Cheques in the mail

I wonder how many women returning from a girl's night out come home to discover a baby oily computer mouse sitting to the left of the monitor and wonder why the Internet options history folder has been deleted?

Do they know they can run a regedit, go to HKEY_CURRENT_USER\ Software\ Microsoft\ Windows\ CurrentVersion\ Explorer\ and open the tree to RunMRU to view recently visited folders and files or that they can check file extensions under Recent Docs, specifically looking for jpegs, gifs, mpegs, mwv's, avi's, etc? Chances are your default media player has added a few to its library unknowingly.

I bring this up for two reasons.

One: it isn't you after all. He still loves you sugar. So, forget about the boob job and tummy tuck. Laugh lines are a sign of character. Y'all been married how long? ten, fifteen years? It's just a phase.

Two: www.thepastimperfect.blogspot.com is more brood than lewd. My blog is one of attraction, not promotion.So i f you find out through your registry or you run a DOS program to find a bug, you can also see where your browser has been since the day you first went on line. Just so you know, I blog only because it helps me to keep from losing the last of what used to be an impressive collection of marbles.

I get hits from people from all over the world who visit my site for zero seconds, according to my stats counter (how on earth does one measure zero seconds?) . The IPs are from all over the world and the key word analyzer tells me what attracted these enthusiastic Onanists to my site even though they didn't stay long enough to find out that I have my jpgs don't show muchy flesh. These good people who chose to practice solo intimacy don't stay long enough to read my blog. I can imagine its dificult conducting an effective Google search with just your left hand (or if you're right handed then visa versa )

Search words which bring them to pastimperfect: russian teens blow job hookers bahrain filipina massage underwear poontang balls, penis, titties, etc, need to be put in quotes. True, these words are in my nearly two year old blog, but they are scattered over 700 entries and used in contexts different from what the one armed searchers are seeking.

But to be fair to me, all of my hits aren't limited to furtive self-abusers.

I do get some regulars hits from friends who are probably just being polite because their stats counters recorded that I checked in on them. I get hits drunken axe grinders pissed because I turned down the occasional crap job. I get a few people from Baton Rouge, probably people wondering if they're any closer to being reimbursed for a few hundred bucks now than they were two years ago. Oddly, I got hit a couple of times from the East Baton Rouge Arts and Technical School Probably some gossip monger nosing around.

And I've also been throwing a lot of holiday funked jibs and jabs at the deconstructionists of three great faiths hoping to rile up some whacked fringe members, all these faiths trace their roots back to Abraham. Two of them believe in a prophet born of a virgin (as the story goes)--oddly, these two faiths are eager to kill one another off. As we used to say in the day, "Fuck them if they can't take a joke."

Now, recently I got this Email (which is posted as a comment somewhere recently from a 20-something British slacker who needs to lay off the bong for a few days. (I've been there--trust me). Now get this. I this young Brit feller has during (what I'm imagining to be) a moment of epiphany no doubt enhanced by some primo cannabis. He believes he can put the bite on other bloggers to send him money so he can avoid work for a year and travel the world to do something he believes to be unique. He wants to get down wif' the peoples and live among a dozen different cultures--and then write a book and never have to work again.

Now why didn't I think of that? I've hardly been anywhere--four days without a shower riding trains from one end of the sub-continent to the other, spending weeks at a time living with the foothill sherpas in the Himilayas. I've toured the slums of Cairo and Delhi and Colombo and Bangkok. I haven't done shit.

I've tried though. I have paid my respects to the ways in which others bow to the Creator as they understand Him in Synagogues, Hindu Temples, Buddhist Temples, Ba'hai places of worship; I've even smoked a pipe in a sweat lodge. Now I'm trying to learn how to do Rakat without having people take notice of my presence--that would distract me and negate the Salat. So I do it at home.

First of all, Mr young British Twenty-Something, why are you begging for money to finance your slacker's paradise when you have Richard Branson's attention? Maybe he'll cut you a deal on his airlines and let you fly free; maybe he can put some folding money in your wallet--God knows he has it to spare. Me? I do not.

These days I'm married to an Iranian now for over a year and Ishe has never worn the same outfit twice. More importantly, I also have a tragicaly estranged daughter in university.

And let's see, I owe Raymond about 300 bucks, Cathy his ex-sister-in-law around 600 hundred, maybe more, the H., sisters about 300 bucks, not to mention a few employees who got shafted when the art gallery folded. The there's poor Rob. Sorry Mr Young British twenty-Someting-no can do.

I have one other suggeston. I know this very polite and etxremely principled young man living in the Ivory Coast. His name is Harrison Nzi and he has a bout 15 million bucks--some he'll split withyou for a small favor. Go here and get his email address. Y'all might hit it off. But remember this--if you visit him in his home town--DO NOT PEE IN THE VILLAGE WELL!