"High" Society

  The last few months have been interesting to say the least. The heat is coming back and the temperature is steadily creeping up towards the triple digits. The weathermen are calling for 104 by Saturday. Brutal. Anyway, enough about the weather.

  Last time I posted I told you about how I was deceived by a hot hooker named Jamie.  A lesson in life that came rather cheap. After meeting her and spending the evening drinking up a storm, I had to see her again. Just to hang out of course.  As I said before, buying it takes the sport out of it.

  So, it took me all of 18 hours to call her. My intrigue had spiked and I wanted to get to know her more. I mean who can say that they're friends with a hooker? I had to collect on that distinction.

  We met for drinks and nachos in Plano. I was a little leery about this meeting. Curious on if she would try to sell her self again or if it would just be awkward given the circumstances surrounding the end of our first encounter. My concerns were for nothing. Our evening went great, she was as rad as the night before. As we were leaving she tells me she has a friend named Lisa (who is also in her line of work) that I need to meet. So we set a date for later in the week to continue building on this new found friendship.

  Upon meeting meeting Lisa, I was blown away. She's absolutely stunning. A kind of beauty you only see in magazines pushing designer labels. Much to my relief, she's got a personality to match. My initial thought was, this girl has to make a lot of fuckin money... She does.

  The evening went well and I end up partying with these chicks a couple times a week. Going downtown with them as they stalk the crowds for unsuspecting, or suspecting older wealthy gentlemen. They're professionals, and it shows.

  Now some might think that hanging around a couple of prostitutes wouldn't be they're ideal evening out. Think again my friends. There are perks to showing up at crowded place with two hot chicks at your side. Example A is, every hot girl with low self esteem in the place is looking at me wondering why? An easy in, as they're already curious. Work with what you got.

  Good times are being had all over the metroplex with my new friends. They inform me of a rooftop pool party they will be attending Downtown and ask me if I want to go... Duh.

  The party is to be held at a high end midrise. Luxury condos set in the heart of Uptown. Sweet. Prior to meeting up with them, they tell me I should dress accordingly. Accordingly? I wonder.. Apparently we're gonna go party with a bunch of Dallas' fancy pants. Not too enthused about having to dress up.

  With a few hours to kill before I meet up with them, I find myself anxious. Pacing the floors almost giddy with anticipation of mixing it up with some of the Dallas elites. So in true Jeff Kaufman style I get a head start on drinks. Placing phone calls to my friends, bragging up my night to come, chugging beers... When it comes time to get ready, I find myself shitfaced. Really no surprise there but booze does have an effect on my decision making abilities...

   Time to get ready. I'm supposed to be fancy pantsed when I meet up with the ladies but the Budweiser is telling me not to. I settle on a pair of jeans, cowboy boots and a super sweet white tee with a bitchin red, white and blue recycle symbol across the chest. I'm feelin good about this and head out.

  I show up at Jamie's condo, her and Lisa just shake their heads. "That's dressing appropriately?" They say, I tell them yeah, these fuckin boots cost me a couple hundred bucks! That's fancy... They're not impressed but love me by now so away we go.

  We hop off the train a couple blocks from the party. The ladies found it necessary to hit their flask while we were in transit to try and "catch up" to me. Good luck I thought. We stop at the corner market, I need smokes and I'm assuming beer. Chances are the fancy pants wont be doling out 12 ounce Budweiser cans. A case should be enough I think, as we set back out toward the place.

  As we enter the building I'm amazed at how nice the lobby is. Artwork surrounds us with heavily lacquered, real wood finishes from floor to ceiling. I'm impressed. We find the elevator and head up to the pool deck. Not quite on the top but about 10 stories up. Rad.

  The entrance to the pool deck is blocked by a smug, balding little man. Turns out this party is invite only. Oh how I feel special.

  The dude looks at the invite, then looks at me and shakes his head. The invite is a plus one only... They didn't tell me this. I'm thinking for a moment I'm gonna have to leave. The ladies come to my defense and try to convince the guy to just let me in, no one will know the difference they tell him. He's not budging. He looks to me and says "This guy looks like a cop." A cop! I blurt out. You gotta be shittin me! Little does this guy know, I'm standing with two hookers and have an utter disdain for any sort of authority. Not quite cop material. After a few minutes of arguing back and forth, I end up offering him twenty bucks to let me in and he agrees.. Hell of a deal.

  Strolling out onto the pool deck, Im walking with a swagger only capable with cowboy boots on. Picture it, 6 and half foot tall rube in jeans and recycle logo tee, carrying a case of cheap domestic like a brief case. With two beautiful women  in tow at a party full of your standard business types.. Winner.

  To my left is a fully stocked and free bar. Rad. I head that way to fetch a pail of ice for my beer. The tender working it playfully heckles me and hooks it up.  As I settle in to fully assess what I'm working with here I see why the door guy would be reluctant to let a "cop" into the place. There were literally piles of cocaine on every table. Free to the masses. All I could think about is how much money was sitting there just waiting to be blown away by a stiff gust of wind... Luckily for the supplier, the breezes were calm this evening. 

  My hooker friends spotted the piles right away. Without so much as an "I'll be over here" they jettisoned towards the coke like it was a cure for cancer and they were stricken with pancreatic. Are they coke heads? No. But they are savvy, "self employed" business women who know when to take advantage of a freebie.

  Sticking close to the bar, bullshittin with the bartender, I'm engaged by the coked out people lookin for another drink. I meet a wide variety of folks, most don't live there, but they work with the guy who threw the party.

  They like to talk business. Stocks, futures, derivatives... I really don't know much about those, but I do read the Huffington Post enough to know the latest scandals regarding those areas and how it plays into our political spectrum. I'm fitting in nicely, surprisingly.

  Chatting it upwith the party goers, I'm watching my friends work the party. From what I gather, no one there knows they are predatory hookers. It's funny watching these girls work. Poor bastards with they're pleated  slacks think these ladies are interested in something more than a "business" proposition.  I know the feeling..

   To my right, I see a guy walk in that looks more out of place than I do. He's in white sweats, a white hoody with sideways ball cap on. Most the people there start to cheer... Drug dealer... He pulls from his pocket a giant bag full of what appears to be press form Ecstasy. Booya.

  He's making his rounds handing out tabs to everyone. He makes his way towards me and of course, my hand is outstretched... An even ten in my palm, I'm amazed. That's a hundred bucks street value. I'm not about to complain. 

  Watching virtually everyone popping these tabs I cant help but think, in about 20 minutes... This place is gonna get weird... True to form, I partake as well. Reluctant to ride with two like everyone should, I take one to gauge the potency. High end partiers usually party with high end equipment... I was correct.

   As the euphoric feeling started to take hold, I could see my friends across the pool starting to lose interest in their hustle. Their giddy grins and the motion in their hips assured me that they were now on the ride too. As were most people there.

   With the party on cloud nine and the business types starting to giggle uncontrollably, the music was suddenly louder and the party goers were starting to shed clothing. Which is to be expected. A good MDMA ride will raise your body temperature considerably. Stay thirsty my friends.

  It could of been 5 minutes, maybe an hour into the ride, I don't know, when a couple of girls I was talking to at the bar area decided it would be a good idea to go swimming. Sans clothing. Their argument was valid. Nobody was utilizing this giant pool and it would probably feel great. They had a point. They tried to talk me into going in with them, but I countered with "Nobody wants to see a fat guy naked" and "I'm a grower not a shower, I dont want to embarrass myself"... Met with heavy laughter of course, they proceed... Again, no complaints.

  From that point on, time was not an issue. Everybody around was so into whatever they were doing and or trying to do, none of us noticed the sun starting to come up. Knowing that daybreak was a good time to call it a night, me and my hooker friends head back. 

  Riding the train, we're finishing off Jamie's flask and giggling like prom dates. I'm looking forward to the cache of booze these ladies stock to help hit the brakes on this ride.

  Back at Jamie's condo, we climb the stairs and they both start to look dispirited and down. The ride is coming to end for them and they want more... Luckily for them, and me, I've still got tabs... Two apiece for each of us with a renewed sense of impending euphoria we tackle her liqueur cabinet. 

  With Lisa's iPod on random we're met with an array of different music that cause the ladies to fuckin freak out, start jumping up and down like 12 year olds, just to start slow dancing with each other upon the next song.

  After back to back George Michael tracks, the ladies are treated with some Sarah McLaughlin. When they proceed to start deep kissing one another while playfully tugging at one each others clothes... Before I know what's going on here, they both have their shirts off, twirling them around their heads, like a couple of lesbian gypsies at a Lilith Fair...

  Content with my view and surroundings, I sip on my booze and cant help but laugh to myself... In the midst of another passionate kiss between the two of them, they stop, look towards me, and make their way towards the kitchen where I stand...

  From here I'll spare you the details but leave you with a bit of advice.

  When you need a job done right, call a professional.

  Better yet, befriend the professional and acquire their skill for free...

 




 

 






 

The Value of Perception.

"Life is a succession of lessons that must be lived to be understood" ~ Helen Keller

  An interesting quote from a woman who was deaf and blind. Hindsight leaves me feeling not far from both sometimes.

  Knowing that my one and only goal for the evening is to get obscenely drunk, I call my local taxi to haul me off to a watering hole. No sense in driving there when I know damn well that I'll have no business navigating a two ton manslaughter charge down the road by the time the night is through. I can be responsible sometimes.

  This evenings destination is a place called the Fillmore. Its located in "Historic Downtown Plano".  "Historic" is code word for "Lame". But! It's a nice bar and it gets a pretty diverse crowd every evening. Why not, right?

  With Happy Hour ending, most of the early crowd is filing out so there's ample seating at the bar. The tenders  looked rushed with multiple people paying their tabs and food orders coming up. Patience is a must at these times. Dont wave or yell to your barkeep, this will piss them off. They see you and will be with you when they can.

  Locally this place is known for their wide variety of beer and whiskey. It labels itself an Irish/English bar. Whatever that means... Budweiser only comes in bottles (which I hate) and dont dare ask for a shot of Rumplminze here. Their snooty refined taste in alcohol will leave you with poor service if they deem you unworthy. Found that out through trial and error... Not tonight though! Im ordering up a locally brewed wheat beer made in McKinney and what ever shot under 10 bucks my bartender recommends.

  Yuck and Yuck! This is gonna be tough. Kill the shot because it was the easier one and the beer seemed to taste great after having some 20 years of oak flavored fermentation on my pallet... With that over with, I go for a Stella. Its far from my favorite but it will do in a pinch. If I plan on consuming beer all night these thick beers will never do.

  After many beers and another terrible shot my bartender talked me into, I'm getting bored.  The place is filling up with the type of people I hate. Spiky hairdos, fake tans and WAY to much cologne. Lets not forget the types they're after, blond highlights, fake tans and a camera handy so they can add to the nine hundred pictures they already have on Facebook. Irritated, I tell myself that if one more of these dumb bitches poses with a "kissey face, sideways peace sign" I'm outta here... Ten minutes later I'm heading for the door.

  It turns out the best part about the Fillmore is that it's a stones throw away from the DART.  An energy efficient means of travel on the cheap, straight to downtown! A quick 30 minute ride and I have arrived!

  I always anticipate trouble when I head down here. Almost everyday someone is either getting shot, stabbed, beat within an inch of their life, raped or robbed. The mean streets of Dallas. I like it.

  Steering clear of the club scenes and the trendy pubs I head to the neighborhood of Deep Ellum. Deep Ellum is a little rough. This area of town consists of old warehouses converted into residential lofts, rad mexican food and more rundown shithole bars per capita than any other place in Dallas... Perfect.

  Don't get me wrong, Deep Ellum has its fair share of nice and respectable places but, they cant all be the new hip thing.

  I see a place called the Angry Dog. Has to be interesting at the least. Again, why not... Through the door and I'm hit with the typical tavern smell. Greasy food, cigarettes and beer spilled last week. Jukebox volume is tolerable and it's not packed. It is still early for the downtown area yet but I have a feeling this place isnt gonna be picking up anytime soon.

  A couple of dirtbags anchor the head of the bartop, followed by a long line of empty stools toward the can. It's dark but the neon lighting casts that familiar tavern hue. At the far end of the empty line of stools, sits an incredibly pretty woman. I head that direction.

  Pull up a stool, three down from hers and get a beer. Test the waters on their shot selection and settle on a Jager, double. Furtively glancing towards the pretty girl, while I aimlessly check my phone for the texts/emails/facebook updates that I know aren't there, I feel lame... Fuck it. Time to engage.

  Much to my surprise she initiates conversation first. A simple "Are you from around here?". I grin and say no, not even close... You? Local she tells me. I follow with a nod of approval trying to read her, she follows up with a "tell me about home." as she closes the gap to one stool.

  I set in with Eugene Oregon... You ever been there?  She laughs and says no. I follow with my standard next question. Do you know where Oregon is? Her smile vanishes. "Of course I know where Oregon is! North of California and west of Idaho!"  I apologize and tell her that she'd be surprised how little, people I run into down here actually know their map. She's not, and then goes into a 10 minute tirade on everything from stupid people to politics and the utter disgust she has for the stupid people ruining the political forum. I'm impressed and offer to buy her next round.

  When the bartender came back around I went to order hers but I was cut off by her ordering for the both of us. "Give this guy another double on my tab and put a Cosmo on his."  She looks back over and smiles. Is this girl for real? Intrigue is spiking.

  We carry on with great conversation and more and more drinks. Time flies by as I get informed on Deep Ellum's history and this girls incredible stories of the shit she's gotten herself into. She's articulate, intelligent and getting prettier by the minute. Have I hit the Jackpot? I'm thinking so.

  "One more round!" she calls out as she throws her head back and sighs. She levels here stare at me and says its late.  I agree and ask her if she's calling it a night. She is. She then asks me if I mind walking her home. She tells me she lives close and it would make her feel safer if she had a little protection on her short walk home.

  No wasn't even an option... I play it cool and pay my tab. We finish our last round and get up to make our way through a maze of people at the bar... When the hell did it get so packed in here? Obviously the attendance level was beyond any care I had at the time.

  We get outside and head west towards her place. She's pointing out old places that used to be "theee" place to be. I try to follow along and absorb the information but I cant help but be presumptuous. Where is this gonna end up? Will I end up spending the night with this woman? Am I reading this right? When it comes to batting average, I've been wrong about a situation like this WAY more than I've been right, so humility is key right now.

  As we arrive outside her place I realize I never got her name. I ask it and she laughs out loud. "Jamie!" She says. Yours is Jeff Kaufman. I read it off of the receipt you signed... Impressed again... She asks me if I'd like to come up for a drink... I'd love to...

 "I only have Vodka and Dr Pepper." She says as we climb the stairs to her apartment. "Do they mix well?" I ask.  She laughs, damn near hysterically... Im a little confused. 

  Her apartment was beautiful. It looked straight of a magazine. Smelled amazing and had an incredible kitchen area. Also... A wonderful mini bar area where she quickly goes to work on two cosmos. What does this girl do for a job I wonder?

  Two drinks in hand she approaches and hands me mine. Looking around, about to comment on how tasteful her place is, she says to me "My rate is"... A quick glance and a confused look... "Your rate?' I say...

  It's amazing how fast your mind processes information. Even given an extreme amount of  alcohol. I knew what she was about to say. The events of the evening suddenly took on a whole new meaning... I was the prey... And she was a hooker...

  Humility. An uncontrollable purse to my lips and a look to the side, I decline her "fee". She tries to reason by saying "Just consider it a monetary donation for our time spent together..."

  Well, that would take the sport out of it all wouldn't it? I say... She smiles, nods, sips her drink and digs around in her purse for her "business" card... Her name, number and her website...

  My honesty comes out and I tell her that I'm a little disappointed but I respect her and what she does for a living. I'd be happy to call her next time I'm in the hood but only for drinks. She's into that and we finish ours with recollections of funny shit that happened earlier.

  On my way back to the train I stopped by the Angry Dog for another shot. The bartender saw me and laughed. He knew the whole time and didn't give me a heads up. Our banter back and fourth consisted of a "Well, now you know" kind of theme... Yes... Now I know.

 
"Life is a succession of lessons that must be lived to be understood" ~ Helen Keller

When giving up becomes an option...

  Pacing the floors on a blustery evening, boredom getting the best of me. Pissed about the cold. Pissed about politics. Pissed about being pissed about cold and politics. Gotta get outta the house.

  The past couple of days I drove past a place called Humperdinks. The sign says "Sports Bar" and "Home of the Nacho Fries"... Nacho fries? Bet yer ass I'm gonna try that.

  Already getting stoked about a new and "exotic" item to eat, I feel my mood lighten considerably. Nod to myself and think "See, you're just not a domesticated animal."  Feels good to be on the prowl.

 The bar was dark. Expansive. Not too loud. Had a hint of tobacco smoke and urinal cake upon entering.
Not a big crowd, but a few smaller crowds tucked into the corners. The bar top was empty. Dude behind the bar in his mid twenties watching ESPN, waiting for a customer.

  Pull up a chair and order my standard domestic brew. Being ever so engaging I try to spark a conversation with the bar keep. He's an idiot. A dumb jock type who was cool in high school yet never learned anything outside of first and tens. This is an uncomfortable position for me, usually you can count on the tender to keep you company while you take down the first few, alone. Not so in this situation.

  So as we silently watch the reruns of Sportscenter together, I'm missing my wingman, Rex. Rex was a "Helluvatime". Simply one of the greatest humans to walk the earth. Many of those miles he walked, we walked together. Rex had a thing for Tequila. I hate Tequila. So for memories sake I tell the keep to give me two shots. One with salt, one with out. Salts for me, Rex didn't need the salt. I take the saltless down and struggle. Lime. Compose myself. Salted next. Lime. In serious trouble of exiting the 12 dollars worth of Tequila I just ingested, I breathe deep. Exhale slowly... Compose myself... Need a smoke.

  I get off my stool and put on my jacket. Bartender is confused and starts to ring me up.  I say "No no, im just stepping out for a smoke." He says "You can smoke in here." I counter with, "Do you Smoke?"  "NO!" with a disgusted look he tells me. "Good for you, I'm doing you a favor." Confusion is written across his face like a name tag. Before I step outside I order up some of them "Nacho Fries". He informs me that the kitchen is closed... You're shittin me right? Not to worry, I'll be right back I tell him.

  Outside in frigid air, watching the traffic go by, I hate this place. Considering heading home after a listless beginning to this evening, I decide to plot my next move from inside. Decisions are better made while comfortably warm.

  Coming back inside, dead set on leaving. I see a pair of blondes shooting pool. Renewed interest in this place in an instant. Where were these two when I showed up? Never mind that, I wasn't looking for a reason other than "Nacho Fries" to be here when I first arrived. Its an easy miss.

  Back to the bar for a refill, beer only this time. I start in on the "How do I approach these to ladies correctly" march. It's always a tough call. Regardless of attraction, if they want to be left alone, or play that card, you're advances will be seen as a nuisance.

  I lead in with the "Hey wow! You're pretty good!" bullshit. Total sarcasm behind my tone. They catch it and laugh along.
  They're nice. Funny and one is quite attractive. This is going well so I offer to buy drinks. Tequila all around! (For you Rex) No struggle with my shot, they enjoyed theirs.

 They feel the need to hit the jukebox. My request for some Dwight Yoakam is met with laughter. I was serious... So they weren't into country, no big deal. Lil Wayne it is, mixed in with some other shit I've never heard... Feeling dated at this point, I try to remember when the last time I had watched MTV was? Couldn't... Do people still watch MTV? I don't know these answers. Fuck it.

  My turn to rack, I proceed in telling these ladies I'm terrible at pool. Which is true. I make up reasons like "I'm too tall to play pool." and "I was terrible at geometry." Laughter again. Confidence in your short comings is never a bad thing.

  Blasting balls around the table, more drinks and more terrible music, I'm really enjoying myself until... She walks in...

  Now She, is gonna take a little bit of back story to explain......

  Last spring when I first arrived here in the DFW I was bouncing around, as far as different areas of the metroplex. Uptown, Downtown and the Outskirts. I found myself heading back to the outskirts more and more. The suburb was called Sachse. A couple of bars that were suited toward the "biker" crowd around here. I felt akin to the place because there were dirtbags everywhere. I get along with dirtbags really well.

  I became friends with the owner of the best bar out there. She's funny, got a lot of money but woefully unattractive. Not that I'm quick to judge or place myself on a pedestal, but I wouldn't have had sexual relations with this woman on my worst day. Knowing damn well that if I did, I would sink even lower in my own self pity and consider punching my own ticket...

  With that said, our friendship continues to prosper. I'm invited to events that she puts on, such as the "White Trash Beer Bash". And one of my favorites, the "Trash Can Punch". I'm making friends quick, and she just so happens to be friends with a redheaded 6 footer that I'd love to get filthy with. All of that aside.

  Late one evening she sends me a text. Too drunk to drive and needs a ride. No problem, a friend needs my assistance, I'm there.

 Pick her up from her own bar and she wants to head to another... I'm reluctant at first but she tells me the 6 footer will be there. Sold.

  We show up at the bar, everyone she usually hangsout with is there. The short version of her crowd is 2 douche bags, a skank and a hot chick.  The hot chick is the 6 footer.

  The bar we went to is awesome. Its early summer by this point and hot as hell still at 12am. We're on a patio type area that had fans and a misting spray engulfing us. Conversation is good and everyone is having fun.

  Out of my normal routine I keep it conservative, two beers and a shot. I've got to work the next day and need to be on site at sunrise. "She" is wasted. The bar is closing and our waiter comes around with the ticket. "She" tosses it towards me, I read it, 112 dollars... I toss it back. I simply tell her I'm not buying all these drinks. She's instantly pissed. 2 douche bags and a skank give me questioning stares... Hot chick falls in rank and asks me why I'm not gonna pay... Is the fix in? Am I being duped? I think so. I politely tell them to "fuck off" buy their own goddamn drinks and get up to leave.

  She comes up quick with her card, pays for everyone else and the scene is just awkward... The "friends" I've been making are no "friends" at all.

  The double douche bags, skank and a hot chick file out quickly. I'm stuck with "She" and a ride home that I dread providing.

  No words are uttered heading to her house, which is gigantic. Bitch is rich... "She" is, by all accounts passed out. Shaking my head, feeling sorry for myself I have to peel her out of my truck and damn near carry her into her house. Once we breach the doorway, "She" comes alive! Starts tearing at my clothing, grabbing all over, telling me "She sees the look in my eyes!"... What fucking look?!!!I'm literally fighting for my life and or dignity. I'm hand slapping her hands off of me while trying to make a break for the door.

  Bitch is big. Like real big. Has a hold of me and isn't letting go. Suddenly, in my fury of hand slaps she tackles me to the couch.. Having been a wrestler in school, instinct kicked in. I'm going down, shits getting real, as soon as my back hits the couch I roll to my right and "She" is dumped to the floor.

 I spring up off the floor with my dignity clutched close to my chest and run! I'm running back to my truck, a thousand thoughts racing through my head... WHY! WHY! I keep asking myself... Everything was golden. Making new friends, hot chick in the crowd... Attempted clowning at the bar, and now this...

 Having successfully eluded the rapey bar owner, driving like a felon in a stolen car I hit the freeway. Calming down, the weight of the events crushing down around me. I'm overwhelmed. Cant fucking believe that just happened... To top it off, I'm heading northbound and a wicked thunderstorm is on the horizon. Wicked lightning strikes dance across the sky. So fitting. Leave an utter disaster, just to drive right towards another...

  Back story summed up...

  Two douche bags bring up the rear, proceeded by the skank and the hot chick. Her whole crew.

  Panic. We make eye contact and immediately "She" charges my way. You mother fucker! this and that. You stuck me with your tab! blah blah blah. You got me drunk and tried to FUCK me!

  Oh no she didn't.

  Never being one for a loss of words, nor being ill-equipped to defend myself, I'm completely and utterly speechless. I look to the two blonds Ive been mingling with they're giving me their unabated looks of disgust.

  Can you blame them? Crazy ugly just roles in and owns the dude who was trying to get to know them?

  Ouch. Ruthless. Total bitch.

  In what seemed like one motion, I grab for my wallet and throw the tender a fifty. No change needed, for I'm redefining "B Line" for the door.

  Son of bitch! Once again, the felon in a stolen car, I'm on the freeway. Northbound. No thunderstorm to speak of but goddammit.

  A metropolis of almost 7 million people. A good 30 miles away from her bar. Just wanting these "Nacho Fries"... Such is my luck.


 

Not so Super Market

  Being dangerously low on food and beer, a supermarket run was needed. Just so you know, I HATE the super market. No one single reason I can put my finger on. I think it's just the whole routine of politely shopping around the people in your way. Watching the screaming kids banter back and forth while their mother somehow ignores them. The conversations over heard between couples. It all drives me nuts. I want to be in and out. No b.s. Food. Check. Beer. Check. I'm out. Never really works out that way.
  This last trip I took was going remarkably well. Had almost all my items in under ten minutes. I needed grapes and peas and I was done.
  Feeling good about getting out of there, heading for the produce, I'm met by the most hateful look I've seen since coming to Texas. And I've seen a quite few. The look came from a small Middle Eastern man. He was in his traditional garb that led me to believe he was Muslim of some variant. Instantly on the offensive, I have to glare back. Towering about a foot over this guy, and probably having a hundred pounds on him, I assume I can smash him.
  In an instant he heads down the next available aisle and I carry on towards the produce. Anger subsides to confusion as I wonder WTF could I have done to warrant this hateful look. Whatever. I found the grapes, need peas and I'm out.
  I checked out uneventfully, didn't see the angry Arab again. Headed to my pick up. Loading the groceries into the back of my truck I glance down and see that I'm wearing one of my favorite shirts and realize what the angry mans problem was.
  The shirt that I have on pays homage to my family's Jewish roots. Its a simple blue T with the star of David and a Superman emblem in the middle. SuperJew if you will. Now I see why he felt the need to mean mug me.... Fucking racist.

Palin Project 09!

   GREAT NEWS! The one and only Sarah "Barracuda" Palin will be coming to my neighborhood! That's right folks the infamous "Going Rogue" book tour is heading for Dallas! I will have the opportunity to get my very own copy of  Going Rogue personally signed by Mizz Mavericky herself!


OR.....


I can go rogue and cause a HUGE distraction for what I'm sure will be a well recieved get together for the gun toting hockey moms of the north Dallas area...

Believe it or not, I'm opting for door number 2.

Now, what would be the best plan of attack? I've already ruled out bomb threat. Seeings how that's a federal offense and would cost me precious years of my life... I thought about taking a play from the angry GOP's playbook and show up armed... That could get me shot here in the Great State of Texas. No thanks.
The only real plausible idea I have is to use the Texan pride. It is quite impressive. It's an all go, no quit kind of attitude that has zero tolerance for likes of any weak hearted types. So my idea, in rough form will be to stand in front of Legacy Books and simply wear a sign that reads. "TEXANS HATE QUITTERS".  As we all know Sarah Barracuda quit just over halfway through her first term as Governor of the shithole known as Alaska... The Texan populace would agree and be torn between their beloved maverick and the facts. Should get interesting.

I have til December 4th to come up with the master plan. Any and all advice on how to make this more awesome would be much appreciated. Wish me luck. 

Race card? I say race baiting.

  So recently in the media there has been a lot of talk about how the opposition to our President is racially motivated. We have our nations first black President. He has a progressive agenda. The Republicans are in a deep minority. This seems like cause and effect to me.

  Now we all know what the Republican party was known best for throughout the Bush administration. Fear mongering. Conjuring up a fear of the "Could happen" to pass legaslation. "We have to give corporations welfare to ensure they can still afford to employ our constituents", "We have to pass the the Patriot Act to ensure no terrorist cells can exist in America", and lets not forget "We have to invade Iraq because they have WMD's that theaten our freedom".  All. Bull. Shit.

  The playbook hasn't changed folks. The same fear of what "could happen" is being used to stop or slow the progressive agenda that the public voted in to office.

  I do not see this type of political pandering as racist. I see it as survivalist.

  This is the only way Republicans know how to try and keep their campaign contributions flowing in. Stand up against whats best for the people by convincing the people they're being robbed of their "Freedoms".

  Being told by your elected official that your constitutional rights are being infringed upon is a scary thing. These people that buy into it have a legitimate right to be afraid. They trust these politicians. They look to them for comfort, for strength. In return they're lied to with corporate talking points, drummed up with only one aspect in mind. Save the corporation money.

  With the fear of "privileges" being stolen away, the media steps in and stokes the flames. "Is it a race issue?" they say... Well, it is now.

  What the media has done is taken away the legitimate argument and replaced it with a black and white issue.
I'm not going to deny the heavy racial undertones that dominate the lunatic right wing fringe. It's there, and a growing threat. But! This is classic a "Taking your eye off the ball" situation. This is exactly what the Republicans want. The rest of the country debating whether it's a race issue or not, while real progressive legislation gets swept under the rug.

  Lets not, as a nation, get swept up in a race debate. Lets keep the issues on the table and try to bring about real reform. "Change we can believe in" was the mantra. And it still is.

  With a heavily lopsided majority in Congress these goals of the X, XY and Y generations are still achievable. Keep in mind that the under 35 crowd got out and voted in our President. We of these "jilted" generations are on the front lines in this battle to secure "our" best interests. Not only for us but your kids, or your kids to be. We have an obligation to our future generations to uphold. Our preceding generation did not do it for us. So lets take a history lesson and do the right thing.

  Tell your friends, your family, your employer that you're above the racial divide. Tell anyone who will listen that security comes from peace of mind, not partisan politics. This is America. Your voice and vote are bigger than any special interest group or politician. Stand up and speak out for what you know is right. Speak out for what you want! Speak out for the people who are afraid to!

  We need to take care of each other. Stand beside one another. Not as Republicans or Democrats. Not as Black, white, yellow or red. But as citizens of this, the richest nation of all history. The nation of rights and well being. The Nation of hope and opportunity. The nation of rational thought and decision... The United States of America. Our home sweet home.


 

Freedom from Religion.

 Its a terribly sad time here in the "Great State of Texas". As of this school year it is required that ALL school districts implement the bible in their curriculum. That's right, required.

 Now I fully understand that the bible means everything to some and I'm fine with that. That's your choice and you have the freedom to practice whatever religion you wish. So long as it abides by local and federal laws. I.e. Separation of church and state, no human sacrifices and so on.

 First I'd like to lay down some statistics for the area I live in. Plano, Tx Plano, is roughly 65 percent white folks, most of them your standard christian of some variant.  Another 6% are Latino, 4% black. You can group them into some christian group as well. From there the lines get really blurry. Plano being an international hub for the tech industry, brings in people from all over the world. For instance, there are said to be 95 spoken languages in Plano alone. 95! How many of you even knew there was that many languages? Not me. So it goes without saying that there are many different religions that follow those many different cultures.

 Most of these families that came here to America have children in school. Out of the 65,000 kids in the Plano ISD, only 60 percent of them are to be considered of christian faith. So what that means is just under 30,000 kids will be forced to be indoctrinated with the christian religion in Plano alone! It's not like these kids are godless or without faith. There is a heavy Muslim presence in this community as well as Hindu, Buddihst and lets not leave out my favorites, the Jews.

 "Whats the big deal?"  "Jesus Christ saved my life!"  "Everyone should be converted to Christ!"
Battle cries from the idiots that surround me. These statements coming from the same people that didn't want their children to hear a black president speak of achieving higher education by staying in school. The same group of people who call a Liberal House and Senate Socialist and Communist, all for wanting to provide these low income Foxophiles with affordable heath coverage. Damn them for wanting to heal the sick!

 They're missing the point. America is about freedom. The same freedom to practice their religion is the same freedom they're infringing upon. By forcing students to read from and be graded upon their definition of the christian faith, they are in direct violation of Separation between Church and State laws. With that said, I think that the Supreme Court needs to step in to protect our citizens rights and put a stop to this. Keep in mind this is a public school system I'm speaking of. Funded by federal dollars and subject to the same principles of our Constitution. If they are non-compliant, then they should lose all federal funding.

 Harsh punishment? I don't think so. Simply ask yourself this. If your children were required to read from the Koran everyday in school, how would you feel? It's no different. This is not a nation founded on christian fundamentals. It's a nation founded on individual freedoms. Freedom of speech, the right to bare arms, freedom of religion... Freedom of religion is and should always be given the same respect as freedom from religion. In our society it is illegal for a government run institution to force any ideological beliefs upon any citizen. With that in mind...

I'll leave you with this.

The government of the United States is in no sense founded on the Christian Religion.” ~ George Washington

"This would be the best of all possible worlds, if there were no religion in it." ~ John Adams

“I do not find in Christianity one redeeming feature. Religions are all alike – founded upon fables and mythologies.” ~ Thomas Jefferson

“The Bible is not my book, nor Christianity my religion.” ~ Abraham Lincoln

“A just government has no need for the clergy or the church. Religious bondage shackles and debilitates the mind and unfits it for every noble enterprise.” ~ James Madison

"I have seldom met an intelligent person whose views were not narrowed and distorted by religion." ~ James Buchanan

"I do not believe in the divinity of Christ, and there are many other of the postulates of the orthodox creed to which I cannot subscribe." ~ William Howard Taft


Our Founding Fathers.