House Boy

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Note: As far as my writing goes, this little piece is not suitable for work. 

This is absolutely pure fantasy. 

Being a house boy isn’t the worst job i’ve had. i mean, compared to working alone at a 7-Eleven in the middle of the night, easy prey for a junkie willing to kill for a fix, it ain’t half-bad.   Sure, i’m naked, except for my collar, or the latex gloves i sometimes wear to keep my hands clean.

Each day, Mistress has a list of chores for me.  i thank her for the work and the opportunity to serve.  It’s pretty no-nonsense work. There’s no ironing her panties or scrubbing the toilet with my toothbrush.  i’m expected to do my work, without mistakes, and i usually perform them flawlessly. Usually.  However the other day, i was tasked with filling Mistress’s fountain pens.  The protocol demands i not spill any ink or leave ink stains on my fingers or the counters or the furniture.  

i got down to work. Instead of my clear disposable gloves, i put on the black disposable ones. They were within reach. For most things, they work just as well.  The filling went well, No spills. i was finishing up, cleaned them, put the pens where mistress directs them to be available for her use. 

i was ready for her to return home.  i fixed her hibiscus tea. The tea bags were in the pot, the water just shy of the rolling boil she prefers.  I heard her car in the driveway, her key in the lock. i was clean, beard trimmed, nails groomed. i waited for her, kneeling.   She greeted me with her customary pat on my lowered head, as if i were her pet, which i am.

She went to the downstairs powder room and i heard a shout. “you lazy little pig!  What is this?!”  Rushing to the bathroom i see the blue ink smudge on the counter. How could i have missed it?

“This is unsatisfactory. What gloves did you use when you filled my pens?”

“The black ones Mistress.”

“Do you see what has happened?  The ink got on the black gloves and there was no way you could  have noticed.  And you neglected to check any surfaces you touched.” 

 i was ashamed at this lapse of impeccable servitude.

” i shall clean it immediately.”

“Of course, you will. First however, bring me my tea.  I will consider a punishment while I enjoy my tea.”

The counter was clean. She had finished her tea.

boy, come here. Bring the brown strap. “

i crawled into her office, the strap in my teeth. i prostrated myself at her feet. Silent.

“Give me the strap. Bend over the ottoman. you know why you are to be punished?” 

“Sloppiness, Mistress.”

“I believe ten should make the desired point.”

As was her custom she immediately began, with full force, i could feel my buttocks being marked with every stinging strike.  As abruptly as she started she stopped. And left me there to “think things over.”

i was ashamed at my failure. And yet, my erection showed how much i savored this attention.  Since self-pleasuring is forbidden for me, I remained there, marked buttocks exposed, my erection pressed against the leather of the ottoman.

“Enough contemplation,.” she declared. “Fix me dinner. you will eat from The Doggy Dish at my feet.”

Another Day in Service 

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Pain

It is one of those nights where the pain is winning. It isn’t horrible, just persistent. The distractions that help, sleeping on my side with a DVD of Seinfeld episodes playing, aren’t working. My back-up plan, sleeping in the other bed listening to Portuguese Fado music, has been put into action. My beautiful angel Mariza is now working her magic. 

Wish me luck,

A Shift In Perspective

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Most of you know that I am, through the miracle and magic of YouTube and the Internet, a trainspotter. I sit in my chair and watch the tracks in Ashland, Virginia, just 15 miles or so North of Richmond on the CSX North/South main line.

Well, this morning, the folks at Virtual Railfan LLC, moved the web camera. At first, it was a little disorienting. It took me a while to comprehend the change. Add to that an occasional shift from a view looking South to a view looking North. The camera can also zoom in.

I had gotten used to the way things were, tbe ancien regime´ of glorious yesterday. We joke about our curmudgeonly resistance to change in Richmond

How many Richmonders does it take to change a light bulb?

Three. One to change the bulb and two to talk about how great the old bulb was.

So what’s the take away from this?  Pespective is critical. Like the movie Rashomon, where the same story is told from different viewpoints, my perception is different from yours. My sons’ autism affects both of them differently and each of us could be seeing the same event completely differently.

I also think about Annette, my deceased butch lesbian cousin. She was loving and lovable, and her take on the world was not my take. At the same time, I could fully appreciate her insights. It is unsettling to see that world views are simultaneously different, distinct and, yet, compatible. At least they can be, if we let them.

The old view.

The new view.

Industry Trade Group Speechmakers

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If a Secretary of Agriculture gave a speech to the Iowa Pork Producers Council, touting his Department’s efforts to keep the cost of hog production low and the price of pork high, with exports flowing to a pork hungry world, no one East of Davenport nor West of Des Moines would give a chitlin’.

But when a high visibility industry mogul offers up opinions in Hollywood, California about the state of their industry, an awful lot of people take notice and think that whatever is said is profound. Gimme a breakwhy don’tcha?  Billionaire celebrity/opportunist (and former Obama-shill) Oprah Winfrey makes a speech coming out against sexual harassment. What took you so long, Hollywood celebrities? Just about every female in America with a family to support and or a career to establish has had to deal with sexual harassment and has had to for over a hundred years. This presence of harassment is what gives the outcry resonance.  But Hollywood can’t all of a sudden lead the charge against sexual harassment when it more or less perfected the practice.  Harvey Weinstein was the benefactor  nobody wanted to talk about directly, He made a lot of careers for the people there. Period.

Let’s think of Hollywood and the public relations and advertising industries as the public opinion mongering infrastructure. They are  losing their ability to shape public opinion. Oprah Winfrey and her network, magazine, book club and Weight Watchers endorsement make their money by convincing businesses that they can craft opinion. If Oprah likes it, then a bunch of people will buy it, so Oprah, Inc. implies. Yet  the internet and communications revolution have delivered, perhaps, a fatal blow. It is analogous to the introduction of the printing press. Five hundred years ago  information and opinion suddenly moved beyond the medieval universities and their libraries. Literacy expanded dramatically.  The dissemination of new ideas from philosophy to navigation suddenly had much wider audiences. 

With every new blog and YouTube post, the old way slips a bit more. And the moguls who think they control things, lose a little bit more. And there will be a day when the world will not only get by without Hollywood or Madison Ave, but also Microsoft and Google and Silicon Valley.

Cooking For Fun

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What’s the saying, “Why do it if it isn’t fun?”  Let’s be real. Sometimes cooking isn’t fun. Like it’s work and the budget for food is small ’cause there ain’t no money. Then again there are opportunities that cry out for creativity. 

Friday, there was almost an entire half gallon of milk with a “sell by” date of 30 December. It figuratively was imploring me to use it. Add to the ingredient pool two bars of Ghirardelli Baking Chocolate, one 100% Cacao, the other Semi-Sweet. Last night we made real hot chocolate with melted 100% Cacao. Just melt 2 oz of the chocolate, mixing it into a cup of water, Add sugar. Then add three cups of milk. Bring it almost to boiling. There are more steps but that is the gist of it. You will wonder why you ever use that instant hot cocoa mix, especially with the vile desiccated marshmallow marbles.

Today I melted  two ounces of the Semi-Sweet in a double boiler, dissolved that in milk and added it to Cook and Serve Vanilla Pudding as it cooked. I added a shake or two of cinnamon, just because the cinnamon was within easy reach. That received a nod of spousal approval.  Now there was a cup of milk left from the short-dated  half gallon. A cup of Hot Ovaltine finished that off.

I did not let the milk go bad. Mother and Dad would have been proud. The calories consumed is another question.

Happy New Year

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To all my Word Press friends, I am sitting down, watching The Rose Parade, as my house warms from the busy oven. Happy New Year.

If my blogging has taught anything, it’s that people committed to respect and community can get along just fine, no matter what descriptors they choose to characterize themselves.

I love you all. Thank you for reading my blog and being my cyber-neighbors.

Mark Twain Quote 

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Show me where a man gets his corn pone and Ill tell you what his opinions are.”

To those of you with gender issues substitute “person” for “man”. 

Corn pone was a very basic food for people who grew up on the frontier West, as Twain did. Basically it’s corn bread.

Next consider everything said by every, and I mean every, journalist and news talking head in the country, from Wolf Blitzer to Sean Hannity. 

Follow that consideration up by asking why the information technology companies never run afoul of the antitrust laws. Does the money they give to the politicians affect their treatment by the Antitrust Division of the DOJ?

Happy New Year.  

Wednesday Drama

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Today I was to take my stepmom to the Y. So I called to set up a time and I got a busy signal. I wait a bit and there is still a busy signal. An hour of this, maybe longer, transpires. Uhoh. .

It could be no big deal. Then again. The lady is 92, lives alone, except for the cat. Better check. I go over. She answers the door. I am relieved. I don’t do 911 well.

“Your line has been busy.”

“Oh Dear.”

“There is a phone off the hook.”

“I have four extensions.”

We find the offending phone, put it back on its cradle. The phone rings now.

As dealing with elderly parent issues go, this is nothing. That moment of panic when the possibility of the inevitable happening now is hard to shake off as it flashes across the brain. The thought of losing a dear one is so unnerving, so scary.

I’m grateful for every day I have with this beautiful lady.

Waking At Night

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I get up at night for many reasons, a full bladder, upset stomach, too hot in the bedroom, to name a few. Then there is the sheer boredom that is trying to sleep. 

So I head to the bathroom, urinate, go downstairs for a glass of seltzer to settle my stomach.  I read a bit of a butch lesbian pornographic/erotic love story that is completely engaging, look at some Tumblrs that I follow and discover a new one about French photographer Robert Doisneau. Suddenly I remember my promise to get my conventional 35mm SLR Pentax K1000 up and running again.

I remember a time 35 years ago when I first got it. I discovered the magic of 32 ASA black and white film. I started photographing old derelict buildings on two lane country roads in Lunenburg County, Virginia, tobacco curing sheds, abandoned barns, stores long gone bust, What happened to those pictures? There was the property settlement of that particular divorce. Did I get them out of the house? If so, where are they here? I fancied myself a photographer, dreaming of being one, embarrassed that my pictures were perhaps too imitative of the photographers I admired, Weston, to name one. 

Time to get back to dreaming with my hands. A Baptist preacher once told me “Prayers work when they have feet.” He was a pretty smart guy.