I do plan to continue my exploration of The Avengers this year, I do mean the Mrs Peel years, the only ones that I consider important but until I get back to that I had this weird thought.

This year of 13 has been undoubtedly the worst year of my entire life. I do realize that nature has given us this fabulous ability to dull the memory of the most horrible things that you could possibly experience and enhance the memories of the highlights. You remember the friend that came to your home and needed a place to stay but file away all the things the asshole stole from you while you were trying to help. I actually believed the bullshit story that he told me about some “people” who he chased out of my house, with great personal risk to him, what a load.

I have to admit that I might be a racist. Most of the bad things that have happened to me or my immediate family were at the hands of A-Americans. I hold a tiny grudge against the young black man that shot me because I wouldn’t give the SOB my wallet. it had a couple of hundred cash and the only reason that I was there was because I ran out of gas in the wrong area, Inglewood California 405 freeway. I don’t recall how many times I was mugged by bunches black kids older than me but I do have to admit only a white POS tried to get me to suck him off, I preferred to be kicked until I could not breath but I did show the MF my teeth when he took his thing out and pointed to it. He decided not to be emasculated and they punched and kicked me until it was too much work to continue, they went in search of more amusing prey.

My mother passed this year, I swear I believe she waited as long as she could to say goodbye to me, it was one of her last lucid moments but she knew my name for the first time in many years and that was the last time I talked with her, two days later she died. She was this tiny little lady, 5 foot nothing and had to carry two purses in her neighborhood Ridgewood New York because black kids would knock her down and take her purse. In the end she even kept her cash separate from both purses. She was very generous and if they had just asked she probably would have given them all she had and gone home to get more. She was just that kind, she would rather go hungry than see another person suffer.

Until recently I had all my senses intact, my vision was corrected with LASIK and I could hear well. There was nothing wrong with my taste, check out my ever expanding waistline. That’s not completely accurate; it is more like a yo-yo. I have no problem losing weight but I can’t escape it always seems to find me; there is no place to hide.

On to ESP, for the uninitiated that stands for Extra Sensory Perception or to get simpler feeling things not covered by the 5 standard accepted senses touch, sight, taste, smell and hearing. The huge thing not covered is a sense of humor, it is amazing how many people are humor blind or humor deaf, luckily since the sense is subtle those who are afflicted can go through life unaware of what they are missing, after all how can you miss something if you have never experienced it.

I think that I could live with reduced hearing or sight but I already miss touch. I mean it was only a few years ago but the first time I got to second base I swear that my head exploded and I have been living in a coma since then. It was the most intense thing I had done until that time that I survived, I have heard that its embarrassing for the woman to have someone faint dead away after holding her bared flesh in his hand for a couple of minutes but since the Paramedics were not called there is no official record and I will deny it until my death bed. I may have even pee’d a little or maybe it was really premature pre-cum. You know the Devils Lube!

I may lose my sight and hearing but I will treasure the sense of touch for as long as I can, holding a nice red bum in my hand is enough to get me over the top. I can do only one thing well with my left or right hand and it’s not playing the piano, frankly I won’t win any damn prizes for it, but it may be the only thing left to me. I mean after all I am a lot like Kansas, miles and miles of nothing unrelieved by any outstanding landmarks, or miles and miles of worn road.

Is the sixth sense a sense of humor? I don’t have any answers but I have a shitload of questions and I am determined to get some answers before I call it quits. I do plan to hold a breast or buttock in my hand, not mine, preferably some woman’s, preferably of legal age and lets not kid one another, I really want her to be conscious and untied and want me, really want me!


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