a sin, RIGHT RJ!”  “No Dom, because it’s against the laws that govern the Church, and those laws are not just based on the Bible, the State says they can marry.  It’s the State that will honor the vows?”

“So RJ, your going along with this?  You condone this so called marriage?”  “Dominic what I condone or condemn is not significant here.  What matters is what is between Rosalinda and Sue Anne.  As a Minister of the Gospel what they seek under the state is not a marriage according to my beliefs or my ministry, but as Marine and a Citizen I have to acknowledge their right to live the way they want.”

“How do you do that RJ?  How can you not judge them and condemn them to hell for what they are going to do?  How can you tell me queers are going to go to heaven?”  About now I needed to leave Dominic to his views.  He is an American and he has a right to his view, but that’s just it…its his view.  And though I can totally understand his thinking, his thoughts miss the point.

“Dom, you are not God, I am not God, I don’t have a heaven to put anybody in and I don’t have a hell to send anyone to, although sometimes I would love to do just that.  I’ll keep my view simple Dom, so listen; Voltaire said ‘I may not agree with what you say but I will defend your right to say it to the death.’  I take that principal one further since I am a Marine, I may not like how you live, I may despise how you choose to live, but I have and will defend your right to live the way you want even to the death.”

I had to ask, "Why do you hate your sister so much Dom?"   "Because she thinks she's more man than I am and can pull better looking bitches than me too!"

Dom sat down and stared at the floor and said, “Sue Anne is making dinner later on so get comfortable.  We’ll talk some more a little later.”  Fred puffed on a cigar and laughed. As day went into night Rosalinda and Sue Anne served dinner and shared some things about their relationship, how they met and where they first hooked up and other ‘cute’ stuff.  After dinner Rosalinda and Sue Anne swam topless in the pool and then got ready to call it a night.

Dom and Fred had to meet a friend of his and pick up some supplies for the house and would be back before dawn (they went to a strip club).  I went to the chiminea and got a small fire going and reclined in shorts and t-shirt enjoying a warm summer night.  “Can I join you?” said Sue Anne wearing a sun skirt and tie dyed bikini top.  I said “sure”.   “Can we talk in confidence RJ?”

“Absolutely, what is on your mind Sue Anne?”  “I am a very sensual person and I love my relationship with Rosalinda, she is my everything, I could serve her and service her forever RJ.”  “So is there a problem with that feeling Sue Anne?”  “RJ, you have known Rosalinda for decades, I have shared so much with her but some things I haven’t.”  “Do you mind me asking ‘what’?”

“RJ, I need a drink, can I get you one?” “Yeah, gin and tonic please.”  So Sue Anne fetched the drinks and picked up where she left off.  “RJ, I did some porn a long time ago, I’m in my mid 40’s now but when I was about 20 years old I got mixed up with some people out in Calabassas (California) that paid me real good money to do porn and I made some movies for about 4 years.”

I asked Sue Anne, “what made you quit the business?” “I wanted to be a Vet RJ, so I really hit the books stayed in school but I also kinda had a relationship.”  I then asked the obvious question, “Sue Anne are you worried that Rosalinda is going to see some of these movies?”  “Yeah, I know she wouldn’t understand RJ.” “Well, it had to be the late 80’s so I guess you were involved in a number of sexual situations with both women and men, right Sue Anne?”

Sue Anne didn’t blush but got kind of pale.  I asked, “Did one of these men or women do something to you or give you a STD?”  “No RJ, the men and women I was involved with really isn’t what I’m worried about with Rosalinda.”  I asked, “Well Sue Anne do you mind if I ask what are you worried about?”

"It’s not the men and women that I had sex with that worries me if Rosalinda sees anything I filmed, it’s the ‘others’.”  “What ‘others’ Sue Anne, what could you have sex with other than men or women….?”  I then put my drink down. Sue Anne said, “I did animals, dogs, sheep, donkey’s and horses.  That’s why I became a Vet.  I learned how to take care of animals and satisfy myself without damaging my body.”

I asked “Does Rosalinda know anything about your beastiality fetish?” “No RJ, she knows a little about the porn, but I changed my looks, I don’t look like anything in my movies.  But I do worry if she finds out from someone in my past.”  I had to ask Sue Anne, “are any people from your past showing up at your wedding?”  Sue Anne said, “one or two”.   

I said “Sue Anne if Rosalinda finds this out from anyone but you she will be embarrassed and angry at you, putting your relationship in peril.  You need to find time to get her alone and go real slow telling her.”

Sue Anne asked, “does this make me a sicko?  I mean does this make me evil in the sight of God?”  “Sue Anne if the Bible and History are my only guides I can tell you that all sin is repulsive to God, it doesn’t matter if you King David or the female Judge of Israel.  Beastiality was punishable by death. What sends people to hell is their intent to do evil or effect death, destruction, confusion or hate by any means in the lives of others.”

 

Sue Anne was locked into every word I was saying, so I wanted to be absolutely clear concerning God, religion and the Bible.  “History has many examples of women having sex with animals and yes, it is forbidden and there are warnings against it in the Bible.  Does it make you evil, maybe not.  Does it make you a sinner? Oh yeah!”

Sue Anne thanked me for the talk.  She went in for the night.  I stayed up for a while.  I went in at about 2:00 am at 2:30 I heard voices.  Then the yelling started between Sue Anne and Rosalinda, then absolute silence.  I got this weird feeling and then I got scared.  I got up and started walking through the expansive house toward the back bedroom area near the workout room when I ran into Rosalinda.

She was totally naked.  I turned my head to avoid seeing her naked, she grabbed my head and turned it toward her, staring me in the face.  I asked Rosalinda, “are you alright?”  Rosalinda said “yes, I will be.”  I asked is “Sue Anne alright?”  

Rosalinda said, “Of course she is, excuse me RJ.”  Rosalinda walked naked out to the stable and was out there for about 20 minutes.  When she came back in she was wearing chaps, boots an open leather vest and had about 6 feet of rope.

I approached Rosalinda and said “don’t do anything you’ll regret.”  Rosalinda spun on me and pointed a knife at my genitals and said, “mind your business and you can watch, get in my way and you will have regrets, understand?”  I nodded and got out of the way.  A few minutes later, Sue Anne crawled down the hallway with the rope around her neck with Rosalinda holding the other end.  Rosalinda made Sue Anne crawl to the stable.  I followed from a safe distance. 

In the stable Rosalinda said “if what we have means anything then you're going to know the darkest side of me.  I thought I could get free of some of my “fetishes” by being with you Sue Anne, but I guess we are what we are.  You can leave and walk out, but if you do, its forever, if you stay…we stay, understand?”  “Totally” said Sue Anne.  Rosalinda tied Sue Anne suspended hands over her head to a beam, grabbed a riding crop and proceeded to whip her.

When Sue Anne had avoided opening her legs to be whipped on her thighs Rosalinda got a piece of wood and tied her ankles to each end.  The shrieks were muffled by the gag but the whipping went on for what seemed like hours but it was only about 10 minutes.  When untied, Sue Anne fell to the unpaved ground inside the stable, red and raw from her vaginal area to her rear all the way to her toes. 

Rosalinda stripped naked.  Sue Anne crawled to her, her face streaming with tears as she kissed her feet.  Rosalinda helped Sue Anne stand up.  As they embraced they held each other by the hair whispering to each other as they slowly rocked in a slow easy rhythm.    As I got ready to leave Rosalinda said “Do you want to see the rest of this?” 

Sue Anne took Rosalinda by the hand and walked her toward one of the horses.  I said, “No your mutual penance is for each other, your mutual deprivation is for your understanding alone.”  I went and had a drink as the horse yelping and the moaning went on until the dawn.  Sue Anne and Rosalinda walked hand in hand from the stable, naked, muddy and smelling like horse manure.

Dominic and Fred got back after 8:00 am.  Later in the day Fred asked me if I knew what happened in the stable last night.  I told him I didn’t know for sure but I think Sue Anne and Rosalinda went riding.

RJ

Friday Night in the San Fernando Valley

Friday Night In The San Fernando Valley

“No faggot, you wont’ suck that tranny’s cock in here!”  

Burt then proceeded to snatch the pervert by the back of the neck and throw him out of the illicit underground club as members of the security staff put the transvestite out with him.  

Burt is 6’6” and as round as a small bear.  

This night the female and shemale strippers are putting on a show for the crowd of deviates, perverts and shady regulars to their underground establishment, nicely hidden just outside of Encino.

This night Killa is behind the bar pulling double duty as drink dispenser and entertainment coordinator.  Killa (a slender high yellow Trinidadian) makes sure the girls and the trannies know what the deal is and keeps security in the loop concerning ‘patrons’ who don’t go with the program. 

In the smoking section, a good crowd of businessmen and assorted professionals of both sexes were getting off on the show when Killa’s radar picked up a disturbance at one of the booths in the back.  A fat Armenian businessman was arguing with a beautiful Nubian princess with long black hair and their discussion, not loud, was totally animated.

The crowd around the stage bounced to the sound of Donna Summer’s ‘Bad Girls’ as the luscious smell of sweaty sweet sexy tail snapped your head to the sensual strip tease driving horny souls to want more than watch.   As business folk old and young, male, female and other stuffed ones and fives into ‘Lavender’s’ thong strap, the fat Armenian reached into his jacked and produced a small revolver.

Faster than I could blink, Burt had the weapon and quietly escorted the gentleman into another area of the ‘establishment’.  “Come on Al” whispered Burt as his massive right hand gripped Al’s tie, both choking him and guiding him to the leather couch in the poorly lit room that stank of stale booze, raunch and cum.  

“What the fuck is going on…why you got a gun in here Al” said Burt as Al started to pass out.  Burt, still holding on to Al’s tie made it loose enough for Al to talk.  “That thing is not a bitch Burt and it is blackmailing me…besides it made me have to do it before I could get next to ‘Fantasy’ Burt.”  “Does it have a name?” asked Burt.

“Josie” said Al, as Burt stared into his face, one hand on his tie and the other balled up ready to pound Al into the deck.  “Look Al, your problems are yours, you and ‘Josie’ are out of here.” Right then I heard a sharp slap from down the hall in another room.  Burt’s partners in security, Little Jake (almost as big as Burt) had ‘chastized’ Josie upon finding a butterfly knife on Josie’s transsexual body.

“Look Burt let me stay to see Fantasy dance and strip, please…..”  “Hell NO!  Al, you pulled a gun fool and you won’t get it back anytime soon.  We don’t need no bullshit in here, nobody’s going to fuck up our thing, dig!”  After begging and checking in with Killa, Burt got to stay on the other side of the club in arms reach of Killa, who’s day job was clerking at one of LA’s numerous court houses.

Josie (who looked like a model in his/her sundress) left so not to mess up anything for Fantasy who was up next.  Al and Killa talked as the music pounded and the din of conversations and other bar talk filled the air as Cigar and Cigarette smoke wafted through the clandestine club.  Then the music was Tina Turner’s ‘Private Dancer’ as Fantasy took to the stage.  Every eye locked on her.

 

Fantasy was an Afro-Etruscan goddess nymph with ultra smooth buttercream skin, dark auburn hair and green eyes, her tight purple halter type top revealed perfect breasts with nipples popping and inviting.  Her abs tight but not too muscular and her legs were long and lean in toe out black stiletto f.m. pumps.  She would strip out of her three piece purple skirt.  Her face was angelic as her countenance wreaked of purity. 

I see now why Al pulled a gun on Josie, I would later learn from Killa that Al got on his knees naked and sucked Josie’s dick just to get a date with Fantasy.  Fantasy, looks all of 17 but she is indeed 29 and a Ph.d law candidate at USC.  When Killa got a few seconds I had to ask him “why does this place attract so many transvestites?”

“Money", said Killa, “plain and simple.” The noise rose and the raging faces of men and women burning in their lust as Fantasy danced and stripped drove some to want to jump on stage but security was hoping for a reason to use their toys. 

But this crowd knew what to expect if someone acted a fool.  No one wanted to interrupt the show.  I asked, “Killa, why let the trannys in if it makes the straights feel uncomfortable?”  Killa said, “RJ this is about business beside we know who they are and we won’t allow any false advertising.” 

Killa said, “RJ, there are just so many girls and we don’t let them just leave here with anybody, in fact we don’t let anyone touch them.  That’s why we got ‘hoes, tramps and tranny’s in here, if a dude really wants to get off he can get a hoe for some cash, a tramp for a lot less and tranny for free.” 

I had to ask Killa “do you hosts get a piece of that action?”  Killa eyeballed me real hard and said, “depends on the hoe.”  The night was hot and happening even after Fantasy had left the stage, the contorted faces of burning souls entranced in their dissipation were wandering to the restrooms or dark corners to hide the tell-tail stain from climaxing in their pants.

Al and Killa were having a heated conversation and Al threw up his hands and walked away.  Killa waved one of the sexy bar backups over to pick up the task as he walked to an area in back of the bar where the strippers dressing rooms and back office was.  I saw Burt at the door answering his cell phone and looking at Al.  Burt looked mad then he laughed, nodding his head as to agree or approve, then he hung up.

Burt and Little Jake quietly escorted everyone out so not as to attract attention.  That is everyone except Al, who got escorted last.  Al said, “I’m not leaving here without Fantasy, I’ll do anything Killa, I’ll even suck your dick, just let me talk to her."  Killa's eyes went blank, he said “Al, get the fuck away from me you coke snortin’ whoremonging faggot.  No you won’t see Fantasy so get the fuck out.”

Little Jake grabbed Al by the back of his pants, pulled them straight up and wedgied him out the door and into the parking lot.   Al cursing and shouting got into his car not noticing it was already unlocked.  He waited until he saw me and Fantasy get into the Lincoln Town Car driven by Killa.  Al started his car and said to himself “I’ll get you Fantasy”. 

 As he started to put his old but nicely kept Cadillac in drive, he was jumped from behind, he/she was hidden in the back seat…it was Josie.  Josie, a tranny, who looked like a nice woman, choked Al, shut off the ignition and jumped into the front seat. Josie choked Al out, tied up his hands, shuffled him to the passenger side of the front seat, cuffed him to the seat belt and pulled the car around to the dark side of the office building and strip mall where no lights were.

Josie revived Al as he/she reclined the seat in the old 74 El Dorado.  

“So you want to fuck what’s mine you fat nasty pig…you want to pollute my precious princess with your diseased Armenian dick, don’t you?”  

Al swore, “I’m gonna kill you, I’m going cut your dick off, gut you, bleed you out and watch you die.”  As he struggled, Josie smiled and said “not tonight ‘Elmer Fudd’”….

As Al tried to get free Josie produced a syringe and stuck it into Al’s leg, rolled him on his stomach, then Josie reclined the large leather seat all the way back.   Al, face down, faded into semi-consciousness, unable to resist.  Josie pulled up his jacket, cut the back of his belt, ripping and cutting Al’s pants exposing his bright white ass.  Josie (a transvestite) had a hard on. 

Josie pulled up her dress putting a condom on his/her large hard penis and proceeded to sodomize Al.  About five minutes into the deed a knock on the window as a flashlight’s blinding beam violated the darkness.  It was an LAPD cop, and she was not real happy.  All this went observed by Burt who was in the lot behind a concrete potted palm tree.  Burt disappeared into the night.

Meanwhile traveling in the hills above Studio City, Killa got off the phone with Burt who relayed Al’s fate (speaker phone was on).  Killa drove the Town Car into a gated estate.  Waiting at the door was Fantasy’s mother, Ms. Vikki.  Ms. Vikki is a well known Hollywood TV actress who always plays bit parts and the heavy in everything from Drama’s to Comedy’s. 

Killa opened the door and took Fantasy by the hand pulling her out of the car.  Fantasy was angry and Ms Vikki, thoroughly stunning in a long grey house robe was even angrier.

Ms. Vikki slapped Fantasy and said get in the house.  Fantasy with tears in her eyes quietly went in.  Ms. Vikki went off about Fantasy’s association with Josie. 

Killa quickly informed Ms. Vikki that would no longer be a problem and would explain it in detail. Ms. Vikki hugged and kissed Killa and asked who’s in the car?

Killa said, “my friend RJ from New York.”  Ms. Vikki said “leave the car there and both of you come inside.”  The estate home was nicely appointed in an eclectic but decidedly artistic way with antiques, exquisite stained glass windows, a pulpit and a 1930’s phone booth.  

Ms. Vikki said “Killa thanks for bringing my daughter home.  I don’t worry so much when she’s with you but she really needs to give up stripping.”  Killa said “that’s between you and Melanie” (Melanie, aka Fantasy).

Ms. Vikki said “I’m not a prude, God knows what I had to do to get work, but I want better for Melanie, I can pay her way through grad school, I want her to be a judge.” Ms. Vikki offered us a night cap and poured our drinks.  Melanie said, “I can pay my own way, I don’t want to owe you, Daddy or anybody.” 

Ms. Vikki handed us our drinks as she loosened her robe revealing an older version of Melanie’s (aka Fantasy) hot body.  The older hot body was giving me a hard on and I was getting a little uncomfortable, Ms. Vikki knew it and teased me more as she had her conversation with Killa, who was having fun watching me squirm.  

Melanie told Ms. Vikki to stop teasing me.  After Killa told Ms Vikki what happened to Josie and Al, we had some laughs and a promise for a tour at another time, Ms. Vikki tried to pay Killa for bringing Melanie home.

Killa refused it.  Killa said, "Hey, all you’ve done for me, no…we’re good, we’re even."

  As we walked out the door Ms. Vikki hugged me from behind and gave me a reach around, I guess wanting to see how well she did getting me hard.  She smiled.  In the car on the way back to the San Gabriel Valley, I asked Killa if Ms. Vikki was always this friendly.  “RJ, Ms. Vikki has fun but she don’t take anyone’s mess.”

It was an eventful night.  A wild party at a clandestine strip club, drama from horny patrons, a fat businessman kidnapped and sodomized by a transvestite and my gentle molestation from a TV actress…Ms. Vikki is the 21^st century Mrs. Robinson.

Can’t wait for the estate tour.  

RJ

Why?

Why no updates?

To All the faithful followers of the blog I submit that updates and new posts have not been forthcoming due to the following reasons:

  Lack of Participation by associates and total abandonment by ‘sources’.

 All the things worth talking about have really devolved into bitterness, vindictiveness, contempt and hate which are all but played out in social media (i.e. facebook, google plus, etc).

  
 The mental health of the contributors and myself have suffered greatly being torn between dealing with the same old crap with brand new venom or being seen as liberals with an agenda or conservatives with a lynch mob mentality.  Either way I don’t cater to wing nuts.

    
We, the authors do this out of a sense of fun and camaraderie with the night time folks and the bar people who just like to find something to laugh or gossip about.  Due to the social climate on the South Shore this has stopped being fun for me.

     
You.  No way to tell what folks think if they don’t comment.  Everyone seems to worry about the FBI, Homeland Security, or other dark government agencies might think about you hanging out.  I got news for you.  If your scared, then you are already lost.

    
 If you really give care at all what hits this blog and the opinions of its authors tell us.  Leave your comments for anything at the bottom of this post and distribute it among the bar scene and the hang out crowd.

Well, that’s about it.  If I feel like posting the other 5 entries that we wrote about, it will get done soon.  If you say something, you will see something.

RJ

In the name of Captain Bitch

In the Name Of Captain Bitch….

First off I will preface this entry with letting everybody know I’m at least two entries down about other events in Southern California.   So just wait.  Since I’ve been back there has been whining about advertising by some bartenders.  No problem!  That’s handled by Poppy J who has to give the word on all things that go on in his establishment.

St. Patrick’s Day and the following Sunday had good attendance and the facebook crowd is expanding according to Poppy J, to about 150 members.  People want to know what is going on in the place we like to socialize in.  Poppy J is thinking about appealing to more folks who live under the Rainbow sign because he sees attitudes are changing (same freaks, more freakiness).  So much for that!

The pool team has always had a problem getting from practice to performance and from petty bullshit to professionalism.  Yaega Lee has always been Captain and we have endured as a team.  To her credit she tries to make sure we have an establishment that presents itself as a good place to drink as much to shoot pool.  

Although even with my purchasing the ultimate handbook on billiards for the team members and working to get an enduring adult team spirit and improve our shooting as a team…well, it just doesn’t happen.

Sometimes we look great as a team, but in the end it’s the same silly shit.  One thing about life I find true is that it’s always time for change whether it’s made by man, God, evil, circumstance or us.  

Yaega Lee, like most of us has endured much, life problems, life changes, death of loved ones and the ongoing fight to live the Long Island life that the past has given us and disasters have beat upon.  Yaega Lee takes pride in being, as she calls herself…’Captain Bitch.’

It was at ‘On The Rock’s’ now called something else (Chasers I think) at the old location on Main Street not far from Bay Park that the Pool Team was shooting.  I told Yaega if I showed up I would be late.  

Yaega asked me to call her when I got out of the meeting.  I did.  Yaega wanted me to shoot in the third set so I showed up.  It was 9:45 pm.

The atmosphere sucked.  But the shooters where a young crowd, just turned 21 and they looked like they were all still partying from St. Patrick’s Day weekend.  The Bartender was a young lady, new to the job, but nice.  As I eyed the crowd the kids were not bad, but there were attitudes and dirty looks.  Why?  Mickey is the Captain of the home Team at ‘On The Rocks’ now something else.  Mickey is handling a team that looks a little shell shocked. 

Why?

I took for granted that 20 something’s could feel like they were shooting against their elders.  Arf was glad to see me as he sat in the middle of the other teams shooters (why?) and greeted me with a smile and a shout pronouncing ‘the closer is here’.  “RJ, we need some tunes to smooth the mood, help us out.”  I said, “no problem Arf.”  I got to the juke box, noticing the stares and Mickey asked, “what kind of music you gonna play on ‘our’ jukebox?”

It was then I realized something else is going on here.  “I have no idea, when I get to the box I’ll let it tell me what it wants to hear.”  The crowd laughed as I started my play list with ‘Trouble Man’ by Marvin Gaye.  Mickey asked me to play some Pantera.  I didn't.

 

After I walked away from the jukebox I asked ERL, “what the fuck is going on in here?”  Just then Yaega said something to I’Rish who was working his last three shots, fighting off the aggravation from Yaega’s comment he scratched on the 8 ball…again (he did this in all three games he shot).  

Yaega got aggravated, I’Rish said he would be back and walked out the door for air. As I looked for ERL to find out what the fuck was going on, a shout… “RJ GET YOUR ASS TO THE FUCKING TABLE”.

I stood still looking straight into Yaega’s nice new fixed face and said, “What?”  Yaega snapped. “I SAID GET YOUR ASS TO THE TABLE AND SHOOT”.  I looked at her and pointed to the pool table which I was standing next to.  I fought off the desire to respond with outrageous profanity and belittling belligerence, this stressed me.  I came to enjoy myself.

I now felt totally uneasy, I shot the game which I lost because I was uneasy, I could not get comfortable because something else was going on and I had no idea what the hell I walked into.

I went to ERL to find out what’s going on.  ERL said “I’ll tell you later on the way back to our place RJ, apparently things got nasty and rough.”  ERL walked away from me to respond to I’Rish who called him over to the shooting sheet which Yaega guards like a rabid pit bull over a piece of raw meat.  I’Rish was shooting doubles in two games.  

I was nowhere on the sheet. Yaega said “I forgot you were here RJ.” Dementia or sarcasm, in either case that response didn't help my mood.

I then wondered, what the hell am I doing here?  I then broke down my stick and was about to leave but ERL said they (he and Arf) needed a ride.  Before I could go to Arf and ask anything, he came to me asking not for a ride, but a question.  

Arf asked me “did you know that sometime in the first set Yaega Lee slapped the shit out of Mickey?”  I said “NO", realizing that there was more to this and ERL was trying to keep a lid on something….and the lid was going to blow.”

ERL was walking back to the bar when I asked him to let me know “everything right now.”  According to ERL, “Mickey and Yaega had a discussion, Yaega didn’t like Mickey’s tone and slapped him hard, it sounded like a gunshot and kind of staggered Mickey (who is apparently kind of stocky).  Mickey called Yaega a ‘cunt’ for which she was about to slap his ass again but I got things calm” said ERL.

“Did Mickey hit Yaega Lee back?” I had to ask ERL because the rest of the night really hinged on this answer.  As it stood there was a possibility that both teams could be kicked out of the Pool League.  ERL looked me in the eye and said “NO, …RJ if he had hit Yaega Lee we wouldn’t be shooting pool right now, Mickey is a good kid and I got things calmed down with the other team, Yaega is another matter.”

As Arf got everybody in the bar talking, the mood which was tense but now tolerable in the little old dive, turned like Dr. Jekyll into Mr. Hyde.  

Yaega Lee, who was unusually bitchy (she loves being Captain Bitch) had gone outside the team for her resolution to a matter which was handled from the outset and could have been dealt with in detail after the match.  As the third set started, enter Mr. Clean (Yaega’s man).

Yaega’s manfriend had showed up and inside ten seconds there was shouting, Mr. Clean was out of his coat, woof cookies (I’ll kick your ass…yeah in what lifetime?) were being tossed, about 8 people went out the door, Mr. Clean first followed by Yaega, yapping away, then by the owner Ray, who was holding on to Mickey along with two of his team members including Dan (shooting for Chasers) who was celebrating his birthday, also Arf and ERL.

I knew it was serendipity I didn’t leave ERL and Arf and go home when I broke down my stick.  The rest of their team and the girls at the bar where debating on going out to help.  I quickly called everyone else who didn’t go out the door to join me around the bar for a drink.  ERL had magically reappeared at the bar, I looked at him as he threw his hands in the air then grabbed the shooting sheet.

I had shots with half my team and three members of the other and clearly declared to all who could hear me, “we really like you guys, we are not like this, now let’s get ourselves together and have some fun.” By that time Ray had come back in and with his arms around Mickey and Dan.  ERL said to me, “RJ we need you to shoot for Yaega Lee.”  “Why, did she have a change of heart ERL?” 

ERL said, “No, Ray threw Yaega and Mr. Clean out of his bar, we got this RJ.”  I went and got my stick.  The mood in the bar lifted like a dense fog and felt like a summer day.  Everybody was talking to everybody, laughing, back slapping, handshakes and hugs were going all around as was shots celebrating Dan’s birthday. 

The night ended with a grudge game between Arf and Mickey where if you missed a shot you had to take a shot.  Arf won.  By the way, our ‘Pool Team won.’  We really took the time to get calm and relax.  I took ERL and Arf back to Game On to let Poppy J know what happened and to have a team shot as usual.  It was 1:00 pm, Game On was closed, that was unusual.  

I took Arf into Queens and ERL home.  I thought about how the Game On Pool Team shot for each other and ignominiously won this match…in the name of Captain Bitch!

I had my me shot when I got home.

RJ

The Delusive Phantom of Hope

"Shall we acquire the means of effectual resistance
by lying supinely on our backs and hugging
 the delusive phantom of hope,
until our enemies shall have bound us
hand and foot?"

Editorial / Non-Fiction

I’ve been reflecting on my life.  I see society failing to fix itself and depending too much on authoritarian forces (i.e. the government) to fix it.  

The only problem with that logic is that the government is more fragmented than shattered china after an earthquake.  

When my life, as insignificant as it is, and government intersect, I find myself reliving in vivid recall, my childhood.  It was all too overwhelming.

I was constantly steadied by the presence and example of strong men who didn’t duck or dodge, men who didn’t whine or run, but took the problem to its inevitable forum…direct confrontation.  I know, your asking what the fuck is he talking about.  I’m talking about when the law forces you to be a liar, a social outcast and a criminal, I’m talking about NY Secure Ammunition and Firearms Enforcement (SAFE) Act of 2013.

After reading the bill myself I found nothing in it that speaks to securing firearms but much to making your healthcare providers de-facto law enforcement officers, turning adversarial family members into government informants and making patriotic citizens into criminals if they don’t ‘register’ their weapons.

Anyone can read the Bill NYS S.2230.  It’s clear to me from reading the bill it was designed to disarm citizens, all of us.  Problem is good citizens would have no weapons and criminals would have a field day, this being the determination of Supreme Court Justice Anton Scalia in District of Columbia v. Heller. 

To quote Scalia, “We must also address the District’s requirement (as applied to respondent’s handgun) that firearms in the home be rendered and kept inoperable at all times. This makes it impossible for citizens to use them for the core lawful purpose of self-defense and is hence unconstitutional.”

But now, before the appeals, before the trials, before the law is tested out on some poor soul who has little or no resources to protect themselves I am propelled back to my childhood, when a rogue police chief shoved a gun in my Dad’s face and told him to move his ‘nigger hide’ out of town or he would kill him and us, his family.  The only reason that hate filled police force did not act because our house was full of armed men.

That this could happen in a small town in Nassau County in the early sixties is not what upsets me.  It’s that it can happen in any New York County in 2013.  Now the police don’t need the excuse that one is being black in public, now all they need is someone to file an order of protection against you and say, “he’s got guns” and the cops can kick down your door, disarm and arrest you.

I remember when a small hick town police department ripped up my application to join that force in front of my face.  I remember coming home as a Marine from Paris Island triumphant and resolved that no small town, hate filled with various evils, were going to keep me from my goals.  I came home again as a Military Policeman and a Law Enforcement Officer, proving again that the Constitution works for faithful citizens.

Now, the marginalization that went with racism, classism, ethnocentrism and all the other ‘ism’s” that defined the mid 20^th century have come to revisit us in the Pandora’s Box that is a law created from anger, contempt and fear.  The problem is just having rifles described in the law even if ‘registered’ invites probable cause for search.  Now you live every day wondering when someone will come, kick down your door, take you and your arms away without seeing a judge.

Now, I have to decide to do as my Daddy did, stand in front of authority with an open threat on my life or fight this with the resolve I used to serve my country and enforce its laws when I was a younger man; or succumb to the delusive phantom of hope and be less than a citizen in the nation I took an oath to protect.

My Dad lived and died making life better for himself, his family and his neighbors.  Dad worked harder than any man I know for what little we had and have now.  Dad and his generation bought the promise of our rights and its freedoms with sweat and blood.  Dad and his generation are in God’s Heaven or on their way.

Daddy stares at me knowing exactly what I have to do.

RJ

Fraying Social Fabric & the Booty Drought

Fraying Social Fabric & the Booty Drought

Although the day was grey the sun did break through the clouds for an hour to embellish the glorious view of Downtown Los Angeles against the backdrop of the snow covered San Gabriel Mountains as we sat on top of Deak’s Modified Rasta Jerk Barbeque truck at the highest point at Kenneth Hahn State Recreation Area aka Kenny Hahn Park.

We had just eaten some jerk pork and we were now drinking some Sensi Tea as we had a civilized smoke from a hookah made of silver and ivory.  We had some light conversation about the glory of creation and the beauty of this land named by the Conquistadors of Spain, from a 15^th Century novel "Las Serges de Esplandian," which described an earthly paradise.

I wondered out loud why anybody could hurt children how anyone could corrupt their own hearts so to darken their ability to feel the presence of God in the glory of creation.  Then I sat back and took another hit from the hookah, that’s when Deak went off.  “RJ, the problem is not guns, it’s not people with guns, it’s damaged people with guns.”  I said, “explain that Deak, are you talking about mentally ill folks who have weapons?”

Deak took a toke from the hookah and proceeded with his discourse.

  “RJ, look at the problem for what it is…most of dem be young white boys or white men wit’ weapons shooting up crowds of people, total strangers to make a statement.  

That statement is born from two facts…they are loaners with no woman and they are so un-masculine they shy away from men for fear of being teased and mocked.

Yes RJ, the problem is when you spend your whole life being socialized to believe you have the right to anything you want but you lack the physical and spiritual attributes needed to give and get basic human love, the need overwhelms and manifests itself into something ugly.”  

“Deak, white boys aint the only ones shooting people at random, two black fools from Virginia sniped 11 people around Washington D.C. just 10 years ago.  One of them got put to death.”

“I said most of dem be white RJ, but the problem still boils down to not being able to be a man, not being able to show you belong in society.  If society rejects one at more than a few basic levels a man will revolt, he will fight that society and strike out at all who reject him.”   Even though I was riding a good buzz, ethereally floating through the cloudy expanses of Southern California, I was able to pursue a chain of thought.

“So Deak, let me see if I’m getting you straight; if a man feels rejected or is incapable of giving or receiving basic love, have a girlfriend, hang with a group of guys with a common interest or participate in school, social gatherings or government, that man will strike out with a statement of power to show that he is somehow significant, even if it means killing those he wants to belong to…is that right?”

“Yeah Mon, it’s all about being somebody when the world sees you as an insignificant wimp.”  I thought about that for a minute, not making any judgment I asked Deak, “if what you say is valid, what is the root cause for a man feeling or being so insignificant that he must shoot up a bunch of people to legitimize his existence?”

“RJ it boils down to one thing and one thing only…pussy!” “WHAT? (I was in the middle of a long toke and started choking).”  After I stopped coughing, my buzz now dissipated, I came crashing down on top of the modified bread truck. “How is pussy or a woman the cause for killing a bunch of people?”  

Deak looked at me and shook his head laughing as I snapped out of my buzz.

“RJ, a man wants to show the world he is a man by being the strongest, the fastest, the smartest, the coolest, the best looking, the most powerful or the most desired.  He wants to show that he is a man.  

All of the losers who kill up the innocents are not just looked down on, I bet girls or women laughed at them on sight.   All men are afflicted by a pussy drought all over the world brought on by the bad economy but losers feel it most because they get stepped on even worse.”

I felt the chill of a cool breeze go down my back as I thought about the logic in Deak’s argument.

“So Deak, what empirical evidence are you using to support this view?”  Deak looked at me and hit the hookah for a long toke and said, “empirical evidence…?” 

“RJ, history is the evidence.  Every man who has a problem with his body or his mind manifested that insecurity by going after legitimacy through securing power or exacting compensation; man with little dick gets long fast car to compensate and so on.”  

“OK Deak, some historical examples if you please.”

Napolean Bonaparte was a short insignificant little Commander who never got noticed around those big, bad ass French officers from the mainland.  The shortass Corsican had a little mans complex.  He didn’t stop even after conquering Europe because he thirsted on the power and adoration of the women who ignored him when he was a ragged bedraggled field officer looking for food after the revolution.

Rodrigo Borgia, contemptuous of the Italian’s and being a descendant from servants from the house of an Aragonese (Spanish) Lord, treated the Church, Italian Government, Italian women and his associates with absolute disdain and hate.  Rodrigo Borgia also known as Pope Alexander VI committed incest, murders, rape and dozens of other abominations as Pope of the Catholic Church.

Adolf Hitler was a marginal painter and artist who couldn’t sell much of his work to support himself.  He survived WW1, as a German War Veteran he was bitter over Germany’s loss, blaming it on the Jews of which he was one.  

This hate filled pitiful vagabond had an oratory gift that seduced a nation.  

He committed some of the grossest and most evil acts against humanity in history and at the heart of it was his inability to love a woman with natural affection.”

“I said “cut to the chase Deak are you saying that it is the presence of a woman or the lack of a woman’s presence that is the cause for mental illness and sociopathic behavior?” 

“RJ, I say yes to both those realities because a woman can be present and give venom instead of milk and hate instead of love.  Sometimes a cold stare from a woman can be as nasty as a stabbing.  Scalded souls seldom heal.”

The sun hid itself in the clouds and the cold drizzle didn’t help the buzz kill that this conversation had on me.  So we got into the truck.

“So what are you saying Deak, that lack of pussy makes you angry and hard?”  

"No RJ, I’m saying absence of pussy makes you crazy and rejection by pussy makes you psychotic.  

Tell me the truth RJ, where would you be right now if there wasn’t a woman in your life, not Mommy, on some level to confront, help, heal or support you?  Tell me what your life would be like if you have the guts.”

“I have spent the last few years of my life without a constant woman companion in my life.  But I will admit by listening sometimes a woman has helped me see things differently Deak.”  “So a woman in your life has made you more stable, right RJ?”  “Maybe so Deak, but I don’t agree that total lack of a woman in your life can make you a crazed killer.”

“RJ, lack of a woman’s presence is as much responsible for wars, insurrections and overthrows of government as a lying conniving self seeking bitch who causes the problems.”  As Deak drove down La Cienega Blvd, I asked him, “what do you see as the answer to the problem of mad men and boys with guns shooting up people Deak?”

“Listen, it’s difficult to hurt someone with a tit in your hand or your pole in a hole.  Also it’s about mindset, it’s difficult to stay mad at anyone or circumstance after a bowl of Sensimillia or primo ‘mother nature’ RJ.  Weed and Women are the things that will save civilization and turn it from the madness it has been afflicted with and the darkness it stumbles in.”

We then pulled up to a house a little distance from the park. At that time two Jamaican goddesses jumped in the truck.  “Ya Mon, dem ride with us to Duarte RJ.” Deak introduced us and the ride became an adventure. 

“Deak, you ever think you’d get armed and do something rash, do you think you could be pushed into striking out in armed aggression against man or society?”  “No RJ, as long as there is Weed, Wine and Women I could not see me hurting anyone except in self defense, take away dem and I start the revolution.”

For a while I felt like a cross between Cheech Marin and Hugh Heffner. 

RJ