WILD OLD PEOPLE

A site I do not want to visit advertised itself on my computer, with a slogan indicating senile passion possibilities and a picture that showed a smiling younger hugely bosomed woman. Good lord. How does she feed herself? Something that big in certain departments needs two pound of raw meat every meal. What do investors really think of older male Americans? Did some entrepreneur convince them we run around slobbering over ambulatory watermelon plantations? I am offended! Enormously!

Nurse Ratchett, I am ready for my tea now.

Just wheel me out to the municipal garbage heap so that I may smoke my stogies without disturing members of generation dingbat; they're offended by tobacco. And they think of my kind as unrestrainedly hormonal and lust-filled. Besides ruining the planet and supporting al the wrong causes, our generation was responsible for 'I love Lucy', 'The Honey Mooners', and two decades of plastic and horrible music. All of which left us addled and sex-crazed.

One major reason to not click on that site is that inevitably it would lead to being robbed of my life savings by fully breasted Slavic women, fully breasted Japanese women, tottering Carol Dodaesque Filippinas, hot Mamba Latinas, and both French and Nordic arguably female persons without a shred of decency in their impossibly voluptuous bodies.

There's a scene in a Hong Kong movie where our hero, a short pudgy fellow, is slow dancing with a tall overly busty Shanghainese lady. That came to mind, as well as that time a friend married a girl from overseas who as soon as she arrived in the United States ran off into the great American outback and was never seen again.

One imagines his wife roaming the vast forests hunting down possums and beavers for dinner. She's dreamed about that all of her big-breasted life, growing up in the slums of Slovakoganggat, kicking tin cans and helpless tourists who strayed away from the group. Blood dripping down her jaws onto her overly generous frontage, trails of ichor gleaming eerily behind her in the permanent semi-dark.


Nurse Ratchett! Nurse Ratchett! I want my tea!


When I stepped outside for a smoke much earlier today a shaggy person, male, no breasts, staggered off the doorstep where he had been sleeping. Quite as feral as the ladies on those Eastern European websites, considerably less cannibalistic and dangerous. And very likely not at all interested in senior bachelors.

Red Virginia flake from Jeremy Reed. It's what all calm and not male enhancement pill crazed mature adults smoke. In a very nice Dublin & London Peterson long shank.

Nurse Ratchett? I do NOT need any valium today.
Nor any restraint devices.
Just tea.



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