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AIDS Then and Now

Just recently, U2 minus Bono and several other performers performed a concert on the streets of New York to celebrate World AIDS Day.  Some legendary performances were there to be had for those willing to watch the below video:

When AIDS reared its ugly head back in the early-80s, I was still but a teenager, longing for my first romantically sexual encounter with that special woman who I would eventually have enough guts to pursue to the bedroom.  I say “have enough guts” because I was way too shy for my own good.  I was actually so terrified to ask a girl to my high school prom that I practically dug my head into the sand and pretended that it did not even exist!

But I remember the thought going through my head, “Wow!  Never had sex…and now there is this HUGE RISK to doing it.”  It was a real bummer for me.  Part of this, I justified as God’s punishment for people who broke His rules for sex that violates His own specific code of morality.  But the other thing was the feeling that nature had a cruel sense of humor.  Rumors abounded that AIDS came to us from Africa from people who chose to have sex with Monkeys…others blamed it on something that formed when gay men had sex with each other.  But the only fact was that AIDS was a huge question mark with a figurative gun in its hand, shooting down not just sexual victims, but anyone who came into a specific type of contact with infected blood (e.g. receivers of blood transfusions, people with open wounds exposed to contaminated blood, etc.).

For me, personally, AIDS back then was 50 times more serious then than it is now.  Back then, they did not have the medical technology and medicines to effectively fight the disease like they do now.  Back then getting HIV or AIDS was surely a death sentence!

Then came the first time I had sex in a Mexican brothel in 1989!  I, of course, wore a rubber.  I was drunk and out with Marines from my unit whose mission it was to “get me laid”.  And the subject of their selection for me was a very overweight, old, and ugly prostitute to whom I had no attraction to whatsoever.  But I couldn’t let the guys down!  They had to get their money’s worth.

When it came time to do the deed, the liquor had already affected me in a way that made the prostitute very angry and impatient.  She began rushing me to finish.  Despite my embarrassment at the entire situation, and wondering how in the hell I ended up there, I laughed drunkenly.  But eventually I finished.  And — at least in the eyes of my Marine buddies — I went into that brothel a boy and came back out a man.  Realistically, my transition into manhood occurred a few years earlier at a place called Parris Island in South Carolina.  But that is a different story for a different day.

That instance in Mexico, to this very day, is a bit of an embarrassment to me and a stain on a mattress against who I really am.  Why do I share it now?  Probably because I feel that AIDS is more important than one individual. It affects everyone who wishes to have sex.  It does not look at whether you are a virgin, whether you are in a brothel, whether you are a playboy, whether you are having sex on your wedding night…it simply does not discriminate, and it never has.  And if allowed to do so, it simply kills.

But the bottom line was that I needed to have a better encounter with sex than I just had.  And I would not let AIDS stop me from doing it.  But my shyness would still not lend me the confidence to seduce a woman here in America.  So my next sexual experiences were overseas at ports I would encounter on a West-Pac float, where the women were more willing when it came to American servicemen.  It was explained to me that women in the third-world countries we would be visiting would do ANYTHING to get American citizenship.  And I made it my personal goal to sexperience a woman in every port I encountered.  I even documented these encounters in my West-Pac journal that has gone missing since I’ve been married to my second wife.

Our first port was Subic Bay in the Philippines, where the beer was just as cheap as the women.  We had all been warned about AIDS being prevalent in the area and advised to wear condoms.  They also told us about health cards carried by the women in that port.  These cards, supposedly administered by doctors on the military bases, would help vouch for their “sexual purity” from having the disease.  They got routine checkups and blood-work; and when all and said was done, they would get a stamp of approval that they were safe for consumption by the average Marine or sailor.  We needed only check the dates on the cards.  I remember feeling that it reminded me of buying milk or eggs or something.  Even though many of these women were simply whores, they were more lovingly called “bar-girls”.  The servicemen paid their bar-fine in order to be allowed to leave with them.  One that I left with actually told me that I could “have” her for the entire stay if I paid her $30 (which effectively would cover her rent for the very shabby dwelling that I recall and then some!).  So I eventually did this for her.

She was the very first woman with whom I eventually had unprotected sex (she and my hormones had somehow managed to talk me into it).  I remember the feeling too.  It not only was addictive, but it was extremely memorable and pleasurable.  The most important thing I recall is that I had at least been attracted to her, unlike the Mammoth I massacred in Mexico.

My first terrifying incident in sex came in Korea!  This was another port where AIDS was purported to be present in high frequency.  My friends and I were in this one bar where the women literally rushed us when we walked in, making me halfway understand what it must have been like for John, Paul, George, and Ringo!  One of them was the most gorgeous woman I had encountered yet while travelling abroad.  These particular girls were typically paid like any other prostitute, totally different than the “bar-fine” system implemented in the Philippines.  So I paid this one girl and had an encounter with her that ended up with a busted condom.  My friend was waiting for me downstairs when I came back down, horrified at what had just happened, the fear of getting AIDS more realistic to me than ever before!

“I just had a blowout!” I announced to him when I stepped up to the table where he was sitting.  He laughed at me and then started following me as I hurriedly left to find the nearest store or drug store.  And South Korea was not a very tourist-friendly location of the world.  Their stores, nor their product, had any English labels whatsoever.  So I stormed into this one shop looking for soap and towels.  The closest thing I could find was some Windex-looking cleaner and some paper towels.  I bought them, took them into the restroom, and thoroughly cleaned myself and all my parts off that I thought may have been contaminated.

Now, I cannot help but laugh at the experience!  But back then, I was literally in shock and horror at the entire situation.  Later, while en route to our next port, they held what they called a “conscience check”, which was simply their way of allowing anyone who felt they may have come into sexual contact with anything unbecoming to come forward to the corpsmen and get checked out.  I, of course, decided to do so.  And when they punched my bore, I almost immediately regretted having done so.  I always joke around, saying that it took them 15 minutes to peel me off the ceiling.  But it was no joking matter at all when it happened!  That must have been one of the worst pains I could have ever gone on to live without.  But in the end I came up clean.  And that put my mind at rest!

The whole point of this article was to help you see through the eyes of someone who lived during that time — the time when AIDS was still bigger and scarier than it has ever been! — what it was like to even consider sex.  Sometimes, I would try to ask myself:  “Does this woman seem like she gets around much from bedroom to bedroom, or does she seem like the type it would be safe to have unprotected sex with?”  Nowadays, HIV/AIDS is still scary…but you can actually live a nice, full life with the disease unlike you could when it had first come about.

There are still some loose ends left in my story that don’t much pertain to AIDS.  Did I ever get to where I could effectively seduce women?  Yes!  My first successful seduction had been in Mackay, Australia when some Australian guy approached a beautiful blonde with whom I’d already acquainted myself.  As a matter of fact, I had left to get drinks for us at the bar and come back to see this fellow sitting in my stool.  I didn’t want to get ugly with the fellow (because it could have caused complications with me being in the American military); so I simply returned, sat our drinks on the table, cut in between them and began kissing her.  Her kissing me back gave me safe assurance that the pest would buzz off, and indeed he did.  Within an hour, we were off to her house.

And did I continue to pursue women in spite of aids and still have unprotected sex with them?  Yes, and yes.  I hate to admit that I had become a womanizer after having seen the world, all the beauty of it…everything from the sheer excellence of the Sydney Opera House’s unique architecture, to the sweet alluring taste of passion fruit wine, down to every sexy curve possessed by the various women I had encountered.  I knew that unprotected sex was a risk…but just like raw oysters, I loved it all tremendously!  And I took the risk, ever the fool.  Luckily for me, I’m still here to helplessly right about it.

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Raped by Dr. Huxtable?

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Say it isn’t so!  Television’s Man of the Year for every year in the 1980s involved in another rape scandal!  No way!

Upon hearing about this, I felt about as empty as I did when I found out that Kurt Cobain, Michael Hutchence, and Robin Williams had all killed themselves.  But Cosby is still alive and kicking!

He always comes off as some intelligent, witty, funny, wise, and even kind man.  Has he fooled all of us?  Or maybe he is all of these things now, but has not always been.

At least three women have accused Cosby of drugging them and allowing his dark serpent to roam their secret gardens while they were out of it.  Who would have ever guessed that one of America’s most-loved and most-successful comedians would ever have been accused of stooping so low?

I personally love Cosby!  I would love to sit down for a beer or two with him.  But is there really any merit to these accusations?  Part of me hopes that this is another case of bitter, broke people jumping on the band wagon to legal riches.  But the other part of me makes me wonder if there is any true fire to all the smoke that seems to be lingering around on the issue.

What do you guys think?  My readers rarely ever post comments, even though I wish you would.  But I hope to hear at least some of your thoughts on all of this.

Batman — Putting the ‘Ho’ in Horror

 

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What would you do if you were anally raped by the Dark Knight himself?

Believe it or not this may have actually happened before…in June 1989…on Subic Bay in the Philippines!

I was a Marine at the time stationed aboard the landing platform deck U.S.S. Duluth with my unit the 13th Landing Support Detachment.  We were all on a six-month Western Pacific float, and part of a fleet of vessels during the half-year deployment that perhaps all of us would never forget, having traveled all over that part of the world, hitting ports like Subic Bay, Pusan and Pohang (Korea), Hong Kong, Okinawa (Japan), Sydney and Mackay (Australia), and Honolulu.

As we pulled out of Subic Bay en route for Hong Kong, rumors abounded about a sailor somewhere in our fleet who had been butt raped by a Filipino.  We all suddenly began to think the story was complete bullshit after we heard that the guy who committed the foul deed was dressed as Batman!

Holy Moly, Batman!

But there were Marines who swore the event really happened, having talked to sailors who reportedly spoke to the victim of the Rape Crusader personally (maybe on the Bat-Phone?). So how the hell does a United States sailor come to find himself in the unique position to have another’s pole installed into his own Bat-Cave?

The story was that the drunk sailor had met a gorgeous Filipina bar-girl in whom he engaged in a discreet transaction.  For those of you who do not know, a bar-girl in Subic Bay is better known as a “ho”, here in the United States.  Back then, they carried health cards indicating that they had been examined by a doctor and deemed clean enough to lie down with American servicemen.  Hmph!  What would Jim Gordon have had to say about all this hanky panky?

Well, the bar-girl led him to a place where she talked the intoxicated horn-dog into letting her tie him up.  After she introduced him to each post of a queen-sized bed while having his rumpus exposed to God and the ceiling above, she left the room, and in comes our famous masked and caped detective, ready to commit crime instead of fighting it.

Had I not known better, I would have guessed someone on the roof of the bar must have shined some kind of Bat-Signal or something crazy!  So this is where the “ho” was put into the word horror where our helpless lad was concerned!  This “bar-girl” would now simply be known for the rest of this poor chap’s life as the “bat-girl”.

It’s too bad the guy couldn’t have broken free of his bonds and pwned the rotten bastard!  BAM!  WHAM!  POW!  “Crime never pays foul rapist of rear ends!”  But this was not the case!  The last pages of this particular comic book will forever be tarnished by something that looks like rotten butter and probably smells just as foul.

The story still haunts me to this day (though not as much as it probably does the victim).  I did not even know the poor fellow.  I met a couple of bar-girls while I was in P.I. Being that I was there, it is quite scary to think that this could have been me.  Never would I have been dumb or drunk enough to let the strange and mysterious bat-girl tie me up like that.  Talk about 50 shades of stupid!

Another reason this story still bothers me today is because I have come to love the modern tales of Batman as depicted by Hollywood.  As a matter of fact, I think that Christian Bale was the best Batman ever!  And a lot of people right now seem to think that Ben Affleck is wrong for the role.  But I am confident that he can handle it.

But — to get back on track with the article — I can only imagine that this poor fellow who had been reared to hate anything at all in a blue mask and cape is most likely unable to watch these amazing movies without having horrible flashbacks.

If it could possibly serve to make things better for him, I’d simply tell him:  “Relax, my friend!  You’re not in Gotham anymore, Robin.”

 

 

 

Men: How You Can Train Your Inner Dog!

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Most, if not all women, have heard the old saying:  All men are dogs!

But as men, we all know this is simply not true.  Because how can we be dogs when dogs are man’s best friend?

I propose that all men have an inner dog within him.  The dog comes out more and more as we go through puberty and beyond.  From there, it is up to us to eventually tame this dog lest it wrestle control from our general psyche, making us do and say foolish things that we may or may not live to regret.  Some men want to let the dog run free and hump the leg of every beautiful woman who crosses his path.  Others prefer to gradually introduce this inner dog to a woman of deep interest in hopes that she will eventually decide that she likes the dog.  In places like England, Ireland, Scotland, Australia, and New Zealand, many men freely allow and encourage their dogs to chase pussy from one end of the town to the other!  Some men have completely given up on training their inner dog after having tried.  Sadly enough, some men don’t even realize they have an inner dog.  And they never realize it until they do something totally regretful.  In my personal case, I was single and made a vow to God in prayer that I would never bed a married woman.  Never mind the fact that premarital sex is a sin in the Bible!  Well, one night, under the spell of Red Dog and the enchantment of a woman who I’d kissed before noticing a wedding ring on her finger, I broke that vow.

Many men out there know just what I am talking about.  Maybe some of them have made complete asses of themselves before they realized that there was this little obnoxious and annoying puppy in their inner being.  Eventually, a puppy becomes a dog.  And the dog eventually may reign supreme…or so it seems.

I’m here to tell you:  You can teach an old dog new tricks!

In the Marine Corps, I used to be one of the most hopeless womanizers.  I should have been in school, getting a bachelor degree at the base educational facility.  But I was in the bars instead, carousing and chasing the fairer sex.  Eventually, I met my ex-wife and my current wife.  And, sure!  I had a period of wildness between my divorce and my second marriage.  To me, it was a good time to let my dog off its leash.

Anyone who knew me when I was single would probably have never guessed that I would be one of the most faithful men a woman could ever hope to marry.  And my ex-wife and wife both know that I am a truly honorable husband.

So how did I go from being the canine king to the faithful husband of the year?  I trained my inner dog.  And here is how you can too:

Single man dog training:

  • Don’t get involved with anyone with whom you work!  It may seem cool and exciting at first, but there is nothing cool about getting shit-canned because you dipped your pen in company ink.  Just try feeding your dog when you don’t have any money coming in!
  • Don’t mix business with pleasure.  Because the people with whom you work may be able to get dirt on you to use at a later date.
  • Always wear a condom during sexual encounters.  A pregnant woman either becomes your wife or rich on your tab.  Keep in mind that every father should make great efforts to support his children.  Getting married can also crimp your lifestyle if you are not ready for it.  In this case, your dog may not just roll over; he may just roll over and play dead!
  • Control your liquor intake, or it will control you.  Your dog may just go barking up the wrong tree!  I found this out when I was drinking under age in 1989.  A gorgeous babe was staring at me from the other side of the bar.  So I just walked up to her and started kissing her.  I thought things were going very well until I felt a tap on my shoulder.  Next thing you know, I turn and get sucker punched.  To add insult to injury, I was too drunk to defend myself.  If I had been more sober, maybe I would have realized this girl was at the bar with her boyfriend who ended up not taking too well to seeing us kissing.
  • When you are wasted, do not get behind the wheel of a vehicle.  You really should not even do it if you have had anything to drink.  But I got into the habit of tossing my keys into the air and seeing if I could catch them as I walked out to my car.  I never did have trouble catching them.  And I never did get pulled over and busted for having been drinking.

Married man dog training:

  • Never allow yourself to be alone with another woman other than your wife in enclosed quarters.  If you have to, be sure to leave a door open so that you may be able to have witnesses if the time ever comes for that.  A good witness comes in handy when your watch dog isn’t watching closely enough.
  • Never let your dog go where it doesn’t need to be.  Just as you would never let your dog run around in the streets, you need to watch where you maintain your company.  Married men have no business being in bars.  Some men think that wearing a wedding ring in a bar will keep women from hitting on them.  Actually it is quite the opposite.  Many women take great pride in luring men away from their marriages and in between their sheets.  Neither do they have any business being in their home with only another woman who is not their wife.  Likewise, they should not be in another dwelling alone with another woman who is not their wife.
  • Don’t fall for society’s stimulating suggestiveness.  Women wearing next to nothing advertising whatever it is they are advertising is likely to make your dog drool.  Be strong!  Don’t let your dog go anywhere near such advertising, no matter how much it tempts you to stare.  Television shows now glorify cheating on your spouse.  Talk about a sure way to get your dog into the doghouse if not put down altogether!
  • Always remember that honor is a rare commodity in today’s world.  Who says a dog cannot be a gentleman?  There is a painting of a bunch of dogs playing cards together.  So I guess this artwork blows that theory to hell!

These are some of the ways that I have trained my inner dog (at least as far as the married tips; for I used to always let my dog run stray when I was single!).  So what about your inner dog?  Is it ready for a Scooby Snack?

Successful Writer, My Ass!

A couple weeks after leaving my family, I’ve decided to embark on weekly visits to a local social club in town to hopefully meet friends, and influence people to consider purchasing my book.  The fore-mentioned part of this objective was a success last Saturday night.  But the latter seems to be yet an unrealized dream (rolling my eyes!).

I met a fellow Marine who seemed to know quite a few people at a couple of different social places in the same shopping center.  And he introduced me to them.  At one point, he introduced me as a “successful writer”.  But me — being the humble soul I am — corrected him, stating:  “I’m not successful yet.”

But being ever the good optimist, he argued:  “Your book is on Amazon, isn’t it?”

I nodded.

“Then you are a success.”

Successful writer, my ass, I thought to myself.  Until I can sustain myself properly and completely off my writing royalties, I am reluctant to call myself successful.  It has been nearly a month, since I have sold my novel at all.  I sold one e-book copy each on Amazon and Barnes & Noble one month ago for a total royalty of $6.99.  The idea of someone living off of a mere six dollars and ninety-nine cents in this fucked economy is laughable!  But this is what it means to be a struggling writer.  And I will proudly do it in an effort to pay my dues as a hopeful prelude to something much bigger and better in the just as hopeful near future.

However, it is good just to have a friend to boost my own fragile ego.  But how good is this new friend of mine?  After having just met him, he seems like a good enough fellow.  He has shared his network of fun-loving carousers with me and opened up the potential for me to make new friends as a bachelor once again.  He’s offered to buy me drinks that — had I not been liquored up enough — I would have gladly accepted!  And he doesn’t really appear to be one who is too judgmental; after all, he took the time to defend my lack of success or at least put it into a more positive perspective.

As you read this, you probably wonder to yourself, what the hell does it matter?  At least you have made a new friend.  And if this is what you are thinking, you are probably right!

I guess that the last thing I want to do is go around feeling that I’ve reached my plateau.  Because I refuse to believe that this mole-hill on which I’m currently trudging around is anything bigger than what it truly is.  I want to conquer the Everest of successes in writing.  I want to climb the same mountain that other, more successful writers have climbed…writers like Twain, Poe, Hemingway, Fleming, and Clancy!

And it is hard for me to masquerade as something that I am not, even if — by the definition of others — I am.  Then again, maybe that is what I am doing wrong.  Maybe by telling others that I am not yet successful, this turns them away from even desiring to purchase my book.  After all, isn’t there some saying that for others to believe in you, you first have to believe in yourself?

But how easy is it to believe in yourself when what little monthly income you receive will not even cover a gallon of milk?  But I suppose it is all in how you perceive it.

In summary, I guess I would much rather be successful by my own definition.  Success by my definition would have me at least being able to afford a gallon of milk a month after this supposed price increase due to economic doom and gloom.  Hell, by my own definition of success, I may even be able to buy my own damned cow (grinning).