Good Morning Fungible Ones,
The first half of life consists of the capacity to enjoy without the chance; the last half consists of the chance without the capacity – Mark Twain
I’ve been thinking about how in reality, deep down privy only to your inside voice, how often we admit to letting hope overcome reason? Then instantly we set that question aside reminding ourselves never to wander there again. This preference for ‘whistling in the dark’ is probably more pervasive than we realize. I suspect millions suffer this self inflicted malady and keep the horrible truth buried.
Usually though, this self flagellation will exact a price, however its nearly impossible to predict how or when payment is due. Fast Eddie’s dramatic exit from Blondie’s last year is no doubt a case in point. Fear and doubt will block out the sun if you let it. On the surface that sounds bad, but being forced underground creates an environment for self indulgence that leaves scant room for anyone else!
Left to ones own devises and pleasures never knowing the time of day or night, one is able to muck about nearly blind! As long as one is able to crawl into the lascivious hole we’ve made for ourselves its clear most would prefer to live in darkness. This of course is a conscience decision.
As usual it gives me no joy to report that one of our own is headed down this slippery slope. Addictions come in many forms, but all of them share the common thread of self destruction. Over time our loosely knit association has eroded and is greatly diminished from our glory days at Kahuna’s as one more of our own is headed to disaffiliation. Only this time it’s not from hurt feelings or the inability to grasp a bit of irony, this time it’s a self-inflicted knee to the groin.
Being somewhat of an expert in self-inflicted pain, I may be the only person to empathize with our good friend’s struggle. Although odd at first glance, this particular addiction is nonetheless a serious concern. The two or three of you reading this ‘Bagwan’ no doubt associate addiction with alcohol, tobacco, porn, or heroin etc… but in this case we’re talking salacious acts of perversion “so profound and disgusting….decorum prevents me from listing them.” Having said that though, I do feel an obligation to warn those remaining of potential slimeing.
The last few weeks I’ve driven more than the previous six months! I’ve been all over the six county area around Denver. Yesterday I stopped at Perkins for lunch some 25 miles from Blondie’s and hardly expected to see anyone I knew, so you might imagine my surprise when I saw our cherished associate walk into Perkins and purchase three chocolate cream pies. Our good friend didn’t see me finish my lunch and follow them out and into my car. I was curious about the pies and why so far from home; so I followed.
We headed south on Federal to a part of town notorious for Massage Parlors and sure enough our long standing associate walked into “Madam Hong Kong’s table wash and hand-job” carrying the pies. Curiosity replacing common sense I drove into the back parking area and noticed a few cracks in the curtains for potential research. The windows were a mere foot too high so I looked around and found an old plastic milk carton case half buried in leaves and misc garbage against the fence. It was perfect. I began looking for our dear friend and after a couple of shocking miscues found our mutual buddy in the company of who I assumed to be his “masseuse”. What I saw next nearly made me vomit. I’ll warn you right now. If you happen to be less than 18 years of age, please log off as I can’t be held accountable for adverse reactions to the following account.
Both were stripped naked. Our good friend watched as his masseuse draped a sheet over the small table and laid plastic down over the small floor. She then removed a pie, placed it atop the table and stood back. With the innocent glee only children can produce our friend squealed with delight. In one large step our associate leaped up and landed squarely on the pie sending the gooey ingredients flying sticking to the walls and floor. Laughing, the masseuse took a large wooden spoon and scooped the cream and chocolate from our associate’s ass placing it in a plastic bag. With deft efficiency she scraped and collected most of what was left from his body carefully placing it in the bag. It was obvious this sick ritual was well practiced as each pie was treated the same way. I continued to watch as money was exchanged listening for any clues that would help me understand. Finally our dear friend smiled and said they had to take the bag of collected oozings and make pies for some gathering that night.
I hope you now understand how serious this addiction truly is. I suspect its time for an intervention or we may lose this beloved associate. Please join with me in prayer for this unfortunate soul, but most importantly; keep away from the cream pies!