I walked out the door to find a pair of pink eyeglasses laying on the
a brick planter on the sidewalk. Someone must have been sitting there
and left them behind. So, I took them inside to put in the lost and
found, but before I did I checked to see their strength.
I've been wearing readers for years now, but I need a prescription. When I put them on I couldn't believe how well I could see. You really don't realize just how blurry things are until you put on some specs that work, even if they're pink. So, after a week and nobody claiming them I boldly claimed them myself. I don't care what color they are except I did take a Sharpie and try to color them black which only lasted for another week before the ink had almost worn completely off.
What happened after that was an astounding example of just how prejudice people can be. Within a forty-eight hour period, three different gay men had approached me. After all, I live in a liberal town. What was I to expect?
It was early in the afternoon. I was sitting on a different planter than the one where I found the glasses. I sit there often when I don't have anything else to do. Suddenly, one of the members of the downtown clown parade decides he is going to come and sit down right next to me (literally) when there were plenty of other places and planters where he could have sat including the place where he usually posts up.
"Excuse me, but do you really feel the need to come up and sit down right next to someone you don't even have a rapport with?" I had never considered the guys sexual orientation. I just thought he was another weirdo who likes to wear a funny hat and clip on earrings. I'm just wearing pink eyeglasses which apparently made me seem approachable, very approachable.
"I can sit wherever I want", he proclaims, with a significantly gay sounding tone.
"You're worse than gay", I responded when his apparent gay lover shows up and says, "Yeah, we're gay. You have a problem with gay people", as he takes a seat right next to clown number one, and in between us.
"I have a problem with two of them right now! There are plenty of other places for you to sit, but as I said, you're worse than gay", I continued, "You're lucky I don't knock you back in this planter right now".
***They didn't know how to respond to the "worse than gay" comment. So, it just fell on deaf ears as it usually does. I started saying that about anything that was worse than what people who deem homosexuality worthy of death, or conversion. The better option to me is to keep it in your pants, but apparently a greasy homeless gay guy and a guy in a funny hat who wears clip on earrings are in love, and should not only be allowed to be open about it, but act as if downtown is more like a gay bar than a public place. Oy Vey!
Now, this is a frail and almost crippled nut job who I see frequently at the soup kitchen and on the streets, but I had no idea they were partners. Every now and then he'll say something ridiculous like he's going to be sworn in as a deputy sheriff in the morning... Or, he's having brain surgery next week... He's just a loose screw on the same daily shuffle I am in trying to stay fed and clean.
Rather than having the situation escalate to violence and me probably getting locked up for assault and battery, I decided to walk away from the situation as a fourth person, a student philanthropist shows up and sits down right next to them like the stooges they are.
"You know what? Don't let this happen again, but enjoy your pathetic lives", I said, and walked away.
There was a day and time when they would have been beaten to a pulp and nobody would have cared. But, this is a different day and age, and as I've said more than once, this is not a theocracy and we don't kill our gay people like they do in theocracies, but how about some manners?
So, I hit the bar instead.
The young woman working behind the bar was just finishing setting up, I was the first one in the door. I hadn't met her as this was her first happy hour shift to work.
As she is going back and forth, she stops in front of me and says, "Whew! I'm hot".
It was a near perfect 75 degrees out the first of Spring days after a long, cold winter for Georgia, including so much rainfall, the ducks were fighting over life preservers!
I didn't argue with her about her ambiguous statement because it would have been cheap! And, I might be broke, but I do have caviar taste. It's just accompanied with a PBR budget. I didn't even know her name. Instead, I took her literally and said, "It's 75 degrees out there! It's beautiful! But, you are moving around". Plus, she was wearing a sweater.
"I hate to sweat", she responded.
"You're not from around here are you", I asked.
"Yes, I am. I'm from right here".
"Really", just to confirm. I figured she was from the mountains.
"I'm from the next town over, but yes. What can I get you", she asked.
I just laughed, or actually chuckled gruffly as I do, and said, "PBR".
Psssht Clack, went the sound of the beer can as she cracked it open almost instantly as if she were drawing a gun from her holster like a cow girl, or something.
I usually have two and then I move on. We were the only two people in there and so we just talked small talk as she continued to get set up. Then, I felt cool air blowing. She had turned on the AC.
Just a few minutes later the owner comes in. Immediately, he says, "The AC is on", with surprise!
She was standing right there in front of me when she gracefully raised her arms like a dancer, or a princess, about shoulder height as if wings and said, "I know. Doesn't it feel great?" I thought she was going to lift off the ground, or something, and then he would have forgotten all about the power bill!
The owner basically says the same the same thing I did, "Oh my God! You're not from around here are you?" I had to laugh on that note, or course.
"Yes, I am. I'm from here", once again she protested.
The boss said, "Turn the AC off. Turn on the fans and open the doors", which she did promptly. However, it has earned her a title; a well deserved title, Acey.
Later, after observing the situation I told her, "Your momentary reaction to this relatively inclement weather is just evidence of your desire for the finer things in life, that frankly, you deserve." She lowered her head to the bar as the words "inclement weather" left my lips as if to gasp, or hold back a laugh, then raising it as I finished my sentence, Acey exclaimed, "Yes! To that, I agree 100%!"
It was funny, but I see a lotta funny stuff out there, after all. Just look at the scene that led me to the bar. However, that shit ain't funny to me. No, no, no. It might be funny to you, but not to me. It was really funny to the lady at the church the other day when I was telling her all about it, but not to me. What's funny to me is seeing people laugh about it when I tell them about it. I have tears in my eyes right now as I write this, as a matter of fact.
Working in this town and being 39, and all, it's not easy to find work. And, the work I do find affords me enough money to buy beer. One of the main benefits is it does allow me to escape the daily clown parade... Most of the time.
It was the very next day at lunch when I was the last person in the room, all other tables open, and here he comes through the door, Mr. I Can Sit Wherever I Want wearing his stupid hat. And, what does he do? He comes straight to the table I'm sitting at wanting to sit there.
"Don't do it. Don't do it. I told you yesterday. Don't ever sit at my table", I told him. But, he proceeded and then threatened to tell on me. The woman who is a regular volunteer was just over my shoulder a few steps away. She knows me well. If there is one thing I have maintained over the years is a high degree of credibility. In other words, I'm not known as a bullshitter. I just deal with it and aim to stay on my lily pad, while doing so. But, I reach my breaking point when it gets really stupid like with these two.
As he went over to speak to her, I just looked at her and very calmly said, "Yesterday this guy was a nuisance. Today he is a stalker", as I picked up my plate feeling nauseated ever since the day before, a physical reaction I shouldn't be having to deal with except this aggressive homosexual the size of a toothpick has decided to be a real idiot. That was that and I left the building.
I shoulda been a celebrity. I already have the stalkers. Oh. This isn't the first one, but it's the first gay one! Bottom line, I don't care if you want to marry a tree. Go ahead. Just don't bother inviting me to the wedding. I will not be there.
Now, I had to wait until 10pm to go to work nearly ten hours of nowhere to go, except the bar to avoid the parade. Why do gay people feel the need to parade their sexuality? Heterosexuals don't go out and have parades in the name of their sexuality mimicking sex acts and just being generally rude. Oh, yeah. It's 'cause they're gay. Who else would want to have a parade for that?
So, that's what I did until it was time to go to work.
Well if you remember the resident DJ where I worked who is really just a misfit, like so many of us are, but in a "different" way, a flaming gay way, decides he is going to start calling me Honey, and Boo. after already slapping me on the shoulder after making some kind of joke. These pink glasses really bring out the audacity and prejudice in people. So, I didn't stay very long because I had had it. I was already nauseated. He had done this a couple days earlier and I was just like shaking my head about it instead of cussing him out, or pushing his head down into the fryer, or both. So, I barked something about his gayness and he said I was disrespecting him.
"You disrespect me, every time you call me Honey, or Boo, or even touch me", I said.
My thinking is, it's an effing workplace. Let's just stick to cooking. But, I was done with it. Gay people demand acceptance these days, but these kind don't respect those who are repulsed by their behavior, which is just about every straight guy in the world. If you're not repulsed by it, then maybe you're just so much more open minded than me your brains are falling out on the sidewalk. They want to normalize gross, and flies like to eat shit, right? I guess it makes sense, to them anyway. So be it. But, if you insist on calling me Honey, or Boo, then I should at least have the right to call you a faggot, as equally offensive. So, why don't we just stick to work instead, yo?
The problem is, I've worked with and been around gay people throughout my life. I'm not afraid of them. I just don't want them calling me by terms of endearment and coming up and sitting down right next to me. Is that too much to ask in a society that is supposed to have "evolved" to a state of mutual respect... I live on the streets not in a gated community, or even an apartment where I can just get away from it and especially while in the workplace this line should not have been crossed. What added insult to injury was when a new gay person was added to the cast who happened to be a former partner of this guy who is the supervisor. Too much gayness for such a small group of employees, of not even ten. Not just a former partner, but one with an attitude.
I like to make the joke about the best gay experience I ever had. It was a co-worker. We were in a training class of about eight people. We all went to lunch and I made the mistake of having spaghetti. And, of course when you eat spaghetti in public while in a shirt and tie, it's almost inevitable you're going to spill sauce and as sure as shit, I did. This guy was a flame for sure, but while standing there among everyone he said, "It's ok Gabe. Ties were originally invented as napkins". That's the best "gay" experience I've ever had.
So, being that it was about midnight on a Monday night and I was already tired, I decided I would just go ahead and leave, which is what I did. Guess what. The nausea ceased immediately. I'm just not going to work until 2:30 in the morning when I have to be up at 6:30 in the morning and have to deal with a hostile work environment after waiting around all day to do it. For the same reason, I quit going to the shelter because it's really nothing but a psych ward without a managing physician, only to be stressed out while just trying to go to sleep. I'm out of work again, but much more well rested.
I'm only putting this down because it's relevant to today's issues, and it's just another story from the streets of Athens, GA. But, the culmination of things came on Tuesday when once again I went to the bar, and once again, Acey, full of grace, was working again. Another guy comes into the bar. She says hello to him as if she knows him. I don't, and I thought it was kind of odd, because I don't go there everyday, but I know who the regulars are.
Next thing I know he sits down. And, then we're all just talking and cutting up. There are others there too. So, she's busy serving beers to them. He starts talking about these steaks he had bought and made at home, Rib Eyes over an inch thick, he told me.
"Did you put them on the grill", I asked.
"No, no. I just put 'em in the toaster oven", he answered, "They came out great!"
"Sounds good", I said with a question mark, "I can taste them now", as I imagined the taste of burnt rubber.
Suddenly, he looked at me with eyebrows raised and said, "Hey! You wanna go eat steaks?"
...
The moral of the story. Mind your manners. Don't judge a book by it's cover. And, don't wear pink eyeglasses without expecting to get hit on by gay men, unless you're a woman. Then, you're fine. Oh, and don't bother trying to paint them black with a Sharpie either. It just leaves a black mark on the bridge of your nose.
...
Lastly, if you see me wearing a Harley Davidson cap, and an NYPD t-shirt, and pink eyeglasses, Just understand, I have never ridden a Harley. I am not impersonating a police officer, and I don't have a gay desire in me. I'm just a derelict that should be a millionaire by now, but I effed up. The thing is, they gave me the shirt and the cap at no other place than the clothes closet at the church. They're dressing me like a fake!
When it's all said and done though, I'm pretty sure I met a real princess, Acey, full of grace, who does not like to sweat!
Furthermore, as of today, May 30, I made another visit to the clothes closet, just yesterday. I needed a vented shirt instead of a t-shirt. It has been so hot already, in the nineties and it's not even June! I was looking for a beach shirt, a button up, one that would let the breeze flow through, light weight.
As is always the case, I find exactly what I need within seconds of walking in the door! It never fails. There it was hanging right there. It was the only shirt I picked up. It was perfect! When I walked in the door they handed me a bag that happened to have a much needed pair of black socks with blue stripes across the toes. My new Chacos has worn blisters on my feet. I needed some protection besides bandages that rubbed off within two blocks. I had just put those on, when I spotted the sky blue shirt with muted palm trees printed in the fabric.
It was great, silky, light weight and with the new socks, the new black Chacos and the grey plaid shorts, it was if it was meant for me. I don't try to be color coordinated. The clothes closet just serves it up, but to my dismay when I looked at the tag in the collar, I found these words, "Trump Marina". I was disheartened, but it really was the perfect shirt.
I searched for the material tag and once I found it, I felt like this was mine! It felt like silk, but it was 100% Rayon! It was at that moment, I decided it was a prop in total keeping with all the other stuff I had gotten there that made me look like a FAKE. So, I took it, put it on and wore it all day long telling friends and anybody I thought who would understand it having witnessed this whole wardrobe change and transition which is customary for me, but never with this much strange coincidence. On the sleeve it read, "Trump Marina Hotel & Casino", his failed Atlantic City Casino.
What could be more appropriate than for me they guy who can't lie without you knowing it than to have a Harley Davidson cap, an NYPD t-shirt, this shirt, and a pair of pink eyeglasses?
Nothing.
So, now, if you see me wearing these things, just know I'm the worst liar in the whole world, but I am without a doubt convinced that Voltaire was correct and Nietzsche was wrong. God is not dead. He is a comedian telling jokes to an audience too afraid to laugh!
Of course, it could all just be a coincidence.
Read More!
Previously Published:
https://gabenewmanblahgs.blogspot.com/2019/04/frijoles-refritos-por-favor.html
I've been wearing readers for years now, but I need a prescription. When I put them on I couldn't believe how well I could see. You really don't realize just how blurry things are until you put on some specs that work, even if they're pink. So, after a week and nobody claiming them I boldly claimed them myself. I don't care what color they are except I did take a Sharpie and try to color them black which only lasted for another week before the ink had almost worn completely off.
What happened after that was an astounding example of just how prejudice people can be. Within a forty-eight hour period, three different gay men had approached me. After all, I live in a liberal town. What was I to expect?
It was early in the afternoon. I was sitting on a different planter than the one where I found the glasses. I sit there often when I don't have anything else to do. Suddenly, one of the members of the downtown clown parade decides he is going to come and sit down right next to me (literally) when there were plenty of other places and planters where he could have sat including the place where he usually posts up.
"Excuse me, but do you really feel the need to come up and sit down right next to someone you don't even have a rapport with?" I had never considered the guys sexual orientation. I just thought he was another weirdo who likes to wear a funny hat and clip on earrings. I'm just wearing pink eyeglasses which apparently made me seem approachable, very approachable.
"I can sit wherever I want", he proclaims, with a significantly gay sounding tone.
"You're worse than gay", I responded when his apparent gay lover shows up and says, "Yeah, we're gay. You have a problem with gay people", as he takes a seat right next to clown number one, and in between us.
"I have a problem with two of them right now! There are plenty of other places for you to sit, but as I said, you're worse than gay", I continued, "You're lucky I don't knock you back in this planter right now".
***They didn't know how to respond to the "worse than gay" comment. So, it just fell on deaf ears as it usually does. I started saying that about anything that was worse than what people who deem homosexuality worthy of death, or conversion. The better option to me is to keep it in your pants, but apparently a greasy homeless gay guy and a guy in a funny hat who wears clip on earrings are in love, and should not only be allowed to be open about it, but act as if downtown is more like a gay bar than a public place. Oy Vey!
Now, this is a frail and almost crippled nut job who I see frequently at the soup kitchen and on the streets, but I had no idea they were partners. Every now and then he'll say something ridiculous like he's going to be sworn in as a deputy sheriff in the morning... Or, he's having brain surgery next week... He's just a loose screw on the same daily shuffle I am in trying to stay fed and clean.
Rather than having the situation escalate to violence and me probably getting locked up for assault and battery, I decided to walk away from the situation as a fourth person, a student philanthropist shows up and sits down right next to them like the stooges they are.
"You know what? Don't let this happen again, but enjoy your pathetic lives", I said, and walked away.
There was a day and time when they would have been beaten to a pulp and nobody would have cared. But, this is a different day and age, and as I've said more than once, this is not a theocracy and we don't kill our gay people like they do in theocracies, but how about some manners?
So, I hit the bar instead.
The young woman working behind the bar was just finishing setting up, I was the first one in the door. I hadn't met her as this was her first happy hour shift to work.
As she is going back and forth, she stops in front of me and says, "Whew! I'm hot".
It was a near perfect 75 degrees out the first of Spring days after a long, cold winter for Georgia, including so much rainfall, the ducks were fighting over life preservers!
I didn't argue with her about her ambiguous statement because it would have been cheap! And, I might be broke, but I do have caviar taste. It's just accompanied with a PBR budget. I didn't even know her name. Instead, I took her literally and said, "It's 75 degrees out there! It's beautiful! But, you are moving around". Plus, she was wearing a sweater.
"I hate to sweat", she responded.
"You're not from around here are you", I asked.
"Yes, I am. I'm from right here".
"Really", just to confirm. I figured she was from the mountains.
"I'm from the next town over, but yes. What can I get you", she asked.
I just laughed, or actually chuckled gruffly as I do, and said, "PBR".
Psssht Clack, went the sound of the beer can as she cracked it open almost instantly as if she were drawing a gun from her holster like a cow girl, or something.
I usually have two and then I move on. We were the only two people in there and so we just talked small talk as she continued to get set up. Then, I felt cool air blowing. She had turned on the AC.
Just a few minutes later the owner comes in. Immediately, he says, "The AC is on", with surprise!
She was standing right there in front of me when she gracefully raised her arms like a dancer, or a princess, about shoulder height as if wings and said, "I know. Doesn't it feel great?" I thought she was going to lift off the ground, or something, and then he would have forgotten all about the power bill!
The owner basically says the same the same thing I did, "Oh my God! You're not from around here are you?" I had to laugh on that note, or course.
"Yes, I am. I'm from here", once again she protested.
The boss said, "Turn the AC off. Turn on the fans and open the doors", which she did promptly. However, it has earned her a title; a well deserved title, Acey.
Later, after observing the situation I told her, "Your momentary reaction to this relatively inclement weather is just evidence of your desire for the finer things in life, that frankly, you deserve." She lowered her head to the bar as the words "inclement weather" left my lips as if to gasp, or hold back a laugh, then raising it as I finished my sentence, Acey exclaimed, "Yes! To that, I agree 100%!"
It was funny, but I see a lotta funny stuff out there, after all. Just look at the scene that led me to the bar. However, that shit ain't funny to me. No, no, no. It might be funny to you, but not to me. It was really funny to the lady at the church the other day when I was telling her all about it, but not to me. What's funny to me is seeing people laugh about it when I tell them about it. I have tears in my eyes right now as I write this, as a matter of fact.
Working in this town and being 39, and all, it's not easy to find work. And, the work I do find affords me enough money to buy beer. One of the main benefits is it does allow me to escape the daily clown parade... Most of the time.
It was the very next day at lunch when I was the last person in the room, all other tables open, and here he comes through the door, Mr. I Can Sit Wherever I Want wearing his stupid hat. And, what does he do? He comes straight to the table I'm sitting at wanting to sit there.
"Don't do it. Don't do it. I told you yesterday. Don't ever sit at my table", I told him. But, he proceeded and then threatened to tell on me. The woman who is a regular volunteer was just over my shoulder a few steps away. She knows me well. If there is one thing I have maintained over the years is a high degree of credibility. In other words, I'm not known as a bullshitter. I just deal with it and aim to stay on my lily pad, while doing so. But, I reach my breaking point when it gets really stupid like with these two.
As he went over to speak to her, I just looked at her and very calmly said, "Yesterday this guy was a nuisance. Today he is a stalker", as I picked up my plate feeling nauseated ever since the day before, a physical reaction I shouldn't be having to deal with except this aggressive homosexual the size of a toothpick has decided to be a real idiot. That was that and I left the building.
I shoulda been a celebrity. I already have the stalkers. Oh. This isn't the first one, but it's the first gay one! Bottom line, I don't care if you want to marry a tree. Go ahead. Just don't bother inviting me to the wedding. I will not be there.
Now, I had to wait until 10pm to go to work nearly ten hours of nowhere to go, except the bar to avoid the parade. Why do gay people feel the need to parade their sexuality? Heterosexuals don't go out and have parades in the name of their sexuality mimicking sex acts and just being generally rude. Oh, yeah. It's 'cause they're gay. Who else would want to have a parade for that?
So, that's what I did until it was time to go to work.
Well if you remember the resident DJ where I worked who is really just a misfit, like so many of us are, but in a "different" way, a flaming gay way, decides he is going to start calling me Honey, and Boo. after already slapping me on the shoulder after making some kind of joke. These pink glasses really bring out the audacity and prejudice in people. So, I didn't stay very long because I had had it. I was already nauseated. He had done this a couple days earlier and I was just like shaking my head about it instead of cussing him out, or pushing his head down into the fryer, or both. So, I barked something about his gayness and he said I was disrespecting him.
"You disrespect me, every time you call me Honey, or Boo, or even touch me", I said.
My thinking is, it's an effing workplace. Let's just stick to cooking. But, I was done with it. Gay people demand acceptance these days, but these kind don't respect those who are repulsed by their behavior, which is just about every straight guy in the world. If you're not repulsed by it, then maybe you're just so much more open minded than me your brains are falling out on the sidewalk. They want to normalize gross, and flies like to eat shit, right? I guess it makes sense, to them anyway. So be it. But, if you insist on calling me Honey, or Boo, then I should at least have the right to call you a faggot, as equally offensive. So, why don't we just stick to work instead, yo?
The problem is, I've worked with and been around gay people throughout my life. I'm not afraid of them. I just don't want them calling me by terms of endearment and coming up and sitting down right next to me. Is that too much to ask in a society that is supposed to have "evolved" to a state of mutual respect... I live on the streets not in a gated community, or even an apartment where I can just get away from it and especially while in the workplace this line should not have been crossed. What added insult to injury was when a new gay person was added to the cast who happened to be a former partner of this guy who is the supervisor. Too much gayness for such a small group of employees, of not even ten. Not just a former partner, but one with an attitude.
I like to make the joke about the best gay experience I ever had. It was a co-worker. We were in a training class of about eight people. We all went to lunch and I made the mistake of having spaghetti. And, of course when you eat spaghetti in public while in a shirt and tie, it's almost inevitable you're going to spill sauce and as sure as shit, I did. This guy was a flame for sure, but while standing there among everyone he said, "It's ok Gabe. Ties were originally invented as napkins". That's the best "gay" experience I've ever had.
So, being that it was about midnight on a Monday night and I was already tired, I decided I would just go ahead and leave, which is what I did. Guess what. The nausea ceased immediately. I'm just not going to work until 2:30 in the morning when I have to be up at 6:30 in the morning and have to deal with a hostile work environment after waiting around all day to do it. For the same reason, I quit going to the shelter because it's really nothing but a psych ward without a managing physician, only to be stressed out while just trying to go to sleep. I'm out of work again, but much more well rested.
I'm only putting this down because it's relevant to today's issues, and it's just another story from the streets of Athens, GA. But, the culmination of things came on Tuesday when once again I went to the bar, and once again, Acey, full of grace, was working again. Another guy comes into the bar. She says hello to him as if she knows him. I don't, and I thought it was kind of odd, because I don't go there everyday, but I know who the regulars are.
Next thing I know he sits down. And, then we're all just talking and cutting up. There are others there too. So, she's busy serving beers to them. He starts talking about these steaks he had bought and made at home, Rib Eyes over an inch thick, he told me.
"Did you put them on the grill", I asked.
"No, no. I just put 'em in the toaster oven", he answered, "They came out great!"
"Sounds good", I said with a question mark, "I can taste them now", as I imagined the taste of burnt rubber.
Suddenly, he looked at me with eyebrows raised and said, "Hey! You wanna go eat steaks?"
...
The moral of the story. Mind your manners. Don't judge a book by it's cover. And, don't wear pink eyeglasses without expecting to get hit on by gay men, unless you're a woman. Then, you're fine. Oh, and don't bother trying to paint them black with a Sharpie either. It just leaves a black mark on the bridge of your nose.
...
Lastly, if you see me wearing a Harley Davidson cap, and an NYPD t-shirt, and pink eyeglasses, Just understand, I have never ridden a Harley. I am not impersonating a police officer, and I don't have a gay desire in me. I'm just a derelict that should be a millionaire by now, but I effed up. The thing is, they gave me the shirt and the cap at no other place than the clothes closet at the church. They're dressing me like a fake!
When it's all said and done though, I'm pretty sure I met a real princess, Acey, full of grace, who does not like to sweat!
Furthermore, as of today, May 30, I made another visit to the clothes closet, just yesterday. I needed a vented shirt instead of a t-shirt. It has been so hot already, in the nineties and it's not even June! I was looking for a beach shirt, a button up, one that would let the breeze flow through, light weight.
As is always the case, I find exactly what I need within seconds of walking in the door! It never fails. There it was hanging right there. It was the only shirt I picked up. It was perfect! When I walked in the door they handed me a bag that happened to have a much needed pair of black socks with blue stripes across the toes. My new Chacos has worn blisters on my feet. I needed some protection besides bandages that rubbed off within two blocks. I had just put those on, when I spotted the sky blue shirt with muted palm trees printed in the fabric.
It was great, silky, light weight and with the new socks, the new black Chacos and the grey plaid shorts, it was if it was meant for me. I don't try to be color coordinated. The clothes closet just serves it up, but to my dismay when I looked at the tag in the collar, I found these words, "Trump Marina". I was disheartened, but it really was the perfect shirt.
I searched for the material tag and once I found it, I felt like this was mine! It felt like silk, but it was 100% Rayon! It was at that moment, I decided it was a prop in total keeping with all the other stuff I had gotten there that made me look like a FAKE. So, I took it, put it on and wore it all day long telling friends and anybody I thought who would understand it having witnessed this whole wardrobe change and transition which is customary for me, but never with this much strange coincidence. On the sleeve it read, "Trump Marina Hotel & Casino", his failed Atlantic City Casino.
What could be more appropriate than for me they guy who can't lie without you knowing it than to have a Harley Davidson cap, an NYPD t-shirt, this shirt, and a pair of pink eyeglasses?
Nothing.
So, now, if you see me wearing these things, just know I'm the worst liar in the whole world, but I am without a doubt convinced that Voltaire was correct and Nietzsche was wrong. God is not dead. He is a comedian telling jokes to an audience too afraid to laugh!
Of course, it could all just be a coincidence.
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Previously Published:
https://gabenewmanblahgs.blogspot.com/2019/04/frijoles-refritos-por-favor.html
Go Get Yourself Some Pink Eyeglasses At Your Own Risk
But, if I were you I'd stick with the Cheap Sunglasses
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