Saturday, November 21, 2015

The Man with the Pointed Ears

                                        Image result for sex therapy
by The Urban Blabbermouth
The Master was meeting his former Acolyte for lunch.  She was his student for the last fourteen years.  It was an arrangement her father had setup more for his convenience than for her well being.  The Master had been her mentor, and when needed, her father when her father did not have time for her.  The Master did not always have life solutions for her but he loved her and helped her to grow into a strong and appreciated woman.

The Master chose McDonald's Fast Food restaurant for their meeting as he liked the mundane and ordinary decor.  It was quite a contrast with the travels of his interstellar life.

"How is your marriage going?", asked the Master.  The Acolyte had gotten married three months ago.

"It's good.  We are still learning to live together.  It is better than it use to be.  James is learning to be neater.  Just the other day, he said 'you know, I could be better about putting my clothes away."

"Wonderful.  How is the sex?"

"Good.  There is just so much of it"

"Is it good for you?"

"It's better."

"Do you have orgasms?"

"That's private, between James and I.  I don't want to talk about it."

"OK.  Hold my hands", said the Master as he place his hands palm up on the table.


"Have faith."  She held his hands.  "Close your eyes", said the Master. 

The Master closed his eyes and began to concentrate.  The nerve endings in his palms shifted slightly to align with the nerve endings in her palms and slowly connected to her nervous system.  He felt the connection and began sending electrical impulses through her nerves. 

He could not feel what she felt nor could he read her mind nor could he control her nervous system.  He was more like a diagnostic machine.  He could send  impulses to see if the nerves were working properly and to test parts of her brain. 

He found that the nerves that channeled neural impulses from her female parts through her body to her brain had a thin myelin layer.   It meant that she was not getting enough neural impulse through her nerves to easily trigger her orgasm.   Normally, the myelin layer found around nerves grows to a thick layer allowing for easy transmission of neural impulses.   Thin myelin layer could be forced to thicken by regular use.  The  Master began to send neural impulses through her nerves to trigger the build up of the layer.

The Acolyte began to feel a gentle warmth in her female parts.  It felt good.  Slowly she began to get moist.  She was feeling aroused and felt the desire for sex building in her.  She knew that the Master causing this.  Was this right?  She was married and had taken vows of fidelity to her husband.  Should the Master be doing this and should she stop him? 

The Master increased the impulses and the Acolyte felt the beginnings of a small orgasm.   Satisfied that he had done all he could to repair her nerves, the Master disconnected from the Acolyte's nervous system.

Still holding the Master's hands, the Acolyte opened her eyes.  "What did you do to me?"

"It is something that I have not told you about.  I am skilled in a technique called The Mind Meld.  I can connect into other people's nervous system and sometimes I can see their ailment and I can help them.  I connected to you and saw that you had an underdevelopment in your nervous system and I repaired it.  You know the rest.  Things between you and your husband will be much improved and will get better and better.  Do you mind?"

"I preferred that you asked me first."

"Would you have agreed?"

"I don't think so."

"I did not think that you would either.  You have not had enough experience and knowledge to know that this would help both you, your husband, and your marriage.  You will have to trust me that this was the right thing to do."

"I do trust you Master."

"Thank you Grasshopper."

Later that evening, the Acolyte discovered that she responded easily to her husband and for the first time in their marriage, they both orgasmed at the same time.


Monday, November 16, 2015

God's Plan for Man

                              Image result for unknown paternity

by The Urban Blabbermouth
As the top dog, the Alpha male of the pack, he guarded his harem like, well, like a rabid dog. He could not help himself, it is what God had created in him. His sole purpose in life was to sire as many pups as he could for as long as he could.  God favored the Alpha and nick-named him Abe.

Abe was a wily Alpha. He was always on patrol for intruders. To keep his harem to himself, he took over a den with a limited entrance as home to his harem. By this way, he could see any other male coming to sniff around. He would be able to challenge them and to chase them off. As the Alpha, he was mostly successful at this.

I say mostly because his harem did not share his views. The "wives" of his harem liked the idea that they can choose their mates. Some of them did not like the Alpha but they did comply to his wishes, at least they did so in his presence. He was, after all, The Alpha and he, and by extension, they, had extra privileges such as the first choice in any of the pack's kills. Many of the harem did prefer other males in the pack and certainly would have preferred a different alpha.

The trouble for Abe was that as much as he tried, he could not be every where. Some of his harem took advantage of this. They permitted other males in the pack to visit and indulged themselves in some very amorous activities. 
The other males in the pack were also wily.  When Abe was visiting one of his harem and was too busy to notice, the other males would sneak in and mate with any willing member of the harem.  The wily males would also act as wing-men for each other.  Some would approach the harem and engage the Alpha's attention and while Abe was chasing them, the others would meet up with willing members of the harem.  Such is the exciting life of pack males, always striving to gain the benefits of a harem or any kind of pack benefits for that matter.   

As you might expect, many of the pups born to the harem were not the offspring of the Alpha. The Abe did not know this.  So confident was he in his status as Alpha and in his measures to guard his harem that it never occurred to him that it was possible for a pup not to be his.

The pups benefited from the mixing of DNA pool. They inherited useful skills: the Alpha's strength and hunting talents; the wiliness of the lesser males; and the improved chances for the pack to survive and prosper.

God was contented as all was as it should be.

Saturday, November 7, 2015

My Panhandling Neighbors


by The Urban Blabbermouth
Unlike my friend Vol-E in her post I'm Okay. You're Okay. Now Leave Me Alone and Go Away!, I can’t claim that I am waylaid by my neighbors in my driveway begging for money.  I am, however, often waylaid by panhandlers around my office.  They like to stand by the entrance to all the lunch-time eateries begging for money to buy some food.  The panhandlers are working guilty feelings as we can all understand being hungry and having no food, yet there we are getting our lunches while another person starves.  Sheer genius, right out of Oliver Twist’s School of Fagin.

Lest you think that this guilty begging is a guy thing, women have now taken up begging positions on the sidewalk to the eateries.  Their guilty scam is to put a baby on display.  I suppose that one can always borrow a niece or nephew for this enterprise.

Now me, I ignore them all. Guilt does on work on me because I already ease my guilty conscious by giving money to Food Bank charities.

I remember one panhandler in particular.  He appeared at the entrance to my favorite eatery.  He was there every day begging for money and I ignored him.  I cannot say how successful he was as he did not present a particularly sympathetic appearance.  He wore clean jeans and a clean Tee shirt but he had a beer belly.  Really????!!!!  How can anyone give money to a guy with a beer belly?  The least he could do was to look needy.

One day, Beer Belly broke the unwritten rules of the street and asked me, “Why don’t you ever give me any money?” Of all the nerve! What bad manners.  My first thought was, "Do I look like a consumer focus group to you?"  My next thought was, “You would just go have some fun in a bar with my money.  I can do that myself.”  Instead, I said, “Not today.”  That’s usually how I respond to anyone on the street asking me for money when I cannot in good manners ignore them.  Beer Belly never asked me for money anymore after that.

After a summer or so, Beer Belly disappeared.  Sure enough, someone else took his place at the eatery entrance and I promptly ignored him too.  I guess Beer Belly must have used up all the goodwill in the neighborhood and traded locations with the new guy.  At least the new guy did manage to look needy in his worn out clothes.

Some months later, I am on the train going home and guess who comes into the car begging?  It was a strange moment when Beer Belly and I recognized each other.  He said “Hello” as he passed me and went on this begging way.  That was the last time I saw him.  I imagine that he is still some where in the city plying his trade.

Tuesday, October 27, 2015

I'm Okay. You're Okay. Now Leave Me Alone and Go Away!

Image result for empty pockets

by Vol-E

My city and neighborhood are both relatively small, and the neighborhood falls along the lower end of the economic spectrum. People live close together, and many destinations are easily accessible by bus or on foot.

It's not unusual, as I drive the streets around my home, to encounter pedestrians. They often stroll along right in the middle of the road. They'll look over their shoulders, see my car approaching, and then casually move along to the side so I can pass. Sidewalks are available, but rarely used, because they're narrow, and often obstructed by trees, trash, or shrubbery.

In any case, as I drive past, I'll wave. Mind you, I don't make eye contact when I wave, and don't check to see if the person waved back. I'm too busy watching the road for other cars, additional pedestrians, and runaway pets or children. I just lift the flat of my palm into the air (i.e. no individual fingers protruding...). Here's what the wave means:

  • Hi/Hello
  • I see you
  • You see me
  • Thanks for moving aside
  • I mean you no harm
  • I will not run you over
  • You live around here and so do I, so we're all in this [whatever "this" means] together.
Here's what my wave does NOT mean:
  • I am desperately looking for a new best friend, and you're it!
  • I can't wait to hear all about your troubles and misfortunes.
  • I have lots of extra money and cannot wait to give it all to you!

Sunday, October 25, 2015

Talk to the Wall

Image result for wailing wall
Now, if THIS wall could talk...Oy!

by The Urban Blabbermouth
Hey bud, it’s me, The Wall.  Seems God heard you saying “If the walls could talk” and He says ‘Hey why not?”  Didn’t expect that did you?  Be careful what you wish for.  Now your wall can talk and talk about your dumb shit.

It’s true. I’ve seen some dumb shit, some ugly shit, and some pretty good shit and your pale white flat ass is in the ugly shit. Don’t worry, I don’t want to talk about your dumb shit.  I got a more personal beef with you.

I’m a sensitive Wall and I want to look good but what's that fucking color on me?  PUCE?  What the fuck color is that?  Women come here and they want to enter your man cave so that they can rejoice in their superiority and they see puce. 

Sunday, October 18, 2015

Christians are Stupid

Image result for popes bibles

by The Urban Blabbermouth
I overheard a conversation while in the shopping mall.  The people were saying that the pope was not following the Bible and that he was misleading people and that he is a devil.  I presume that they were speaking of the Roman Catholic Pope.

Normally, I do not intrude on other people’s conversation but I could not help myself.  You could say that God made me do it.  I told them that for all the bad things they are saying about the pope, they can rest assured that the pope is also saying bad things about them.  They were shocked.  No doubt they are now saying bad things about me too.  Rest assured that I too will be saying bad things about them.

Monday, October 5, 2015

Lucky Number 7621

by The Urban Blabbermouth
It is just amazing to me that when I open my spreadsheet at work, I see a string of continuous numbers, one after another, displayed on my screen and I can interpret the numbers to have meaning and significance. 

The number currently attracting my attention is 7,621, which represents the amount of money in one of the company’s bank accounts. 

Another amazing thing to me is that the same number, 7,621, also has meaning and significance to other people: 

  • The number of pennies in $76.21.
  • The number of employees in their company.
  • The number of people in a Chicago skyscraper
  • The number of leaves on a large tree in the park.
  • The number of cars in a Las Vegas casino parking lot.
  • The number of times you pick the losing lottery ticket in your lifetime.
  • The number of times guys think amorous thoughts of women in a week.
  • The number of people who will read this post and laugh.

Saturday, September 26, 2015

Killer Instinct


by Ben Franklin Schumpeter VIII
James heard the gunshots.  He and his colleagues were in the conference room enjoying coffee and cake at one of the monthly Afternoon Coffee Break Socials.  It was the idea of the Director that this team would get together at least once a month to chat with colleagues who rarely saw each other.  A good way to ease some of the frictions that came from not knowing how the other colleagues contributed to the project.

"Everyone quiet!" James said as loudly as he dared.  Now everyone heard the gunshots.  A voice squeaked, "My God!  Is that gunshots?  Someone is shooting out there.  We have to save ourselves."

"Quickly turn off the lights and lock the door" James said to the person nearest to the door.  "Someone call 911.  Everyone against the wall and down on the ground," as he pointed to the wall adjacent to the door.  James wanted everyone there just in case the gunman -- gunmen? for he did not know how many there were -- opened the door.  The angle from the door to the wall would make it difficult for the gunman to get a good shot at anyone.

James listened and he heard more shots.  He turned to Lillian his partner on this project and said, "The shooter out there is going to kill everybody.  We have to stop him."

Monday, September 7, 2015

Rewriting another chapter of childhood


by Vol-E

"That's Grumman Airport," my dad used to say. "Late at night, I can hear them testing engines over there."

Okay, Grumman was never an "airport." But it certainly was big enough to be one. Grumman was an aerospace equipment manufacturer that was in business in central Long Island from 1930 to 1994, when it sold to Northrop and closed up that particular shop.Their heyday was during the Cold War. Their products were so durable and reliable, many people just referred to them as an "iron factory."

Inevitably, a large-scale manufacturer in the late 20th century was going to use chemicals, and before the 1970s, no one gave a thought to what those chemicals were, where they could go, and what they could do when they got there. We started learning about environmental pollution when we were in middle school, and part of the uneasy feeling it gave us could be articulated as "Man, that's awful! ...But what exactly are we supposed to do about it?"

Friday, September 4, 2015

What's Up With Those Rocks?


By Vol-E

A close friend of mine is out of work on disability because she can't keep her heart from racing. She takes a variety of medications, all related to blood pressure, heart palpitations, and fainting. Her BP isn't terribly high; in fact, it tends to dip at inconvenient times. But all the while, she doesn't sleep well, and has to balance the need for anti-anxiety medications with the others she takes. Any time we talk, she can recite an extensive list of dramas, big and small, that dominate her life. They include pets (large and small), job, family losses, broken friendships, financial stuff, even the stresses that sometimes come with blogging and participating in social media --  things that are supposed to relax us.

Tuesday, September 1, 2015

Scary is the new Black

by The Urban Blabbermouth
I saw a poll that claimed America thinks that race relations have gotten worse.  Now when they say America, they mean White Americans.

White Americans think race relations have gotten worse because of cell phone cameras showing videos of racism in action.  Most disturbing of all are the videos on YouTube of the police waving their guns at black teen girls and of the police shooting black men.  The white people who have little but the most cursory interactions with black people, say no more than with a salesperson in a department store, can see with their own eyes what black people are going through.  The white people realize, “OMG, those black people are right.  This is bad.  I wouldn’t want that to happen to me.”

Wednesday, August 26, 2015

The Genetic Olympics

                              Image result for pinky and the brain olympics

by The Urban Blabbermouth
The British Medical Authorities have approved "Three-person Babies".  This means that three humans, not just the usual two, will contribute genes to a baby.  It is a medical treatment to repair some types of genetic defects.  That's the good part.  The bad part is now we are arriving completely unprepared for the Age of Designer Babies. 

Monday, August 17, 2015

What became of Me


by The Urban Blabbermouth
As I get older, I keep wondering about the people I have met and what has become of them.  I guess it's a stage of life and I will outgrow it.  There must be thousands of people through the years: school people, neighborhood people, work people, and old friends. 

The people can be split into further categories if you like.   School people can be split into High School and College.   They are different, as high school people tend to be neighborhood people while college people are far more disparate as young adults go across the country to get away from their parents and their neighborhood friends.  Work people can be split into those who have moved to another company or who are now retirees.  Truth is that all the categories make no difference when all I want to know from all of them is, "How did you get on in your life?"

Sunday, August 9, 2015

A Grownup Stays at the Table


by Vol-E

There are many things I love about the Unitarian Universalist denomination. I especially appreciate that it's about behavior rather than belief, which (in theory at least) cuts through the biggest problem most people have with religion, and that's hypocrisy. Rather than 10 commandments, which give rise to an infinite array of questions, we've got seven principles. These can be boiled down to "Be nice to one another -- we're all in this together." We do a pretty good job when it comes to looking out for the environment, trying to prevent war, and ensuring that marginalized folks around the globe are recognized, and their voices heard.

Wednesday, August 5, 2015

An Arranged Marriage


Ben Franklin Schumpeter VIII
I can hear many saying that money can’t buy happiness or buy love.  Well, sure you can buy happiness or buy love.  I am doing just that right now.

I was driving my Maserati to my office in Beverly Hills when a story about the marital tribulations of Arnold Schwarzenegger, yup, The Terminator, came on the radio.  It occurred to me that Maria, his wife, was a happy woman up until the second that she learned of his infidelity.  One minute she thought that she was happily married and the very next second, shattered.  How was it possible to go from one extreme to another in a second?  I will tell you: Arnold was acting the part of a happy husband and Maria believed it up until that fatal second.  Clearly she did not know that he was acting, she did not know the truth. It was in this second that I knew happiness could be bought.

Tuesday, July 28, 2015

Dollars and Sex

                        Image result for man with rich wife college degree
by The Urban Blabbermouth
I was browsing several economic blogs, satisfying my prurient interest in money, when I came across an unexpected book, Dollars and Sex: How Economics Influences Sex and Love,by Dr. Marina Adshade.  Yeah, the title caught me.  I have not yet finished reading it, so this is not a review but an exploration of the lesson I learned at this point.

I saw a statistic in the book that says, more or less, that there are more women enrolled in college than men.  That seems to be the case for women of all races and backgrounds.  So there are more Black, White, and Hispanic women in college than men of the same race.

Monday, July 20, 2015

Seeking a Second Medical Opinion

                              Image result for ASKING THE DOCTOR AFRICAN-AMERICAN

By The Urban Blabbermouth
I am sick.  I ran my symptoms, the same symptoms that I would have told my doctor, through an internet search.

I got several possibilities.  After reading the search results, I learned how to make a better distinction amongst the same symptoms.  There are many finer points to symptoms.  Take the simple matter of a headache.  You will get hundreds of diagnoses for that.  You need to add a few more symptoms like  swelling sinuses, runny nose, nosebleeds, and so on.  It took several searches, refining my symptoms each time, and I was able to diagnose my ailment.  Don't ask what my ailment is, as that is you being just too nosy. 

Now that’s when my real problem started.  The treatment offered on the internet requires a doctor.  Apparently, I cannot get the medicines I need without a prescription and only a doctor can do that.  If my diagnosis needed blood tests or a scan of some sort, I could not get them either without a doctor’s approval.  Well, maybe I could get them on my own but I would have to pay for the tests myself.  My health insurance would not pay unless a doctor ordered it.

So it’s off to my doctor to get his second opinion of my diagnosis.

Sunday, July 12, 2015

Fifty Shades of White

by The Urban Blabbermouth
It's kinda obvious but most people don't know that white people did not become white until they met the first black African.  Until that moment, white people thought that the world had only white people and none other.  What a shock for them!  So white people decided to create white people just so that they could say that they were white.  It worked.

Sunday, July 5, 2015

Transgender Etiquette Made Very, Very Simple

by Vol-E

I'll start with a disclaimer. I am not transgender. Most likely, I never will be. But yes, I've thought about it. There's a photo of me, floating around among my extended family somewhere, of me as a toddler, with a square face and very thick hair, dressed in a cowboy ensemble and a hat. The same child, clad in a frilly chiffon dress, looked like a cross-dresser.  Drag Baby.

Saturday, July 4, 2015

An Olympic Punishment

Ben Franklin Schumpeter VIII

My inspiration for this story came from this Youtube video, Subway Long Jump.  

Jamon Cardom Smith was arrested two months ago at the Wall Street station for jumping the turnstile of the New York City Subway system and for not paying the subway fare.  It was his fourth arrest this year for the crime.  When questioned by Judge Wayne McDonald why an employed well paid stock broker like himself would jump the turnstile, Jamon replied, “Because it goes against my Wall Street training to pay for something that I can get for free.”