Tuesday, October 30, 2007


I once lived in Time Square, NYC. This was right before it became a huge Disney logo. Back then it was fertile and teaming with all kinds of subculture. There were numerous porn theatres and strip clubs and little diners with one six foot long counter and two greasy short order cooks. Coffee came in one size and one flavor: COFFEE.

There was loud laughter and menace and every raw emotion in between. The Concrete Jungle was not metaphor.

I noticed that many young Latino men had a large lump in their back pockets. Slightly smaller than a tennis ball it was a rather jarring element to their silhouette.

Imagine your favorite Animal Planet or The Discovery Channel narrator voice when you read this next paragraph.

In their back pockets they carry a fresh lime. When these virile young men are in bed with a woman they squirt lime juice on her genitals. If she recoils in any kind of pain they know she has open sores or an infection.

Remember: this was a decade before any public awareness of STD's and the birth of AIDS but I'm guessing this is VERY old knowledge.

My first reaction to this was----Damn. Fucking animals. My immediate second reaction was----Wait, these motherfuckers are smart...law of the jungle smart.

Oh...don't give me any shit about rubbers here. This was pre AIDS and I'm talking about consenting, extremely sensual adults that have an animalistic sexual attraction. The sensualist female knows her safe time of the month and the sensualist male no more wants to wear a rubber than Yo Yo Ma would wear mittens playing the cello.

Meanwhile, forty blocks downtown, some cracker with glasses and a briefcase is banging his secretary or picking up a hooker and then taking some serious jungle cooties back to his wife in Connecticut. Stupid civilized asshole is not going to make it in the jungle.

Let's see your iphones do that motherfuckers.