Ya’ know Frankie, I drink too much booze these days. Not bad ya’ see, just a little debilitating when it comes to doing some shit. Don’t care much. Life is a bitch, Frankie. Wasn’t always that way and even now not every minute. Ya’ know Frankie, let me tell you, the girls, the old ones, the young ones, the make ya crap your pants hotties. You like that word, I have no clue what it means. Anyway, Frankie, I get these smiles on the street, in line, shit – everywhere. Like today a hottie – it has meaning to me, carrying a damn orange little dog, poodle like ya know and I am walking dressed like Sunday morning jogger – haven’t shaved in a week and just picked my ass, can’t remember, maybe my nose. So here she comes and, ya’ know Frankie, I get this smile, little turned up corners. Not the smile at something funny type, or a freak type – I don’t know, maybe it was. I nearly missed it looking at that damned orange dog. Kid, it gets better, this Sunday morning gal, weird clothes, but the kind that draw your eye to parts where decent men – ya’ know Frankie, that probably don’t include me, don’t look except in the most discreet way – ya’ know. Well, this, let me say, lady, gives me a wink. Now that, kid, is a new wrinkle. The smiles could be just to the cute little ole man – but the wink. I took my finger out of my nose, hell, maybe my ass and walked on. The thought came that all this could easily be explained. And it has crossed my mind before. Frankie, so listen and see if this makes sense. Suppose, just suppose, I have this aversion. You like that word? This aversion, or maybe the fact that I buy really cheap pants, to zipping ‘em up may be a source of the smiles. Don’t get me wrong, perversion is a word I know, but practice on very rare occasions. Ok, Frankie, roll your eyes, ya know what I mean. But, hey, listen, maybe those damn cheap wal-mart pants - Ya Know Frankie, the last pair of pants I bought that cost more than $9.99 was in 1966 at Ray Beers fine clothing – have zippers that just are not up to the task. Now that I think about it, that zipper on those Beers pants, those of us in the circle of cool called it Beers - kinda sucked too. Yeah, yeah, back to the story and why I get these damn smiles and maybe the occasional wink. So, Frankie, it is possible and I am not saying this is reality, the ole zipper malfunctions and the boys - Why in the hell do we call them boys? - are a bit on public display. Ya’ know Frankie, and I have to say this with all humility - You like that word? – I got what I got and maybe a smile might be in order. Crap, I look in the mirror on occasion and get a little giggle myself. So, ya’ know, I take what I get and keep walking making it just a little better day.
You guys, this is my dad. He asked me to help him make a tumblr and I basically said JUST MAKE ONE AND MESS AROUND WITH IT SO EASY NO WORRIES and this is his first post. He is a sage from Topeka, Kansas currently hiding in Taipei and needs a reservoir for excess brain magic. This is it. I’ve known him my whole life (badum-chaaaa) and I encourage you to follow him.