Master of the Universe

Strip Club Stumble Drunk.
Professional type, dressed casual.
Khakis, sweater, loafers.
Master of his domain on a stroll.
Bangs on the bell, our fates are sealed.
Rooms are 89.
Too much.
79.
Too much.
Now 10 dollars is worth debate.
2 drinks, half a lap dance.
But I can't/won't provide what they can.
Says 50, he can get it online.
I invite him to try.
For 30 minutes he plays on his phone.
He is the Master for a reason.
Finally comes back, "what can you do for me?"
77
Fine.
He takes his keys and finds the elevators.
The Master wins again.

The Price of World Domination? 25 Cents.

Yesterday while shopping at the Salvation Army I found this book wedged between Tom Clancy thrillers and teenage romance novels. 

Yes, much like finding the Ark of the Covenant packed amongst crates in Washington, DC I discovered this ancient tome (publish date 1985) which will allow me to unleash powers such as mind reading, hypnosis, and controlling; along with some sweet fighting moves and breathing exercises.
Is the world ready to be dominated by Allen Tesch?
If you ask me, it has been ready for too long.
But do not worry fellow bloggers, you have nothing to fear. 
I will remember you all as I sit on my throne.

Red Thunder

I slowly pull the blade across my face and the infant Red Thunder screams.
It's getting to be winter again, and he wants out.
Red Thunder.
Thick, curly, burgundy. 
With the blue eyes and brown hair the effect is disconcerting. 
Like a mongrel dog with two-colored eyes.
Men fear it. (You can't trust a man with such confused genetics.  He could be hiding anything in there, a switchblade, a tazer, or simply a bottle of scotch)
The women adore it. (For many of the same reasons)
But I fear the New Regime at work, and doubt Red Thunder would pass a background check.
So I keep him hidden, my love and expression taking a backseat to eating.
Just another victim of the Oppressive Culture.
Maybe I should picket.

Now, For Some Penis Levity

Alas, yesterday I seemingly broke one of my rules, which has multiple parts:
A)Don't talk about politics
B)With strangers/audience
C)Online

Not that I got any flaming mean comments, they were more of the "I'm going to be polite and comment back since he commented on my post.  But if the blood from my tongue happens to drip into this reply, so be it." 
I'm not here to make fun of those people.
I do it every time someone has a negative post about killing prostitutes. 

But anyway, I discovered something shocking today.  We all remember/know this iconic cover shot from Rolling Stone, right?

Kinda sweet, right?  A drug addled past his prime rock and roller lovingly hanging on his...whatever. 

But take a look.  No, really, take a closer look.

I'll give you a few seconds. 

Now feast your eyes on this:

Now, I'm not saying Yoko Ono had a penis or anything, but I'm sorta heavily suggesting it. 
Am I the first person to notice this?  My complete lack of investigation has shown that:  Yes, yes I am. 
So there you guys go.
You are now part of the scoop of the century.
Can you un-see this now?

Occupy Mankato

As those of you who have intensely researched my background by reading my profile know, I live in the small town of Mankato, Minnesota.
(Home of the largest mass execution in American history, bitches)
And I'm sure all of you have heard of the #Occupy movement that has been spreading around the world.
(So I will spare the details and background)
Well, #Occupy has come to Mankato. 

It all happened last Friday, when I was going to cash my check from work.  (I know, I know, apparently there is some sort of prize for being the last company to get direct deposit)  But the point is that when I went to the ATM there was nothing going on outside. 
But in the time it took the machine to register a check with so many zeroes, the sidewalk outside my bank went from empty
To this:

They were dressed as rich people, with tuxedos and champagne glasses.  They also had some signs, but reading is for nerds so I didn't bother. 
So I thought "hey, maybe I could get a job with a company with direct deposit, or at the very least some free champagne."
But alas, they were not rich.  Hell, they didn't even have jobs themselves. 
And the champagne? 
Sparkling.  Freaking.  Cider. 

I would have stayed and found out where to subscribe to their newsletter, but I had fish to buy and my short attention span isn't going to just find new stimuli itself.

But as I drove off, I took another snapshot of my short experience with radicalism.

Like two drifting river tubes, lost in the current of life

Hey Ladies!

What did I do last night?  Oh, not much.
Put on a fire.
Read some Hemingway (For Whom the Bell Tolls)
and put some Tchaikovsky on the record player while I sipped some slow whiskey. 
(Two kinds, mixed.  It was confiscated from some guests at work.  It was already a little watered down, but not bad.  It was drank from the 20oz bottle I used to mix it with Coke)

Details.  It's always the details. 

Crossword Message

On Friday, they needed a 4 letter word for snatch.
On Monday, a three letter word that accompanies tat.
It's happened, finally.
I've lost it, it's gone.
The crosswords have joined the voices, speaking to me.
Or maybe some editor just needs to get fired.