Two Minnesota Vikings plead guilty to misdemeanor charges on the party boat... blah blah...

Wow. I mean, that had to be a hell of a party.

'Smoot was charged with using a sex toy on two female dancers in front of crew members during the cruise on Lake Minnetonka on Oct. 5. McKinnie had been accused of performing oral sex on a dancer in a public area of the boat. '

!

My only questions are these: who was offended by this? Why did they file a complaint? Why did the prosecutor run with it?

This reminds me of a case where this guy got an attack of conscience and turned over all this priceless archeological pottery to the government instead of selling it on the black market. Result: imbecile was CHARGED with a federal crime and he is now sitting in jail.

Why? Because it was a slam-dunk case for a 27 year old prosecutor with a tiny dick and an inflated ego. Because for people like that there is no such a thing as prosecutorial discretion.

These two cases, appearing slightly unrelated, have one thing in common:

Now I must buy my illicit sex and ancient pottery in secret. I can never have an attack of conscience and send flowers and candy to the stripper I used a sex toy on to the limit of human endurance, or hand over the Maya clay tablet depicting the alien landing of 344AD in the Yucatan peninsula - all because I would be arrested and thrown in the dungeons.

The Man from Madras

He walks among us. He has rusty eyes and a candid manner. Defenses? Tic-tacs, orbiting his head. They intercept incoming projectiles.

I ask you this: what is his purpose? what is his mission in life?

Found a stick by the house of my second cousin. It came from a walnut tree, the skin is a reddish-dark brown. I took it home. They questioned me. 'What are you doing with that stick?'
'I like it.'
'You could make a pretty neat hatrack out of it.'
'I just like the stick. It's a magic wand!' (pointing at various objects, making boom-boom sounds).
'How old are you...?'
'35. Turning 36 in July.'
'You were a lawyer, right...?'
'Yeah, sure was!'

Unrelated conversation from the other day:
'I can't believe you were a lawyer.'
'Hmm. This seems to be a reoccurring theme. I really like the movie Flash Gordon.'

The A-Team, Riptide, Remington Steele

I explained the ladder theory http://www.intellectualwhores.com/construction.html to Todd and Ferenc and they stared at me like I was some kind of an alien.
'Dude, I bet you money that it was some American who came up with that,' said Todd. 'Here it's completely different.'
'What do you mean?' I asked, curious. I was really pleased when I found the ladder theory, thinking (such vain, foolish hope) that I now had the potential to understand Woman.
'Women here, the way you pick up a woman (we were a couple of beers into the night by this time), is, well, you say: 'How about it?'
She might say no. Then you say: 'How about it?'
'Really?'
'Then you say it again. Normally, back in the states, that would be the end of it. Here, they eventually just give in.'
'What?'
'Yup,' said Ferenc. 'You just keep going for it. If you don't, they just write you off here. I knew this guy who took a Hungarian girl out to dinner and didn't try anything afterwards and she totally wrote him off as a pussy.'
'Is that so?'
'Oh yeah. They don't want to be treated like a porcelain doll.'
'So there is no friendship ladder?'
'Not really. Not here. Here people just stand in line and crawl over the mounds of dead boyfriends. There is someone standing in line right behind you, waiting for you fall by the wayside.'

We had some beers. Then we went to Ferenc's place to hang out and he he gave me a DVD of Flash Gordon. The greatest intro of all time:
(Ming): 'Who are you?'
(Flash, obviously): 'Flash Gordon! Quarterback, New York Jets!'
I mean, this dialogue is scintillating.

There was a really hot girl working the counter (I don't mean a working girl, I mean she was serving drinks and picking up beer glasses and wiping the counter). I was too shy to say stuff other than engage in low-level flirting but Todd cornered her (applying the Hungarian Rules) and immediately told her that I thought she was the second coming of Denise Richards. Then she stared at him and told him that (1) she already knew I was interested (2) smiled at me (3) left after I stared at her for a full 4 seconds in silent shock.

I got my first literary rejection. Not too shattered about it; they get 200 manuscripts a week and in retrospect my query letter SUCKED. So I'd redone it... (Flash Gordon is not involved, although I had thought about it). My primary problem is that I had come to the realization that the genre of the book is Magic Realism meets Noir meets ... horror? Not entirely sure. This stuff is hard to pigeonhole. Publishers don't know what to do with it. It either makes a lot of dough or none at all.

I will endeavour to write more, by the way. I appreciate all the people who have come to read my stuff, including the people with the mean comments saying that the blog totally blows since my relationship ended. It's interesting how people assume that the lack of content is somehow related to the end of my relationship. It isn't...

I found a fabulous chyropractor who is making huge headway in the treatment of my neck problems. She is moderately attractive which makes me nervous, because she is doing all this shit to me while I am wearing nothing but a pair of boxershorts and I just know, I simply just know, that one day I will have a monstrous erection while she is shoving my spine into place.

I love you all!

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!!!