Archive for the 'Manifesto' Category

Gunning for Independence

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This is NOT a gun!

As I approached my bank this morning, a man stood by the door with a silver pistol in his hand.  He was holding it with both hands, pointing down at the ground. Another man was unloading what looked like cardboard boxes full of rolled coins from a Brinks armored truck. Ladies with baby strollers were passing between these two men. They seemed to have no problem with their babies being in such close proximity to a stranger holding a loaded weapon.

I wonder what makes these people so trust-worthy. Is there some sort of vetting process by which a person is determined to be capable of handling money and guns without risk to others? Do they get psychological evaluations? I have no idea how it works.

What I do know, is that here in New York City, average citizens aren’t allowed to carry guns. If we go to the local government and request a carry permit because we believe our families are valuable and need to be defended, we would be denied. However, if we sell diamonds and believe they are valuable and need to be defended with guns, they will gladly issue us a license for one.

This seems like another case of misplaced priorities to me. Average citizens can’t board an airplane carrying a bottle of mouthwash because we fear terrorism. Yet a man with a loaded pistol can stand on our sidewalks protecting a roll of quarters? It doesn’t make any sense. Why are average folks not allowed to have weapons legally? Yes, they are dangerous, but so are knives, bats, rocks, and hammers.  So what’s really going on? When you make laws which prohibit the legal acquisition of weapons, only those who don’t follow the laws will be armed. And the more bad guys with weapons there are, the more those of us who are unarmed will need the government to protect us.

When the rebels and troublemakers who founded this country in direct opposition to tyrannical rule first wrote our Constitution, they felt self-defense was both a right and a necessity. The founding fathers believed that our citizenry should be prepared to fight off attacks by outside forces and oppressive governments. We were meant to be armed and vigilant, not defenseless and docile. The government today wants the responsibility of protecting us because they don’t want us capable of doing it ourselves. If we are dependent on them, we won’t offer any sort of resistance.

The debates about interpretations of the constitution will rage on. As I see it, they are moot. When people need to ask permission to assert their independence, they don’t really have it even if permission is granted. Those who have the power don’t want to give anyone else any. That’s just how it is. It doesn’t matter if it’s here in the US or any other country.

When I was younger, I did a lot of shooting. I was good with guns. Paintball and BB guns felt very natural in my hands. I even won a skeet shooting competition when I was a teenager. These days, I’ll play a game or two of paintball every once in a blue moon. That’s about it. Why would some guy who’s not bright enough to do anything but work security deserve to carry a gun over me? If it’s the quarters, I got those. I’m an old-school arcade kind of guy. My house if just full of loose change. If protecting that is a better reason for owning a gun than protecting my family, please point me to my weapon.

-King 0f New York

How to Survive a Police State

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Police State

At this point, there’s little room for debate. The free society we know as the United States of America will soon be a police state. Countless books and documentaries on the subject are available for your perusal if you want to know the gory details. Sure, they are mostly filled with conspiracy theories and facts to back them up. Of course the future is not set, like they told us in the Terminator movies. However, I’ve resigned myself to the conclusion that American society is currently far too lazy and apathetic to do anything about impending enslavement and dictatorial rule. So I’m just going to worry about me and mine. After all, that’s what we’re good at in this country, right?

If you don’t know what the hell I’m talking about, that’s okay too. Just go back to your soap operas, celebrity gossip rags and caramel latte frapaccino. Make sure to think carefully about whom you will be supporting in the next Dancing with the Stars vote while your government crumbles from lack of citizen participation. Just remember, sheep get slaughtered.

For those of you who are still reading, and are interested in surviving the eventual transition, I’ve put together a few pointers. The list below will help you stay alive when our government implodes and becomes a dictatorship. If you follow these simple steps, you’ll likely manage to save yourself and most of your immediate family from instant execution or imprisonment on the day that our armies and police forces are turned against us. The sooner you begin preparing, the better off you’ll be.

1. If you can’t beat them, join’em: According to most doomsday scenarios spelled out by conspiracy psychos who sound like they know what they’re talking about, our leaders will turn our own military forces against us. So why not become one of them before that happens? Sign up for military service. Do your best to maintain your individuality as the government goons try and brainwash the morality out of you. Serve your country while you secretly secure your own safety and power prior to the day when all hell breaks loose. If you’re too much of a pussy for military duty, join the local police force. Chances are, they will be enlisted to come for your loved ones in the middle of the night. Seems to me that the only way to make sure they aren’t coming for you (aside from taking an interest in politics and becoming active in the process which shapes your laws and society) is to be one of them.

2. Make friends in high places: The next best thing to being the man is being friends with lots of them. So if you haven’t the stones to wear a uniform, make sure you know a bunch of folks who do. You can participate in PBA and various other cop-friendly organizations. Encourage your loved ones to marry or themselves become police and military. Or, take some time to introduce yourself to the people who work law-enforcement in your area. Hang out at the local Dunkin Donuts (the stereotype is TRUE, kids!) and pick up the tab on your local badge’s coffee every so often. Give them a friendly salute and a “Howdy, neighbor!” once in a while. Make sure they know your name and that you are good people. So when the time comes to round up all the locals and bring them to the nearest detention facility, your friends and family on the force might be able to give you a break.

3. Get rid of contraband now: The last thing you want when the feds knock down your door is to be caught with all sorts of illicit, anti-establishment paraphernalia. Set time aside to walk through your home and isolate all the provocative reading material, thought-provoking documentaries, legal papers, copies of the Constitution of the United States, and anything else the government cronies may find threatening. Get rid of it, or at the very least hide it where it can’t be found. Currently, having a copy on the Constitution on you when pulled over by a cop is a red flag signaling that you may be a troublemaker or terrorist. Imagine how bad an infraction that will be considered in our future police state.

4. Be entertaining: A world without freedom is going to be pretty dull. Storm troopers who imprison and oppress their fellow citizens all day will get pretty bored. So it’s to your benefit if you can offer them some amusement. Maybe if you’re funny enough, they’ll take it easy on you when it’s your turn to be tortured? Tell a good story and maybe the guards will let you hang with them past curfew. Develop these necessary skills now. A talented comic, massage giver, stripper or cunning linguist could eke out a tolerable existence for herself if she plays her cards right.

5. Buy stuff while you can: Let’s face it, along with the fall of the US government as we know it, the economic system will no doubt crumble. Those stocks and bonds you’ve invested in won’t mean shit when the markets are closed down. When the dollar is worthless what are you going to trade for food and protection? The only answer is to sell all your investments now. Liquidate your portfolios and turn all assets into cash. Then buy as much crap as you can. Stockpile booze and cigarettes because, just like in jail, those will be the new currency when the “Land of the Free” becomes the “Home of Enslaved.” Buy up lots of “stuff” which can later be traded to others in exchange for security, food, and other necessities. If possible, buy small things which are valuable like jewelry. Nelly and Paul Wall have the right idea. Instead of putting $50,000 in an IRA or 401K, put it in your mouth. Get a “grill” made from gold and diamonds. That way, you’ll be able to bribe your way out of the toughest situations once the evil secret societies take power.

6. Embrace the underground: Where there is oppression and tyranny, there will always be underground resistance. Find those people in your area who are currently outspoken about politics. Meet some activists. Attend some meetings. Just be very cautious that you don’t become part of their group. Make sure you know who they are and they know who you are. This serves two purposes; It gives you an in with the possible liberators in case the resistance is somehow able to wrangle the power away from the fascist regime. It also gives you some valuable information in a pinch. If the time ever comes when you are facing a firing squad or when your family is about to be made into Soilent Green, you can offer up the names of the resistance to save your own pitiful skin.

7. Build a bunker: Hiding works. Look at Anne Frank! If you have the means, why not setup a comfortable little hole for you and yours to crawl into when the bad men come? Many Americans are currently living in a figurative hole, while ignoring what’s going on in the world around them. They sit and occupy themselves with trivialities, hoping the problems work themselves out and all just go away. If you plan carefully enough, you might be successful in designing a literal hole for yourself to wait out the oppression in. A self-imposed prison is so much better than one that’s forced on you.

8. Welcome our new overlords: There’s nothing more endearing to a tyrant than loyalty. Perhaps you can win one over by demonstrating that you were on his side all along. If you start hanging up pictures of George W. Bush today, you’ll get a jump-start on his impending power-grab right before the 2008 elections. So when the thought police arrive at your house, they can report back that you have always been a fan.

That should be enough to get you all started. There are a few other tips I can offer, but I don’t want to get into too much detail at the moment. Suffice it to say that concerned citizens should start building up a tolerance to electrocution and various poisons now. Learn to stay off the radar by being mediocre. Speak only when spoken to. Get cozy with Catholicism. Before too long, you’ll be prepared for the transition from freedom to slavery. It will go only as smoothly as you allow it to.

-King 0f New York

Death & Life

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Life & Death

Life and death are always so close to us that we sometimes forget they are there. It’s easier to not think about. Someone who cleans the piss off the floors of public bathrooms for a living can’t really afford to contemplate their mortality or run off in pursuit of a dream on a whim. If they did, who’d get the job done? Society needs us to remain productive. Our families need us to keep our shit together even in times of crisis. Crack-heads need the rest of us to make money so that they can steal it or beg us to hand it over voluntarily.

Is it possible though, to live like you know the clock is running out while still managing our obligations? I think so. The secret is…there’s no secret. People should do whatever the fuck they want to do, knowing that there will be consequences for their actions. If you enjoy a hot cup of coffee in the morning, go get one; Just don’t go crying to the legal system if you spill it and fry your own nuts or if you stop growing a few inches sooner than you should. If you’re fed up with the way things are, do something about it. Understand that your actions may fail at accomplishing what you want, but inaction will guarantee failure.

Taking personal responsibility is incredibly liberating. Knowing full well that you have only yourself to blame in most cases, allows the understanding to be able to detect fault far more precisely when it falls in someone else’s lap. This way, people who try to pass the buck or deflect will need to be accountable when they deal with you. More people taking their own responsibilities seriously means less folks need to cover other’s asses, which will suddenly open up a whole lot of extra free time for us to do what we want.

If your good buddy at work isn’t pulling her weight, buckle down and handle your own business. If you never cover for her, you won’t have to feel guilty when the time comes for her to be responsible for her own work. Don’t be sad when she gets fired. She’ll land on her feet and maybe even find a gig more suiting her talents.

Can’t go out anymore because you’re trying to build a nest-egg? Saving for the future? What’s the good of a nest if you can’t leave it sometimes? Why would you need money in the future if you never use it in the present?

See where I’m going with this stuff? I’m not a genius or anything. These are fairly simple concepts. I just think we forget them sometimes due to all the distractions which occupy our lives. I look around for reminders that I am currently living a great life and that it could end at any minute.

For instance, I found out this week that one of my coworkers lost his daughter. I’m attending her funeral today. She was a happy chick in her mid-twenties. One day, her body just turned off like someone forgot to pay the electric bill. It wasn’t violent or drawn out or expected. She just stopped living one day. I never met the gal and it breaks my heart. My concern isn’t for the one who’s gone though. I feel for those left in the wake of it. How will they look back on the times they shared? What’s been left unsaid? What do they regret?

I can’t speak about how this woman lived her life. I can only put it in perspective by relating it to my own. I have a wife and son. When someday one of us unexpectedly stops living, I wouldn’t want those who remained to ever regret a moment of the time when we were. That is, I strive for each week –every day– to have some sort of meaning. Whether it’s learning something new, sharing something interesting, having a laugh, going outside the norm, or even just appreciating what’s always been there. I hope to not have my loss tarnished by regret. When I go, I don’t want people saying that I’m better off dead or that I’m in a better place. I want them all to know that I liked this place and made the most of it.

I’d like it if the void of loss left by people who died could remain filled with pleasant memories. It just feels better to walk through a room which is filled with the distant joy of days gone by, rather than one with the buzz of television and missed opportunity.

I know way too many people who go about their routine every single day not realizing that life is passing them by. They don’t think about life or death or the great stuff that happens in between. I try to inject a bit of unexpected change in their lives from time to time; a useless tidbit of information, a goofy tune or joke, a perspective they haven’t seen before. My hope is that some of them get hooked on it and begin to seek it out on their own.

-King 0f New York

Tea’d Off

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My Tea

Well, it’s been a few days since I wrote anything here. I could blame the holidays or my hectic schedule but the truth is, I was just being lazy. To make up for that, I was all ready to wow you with an insightful and hysterically funny blog. It would have made you laugh until you cried. Then, in that glorious after-glow of a hearty and cleansing laugh, you would have given great thought to what I wrote. It might have even triggered an epiphany that would go on to change your life.

Instead, I got honey on my nipple and the whole thing’s out the window. I’m far too distracted now to compose anything worthwhile. To give you some idea of just how distracted I am, let me point out that immediately to the right of my keyboard sits a cardboard cup filled with a bit of honey, a teabag and lots of cold water.

You see, I was trying to be clever in composing this morning’s cup of Chinese diet tea. Like the folks at my local bagel store, I planned to add the sweetening element into the cup before pouring the water so that it might have a better chance to mix once all the elements were in place. Unfortunately, the bottom part of the honey dispenser brushed against my right nipple as I up-ended it. This left a small honey smear on my nicely cleaned and pressed forest-green button down shirt, exactly on top of my nipple. I couldn’t very well leave that there as an open invitation for some sort of retro “9½ Weeks” scenario for my coworkers. So I tried to wet the corner of a napkin and brush it away. I succeeded instead in turning my honey-nip into what appears to be a lactating man-boob (hence the reason for “diet tea” –no guy wants to sport breasts when he’s as hairy as I).

 The thought of being asked, “Hey, when’s the baby due?” by a smart-ass coworker distressed me so much that I pushed the blue lever on my water cooler instead of the red one. On top of everything I now know that teabags don’t respond well to cold water.

Seems I’ve been way too absent-minded lately. Just last night, I rushed home after work, hoping to hop in my car and catch a movie. When I got to the car, I realized that my keys were still in the office. As punishment for this oversight, I walked around two miles and blew off the movies. During my walk, I wrestled with complex philosophical issues. For instance; can fish which are pickled be considered “embalmed” and does smoking a fish mummify it since the decomposition process is greatly slowed down as a result? Walking may be better for my fat ass than movies anyway, but I’m sure any benefits that walk provided, were neutralized by the half-pint of Ben & Jerry’s Mint Chip ice cream I ate after dinner.

Such is my life. Please forgive me for not thrilling you with anything interesting today. As my punishment, I shall go and try to choke down a cup full of cold water with a teabag floating in it and unmixed honey at the bottom.

-King 0f New York

Might as well jump!

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Try wearing this for a stretch.Why the hell would I want a strange man strapped to my ass during one of the most intimate moments of my life? And if I was interested in something like that, why would I even consider paying him? Shouldn’t taking part in a guy’s “first time” be payment enough? So what if this stranger is a so-called “expert” at what he does? It’s not exactly rocket science, you know. Basically, the dude’s just along for the ride. If you start freaking out in the middle, (as some first-timers do) he can gently ease you into the proper positions for maximum enjoyment. That’s what they tell you. I think they’re just doing it for their own cheap thrills, and the extra cash.

Many first-timers opt for a “tandem jump” at their local sky diving facility. It allows you to hop out of a plane and freefall for almost a minute before opening your parachute on your first attempt. It doesn’t require extensive training or particular courage because the whole time, you have a big man attached to your rear with a set of unbreakable straps. This strapping fellow does the jumping, the steering while falling, the chute opening, the landing and most of the thinking. So why in the world would I want that?

As it happens, death and the fear of it are responsible for some of the best times of my life. Facing one’s mortality is a tremendous rush…well, okay that’s not entirely true. It’s scary as hell and your body’s natural mechanisms do everything in their power to stop you from doing something that will put an end to their function. The rush of euphoria, joy and excitement come moments after you realize that something potentially lethal didn’t kill you.

I like to call that moment, “a burst of living” as it is the polar opposite of “la petite mort.” In case you don’t know, that’s the French expression for the feeling of melancholy one experiences just after a sexual orgasm. It’s sort of like dying a little inside after experiencing one of the best things in life. Well, “a burst of living” is that sensational realization that you’re still alive after coming close to death.

My point is, life and death moments are very personal. Some people shit their pants when they face death. Others vomit (like Condors, for instance). Some people may get such excitement from participating in their own destruction, that they orgasm. These are all perfectly natural bodily functions that most wouldn’t want a stranger around for…except maybe that last one.

So the few times I went skydiving in my past, I opted for a “static line jump.” This is a process by which non-experienced jumpers learn the ropes of leaping on their own. The sharper among you will understand that I used a clever pun in that last sentence because “static line” refers to a rope which pulls your parachute out of its packing for you. For this to happen, you need to learn some basics. After a training period, jumpers go up in small groups on a single-engine propeller plane. They then attach their static lines to the craft, climb out onto one of the wing, let go of the plane and hope for the best.

Note the concavity of the mammaries

Jumping from 3,000 feet in the air, you have about 15 seconds to either untangle it or open your spare, should your primary chute fail to open properly. Otherwise, your jump turns into a bounce. After logging a number of successful jumps, you move to higher altitudes and eventually begin free-falling on your own. Working your way up to this point seems like a far more rewarding way to go about tempting fate.

Much as I try, I couldn’t convey in words the feelings I got from that experience. The monumental terror that streaks through your body when the jump signal is given is soon replaced by a Zen-like acceptance that today might be the day you die. The adrenaline fueled determination while holding tight to the wing. Those few seconds of desperate uncertainty as you let go of the plane, make way for a crashing wave of exhilaration when the parachute pops open. From there, it’s a gentle coasting back to Earth as the green surface rushes up to welcome you back.

If you’re curious about jumping from planes, I can tell you this: At the time I went, a “static line jump” would cost $200 the first time (which included a five hour class, equipment, and plane ride). Each additional jump was only $20. So for about $400, you could work your way up to independent free-fall and experience about 11 jumps. The “tandem jump” price was about $250. It required only a two hour class, but would cost another $250 if you wanted to go again.

In my opinion, tandem jumpers aren’t getting the full sky diving experience. The extra person attached to me would just be a damper to all the fun. Plus, there’s the other stuff to think about. Do you really want to chance dying with this person you never met before? Even if you do survive, do you want your memory tainted by the garlic breath, body odor or possible erection of your jump buddy? I know I don’t.

-King 0f New York

Union Haters Unite!

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Union Rat

Unions suck. Seriously, they are just a bunch of bullies trying to muscle poor, defenseless little business owners into forking over more of their hard-earned profits. Alright, granted the owners of these companies may not be poor, little or even defenseless. Never mind all that. I’m just saying Bill Gates is entitled to be a zillionaire after working so hard to steal young software developers’ ideas all those years to build his monopoly. There’s no reason a bunch of garbage men should inconvenience him by refusing to pick up his trash unless they get medical benefits for their kids. It’s not Billy’s problem, people! He didn’t tell you to go bareback that night after the tequila shots. It’s your kid, you work out the health care, buddy.

Who the hell do these people think they are? What gives them the right to decide they aren’t going to write scripts for my reality shows until they get more scratch? I don’t pay dick for my fix of reality shows on TV.  Why the hell should the writers expect to get paid if we the customers of broadcast televisions aren’t paying anything for it? Shouldn’t these writers just be writing for the love of their art? Doesn’t accepting money for your work make you a sell-out and a hack? Did Aristotle ask for money? Were the Wright Brothers or the brothers Grim looking to get paid for their contributions? Well maybe they were, but you didn’t see them starting a coffee clutch and banding together to create safe work conditions.

The point is, we don’t negotiate with terrorists (unless we’re scared of them and their nukes like the crazies who run South Korea and Iran). Unions are just like terrorists. They threaten to hurt you and your trade -maybe even the whole world- if they don’t get what they want. Mel Gibson didn’t give those bastards who kidnapped his son any money in that movie because of the principal. And damn it, that’s what we should do to these people who form groups to lobby for longer lunch breaks and more time off.

I mean, am I crazy? The subway system is supposed to deliver me to work and, the taxi cabs get me home after a long night of tequila shots so I can go bareback with my wife. If they decide to strike, where does that leave me? Sure, I may not be part of a union, but I have my rights too.

I DEMAND that there be a reasonable means of transport to get me to and from adjacent boroughs in a timely fashion. Come hell or high water, I want a worker to get minimal pay for providing me with maximum service. I want the option to tip this person poorly, if at all, and the right to not hear any complaining about it. These should be basic human rights that every patron of any service gets. If you’ve ever given money to anyone for any service, be it a shoe-shine, a hummer, or mixing a drink, then you know what I’m talking about. Maybe together we can form a group to advocate the rights of the business user. We can start having some meeting, hire a lawyer and some lobbyists, then perhaps draft a list of demands and present them to businesses everywhere.

We can threaten to stop purchasing services if these bastards won’t respect our freedom to get what we want and how we want it. If they don’t like it, well then they are just a bunch of oppressive fascist dictators only after the money. After all, shouldn’t our happiness be payment enough? Stand with me now, brothers and sisters. Together we can become a force for change. We can really make a difference by standing up for our rights. We’ll call our new group the “United National Initiative Of Non-servers” or U.N.I.O.N. for short and make up some nice fliers and logos and slogans. Our U.N.I.O.N. will ROCK!

-King 0f New York

ON STRIKE!

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Due to the writers strike in Hollywood, we will be unable to bring you K0NY’s usual, long-winded blog post. Instead, here is some art work from a second grader who is now on the FBI watchlist:

Happy!

 

Surprised!

Goldieloxxx I like em with a little meat on their bones. And other tragedies of my life.

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scarymofo.jpg

Since the day I was born, I can’t recall ever hooking up with a guy who had a perfect six pack. It’s not that I’m complaining or anything, it’s just that well… WTF? I’m a sexy young lady with a nice rack and some junk in the trunk, what else do I need to qualify for the six pack bonathon? Maybe it’s me, but i doubt it. Everytime a guy with a hot bod comes near me, his douche bag, zero personality, I’m to hot to trot attitude forces me in the other direction. I mean, i don’t think i’ve ever even touched a six pack- aside from a sixer of brewskis. (sierra nevadas my favorite btw…ya know, if you wanna get me one) I’ve decided to get my own six pack. From this day forward, I will puke up everything I eat and I will not sleep. I will do crunches up Mount Kilimanjaro and do lunges the whole way down until my six pack is the only thing protecting my ribs from tearing through my malnutritioned skin. Then I’m gonna feel myself up and down til my dentures are finished and my hairs grown back. The day is mine.

Goldieloxxx Blow it out your gas hole!

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                                                       fart.jpg

Believe it or not, I care what my body looks like. The only problem is, I’m not willing to do anything about it. No, i’m not a fat ass, but It’s clear that I could one day be a fat ass. In my home there is a giant box filled with nutisystem food. None of which is required to be refrigerated(WTF). Truthfully, the food is not for me, it is for another. However, on occasion, I have nothing to eat and therefor must eat what is in the box. I have now been farting for 52 hours, which also means I’ve been laughing for 52 hours. I can’t say that nutrisystem works, cause i’m not really on the diet. I can say this though, that due to the hot air that doubles, triples even quadruples in my body, I am indeed lighter. Nutrisystem, you’re funny!

Porno for Pirates

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Last night, it occurred to me that mermaids are disgusting delusions of dull-witted seamen combining the two things they know best; fish and stinky prostitutes.  Pirates, among other sea dwellers, perpetuated the mythology of swimming sluts who stank of sushi and today we pretend it’s an innocent fantasy story suitable for children.

Fishy Gal

Centuries ago, sailors had very simple lives, when you think about it. They spent most of their time on the ocean with aquatic life being their only external contact. Whenever they reach shore, seamen would look for company at the nearest and cheapest brothel. This company, due to a thriving sex trade and poor hygiene, often included a fish like smell wafting from the under-carriage. Unpleasant as it may seem, this smell was almost a Pavlovian trigger for these men which screamed, “SEX!”

Combining a half-naked woman with a fish tail was almost rational to them. After all, if a promiscuous female is ever waiting for these men on shore, why shouldn’t there also be fishy females waiting under the sea? When you’re dehydrated, on the brink of scurvy and lonely, the idea seems quite appealing.

We modern folks have taken this crazy idea and romanticized it for mass consumption. Movies like “Splash” or “Lady in the Water” paint mermaids as seductive creatures. Unfortunately, the physical beauty of a topless gal from the ocean must get knocked down several notches by that strong fish stench. Even if she magically changes her fish-tail for legs, and you can get past the odor of undersea living, one needs to consider where else that lady from the water has been before you. Has she been violated by a randy porpoise? Perhaps pounded by a killer whale? Is there a chance she’s got “the HIV” from some dirty needles dumped in the sea?

It’s probably fair to say that the average man of today wouldn’t find the prospect of bedding a half-fish/lady attractive. However, that doesn’t mean that the swashbuckling pirates of days gone by wouldn’t consider Disney’s “Little Mermaid” the equivalent of a stag film. I’m sure we could spend quite some time discussing how seashells must chafe a perky aquatic nipple in the salt water. Unfortunately, that will have to wait for another day…

–King 0f New York





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