Many of us have met in person so no secret as who we are but we have no idea in hell who you are. You could be a sock trying to stir crap in every thread.
Sorry mods could not resist. I took the bait. I'll try to ignore him now.
- Thread starter frank12
- Start date
Cabarete Diaries, part 2
Many of us have met in person so no secret as who we are but we have no idea in hell who you are. You could be a sock trying to stir crap in every thread.
Sorry mods could not resist. I took the bait. I'll try to ignore him now.
Many of us have met in person so no secret as who we are but we have no idea in hell who you are. You could be a sock trying to stir crap in every thread.
Sorry mods could not resist. I took the bait. I'll try to ignore him now.
You can't ignore, wherever you look he's fighting with someone..........
not to dampen the enthusiasm of the posters but recently we had few threads closed on the account of personal arguments between some folks... and it will not happen here, capiche? so i suggest putting annoying hemorrhoids on ignore and moving on or you will see posts disappear in a puff of smoke.
:cheeky: :devious:
:cheeky: :devious:
It's very, very affordable...basically, he is just charging you for the gas. I would highly recommend that you contact him. For me, it was hands down, one of the most scenic and attractive trips that i have ever taken in the DR. I cannot recommend it highly enough.
Oh yeah, we are talking about the plane trip from the north coast to the south coast--Bahia de Las Aguillas--in Rex's plane. I put a video up of it in this thread--a few pages back..we passed directly next to Pico Duarte...it was stunning!!
Frank
His son, Alex, is a member also, and goes by "Beeza." You could probably message him as well. They're both extremely experienced pilots, and Beeza is an engineer/mechanic for some commercial airlines. They know what they're doing.
Frank
Chapter 400 (Hedging your Bets & The Penis vs Vagina)
In third world countries, women are forced to Hedge their Bets.
What does "Hedging your Bets" mean exactly?
Basically, it means having lots of other potential boyfriends on the line. It means not putting all of your eggs in one basket. It means not placing all your hopes and dreams on one man. More on this later.
In places like Scandinavia, women do not need to Hedge their Bets. If a relationships turns sour, women have both the financial means as well as the financial independence to survive on their own—both for them and their children. In Scandinavia, there is a system of support for women and their children. There is free daycare so that the woman can work. There is also free education for their children. No woman needs to stay in a dysfunctional relationship, or with a dysfunctional man, for financial reasons. This gives women the financial freedom and security to either study, work…or both.
Contrast this with the DR. In the DR (True for all third world countries) when a relationship sours, women are forced to stay in a dysfunctional relationship for financial reasons. They are forced to stay in a dysfunctional relationship for their children. There is no “System” of support. There is no free daycare, no free education, no financial help from the state or government.
In third world countries, women have no choice but to remain in a dysfunctional relationship because they have no way of surviving on their own. Hence, they Hedge their Bets.
In poor countries, women have only their family as a means of outside support. However, often, their families are worse off than they are. This forces women in third world countries into a “Survival Mode” that few people from Industrial Western countries can relate to. As a result of being forced to survive on their own—with no means of support from the government, family, or a man—women sometimes seek out other boyfriends to help them survive. In other words, they “Hedge their Bets” as a means of survival. This survival instinct kicks-in especially when they have children to support and feed. Their survival instinct teaches them not to invest too much hope on one man. They look for other potential suitors just in case the relationship doesn’t work out. They sometimes have several boyfriends on their fishing line. If one fishing line breaks, they still have another fishing line cast out (we’ll call that Plan B). If Plan B fails, they go to a third fishing line (We’ll call that Plan C). Some women have so many fishing lines cast out into the water that they sometimes lose track of all of their lines, and hence, you get a traffic jam. Whenever you get lines entangled with one another, some lines must be cut free, and perfectly good fish must be let go. As sometimes the case, the bigger fish is sometimes lost. More on big fish later.
Some women enjoy fishing so much that they have a Plan D, E, F, G, H, I…XYZ ready. They have so many fishing lines cast out that they can start a fish market…hence the phrase “Fish Monger.” Some women casts so many fishing lines out that they are prepared for an Apocalypse. They’re prepared for End Times. They prepared for Armageddon.
Basically, women in third world countries are forced to “Hedge their Bets” because the market is too vulnerable to change. The market is unstable. The market is up and down. The market is vulnerable to too many variables. Market forecasts are as unreliable as they are unpredictable. Markets are impossible to predict. And the “Sausage Market” is the most unreliable of all. What may appear as a good investment initially can turn out to be a terrible investment? That’s why few relationships make it in the real world. That’s why 50% of all marriages ends within the first 5 or 6 years. In third world countries, you never know if a couple is together out of financial necessity or love. Contrast and compare this with other societies…in Scandinavia, you know when a couple is together it’s not because of financial necessity.
How about men?
Men are no better. In fact, they're worse. The problem with men is that we like too much diversity. No man wants to eat the same food day after day, night after night. We can only eat “one” type of food so many times before we start craving something different. This is essentially true for everyone—man or woman, but with men its worse. You can only eat vanilla ice cream so many times before you start to crave a different flavor.
We can’t eat the same flavor of ice cream day after day, for the rest of our lives. That’s overkill. That’s boring. That’s monotonous. There are 31 flavors of ice cream out there, right? The most popular is chocolate, vanilla, and strawberry. But there are many flavors that come from a combination of these three flavors…dark-chocolate, milk-chocolate, mocca-chocolate, caramel, Bubble-gum…and my personal favorite: Strawberry-Vanilla. Its texture is smooth and creamy, and you need polarized sunglasses if you stare directly into its bright orange aura. More on the burning Red Bush later.
Men get tired of the same flavor. So we sample.
That’s what Men do. We’re chronic samplers. We're also chronic foragers. You ever see a man walk past a sample plate inside a supermarket without stopping and tasting it? No. that’s because we want to taste everything on the plate. Only a stupid man would push aside something without sampling it first. Only a stupid man would eat the same **** day after day.
Which brings me to my next point…
Never trust someone who doesn’t sample things first--before deciding what best suits their taste. You cannot trust someone who hasn’t tried a variety of snacks and flavors. How else can someone know what they like and don’t like? Anyone who turns their noses up at something without tasting it first cannot be trusted. You see how animals in the wild operate? they smell and taste everything before moving down the line. There needs to be some kind of quality control. More on that later.
Back to Hedging Bets.
In Scandinavia, the women don’t need to Hedge their Bets, and hence, the women here are more honest. People will say, “Scandinavians are the most honest people in the world because of their value system. That’s bull****. Scandinavians are more honest simply because there is nothing to lose by leaving a dysfunctional relationship. No one needs to stay in a relationship for financial reasons. No one needs to tolerate a dysfunctional person for financial or security reasons. And there in lies the secret. Independence is born from not having to rely on anyone for financial support and survival. This independence creates Freedom. And Freedom creates choices. What we know about freedom is that the more of it you possess, the more choices and options you have. The more choices and options you possess, the richer you are. Is there such a thing as having too much freedom? **** no.
Here in Scandinavia, no one needs to depend on another human being for financial support. No one needs to stay in a dysfunctional relationship for security. Everyone is taken care of, and therefore, no one needs to “Hedge their Bets.”
Back to the DR.
Women are forced to Hedge their Bets in the DR (any poor country) out of necessity. They’re forced to invest in different men because they need a means to survive. You cannot tell a woman, “Stay in your terrible relationship with your dysfunctional alcoholic man and continue to put up with his **** because…”that's what women do!” That’s bull****. You cannot expect anyone to not want a better life—both for them and their children. You cannot expect people to not want a better life for their children’s future. Therefore, in a “Dysfunctional society,” women are forced to sometimes sell their bodies and “Hedge their Bets.”
It’s a terrible, extremely unfair world we live in, where almost everything about your opportunities & choices in life…and hence Freedom…is decided on where you are born and geography.
Life in a third world country can be difficult. Very difficult. The DR can be a very dysfunctional place with little to no infrastructure—or very poor infrastructure at best! In this kind of society, you force people into a corner. You force people into a “Survival Mode” that borders on the Kafkaesque, Catch-22 situations, and pure unadulterated madness. Systems don’t work…or work poorly. Lying is tolerated because people understand its part of surviving. People are forced into a Survival Mode and can’t depend on either the government or society to financially help them.
Who would want such a government that forces women into financial servitude? American Libertarians and Conservative Republicans for one. They want as little government as possible. For them, the less government, the better. They must love third world countries where government plays almost no role in people’s lives.
That’s one of the reasons why so many conservatives, Libertarians, and religious freaks flock here…the government here is almost non-existent, and what rules exist, are poorly enforced at best. These conservatives and Libertarians want to live in a place with little to no taxes…which means…little to no infrastructure.
In third world countries, women are forced to Hedge their Bets.
What does "Hedging your Bets" mean exactly?
Basically, it means having lots of other potential boyfriends on the line. It means not putting all of your eggs in one basket. It means not placing all your hopes and dreams on one man. More on this later.
In places like Scandinavia, women do not need to Hedge their Bets. If a relationships turns sour, women have both the financial means as well as the financial independence to survive on their own—both for them and their children. In Scandinavia, there is a system of support for women and their children. There is free daycare so that the woman can work. There is also free education for their children. No woman needs to stay in a dysfunctional relationship, or with a dysfunctional man, for financial reasons. This gives women the financial freedom and security to either study, work…or both.
Contrast this with the DR. In the DR (True for all third world countries) when a relationship sours, women are forced to stay in a dysfunctional relationship for financial reasons. They are forced to stay in a dysfunctional relationship for their children. There is no “System” of support. There is no free daycare, no free education, no financial help from the state or government.
In third world countries, women have no choice but to remain in a dysfunctional relationship because they have no way of surviving on their own. Hence, they Hedge their Bets.
In poor countries, women have only their family as a means of outside support. However, often, their families are worse off than they are. This forces women in third world countries into a “Survival Mode” that few people from Industrial Western countries can relate to. As a result of being forced to survive on their own—with no means of support from the government, family, or a man—women sometimes seek out other boyfriends to help them survive. In other words, they “Hedge their Bets” as a means of survival. This survival instinct kicks-in especially when they have children to support and feed. Their survival instinct teaches them not to invest too much hope on one man. They look for other potential suitors just in case the relationship doesn’t work out. They sometimes have several boyfriends on their fishing line. If one fishing line breaks, they still have another fishing line cast out (we’ll call that Plan B). If Plan B fails, they go to a third fishing line (We’ll call that Plan C). Some women have so many fishing lines cast out into the water that they sometimes lose track of all of their lines, and hence, you get a traffic jam. Whenever you get lines entangled with one another, some lines must be cut free, and perfectly good fish must be let go. As sometimes the case, the bigger fish is sometimes lost. More on big fish later.
Some women enjoy fishing so much that they have a Plan D, E, F, G, H, I…XYZ ready. They have so many fishing lines cast out that they can start a fish market…hence the phrase “Fish Monger.” Some women casts so many fishing lines out that they are prepared for an Apocalypse. They’re prepared for End Times. They prepared for Armageddon.
Basically, women in third world countries are forced to “Hedge their Bets” because the market is too vulnerable to change. The market is unstable. The market is up and down. The market is vulnerable to too many variables. Market forecasts are as unreliable as they are unpredictable. Markets are impossible to predict. And the “Sausage Market” is the most unreliable of all. What may appear as a good investment initially can turn out to be a terrible investment? That’s why few relationships make it in the real world. That’s why 50% of all marriages ends within the first 5 or 6 years. In third world countries, you never know if a couple is together out of financial necessity or love. Contrast and compare this with other societies…in Scandinavia, you know when a couple is together it’s not because of financial necessity.
How about men?
Men are no better. In fact, they're worse. The problem with men is that we like too much diversity. No man wants to eat the same food day after day, night after night. We can only eat “one” type of food so many times before we start craving something different. This is essentially true for everyone—man or woman, but with men its worse. You can only eat vanilla ice cream so many times before you start to crave a different flavor.
We can’t eat the same flavor of ice cream day after day, for the rest of our lives. That’s overkill. That’s boring. That’s monotonous. There are 31 flavors of ice cream out there, right? The most popular is chocolate, vanilla, and strawberry. But there are many flavors that come from a combination of these three flavors…dark-chocolate, milk-chocolate, mocca-chocolate, caramel, Bubble-gum…and my personal favorite: Strawberry-Vanilla. Its texture is smooth and creamy, and you need polarized sunglasses if you stare directly into its bright orange aura. More on the burning Red Bush later.
Men get tired of the same flavor. So we sample.
That’s what Men do. We’re chronic samplers. We're also chronic foragers. You ever see a man walk past a sample plate inside a supermarket without stopping and tasting it? No. that’s because we want to taste everything on the plate. Only a stupid man would push aside something without sampling it first. Only a stupid man would eat the same **** day after day.
Which brings me to my next point…
Never trust someone who doesn’t sample things first--before deciding what best suits their taste. You cannot trust someone who hasn’t tried a variety of snacks and flavors. How else can someone know what they like and don’t like? Anyone who turns their noses up at something without tasting it first cannot be trusted. You see how animals in the wild operate? they smell and taste everything before moving down the line. There needs to be some kind of quality control. More on that later.
Back to Hedging Bets.
In Scandinavia, the women don’t need to Hedge their Bets, and hence, the women here are more honest. People will say, “Scandinavians are the most honest people in the world because of their value system. That’s bull****. Scandinavians are more honest simply because there is nothing to lose by leaving a dysfunctional relationship. No one needs to stay in a relationship for financial reasons. No one needs to tolerate a dysfunctional person for financial or security reasons. And there in lies the secret. Independence is born from not having to rely on anyone for financial support and survival. This independence creates Freedom. And Freedom creates choices. What we know about freedom is that the more of it you possess, the more choices and options you have. The more choices and options you possess, the richer you are. Is there such a thing as having too much freedom? **** no.
Here in Scandinavia, no one needs to depend on another human being for financial support. No one needs to stay in a dysfunctional relationship for security. Everyone is taken care of, and therefore, no one needs to “Hedge their Bets.”
Back to the DR.
Women are forced to Hedge their Bets in the DR (any poor country) out of necessity. They’re forced to invest in different men because they need a means to survive. You cannot tell a woman, “Stay in your terrible relationship with your dysfunctional alcoholic man and continue to put up with his **** because…”that's what women do!” That’s bull****. You cannot expect anyone to not want a better life—both for them and their children. You cannot expect people to not want a better life for their children’s future. Therefore, in a “Dysfunctional society,” women are forced to sometimes sell their bodies and “Hedge their Bets.”
It’s a terrible, extremely unfair world we live in, where almost everything about your opportunities & choices in life…and hence Freedom…is decided on where you are born and geography.
Life in a third world country can be difficult. Very difficult. The DR can be a very dysfunctional place with little to no infrastructure—or very poor infrastructure at best! In this kind of society, you force people into a corner. You force people into a “Survival Mode” that borders on the Kafkaesque, Catch-22 situations, and pure unadulterated madness. Systems don’t work…or work poorly. Lying is tolerated because people understand its part of surviving. People are forced into a Survival Mode and can’t depend on either the government or society to financially help them.
Who would want such a government that forces women into financial servitude? American Libertarians and Conservative Republicans for one. They want as little government as possible. For them, the less government, the better. They must love third world countries where government plays almost no role in people’s lives.
That’s one of the reasons why so many conservatives, Libertarians, and religious freaks flock here…the government here is almost non-existent, and what rules exist, are poorly enforced at best. These conservatives and Libertarians want to live in a place with little to no taxes…which means…little to no infrastructure.
Chapter 405 (Murdering my Mother Efficiently)
My mother is driving me crazy. She calls me throughout the night. Starting at around midnight—and then going on until 5am and 6am in the morning. She doesn't sleep. She's a vampire. She keeps calling me, telling me the same thing over and over. It doesn’t matter how many times I tell her, “Mom, it’s 3am in the morning! I have to work in a few hours.” She just laughs, and then she says things like, “You’ve never worked a day in your whole life!” Ok, she might have a point.
My mother has Dementia, Alzheimer, Paranoia, and big hair. Really big hair!
My mom’s memory is terrible. This is compounded with some deep psychological problems of which most of them have gone undiagnosed because she refuses to acknowledge that she is crazy, and therefore, refuses to see a doctor.
This begs the question, “Do crazy people know that they are crazy?”
After studying my mom over a cup of strong coffee, a few glasses of Pinot Noir, and smoking some catnip, I now know the answer. And the answer is a clear, unequivocal, “No!”
No, crazy people do not know they are crazy for the simple reason that they're absolutely convinced that everyone around them are the ones who are crazy! Really crazy.
She might be on to something here.
It turns out that crazy people are the only ones who think they are perfectly sane. Sane people, of course, question themselves all the time. A sane person will stop and evaluate their decisions and actions throughout the day. A sane person understands that there are consequences for their actions and decisions. A sane person doesn’t call someone throughout the night to tell them that they want “Ben & Jerry’s ice cream right now!” A sane person knows how to tell time. A sane person knows the difference between right and wrong. Not my mom. My mom thinks it’s perfectly fine to call people throughout the night and demand Chunky Monkey ice cream.
How do you go about hastening a person’s death without breaking the law?
I know, I know. It’s a terrible thing to contemplate. But I’ve given it a lot of thought over coffee and wine. I think I will be doing my mom a favor if I hasten her death by say…a few months, a year or two...maybe five years.
My mom is a Christian fundamentalist. She thinks that she is going to heaven no matter what happens. In fact, like all Christian fundamentalists, Christian Conservatives, and Tea Party members, she is chalk full of contradictions and confidence about Heaven and Hell. She thinks they really exist exactly like the bible describes. She thinks she knows what god wants. She thinks she knows what Jesus wants. She speaks to him in the third person.
She knows the bible better than anyone. She knows exactly what the bible says and can quote scripture as easily as any theologian. Therefore, she absolutely knows that she is going to heaven. She has a first class seat directly to the Pearly Gates. Therefore, I would be doing her a favor… a big favor by getting her on the next flight out, because, basically, by hastening her death, I would be ensuring that she gets to the buffet table before the shrimp cocktail runs out.
How do you kill your mother and stay out of jail?
I’ve given a lot of thought to this as well over a lot of coffee and chardonnay. When I was home in April, I started digging a hole behind her garage. I figured, after she dies, I will bury her next to her cats—all 26 of them. I know she has 26 dead cats because I buried all of them. I figure I would be doing her a big favor by putting her next to Marvin—her favorite cat. I know exactly where Marvin is buried, because I am the one that buried him. I dug all of the holes throughout her back yard and buried her cats like a squirrel hides his nuts. I strategically placed them three feet apart. I you found one dead cat, you simply took three steps in any direction, and Voila, there was another buried cat.
I tried digging a 6ft. hole in several different spots behind her garage. What I didn’t realize was that, because of all of the tree roots--they have infiltrated her back yard like a maze--making it impossible to dig deeper than say…2 feet down. Sure, I could put her in a shallow grave, but then her boobs would protrude out of the ground like watermelons. This would necessitate putting an addition mound of dirt where her boobs are sticking out, and then planting flowers on top of them. The problem with this is that I’m a terrible gardener. I cannot grow anything. I do not possess a green thumb. Therefore, the flowers would eventually die and then either the neighborhood squirrels, rabbits, dogs or children would come over and dig up her boobs. That won’t work. I cannot have my mom's boobs paraded around he neighborhood.
No, to do it the right way, I would require a backhoe to dig a 6ft x 6ft hole in the ground. But this would attract an enormous amount of unwanted attention. My mom’s next door neighbor is a Dayton Police officer. But I’m not worried about him. I can just buy a 12-pack of Pabst Blue Ribbon and he’ll look the other way. Like all good cops, he loves beer.
It’s the old people in the neighborhood that I’m worried about. Old people are dangerous. They cannot be bought off as easily as other people. They have pensions. They have grandchildren. They think differently. The biggest problem with old people is that they have nothing to do all day but to spy on their neighbors like Gladys Kravitz from Bewitched. You can’t buy old people off with beer. You need something much stronger then beer for old people. The other problem is that old people have pensions and social security checks. Therefore, it’s nearly impossible to buy them off near the first of the month when they get paid. So, no, a backhoe simply won’t work. It would attract too much attention.
Without a backhoe, I would have to chop up my mom’s body. The problem with chopping her up is that its messy and I cannot stand the sight of blood. The sight of blood makes me faint. No joke. I have a really weak stomach around blood, unless its oozing out of a T-Bone or Porterhouse steak. Then I get hungry. Really hungry. The other problem is that chopping up my mom’s body requires electrical tools. And I’m simply terrible around anything electrical. I cannot even operate a blender without hurting myself. So electrical tools are out of the question as well.
I had some more chardonnay and pondered this dilemma for quite some time before I finally realized the only efficient way of getting rid of my mom’s body would be to smoke her. We have a smoker in her garage. It belonged to my Dominican father and brother. They used to use it to smoke fish, meats, and the occasional neighborhood cat that wondered into our yard. They turned neighborhood cats into a sort of smoked beef jerky. It was delicious. I often took the cat jerky up to college with me to share with friends and co-workers. They loved it!
Anyway, I could easily smoke my mom down to an efficient size where I could either sell her meat at Farmer’s Markets as an “Organic Beef Jerky,” or I could just give her meat away to ex-girlfriends and ex-wives, and just tell them that it’s an expensive smoked Kobe beef from Japan.
I will have another coffee and Chardonnay and contemplate my decision.
My mother is driving me crazy. She calls me throughout the night. Starting at around midnight—and then going on until 5am and 6am in the morning. She doesn't sleep. She's a vampire. She keeps calling me, telling me the same thing over and over. It doesn’t matter how many times I tell her, “Mom, it’s 3am in the morning! I have to work in a few hours.” She just laughs, and then she says things like, “You’ve never worked a day in your whole life!” Ok, she might have a point.
My mother has Dementia, Alzheimer, Paranoia, and big hair. Really big hair!
My mom’s memory is terrible. This is compounded with some deep psychological problems of which most of them have gone undiagnosed because she refuses to acknowledge that she is crazy, and therefore, refuses to see a doctor.
This begs the question, “Do crazy people know that they are crazy?”
After studying my mom over a cup of strong coffee, a few glasses of Pinot Noir, and smoking some catnip, I now know the answer. And the answer is a clear, unequivocal, “No!”
No, crazy people do not know they are crazy for the simple reason that they're absolutely convinced that everyone around them are the ones who are crazy! Really crazy.
She might be on to something here.
It turns out that crazy people are the only ones who think they are perfectly sane. Sane people, of course, question themselves all the time. A sane person will stop and evaluate their decisions and actions throughout the day. A sane person understands that there are consequences for their actions and decisions. A sane person doesn’t call someone throughout the night to tell them that they want “Ben & Jerry’s ice cream right now!” A sane person knows how to tell time. A sane person knows the difference between right and wrong. Not my mom. My mom thinks it’s perfectly fine to call people throughout the night and demand Chunky Monkey ice cream.
How do you go about hastening a person’s death without breaking the law?
I know, I know. It’s a terrible thing to contemplate. But I’ve given it a lot of thought over coffee and wine. I think I will be doing my mom a favor if I hasten her death by say…a few months, a year or two...maybe five years.
My mom is a Christian fundamentalist. She thinks that she is going to heaven no matter what happens. In fact, like all Christian fundamentalists, Christian Conservatives, and Tea Party members, she is chalk full of contradictions and confidence about Heaven and Hell. She thinks they really exist exactly like the bible describes. She thinks she knows what god wants. She thinks she knows what Jesus wants. She speaks to him in the third person.
She knows the bible better than anyone. She knows exactly what the bible says and can quote scripture as easily as any theologian. Therefore, she absolutely knows that she is going to heaven. She has a first class seat directly to the Pearly Gates. Therefore, I would be doing her a favor… a big favor by getting her on the next flight out, because, basically, by hastening her death, I would be ensuring that she gets to the buffet table before the shrimp cocktail runs out.
How do you kill your mother and stay out of jail?
I’ve given a lot of thought to this as well over a lot of coffee and chardonnay. When I was home in April, I started digging a hole behind her garage. I figured, after she dies, I will bury her next to her cats—all 26 of them. I know she has 26 dead cats because I buried all of them. I figure I would be doing her a big favor by putting her next to Marvin—her favorite cat. I know exactly where Marvin is buried, because I am the one that buried him. I dug all of the holes throughout her back yard and buried her cats like a squirrel hides his nuts. I strategically placed them three feet apart. I you found one dead cat, you simply took three steps in any direction, and Voila, there was another buried cat.
I tried digging a 6ft. hole in several different spots behind her garage. What I didn’t realize was that, because of all of the tree roots--they have infiltrated her back yard like a maze--making it impossible to dig deeper than say…2 feet down. Sure, I could put her in a shallow grave, but then her boobs would protrude out of the ground like watermelons. This would necessitate putting an addition mound of dirt where her boobs are sticking out, and then planting flowers on top of them. The problem with this is that I’m a terrible gardener. I cannot grow anything. I do not possess a green thumb. Therefore, the flowers would eventually die and then either the neighborhood squirrels, rabbits, dogs or children would come over and dig up her boobs. That won’t work. I cannot have my mom's boobs paraded around he neighborhood.
No, to do it the right way, I would require a backhoe to dig a 6ft x 6ft hole in the ground. But this would attract an enormous amount of unwanted attention. My mom’s next door neighbor is a Dayton Police officer. But I’m not worried about him. I can just buy a 12-pack of Pabst Blue Ribbon and he’ll look the other way. Like all good cops, he loves beer.
It’s the old people in the neighborhood that I’m worried about. Old people are dangerous. They cannot be bought off as easily as other people. They have pensions. They have grandchildren. They think differently. The biggest problem with old people is that they have nothing to do all day but to spy on their neighbors like Gladys Kravitz from Bewitched. You can’t buy old people off with beer. You need something much stronger then beer for old people. The other problem is that old people have pensions and social security checks. Therefore, it’s nearly impossible to buy them off near the first of the month when they get paid. So, no, a backhoe simply won’t work. It would attract too much attention.
Without a backhoe, I would have to chop up my mom’s body. The problem with chopping her up is that its messy and I cannot stand the sight of blood. The sight of blood makes me faint. No joke. I have a really weak stomach around blood, unless its oozing out of a T-Bone or Porterhouse steak. Then I get hungry. Really hungry. The other problem is that chopping up my mom’s body requires electrical tools. And I’m simply terrible around anything electrical. I cannot even operate a blender without hurting myself. So electrical tools are out of the question as well.
I had some more chardonnay and pondered this dilemma for quite some time before I finally realized the only efficient way of getting rid of my mom’s body would be to smoke her. We have a smoker in her garage. It belonged to my Dominican father and brother. They used to use it to smoke fish, meats, and the occasional neighborhood cat that wondered into our yard. They turned neighborhood cats into a sort of smoked beef jerky. It was delicious. I often took the cat jerky up to college with me to share with friends and co-workers. They loved it!
Anyway, I could easily smoke my mom down to an efficient size where I could either sell her meat at Farmer’s Markets as an “Organic Beef Jerky,” or I could just give her meat away to ex-girlfriends and ex-wives, and just tell them that it’s an expensive smoked Kobe beef from Japan.
I will have another coffee and Chardonnay and contemplate my decision.
Hopefully, after you cleaned up the mess, you were inspired to start writing? Really miss your stories.
