I received nigh on near thirty emails regarding my last post dealing with smell sex. That piece focused on . . .
. . . the homeless vagrant, one Lee Hill (aka “The Man of LaMancha”), and his faithful squire, Sancho Panza (fourteen-year-old “son”). Together, these two chivalrously upheld the virtue, honor and chastity of their fair Dulcinea’s Holy Underwear the other day by roundly cuffing, thoroughly throttling, and mostly killing a panty-sniffing pervert under a bridge over at Punta Gorda. Most of the emails saw the humor in the spoof and laughed like I did when first I read the ridiculous story. One person, however, was upset; insisted that I was taking a "cheap shot" at a down-and-outer in extremis dire. All I can say is, “Okay. And?”
I suppose it is a lot like prison. When everything has been taken from you—whether through your own dumb fault or not—it stands to reason that you become very sensitive about the few things that remain to you, including your “ethos,” your body of beliefs. Willing to fight, even die, for what you believe in--even if what you believe in is crazy as hell—when one who has little left to lose fights for what he construes as right and proper, then he can really lose his marbles over something. And Lee Hill really loses his marbles over panty-sniffing.
Actually, it was not so much the beat-down of the perv that amazes me, so much as it was the over-the-top degree of the beat-down administered by Hill & Co. Now, loathsome as the act may have been, to my knowledge smelling up someone’s undies has not yet become a capital offense and Lee Hill, vagabond vigilante or not, had no business sentencing the culprit to a near death sentence.
Where am I going with this? No place really. It ends right here. But. . . . Oral sex? Anal sex? Hand sex? Now nasal sex? Whatever happened to just plain vanilla sex?
Same Old, Same Old--I have heard that 99% of all dirty jokes originate in prisons. If so, then I wonder where all our wise sayings come from? Who was the prescient individual who coined the following: “Stupidity has been defined as voting either Democratic or Republican every election and expecting something positive to happen.”
Makin’ Memories--Michelle is looking at the map again. Hmmmm. Although it has not even been two months since our last major jaunt, she is already anxiously eyeing the next. Thus, by my calculations, it won’t be long before there is another interruption in this blog for a spell. Los Bloggos, please take note.
Ha. I had imagined that in my first sixty years that I'd seen more than my fair share of this great green globe. And it was good. Little did I realize upon meeting my smiling Sunshine State perpetual motion machine (below) that my travel time had but begun. To this day, we both agree that we met just in time to spend the rest of our forever together. After a really forgettable run of loser men and loser women in our recent pasts, we both had pretty much said “Thanks, but no thanks! Never again!” But a few days after we met we both realized that our chemistry was near perfect and far better than it had ever been before. We both agree: Our lives have become so thoroughly intertwined over the past three years that sometimes--no, at ALL times--it is hard to even remember we had pasts other than that spent with each other.
We both love to travel. We both love animals. We both love sports cars. We both write. We both work out. We both ride bikes. We both prefer the simple side of life. We both are minimalists. We both are Spartans. We both are veggies. We both get behind what we believe in. Although articulate and thoughtful in her responses, Michelle prefers by far to listen to others and learn through them. Refreshing.
Excuse me for that little rhapsody; just drifting a bit. Some of you comment bye 'n bye and ask me to reveal a little about Michelle, so there it is--just a little.
Michelle: Norway, 2012