I AM A BAD MAN THINKING EVIL THOUGHTS

It turns out that Hewlett Packard CEO Carly Fiorina is of the considered opinion that federal employees waste time by "watching porn all day long." Ms. Fiorina at present looks to be the Republicans' strongest buckaroo for the White House in 2016. Because how can you possibly go wrong with a hatchet-faced baboon who hates people?
Especially working stiffs.

I am not a federal worker, and I did not spend all day watching porn. Which is something I could have done -- Monday is always a day off, and what better to do than indulge one's lazy smut-filled side? -- but instead I spent most of the day researching stuff on the internet that actually interests me. Linguistic stuff.

I am really NOT in the market for a hovercraft and a doodlehorn.

I do not need porn, as I have an active and filthy mind.
My imagination provides me with fatty thighs.
Mmm, warm plump female gams.....
Everything I need.



My apartment mate just came home and without prompting advocated that constipated old folks should replace digestive aids with an apple and peanut butter; "they will poo, whoosh, no problem!"

Most women, like my apartment mate, never think of sex. They find it easier to contemplate apples (and peanut butter). The subject of "doodling", in their universe, is paramount. This is just a very wild guess.

Men think of serious things, in addition to bangity.

Explains why I don't have a girlfriend.

Too many serious things.



There are two or three people who hang around Portsmouth Square who would benefit from internet access. So that they could do what federal employees are alleged to, namely watch pornography. So enriching!
It would calm them down, while cheering them up, buckets.
The medication and cheap coffee aren't working.

One of them makes strange gangster gestures of his own devising. No one knows what they mean. The best guess is that they signify that he likes to contort. Next best: he is completely off his rocker.
He needs to be housed in an institution.
With internet access.

I was down there earlier, contemplating the mystery of nice curvy legs after finishing my pipe. One cannot smoke in city parks, so the pipe required wandering around Chinatown alleys trying to look innocent.
But I just couldn't get the fine huggable female lower appendages out of my mind. It did not help that in this weather many people wear stylish feminine shorts, which expose quite a bit of white, pink, ivory, peach, sandalwood-hued, or mahogany gamflesh.


On Polk Street even sprung butch men wear tight femmy hotpants, but it doesn't have the same effect.


The great thing about Portsmouth Square is that it will automatically put naughty bits entirely out of the mind. Gambling Cantonese oldsters, drugged-out former inmates, and loonies, do not provide an environment conducive of lascivity.

The gentleman with the bent gesticulation, as well as the the fellow who talks back at the newspaper, along with the flying man, provide plenty of visual stimulation that causes breasts, legs, peachy upper arms, finely sculpted knees, and curvy parts, to escape one's cerebellum.

No one can think naughty thoughts while worrying whether the berserk loonie will come any closer. Will he spill his beverage? Does he want to scream at pigeons? Is it likely that he will fixate on me as the only sane looking white person here, and try to make friends?

Do I need to hold onto a durian to keep this man away?

Maybe he just needs an apple and peanut butter.

It could be just a digestive issue.

All that pressure.



In my mind I am in comfy secluded room, which feels cooler because the blinds are drawn. There is a charming unclothed woman there with lots of dark silky hair. She has exceptionally warm and velvety thighs.

We are relaxed, and both smoking pipes.

There are fruits nearby.


I think we're discussing philosophy, but I'm not sure.
All those complicated German names.
They could be poets.



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