I like peanut butter. Sure it sticks on the roof of your mouth, but if you keep licking it eventually goes away, and — hey! — you’re licking peanut butter, so there isn’t really a problem that I can see, as long as you like peanut butter.

From “Not That Kind of Dog: Lena Dunham’s Puppy Tells You What She’s ‘Learned’.”

At first I thought we were just playing a game. I like to play games, games with sticks, games with balls, games with squeaky things and stretchy things, there are all kinds of games I like, I’m a dog: I like to play games. But then I learned: Lena did not want to play any of ‘those’ kinds of games.

At first I thought Lena was just going to sniff my rear end. I’m good with that, it’s pretty normal amongst us dogs, really. But then she started trying to put small rocks in my ass. I did not want small rocks put in my ass, so I shook my hips and gave a small Grrrr. Lena just giggled and held me tighter, then she tried, again, to put small rocks in my ass. This was not a fun game. There are plenty of other games that are a whole lot of fun, but I did NOT like this one…


From “Not That Kind of Dog: Lena Dunham’s Puppy Tells You What She’s ‘Learned’.”

Then there was the time she picked up my super bestest favorite squeaky toy: it was orange and when you pushed your nose against it there came the most wonderful squeak, I could do it again and again. This time, however, Lena was naked and she put my super bestest favorite squeaky toy between her thighs and said “Make it squeak! Make it squeak!” Now, I think I have explained how much I loved this toy but something inside me told me this was not the right way to play the game, not the right way at all…


From “Not That Kind of Dog: Lena Dunham’s Puppy Tells You What She’s ‘Learned’.”

Now, I’m the kind of dog that likes peanut butter. Some dogs do, some dogs don’t, but me — I like peanut butter. Sure it sticks on the roof of your mouth, but if you keep licking it eventually goes away, and — hey! — you’re licking peanut butter, so there isn’t really a problem that I can see, as long as you like peanut butter.

So when Lena scooped a big spoonful of peanut butter out of the jar needless to say I was excited! My tail wagged and wagged and I could already practically taste it. But then Lena took the peanut butter and spread it between her naked butt cheeks: perfectly good peanut butter, I don’t get it! Then I remembered: when Lena is naked it is not going to be one of the ‘good’ games. “You wanna lick?” she asked in this high sing-song voice as she knelt on the kitchen floor with peanut butter between her butt cheeks, and — No — I most decidedly did NOT want to lick…




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“Ed, we could just as well sell a hammer that some psycho uses to smash the heads of people walking down Second Avenue.”

“Don, I gotta admit, all this talk of rifles and lovers makes me a bit uncomfortable. What if something like that DID happen?”

“It happens every day, Ed. This is America: people get shot.”

“But if we sold them the gun that kinda makes us a part of it, you know?”

“Ed, we could just as well sell a hammer that some psycho uses to smash the heads of people walking down Second Avenue.”

“You know there is a difference, Don.”

“I know no such thing. I could kill someone with just about everything we sell in the shop. Screwdrivers, chainsaws, file cabinets…”

“I really can’t picture someone killing somebody with a file cabinet, Don.”

“Your lack of imagination doesn’t make it not possible, Ed. Desperation often requires ingenuity.”

“We’ve had this discussion before. You think everyone is possible of killing someone; I don’t.”

“You are just projecting your weakness on people in general, Ed. I have confidence in you: I think you could do it.”

“I would never want to.”

“Sometimes what you want and what you have to do don’t line up. Me, if a robber came through our door I’d have no problem shooting him.”

“You’d shoot him over — what? — thirty dollars in the register and some change?”

“Ain’t his thirty dollars, Ed. Ain’t his change.”

“A life should be worth more than thirty dollars, Don.”

“A principle is worth more than a life, Ed. I’d shoot him in the back if I had to.”

“Now you’re just toying with me…”

“Hell, if he had a tattoo I’d carve it off his skin and save it as a souvenir. Dry it out and hang it over the counter, maybe.”

“I would never be a party to that, Don.”

“Hell, Ed, you’d help me bury the body: I have faith in you.”

“So you wouldn’t call the Police then?”

“Why would I? No real crime was committed, justice was already done.”

“You can’t kill someone and just pretend nothing happened.”

“No need to pretend, Ed: the right thing would’ve happened, and I can live with that, easy. I could shoot a child molester, too. Pedophile, rapist, what have you.”

“I think you have delusions of grandeur, Don.”

“Living in your head has made you soft, Ed. Big thoughts where common sense should be.”

“I’m just saying I don’t think its right to just shoot people.”

“You know, if I were to fire a rifle out the front door at people passing by, how many innocent people do you think I’d hit?”

“I don’t even want to think about such a thing.”

“Me, I think about it all the time. All. The. Time.”

“I have a hard time knowing when you’re serious, Don.”

“It’s good to keep people guessing; keeps them honest…”

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“I’m not sure I like that ‘new’, Don.”

“Don, do you ever think that there must be more to this?”

“We’re a Resale shop: we resell things. That pretty much covers it.”

“No — I mean Life: it just feels like it is the same thing everyday, like there is no plan, no purpose, just… a bit more than nothing, is all.”

“All the bits, Ed, they eventually add up; you just have to see what it is they end up making. That’s what is new.”

“I don’t see it, Don: I just don’t see it.”

“Look at our shop, Ed: we’re a Resale shop. We take things some people see as trash and we sell it to people who see it as something new.”

“But what if the people buying it are just fooling themselves? What if it was trash, is trash, and will always be trash?

“Then we probably have to discount the price.”

“Ha. You know what I mean. I just am starting to think that the only thing we do each day is fool ourselves for another twenty-four hours.”

“Which may mean it is time to buy a pre-owned watch.”


“Look at the rifle we sold the other day. Now we may just think it was a hunter buying a rifle to just do more hunting, but what if he was really an anarchist bent on shooting up an office or some such? And we sold him that very rifle?” Wouldn’t that be new?”

“I’m not sure I like that ‘new’, Don.”

“Or he could’ve just found out his wife was cheating on him and he’s going to shoot her, or her lover, or both, maybe.”

“Maybe we shouldn’t resell firearms, Don.”

“People can change their lives every day, Ed. One shot from a rifle — it can change the World.”

“They’d put us out of business, Don.”

“That’s okay, Ed, I have plenty of rifles of my own: I’d find something to do.”


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“–that’s gone to shit, Laura: the world has gone to shit because most people in it are shit. Shit people, in a world of shit.”

“I don’t think I can do it anymore…”

“Don’t say that, Larry, don’t say it!”

“It is the just the same thing, day after day…”

“People NEED you, Larry, they depend on you!”

“Maybe I don’t want to be the one they depend on anymore. Maybe it is time for them to learn to depend on themselves.”

“But the people, they don’t have your talents: not everyone can be Thunder Monkey.”

“Being Thunder Monkey, its a tiring thing. I am tired…”

“But you give the people something to look up to, something to hope for, something to inspire them to do all that they can!”

“Most people are shit, Laura. In all my years I have spent as Thunder Monkey If I have learned only one thing, it is that most people are shit.”

“You KNOW that’s not true, Larry. Most people try to be good, upstanding people — it is just the world that has grown harder, it is the world that’s–”

“–that’s gone to shit, Laura: the world has gone to shit because most people in it are shit. Shit people, in a world of shit.”

“Surely you know that there are good people, Larry, good people that need you — that NEED Thunder Monkey…”

“The good people are just people who haven’t gone to shit yet. I spend the evenings as Thunder Monkey, saving people and righting wrongs, and they learn nothing. Nothing.”

“That can’t be true, Larry…”

“You know the worst? Little old ladies. I saved one from a vicious mugger a few nights ago and then she complained that I hurt her arm when I lifted her to safety. I saved her from getting a lead pipe to the head and all she can do is bitch that I twisted her arm…”:

“Old people can be fragile, Larry…”

“Old people should stay the hell indoors, then.”

“Oh, Larry, you can’t let that get to you…”

“Not get to me? I saved another little old lady and then she bitched about me making her pee her pants. Her brains were about to be shot all over the sidewalk and she’s bitching about peeing her pants.”

“They were scared, Larry, they didn’t know what they were saying…”

I’m just tired of it: Thunder Monkey is tired. Tired of the ungrateful old women, the shitty little children –”

“Larry, children are the ones who MOST need protection…”

“I saved a young boy the other day from getting hit by a bus, and you know what the little fucker did?”

“Larry, I’m sure he didn’t mean anything bad –”

“–he told the Police that I touched him in a ‘danger spot’ when I pulled him away from the bus. That little fucker told the police that Thunder Monkey touched him in a ‘bad’ place…

“He was confused…”

“So I had to spend forty minutes with the police explaining that Thunder Monkey was not a g_d-damned pedophile. Fuck that, I’m done.”

“Larry, I’m sue the police were just doing their job –”

If the police were doing their job the people wouldn’t need Thunder Monkey, okay? I’m out there putting my neck on the line and their giving parking tickets.”

“Surely someone has expressed their gratitude to you –”

“I saved one college girl from getting raped — she was drunk and pushing him away, and he kept grabbing at her clothes — and she had the nerve to tell me that I ruined her evening…”

“She was drunk, Larry…”

“She told me that anyone going around town calling themselves ‘Thunder Monkey’ must be a complete fucked-up asshole who probably lives with his mother..”

“You don’t live with your mother, Larry…”

“Screw it. Let them get beaten and robbed and murdered and molested, I’m done. Thunder Monkey is DONE…”

–from “The Existential Crisis of Thunder Monkey”

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Turtles All The Way Down, or Riffing in ‘C’ Sharp.

Turtles All The Way Down, or Riffing in ‘C’ Sharp.

“The Crack Emcee is the Truth-teller and the Trickster, he is the Jokerman: he is the Black Conservative who has found his own ‘Slow Train Coming.’ To repurpose a bit of Dylan history: the commenters are yelling at him ‘Judas’ and his reply is ‘I don’t believe you.’”

Note: various asides deleted for reasons of brevity.

The above is a quote from a piece I previously wrote regarding The Crack Emcee (https://betamax3000.wordpress.com/2014/03/22/the-mullet-is-and-is-not-culture/), and it is (currently) displayed on Crack’s website; I bring this up simply to say that Crack has intrigued me before, as he has intrigued me of late.

Some have noticed that my latest comments have had a distinctly ‘Crack’ tone to them; terms such as ‘mocking’, ‘parodying’ and ‘spoofing’ have been used in description, and all may apply to some degree, as perceived by the reader. I will, however, state that I never intended to humiliate or ridicule — often the desired result of the text behind these words — and will further state that I don’t believe Crack would disagree with the kernel ideas expressed in most of these comments (of course, only Crack could verify the veracity of that statement). In other words: my attempt was not to make Crack a straw-man.

Note: I prefer ‘spoof’ to ‘mocking’ or ‘parody’: spoof — to me — implies a fondness or appreciation for the source. (Digression on the Woody Allen spoof ‘“Casino Royale” in reference to the originating James Bond material has been deleted).

I think it is reasonable to submit that Crack is a polarizing figure in the Althouse commenting community: how this came to be is a knot I have no intention of attempting to untangle. (Aquinas reference deleted, perhaps). What I find interesting is the ever-growing ‘one against the many’ aspect of this, and my perception that Crack is simultaneously proud and frustrated at his part of this stalemate, especially as it escalates in pitch.

Crack recently commented (proudly?) that he is in “command” of any post that he is in (http://althouse.blogspot.com/2014/09/i-was-not-here-in-run-up-to-iraq-in.html), and this can certainly be true: he can easily be the magnet that draws the thread inexorably in his direction, yet there is little if any perceptible movement that results from his words. In this context the gears then grind harder, the pressure ratchets up even more, antagonisms spark in greater arcs but the machinery does not move — a muscle car that revs louder and louder while parked in the driveway, burning oil. (http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Muscle_car  Also, re: burning oil: two cars that I have owned.)

My initial interest was in the idea of how people would respond to a ‘Crack’ that did not employ personal antagonisms (deserved or not). Again, I did not wish to make Crack a straw-man: each of my comments came from an attempt to initially view a post through a perspective as close to his (or his persona) as I could imagine (Yes: imagination versus personal experience. I know, an argument within itself, and David Foster Wallace-style digression deleted). Most of my comments did not display any punch-line humor, other than the overall absurdity of a situation when not viewed in a default white context.

As an example, I would point to my comment regarding the Apple / U2 download post (http://althouse.blogspot.com/2014/09/how-u2-became-most-hated-band-in-america.html ): how if the artist was Jay-Z the response would be considerably different. I fully believe that to be true, and for the reasons stated in the comment. I also know I would not have arrived at that response without trying to look through Crack’s prism. This stands for most of the comments I made in this projection.

I also realized that they stood out like the proverbial sore thumb, and became aware that there was little if any further discussion of such points. This could mean — among many things — that no one was particularly interested in the race-derived angle of viewpoint, that it very well just wasn’t interesting enough to respond to, or that it was viewed-and/or-dismissed as performance — spoof — and as performance it was persona that became the only relevant context: all valid. This could also be seen as the difference between an audience laughing — humor — or an audience applauding — agreement. (If this sort of thing interests you see http://tvtropes.org/pmwiki/pmwiki.php/Main/StudioAudience — specifically, ‘clapter’).

So, yes: I set out to examine something by using an inherently faulty mechanism. Everything I could then deduce was obviously limited or rendered useless by these foundational faults. Yep. This said, I found moments of real anger, and futility.

And was not so self-deluded that I did not realize that at any moment I could revert to ‘white’.

Applicable lyric for the social tourist:

But still you’ll never get it right 

‘cos when you’re laid in bed at night watching roaches climb the wall 

If you call your Dad he could stop it all. 

You’ll never live like common people

You’ll never do what common people do

You’ll never fail like common people

You’ll never watch your life slide out of view, and dance and drink and screw 

Because there’s nothing else to do.

( http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=yuTMWgOduFM )

Beyond this, though, was the largest turtle (except for whichever one is inevitably next, i.e. http://althouse.blogspot.com/2014/09/turtles-all-way-down.html ): the nature of the Althouse blog — specifically in relation to comments.

Note: my next sentence initially was going to begin with ‘at the end of the day’ just on the chance that Althouse might post the O.E.D. on that phrase. Anyway.

So: people comment on the Althouse posts that they find interesting. That’s it.

And what people find interesting varies upon what Althouse herself has found interesting: she has not bound herself to a single idea, so it stands to reason that many of her readers are of a like mind. See: http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/The_Hedgehog_and_the_Fox  : Althouse is a fox (insert risque comment here); Crack is a hedgehog.

Note: there was a Kerouac bit on epiphany that I went to look up, but got side-tracked by a piece involving refrigerator magnets: https://thecreativeepiphany.wordpress.com/category/jack-kerouac-quote/     As far as epiphanies go this is a flat cake, or worse (for worse cakes see: http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/MacArthur_Park_%28song%29).

To rejoin: these commenters write in response to the post they find interesting, and possibly look for others’ insights on the post’s subject. Sometimes there’s edification, argument, humor, points of law, occasionally dog photo evaluation. The point is — in the Great Althouse Supermarket of Ideas  — if the reader is in the aisle of the Post on Spices they are most likely interested in spices, experiences with spices, the loneliness that the memory of a spice’s scent can bring. Perhaps.(digression into the Proustian nature of the Althouse blog discarded).

If — in the Spices Aisle — an itinerant preacher approached, passionately preaching fire and brimstone, the shopper most likely isn’t going to focus on the preacher’s message, because they just really need paprika at the moment, not redemption. The preacher may indeed be right: all the shoppers in the Supermarket ARE sinners and WILL be going to Hell but — again — paprika.

Then it is on to the aisle that has deodorants, but the preacher has followed you, and he is louder. Yes, you are still going to Hell, you obviously have not listened or otherwise you would be in agreement. Still: I just need deodorant, right now I am focused on my armpits, not my soul. I do not want to discuss my soul right now, I just don’t want to smell poorly at work tomorrow: I just came in for paprika and deodorant. To the preacher this means nothing — it is, in fact, insulting: you are only interested in the petty aspects of your routine existence and are thus callously ignoring The Truth that is being laid out right in front of you: you are a heretic.

Okay, you got me: I will discuss my soul with you a little.

Except you can never discuss your soul just a ‘little’ with someone who wants to discuss your soul a lot. Enter the previously mentioned pride and frustration: stalemate.

Secondarily: replace the preacher with a historian and the dynamics will not alter, nor the ramped increase in volume. Discuss.

People agree with each other until they don’t. Foxes and hedgehogs (delete Ron Jeremy reference). And even when they agree they may very well disagree on the relative importance of whatever the subject is at hand, or the possible solutions. How concerned ARE you with the conditions of the paprika laborers?

Indeed: why even paprika? Perhaps this is why PAPRIKA: http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/PAPRIKA

See? You probably thought the use of paprika was random, absurd, dismissive. Ha.

You might have thought my moments of ‘Crack’ were random, absurd, dismissive. Ha again, possibly.

It is turtles all the way down.



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September 8

Making progress on the first draft of stand-up. Currently thinking when this first draft is done I’ll record an audio run-through, possibly post it on YouTube for some feedback, get used to hecklers, if only in comments…


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Not necessarily a Top Twenty…

….just a sampler of pieces that I like out of the hundreds. Many are one of a set (sexbots. James the Non-Racist Slave Owner, etc), feel free to explore through Categories.




















Enjoy, all feel free to explore around during the hiatus…


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The Future has Many Pasts.

Might be light-to-nonexistent on the ‘comedy’ commentary for awhile. As I stated on an Althouse post “Betamax3000 is tired of Betamax3000.”  I know: third-person is irritating.

Inarticulate on the reason. Might be mood; my periodic downturn seems to have begun. Funny thing is I can turn on the light-switch, writing-and-humor-wise, when down, but I can’t flick on the reason behind it to do so.

This has nothing to do with Althouse, who has been nothing but generous with her space: it is always my first site visit of the day. Maybe feeling like I’m Seinfeld’s Kramer, bustling in Althouse’s door over and over. Interrupting. The next stop on that progression is Newman, I believe…

It is a strange thing, trying to be funny in a physically-unoccupied vacuum: senses get untrustworthy. As such, I may try my hand at (finally) writing a routine for a one-shot open-mic comedy gig. See what happens when it isn’t just friends laughing, or words floating on a blog. Might post a few pieces here and there as test drives, who knows. Since currently the notes start with a Holcaust-denial joke I’m sure it will be a successful endeavor.

Of course, things change. Althouse might post a pinata that is impossible to resist. Might find the Betamax3000 persona is a conjoined-twin that I cannot ignore; can only go with where I am at at this moment. Maybe write some bad poetry. Pet the cats. Read the cats bad poetry. Things. There are always things.



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Charlie and Yoko don’t need no clothes, dig?

What if it’s True, Man?” Guy says:

I know Charlie Manson was OUT THERE, man, but sometimes you gotta be far out to know what’s gonna happen on the inside, you dig? I mean, maybe the Beatles didn’t really know what they were saying, but the Universe did? Like, man, they were speaking in tongues for the Revolution — real End Times shit! The Piggies they ate too much, and you know what comes after ‘ate’: Number Nine, man, Number Nine! What if it’s True, Man?

What if it’s True, Man?” Guy says:

Charlie Manson, a lot of people say he was crazy, but then how did he have so many happening chicks around him? How much do we REALLY know — are you saying you can look into his Soul? Are you saying you REALLY understand Charlie? How do we know the Man isn’t lying about Charlie the way he lies about everything? Maybe getting caught was all part of Charlie’s plan: maybe Helter Skelter’s gonna come down and Charlie’ll be safe in Prison, just waiting to come out, hop in a dune buggy and Show the World the Way! What if it’s True, Man?

What if it’s True, Man?” Guy says:

Charlie Manson, how would he know to play the records backward if the Universe didn’t tell him? The Universe IS Revolution, man, it is always waitin’ to turn shit upside down! One day we’re all just going to get out of our cars and go at it with crowbars and wrenches — we’re gonna do it in the Road, man! We’re gonna do it in the Road! What if it’s True, Man?

What if it’s True, Man?” Guy says:

‘Happiness is a Warm Gun’: what the Hell was Charlie SUPPOSED to think after hearing that? Was he supposed to still want to ‘hold your hand’? Hell, no! There might still be some of Charlie’s people in the desert right now, collecting rifles and soup cans and just waiting on his Word, then: BAM! — Bungalow Bill-Time! Real f**kin’ Bungalow Bill-Time! What if it’s True, Man?

What if it’s True, Man?” Guy says:

The Man gave Charlie Manson a death sentence, then — dig this — they REVERSED it! Why would the Man do that unless they KNEW something? Maybe they knew that CHARLIE CAN’T DIE! They wouldn’t want to be embarrassed, trying to kill a man that can’t die, now would they? Then Charlie had Lennon killed for turning his back on the Revolution: there ain’t no time for ‘Watchin’ the Wheels’, man! And — dig this — Yoko is waiting for him! Yoko Ono is waiting for Charlie Manson to be Free so that they can rule, together: Manson-Ono Time! What if it’s True, Man?
Manson-Ono Time, man: THAT’S Helter Skelter! They’re gonna stand naked on Top of the World and all those who gave them shit are gonna gnash their teeth and burn! Charlie and Yoko don’t need no clothes, dig? When you are on Top of the World you can swing your wang in the wind however you damn well please, and you can choose who you gonna’ piss on next, THAT’s Revolution! You all are going to regret not believing in Charlie, people — you’re on the ‘Nine List’. What if it’s True, Man?

What if it’s True, Man?” Guy says:

Charlie and Yoko, they’re gonna write the Song that’s gonna Unite the Whole WORLD, man, people in Russia and France and Africa will be singin’ it, and you know who’s gonna play drums on it? F**kin’ Ringo Starr, man! Ringo Starr with a big ‘X’ carved right on his f**kin’ forehead! Charlie knows how to do things RIGHT. What if it’s True, Man?


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Well if you must go, I shall picture you leaving as a swan gliding upon a deep blue lake.

Starbucks Sensual Pick-up Guy says:

I see you like soy in your Americano, I find that enticing. Soy milk is milk of the earth: there is something very sensual about it, don’t you agree? No? I can tell by how you hold your cup that you are a sensual being, with sensitive fingertips, they are like little swans — it’s OK — that’s nothing to be frightened of…

What is the name of that color of nail polish — the cosmetic companies give them such sensual names. You don’t remember? That’s alright, perhaps you can text me the name later…

You have to get to work? Let me guess: you are a massage therapist? No? I thought for sure that — with your fingertips — you had to have a job that involved giving pleasure. You know, I give great massages – I could show you, I have special massage oils, they are very sensual, some have royal jelly. You have to go? Will you be here tomorrow, same time, because I could be here waiting for you, I could have your soy Americano ready for you, just how you like it: my treat…

Starbucks Sensual Pick-up Guy says:

I see you are treating yourself to a Frappuccino — it’s good to treat yourself, to remember how special you are: I can already tell you are a special woman, I pick up on things like that, I’m very attuned to my feminine side, I have three sisters…

Do you like the music they’re playing? It’s a Miles Davis compilation, I find his music very sensual. You hadn’t noticed? Well, you should take a moment, just let it wash over you…

You have to go? You shouldn’t be in such a hurry: the Universe will wait. I find the Universe very sensual, don’t you? You haven’t thought of it like that before? really? Oh, the late-night conversations we could have. Will you be here tomorrow, same time, because I could be here waiting for you, I could have your Frappuccino ready for you, just how you like it: my treat…

Starbucks Sensual Pick-up Guy says:

I see you are having a croissant with your latte, the French are a very sensual people. Are you French? No? Me, I think we are ALL a little French, in our souls — indeed, I speak a little French, oui…

The croissant has such a buttery, delicate taste, don’t you agree? You guess so? Oh, you should take a moment, then, let the taste melt slowly on your tongue: the tongue is a very special way to experience the World, it is one of God’s great gifts to us…

You have to go? You should take things a little slower, if I might suggest: when one slows down one can better appreciate the sensual nature of the world. For instance: I have taken notice of your perfume, it has hints of vanilla and citrus, it is VERY sensual, almost French…You ARE in a hurry, I see. Will you be here tomorrow, same time, because I could be here waiting for you, I could have your croissant warmed and ready for you, just how you like it: my treat…

Starbucks Sensual Pick-up Guy says:

I see you are having an espresso, you must like bold things. No milk, no sugar: bold, indeed. If I may be so bold, I find you very sensual…

No, no: you shouldn’t drink it so fast, you should savor it, savor the flavor and aroma… You are running late? I am sure the World could wait a bit longer for a flower as delicate as you: do you like flowers? Myself, I am partial to orchids, they are very sensual: indeed, the graceful sweep of your neck reminds me of an orchid, greeting the morning sun…

You really have to go? Well if you must go, I shall picture you leaving as a swan gliding upon a deep blue lake — swans are such graceful, sensuous creatures… Will you be here tomorrow, my hurried swan? Same time? Because I could be here waiting for you, I could have your espresso ready for you, bold how you like it: my treat…


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