The Buzz on Vibes

Feeling quite proud of myself for getting over the initial hub of retail sexology 101, I went home at the stroke of midnight to relax. I was renting a victorianesque room in a house belonging to a friend of a friend. Our arrangment was ideal in a sense. He worked nights and I worked afternoons. When he was leaving, I was coming home and vice versa.

This night I had a celebratory bottle of Labatt's Blue and reflected over the previous shift. There was so, so much to learn. It really wasn't all that bad, deviant or dirty. I mean it was just sex after all. So why the shame, nervousness and neurotic behaviour?

Our society had become accustomed to those who were looking to fulfill their needs of love and belonging. Sometimes people could be as condemning as organized religion and I felt I had no place in it. Nonetheless the taboo and eccentric elements of the job, the environment had me facinated. I fully intended on making the most of this opportunity.

Taking a swill off my beer I considered the countless "odd" toys or marital items was the term I'd been previously accustomed to. I was a babe in the woods to this concept just as much as if not more then the genres of film I learned earlier that day.

How deliciously naughty these platic wands of wizardry must've been to boldly be thrust into the heart of deprived lust and longing. The notion aroused me the more I thought about it.

You had your multi-speed; your pocket rockets; your dual action silver bullets and golden eggs; water resistant-water proof; gyrating; rotating; g-spot designed; wearable clit stimulators; multi coloured slim lines---it seemed there was a flavour or fancy for just about everything under the sun--'er make that where the sun don't shine.

My obvious dilemma surged my pulse into a rapid drum beat once again. Just how was I supposed to learn all this stuff? If I was going to be any type of decent salesman (or was it indecent?) let alone of the dynamic variety Mitch Savoy advertised for, I best learn my craft and learn it well.

I certainly had obstacles. My bashful demeanor had to go. I vowed right then and there to pretend to be someone else to overcome this ridiculous awkwardness. I was going to become a doctor; a doctor of love. There were everyday, ordinary people--these consumers and I was there to help them--a prescription for good vibrations--all very legitimate.

Getting back to the learning the product, I'd have to take a hefty volume of notes, returning to the store tomorrow. Theory was fine. I had little experience or virtually none concerning adult toys or novelties. It was not as though present circumstances permitted me to experiment. my lengthy, involuntary bout of born again celebacy saw to this.

I gulped the last of my beer, set my alarm and prepared to face tomorrow with full intent on finding the buzz on vibes.

(con'd).......

Conclusion of Floor Rapport

.....he fixed me an expression that read into translation:

"Anyway I can possibly blast your mother with anal sex?" and retreated to the other side of the store. god this was not only frustrating but humiliating; knowing full well Mitch and his saigon kick were peering at me under scrutiny. Was I actually going to be fired before I even got started? I had to change my strategy and change it fast.

Subtly I watched another browser with a couple of movies in tow scanning the sections inquisitively. With sheer instinct I grabbed a couple of boxes two at random.

"Sorry, excuse me? I can't help but notice a couple of your selections?"

"Huh? Oh yeah-' he glanced down at his choices. "Nici Sterling, damn what a fox-" Finally something I could work with. This guy was a conisseur, no doubt. I best choose my next actions carefully.

"Oh no doubt about that my friend. Something about that Euro look does it for me everytime." I had no idea where that came from, but I ran with it. "You know something if you like F-Zone there, you gotta check out Gang Bang girl. It'll blow your mind."

Since I just returned the box cover I knew exactly where it was. Reaching for it I handed it to him with enthusiasm. He regarded the front, the buxom Brit donned in equestrian garb and raised an eyebrow. Turning the cover, he nodded answering his own silent question.

"Yeah among everybody else." Together we burst into laughter. A great ice breaker for sure.
"Ok, what else you got?"

Momentarily stumped, I quipped quickly,"Ah' scanning the anal section thank god she show cased another cover. Prime choices volume--- oh who knows--

"I haven't actually seen this one yet but it is very popular." Once again he appraised the cover. Nici was bent over in burgandy lingerie with a white back drop.

"Ok cool. thanks for all your help."

"My pleasure, need anything just give us a shout." I glanced over at Mitch, he winked with approval, then he shuddered as his eyes slipped back to normal.

Walking back over to the counter, the saigon kick even beemed with pride. A short time later the other participant in my Sterling interaction came to the counter proudly with half a dozen box titles.

Mr Savoy quickly interjected, "Now Dan, I'd like you to watch how we rent movies out of the system." Before Mitch could even summon his phone number, the customer replied, "Oh no, I'd like to purchase these." Mitch raised an eye brow.

"Ah! Excellent choices Searle--"

"Yeah your staff here was so friendly and helpful. I appreciate it. Thank you!" Our perversity purchaser shot me a wink.

Well I suppose I'd stick around after all, passing my first milestone in the Floor Rapport. I could tell things were beginning to turn around as Mitch Savoy never called me Dan ever again.

"

More and More Floor Rapport

.....The transexual looking refugee paused to toss her arms in the air and bend down ( she too was about half a foot taller than Mitch ). He paused from his infernal clattering away on the dot matrix computer.

"Dan--,' he started walking to the other side of the glass counter now. "Please disrespect Babe.-' he stood closer than my personal comfort permitted. "She's only trying to help you--help me--the business.' Again with that kookie two separate gazes look, it was really un-nerving. "So get on the floor Searle-' he flashed his best three dollar bill smile that I didn't trust. "And interact with the customers, that's what they're here for Dan."

I sighed. "Mitch-my name is-"

"Good, good, good-" he was already retreating to the back of the counter with a gloating Lauren. For likely the fifth dozen time since arriving, I'd considered walking out. Then I'd thought logically-he's likely got a point. Simply standing behind the counter exploits an 'Us and Them' mentality. I learned this notion in school with counselling. you never counsel a client behind a desk. It places an image of emtionally, psychologically and of course physically placing walls and barriers. How can you expect to bring down metaphorical walls for the client when you are building your own?

I decided to give it the old college try. Approaching a potential customer with a stack of movie boxes, I employed "Anything I can help you out with Sir?" I almost spurted out Searle at the last minute and promptly refrained......

(con'd)

Further Floor Rapport

.....unusual he seemed completely oblivious and unphased by the content. Offering me a quick glance, he even waltzed straight behind the counter.

To my complete dismay, Mitch reefed the brazen Thai towards him, ridiculously goosing his ass all the while. Mitch swirled his tongue like a crazed fat kid, freshly escaped from fat camp.

I was mere seconds away from dropping my box titles and running out the back door in search of electro-shock therapy to erase my brain. This was far more twisted than any one person should have to witness, let alone for one day.

"Oh Baby, this is our new store saviour, Dan. He's going to sell the tits off a nun,' Mitch muttered barely audible. "Excuse me searle?" hae added in his drunken used car salesman voice. "Dan? This is my main squeeze Lauren." For emphasis he cupped and goosed Lauren's behind once again. "Lauren this is Dan."

Lauren? Good God! A girl? She was so unattractive I didn't know if I should vomit or cackle with maniacal laughter.

I glared at Mitch for getting my name wrong. His two direction gaze confused me if he was looking at me or just past me. The boyish looking asian waved non-chanlantly then proceeded a passive attempt at communication with tremoring lips and without audio.

"Sorry?" Again the same trembling lips-void of sound and an impatient flail of the arm.

"What-Lauren I can't hear you..." This time a flabbergased sigh more rapid muttering with no effort to speak louder.

Ok I get it. I must be on video camera. This was one of those prank-hidden camera shows. An elaborate rouse as it were. Oh damn, was I embarrassed!

(Con'd).....

Even More Floor Rapport

....My poor naive mind.

Nervously I smiled with jittery hands and walked from the display case in attempt to organize the titles in their proper category. I felt like all eyes were on me as I roamed among the ravenous consumers, scanning box covers for alike items. It was a depraved jungle on the floor with anxious murmers and fidgety glances. I delved my efforts directly into the categories Amateur, Stag, among others pleased with my efforts and avoiding eye contact with the customers and all costs. There was no way I wanted to know what they were thinking. And no way I wanted them to see my flushed complexion.

Browsing each of the series and occasionally fusing about in attempt to match similiar items chronilogically in their respected series, Instantly became a sargeant for detail. Many people scoffed claiming just because it was porn there was no sense of order required. On the contrary was my belief. Adult entertainment was a reluctant and embarrasing study for most. The more efficent, informative and organized the better.

Just as my eyes began to glaze over and threaten to cross (from the over indulgance of flesh I'm sure) the front doors chimed. The two roaming consumers seemed as unsettled as I was. If Mitch wasn't going to intercept, clearly I'd have to do something. A very young looking Asian boy came strutting into the show room like he'd owned the place. The nerve of this child! To dwell in an environment unfit to even see, if ever. .... (con'd)

More Floor Rapport

As odd or eccentric or regardless of how my new employer rubbed me the wrong way, he had a very valid point. Perhaps his philosophies derived from any retail sector; in reality it could be perceived as tanglibe to even this unusual realm of shopping.

While making notes on how to accept cassette rentals as returns and filing them sequentially, I assisted by gathering their respective advertising boxes. I glanced at the illicit imagery of each, collecting and preparing for display. Countless genres were noted. 'Up and Cummers Part 36'- a play on words for an amateur series apparently popular to warrant thirty five sequels; Gangbang Girl with a beautiful brunetted named Nici Sterling dressed in regal equestrian outfit surrounded by nine semi-clothed studs. Wait. Sex with nine guys? Was this even possible? The very boundries of my limited sexual knowledge stretched and mis-shapened to the brink of insanity.

"Seymore Butts-Playing with Fire" an obviously humourous psedenym perhaps designed to make the most uptight and jaded of viewers at ease. Psychology and porn-most intriguing indeed. Mr. Savoy giddy all the sudden-promptly fed me trivia on the title, (with pride) stating the title was a hottie because of its ban within the United States. One of the performers was an actual New York City fireman--boning (as Mitch eloquently added) Butt's girlfriend--Shane right in the NYC firehall. Boning his girlfriend? I felt woozy as I realized I'd stepped right into the eye of the twilight zone. A subculture where men let other men 'bone' their girlfriends and even videotaped it for mass production and profit. This was too much enlightment and education for one day for my poor naive mind.

(Con'd)

Ass Crew presents Floor Rapport

My tenre began to strengthen and solidify at the Adult Emporium. I learned precisely why I was submerged in the Mammon of Miscreants; More on this motley crew as the tale continues to unfold. Much to my amazement, I was hired on the spot.

At the very least I'd thought I'd have at least one night to fester and ferment in my own juices of neurosis. Should I be pleased to be working in such an environment? Would my family disown me? When could I expect to be rendered a social outcast?

After all this was 1996 and sexuality in Canada. If we weren't ashamed of it, evidently we should be. Working in a porno shoppe of all things, I'm sure I'd be labelled as a sick pervert. Every woman that passed me on the street would be able to see the shame in my eyes and clamour to the opposite side of the street, citing 'sicko, creep and pervert' along the way. All the while I'd be assumed to be a chronic masturbator if nothing else.

I stared in disbelief, attempting to absorb Mitch Savoy's words of wisdom. "Everyone that steps through the threshold of Adult Emporium--wants---something. They may not know what or even realize it. It is our job--our duty-- to help them discover what.' Mitch had no use for jack-offs ( a doragatory term I'd found was outrageously humourous) that sat behind the counter, doing crosswords or reading a book all the while refusing to acknowledge the presence of good paying customers.

(con'd)

Mammon of Miscreants V Strive or Dive

...I had no idea what I was looking at within those jewel like cases of glass, housing every conceivable brain storm of sexual toys or what I bashfully referred to as 'marital aids'. Ben-wa balls--two plastic spheres connected on a string, dongs in every imaginable variety--suction cupped bases, flesh coloured, pink, black, see-through jelly, double headed dongs, 6", 7", 8" and 9"--essentially all prostetic penises, something called the tongue--which was promoted in what looked like 1960's kaytel info-mercial boxes, anal beads--basically little plastic balls on a string, butt plugs--triple ripple butt plugs--these had to have been jokes as there was no way one could cram that up their ass, gelatin penis sleeves, extensions, strap ons, delay spray, china brush, multi-speed vibrators. My mind whirled over and over thinking my skull would explode from sensory and stimuli overload.

I considered once again to dash out the door and resisted, trying to prove something to myself. I clung onto the theory that I wasn't a quitter. I'd take this job if it was all that was available. I'd be damned if I was going to succumb to the pogey stereotype of a free-loader. I'd also be fucked if I was going to remain the same timid, shy, perpetually single chronic masturbator that all my ex's claimed I was horribly boring, linear or dull in bed. No way in hell the god damned buck stopped here and I was going to embrace this underdog environment and give it the best positive spin there could be. I think it was in my own mind at that very moment the acronym ASS CREW or All Satisfying Sex Can Render Everyone Wonderstruck was conceived. This brainchild took some time to nurture, develop and mould mind you but I was not going to feel like a nobody for the rest of my life. My days of being useless were over. Little did I know the days of being ostracized, aliennated and horribly misunderstood were merely beginning.

"Sorry 'bout that Dan, you'll have to excuse me.. ... been running on a skeleton crew here last couple of days.' Mitch extended his hand, gave it mine a good squeeze. I liked that a sign of assertion. Yet the temptation to wipe my hand vigorously on my pants were nearly irresistible. "So you want to work for the Adult Emporium, very good Searle... tell me a little bit about yourself..."

"Well first off Mitch, thank you in advance for the opportunity in this interview, but first thing is first, the name is Dave," Shocked I searched the confines of the porn store wondering exactly whom was bellowing this baritone of confidence. Perhaps even more surprised I was at realizing it was me.

(con'd)

Mammon of Miscreants IV

If there was ever a retail twilight zone, clearly I'd stepped over the threshold and directly into the eye of the depraved. Truly a screaming stereotype of what a porno shop was, I was like a babe vulnerable within the confines of a perverse carnival. Walking down the dark, dingy corrider I glimpsed upon video box covers among the hundreds roughly the size of your standard 8 1/2" x 11" sheet of paper. Shamelessly illuminated on these surfaces were every preference, taste, fetish, fantasy of filth imaginable.

Each of my steps were slower, seemingly trudging through bewildered and awe-struck quicksand. My conscience told me to pay no attention, yet it was like a hideous wreck passed on the highway where you cannot fix your gaze away. The further I delved the more debaucherous the scenery became. Gang bangs, orgies, freaks of nature, my first dose of hardcore homosexual imagery shocked and turned my nervous, empty stomach seeing a copious pool of ejaculate drizzle from a pretty boy's face as he had a cock mere inches from his nose roughly the size of my forearm.

The vibe I felt within this eccentric emporium was one of nervousness and near skittish behaviour. I nearly bumped into a man with shifty eyes concealed behind pop bottle glasses and a greasy mop to match as my continously adjusted his spaghetti stained track pants. Turning the corner I was vaguely proud of myself for going through this, yet something told me to run and run like the wind. On a particle board shelving unit a collection of 3D movies and glasses caused me to bulge my eyes in disbelief, recalling the previous spectacle was already one dimension beyond what I was prepared to see.

Toys with grainy photograped covers with sleazy, cheesy catch phrases inhabited the shelf beneath. Apparently an inflatable doll called the 'Rich Bitch': "An uptown girl with downtown tastes." In spite of my anxiety I laughed heartily. At least two jittery customers jumped and scattered towards the back door, thinking I was laughing at their expense. Wow this was some hyper-sensetive environment. I felt my ears burn from blushing such a crimson red. Looking down at the bristle-less grey rug, I took another deep breath and wondered what a viewing room was and tried my best to ignore the venomous screeches and squeals from beyond the door.

Approaching the main showroom I was somewhat relieved things looked more professional and out in the open. Three glass show cases shaped in an L fashion housed the behind the counter area. Thousands open thousands of cassettes were stored there, a library to correpsond with the mesmerizing films showcased. Behind the counter clacking away on a dot matrix computer was perhaps the loudest, larger than life stereo type within the whole facility. All of about 5'2" and 85lbs soaking wet stood a fraile and malnutritioned yet peppy and bubbly clerk. He was entering the VHS movies into the system and grimaced from time to time. Sporting what I call an old school Hulk Hogan hairdo, he was as bald as the day he was born up top and desperatly clinging onto any folciles at the back in the form of a dirty blonde, scraggily pony tail.

Steadying my shakng hands and clearing my throat, I stepped aside from the bargin bin, which boasted 1 for $14.95, 2 for $12.95 eac and 3 for $9.95 each, even the spine of each title appeared to be even more outrageous than the product on the floor.

"Excuse me?" I asked in a soft tone.

"Aw yes searle, what can I do you for today," responding in his spontaneous on the surface, yet transparently rehearsed speech I knew before asking this was the Mitch Savoy I was supposed to meet. Was I actually supposed to respect this guy?

"I'm here to see Mr. Savoy. I have a 10:00 appointment."

"Ohhh riiiight. Dan is it? Sooo you're the little pervert that's going to save this store," he grinned and flashed tobacoo stained corn niblet like smile. I was a touch caught off guard how he could look at me yet look in two different directions at the same time. Something about this guy was off, way off.

"It's Dave actually, Dave Gammon? We spoke on the phone an-" cutting me off he laughed an uproaringly offensive, brash laugh and beckoned him to give him just two shakes and he'd be right with me. I was amazed to find myself replying politely, sure thing and proceeded to browze within the showcases, having no idea what it was I was looking at.

-Con'd-

Mammon of Miscreants III

I stood outside the Adult Emporium's (fictional name to protect the jaded and oblivious) rear entrance. Incidentally Mitch thought this was just the wittiest slice play on words there ever was. Gazing at the pink, steel door I took a deep breath, attempting to attain some composure. If I didn't get a job like this, surely I'd have to blow my brains out or go live in the secluded woods somewhere, evidently not having what it takes to cope within society.

My hands shook, no scratch that trembled beyond reason. Upon my brow, sweat permiated profusely. My mouth grew dry as an arid desert even though my glands were working over time. At least three times I turned around and got back in my car as I was way too early. My nervous neurosis refused to let up. I was anxious about the job naturally. I was frenzied over being in a porno-type environment. I mean what kind of clientele were to shop there anyway? Clearly they'd have to be some sort of raging sex lunatics. What would these lunatics think of me? They'd formulate all these assumptions about the guy behind the counter being the ultimate pervert, sick twisted and fit to be institutionalized. They'd likely egg me on and antagonize me, accuse me of being a perpetual masterbater. I'd probably be ostracized and isolated worse than ever before in my life! Did I really have the cahonas to go through with this.

My first wave of nausea swept over me and if I'd had any breakfast that day it'd be all over the underground parking lot by now. Looking down at my black dress shoes I suddenly felt ridiculously over dressed. How does one present themself in an interview in a porn shop anyway? My dress slacks, matching vest and shirt seemed an obvious choice at home. Now my mind whirled if I had enough time to dash home and change my clothes to a pair of jeans and t-shirt. But then, no that'd be impossible and look way too lax. Jeez I think my mind even considered walking in naked. Wouldn't that make a statement? I was so completely out of my league, my element and my comfort zone.

I hadn't had a relationship in a long time and the last one I did have was one bound, bent and determined on demoralizing every fibre of my self confidence, esteem and perspective. Throughout that time I learned that masturbation for women equaled erotic, sexy and liberating. Emphasis was placed on the revolting element of what it was for a man: pathetic, shameful, dirty and the sort of thing only desperate rapist and pedophiles did.

I started to hyperventilate and wanted to flee, flee so badly that I cared not if I ever worked again. My neurosis shifted to borderline psychosis as I thought I was on verge of a panic attack or cardiac arrest. Suddenly I'd wished that I did spank the chicken or choke the monkey (or whatever they called it now) at home, preparing at least I'd be relaxed rather than going through this personal hell. To this day I still have no idea how it is I pulled myself together. The last thing I recall is closing my eyes, taking ten deep, methodical breaths and wispering aloud, "It's only sex." Once I said it once, it sounded comforting, even almost natural. "It's only sex," I repeated and smiled a little. "It's only sex," I chanted louder one last time and grasped the door handle and pulled it open to step inside.

Mammon of Miscreants II

I sat around investing most of my energy towards fighting the inevitable depression. As more time went by not working, the more usless I started to feel. I found I was avoiding social gatherings, feeling unworthy of anything interesting or new to contribute aside from the latest soap opera updates and latest game shows. Couch potato syndrome was settling in and even the unemployment hadn't arrived as of yet.

Just as true doom n gloom was settling in the phone rang one day. Such a foreign chirp I jumped, completely startled. I answered the phone with a tentative, "hello..?"

On the other end was a voice so uncharacteristically enthusiastic I was just about to hang up thinking it was a bloody telemarketer. He introduced himself as Mitch Savoy, (an alias to protect the oblivious) and asked for Dave Gammon. Once I replied he bid me a good evening even though it was morning and called me sir, yet he pronounced it 'searle'.

He mentioned how he received my resume and was very impressed and went onto bash the other candidates in articulate fashion. He talked about his retail stores, known as his 'babies'. He'd ask me random questions like who my favourite porno star was. I was befuddled and my mind had eluded me not fully realizing that the men and women are credited in the fuck films. My mind clammered before getting grip on a xxx centrefold I'd heard of that was fetching and most memorable named Victoria Paris. He snickered in what seemed like a pre-empted, forced laughter and promptly informed me she was old news.

Mitch went onto express his philosophies towards exhibitionism and sex in general and North American's general shame towards their own libidos. As he eloborated at great length, how free spirited our European forefathers were and how they regarded their sexuality, I became suddenly intruiged for the first time during our discussion. If this guy was trying to sell me on the business, it was definately working. Upon drifting too far from the topic, Mitch wanted to make sure I was 'comfortable with dildos and skin flicks' and asked me to come in for an interview to their Scarborough location. With renewed vigor and enthusiasm I avidly agreed and wrote the address down and said I'd be there early tomorrow. He thanked me for my time, calling me searle once again and said he admired my spirit.

I hung up the phone, staring at the shared accomodation in disbelief. Although I was trilled at my first potential prospect at working, the initial wave of panic rushed over me as my neurosis screamed at me to learn about porn and learn fast if I was going to avoid making a fool of myself.
I went to bed at 8:00 that night, making sure I wouldn't be late for my interview, compulsively checking my alarm clock dozens of times. I tossed and turned that night anxiously awaiting my first scheduled appointment in weeks. Little did I know it was the meeting that would forever change my very personna for better or worse as I know it today..

(con'd)

Mammon of Miscreants

The summer of 1996 was setting for a genuine coming of age for me. In Ontario we'd seen a change of political power. Our new premier was a 'no nonsense' conservative from North Bay, Mike Harris.

While many of my peers since childhood thought he was the next coming of Christ, I wasn't so sure. He'd vowed to remove surveillance cameras on highways, minimize social assistance abuse by making people work for their welfare and make immigration laws far less lenient.

Now don't get me wrong, I've engaged in a click or two above the speed limit and I'm all about everyone pulling their own weight especially when they're able and willing bodied people. The immigration laws did trouble me some as I really enjoyed learning about other cultures I'd never get a chance to otherwise. My biggest grievance was losing my cushy NDP government job as a result of this new political shift.

That's right I was a former civil servant that worked for the Ontario government as an employment consultant. Essentially my job was to develop new positions within aspiring companies for the long term unemployed and ensure trainees received quality training while companies received compensation for lost productivity in the form of government subsidy. The work came extremely natural to me and in typical civil servant fashion I worked all of 24 actual hours a week maximum, while considered a regular 40 hour week. I received a fat salary for all of twenty years of age and the future was so bright, I had to wear shades as the old song goes.

Little did I realize my optimism or naive nature would come back to haunt me. As the provincial power shifted, we were given our pink slips and asked to move on. Now for the first time since out of college, I was unemployed with no tangible prospects on the horizon. I wasn't too worried however. I figured being a pro at placing the long term unemployed--How hard could it being getting work for myself?

I lined up countless quality interviews. Whenver I did receive a response, it was in the form of rejection equipped with a full smorgasboard of reasons: too young, not enough experience, we've went with someone else or my all time favourite--we feel you're just too qualified for this position. As my bank account was quickly dwindling and I had already downsized from renting a modest one bedroom apartment to a slightly humbling 'sharing of accommodations' from a friend of a friend. I was borderline desperate and I knew something had to give.

One day when reading our local newspaper, which is incidentally marketed towards the low-brow, semi-educated members of society, I'd stumbled across an ad in the help wanted section. "Dynamic customer service reps wanted: Must be comfortable with adult related material." As I drummed my fingers on the desk restlessly while scanning over the saturation of massage parlor ads, escorts and xxx video ads, and occasionally glimpsing at the Sunshine girl, an epiphany suddenly hit me.

Perhaps it was time to think outside of the box. Maybe I had to change my strategy all together. All of these countless corporations that refused to take me seriously were stangling me in self pity, so why not try to a place that I would ordinarily be hesitant to take seriously? Why not do the opposite of the predictable? I mean I just had to apply, it didn't mean I had to accept it or anything. Maybe it was just the confidence booster I needed. I coudl always keep looking until something better, more suited came up. Feeling self assured and sligtly deviant and naughty, I retreated to the bowels of my friend of a friend's basement to warm up my electric type writer and compose the resume and cover letter that would forever alter my path of destiny as I know it.

Part II con'd.....

Ass Crew

I believe it was comedian Dennis Miller that coined the phrase, "Now I don't want to get off on a rant here.." But do you ever notice how complete hostile, agitated and all around generally pissed off our society has become? Don't get me wrong some behaviour dictates a sound venom fuelled tirade of intergalactic proportion. Is it really worth spewing froth at the mouth because you have to wait in the grocery store line an extra five minutes? Someone slip junk mail in through your mail slot? Surely this offense is punishable by dismemberment. Have to pay extra in taxes to trusty ol' Uncle Sam or worse yet to the nation's leader that sports a beaver as its mascot? Well these are all arbitrary elements of coexisting in today's society as reasonably functioning adults.

So where does all the anger and aggression originate from? The lack of concentration in an overly electronically stimulated society can only contribute to shortened bouts of patience. While we're evolving further and further away from face to face comraderie, intimacy and interaction, we can now virtually interface without coming into actual contact with one another. Oh sure the novelty of tweeting, facebooking, myspacing, texting, YIM'ing, MSN'ing, Skyping and Camming are so out of this world rad, there's no reason to ever have to actually touch another humanoid. But interfere or threaten to take away this luxury especially to a pubescent teen, you have the next apocalypse on your hands.

Throw into the mix condensed quarters of numerous inhabitants. Sociological experiments prove a direct correlation with numerous homosapien inhabitants in closed quarters and aggression. Ever watch about a dozen rats fight in one maze over a mesely piece of cheese. Not a pretty sight, let me tell you. Similar experiments also show direct correlation with aggression and excessive exposure to loud noises (moshing anyone?), poverty and heat combined with humidity. Since our heat wave of thirty degree temperatures has begun how many people have pissed you off? My long winded point is simply this--with such an aggressive society are we not slowly escalating our hatred, anger, not to mention our blood pressure and risk of heart disease and stroke. If we don't evenutally engage in mortal caged combat each time we have a dispute or disagreement with our fellow neighbour, at this rate we could easily be heading to a Babylon type society.

So what remedies an angered, tortured soul? Shock therapy? Too primative. Meditation and relaxation therapy? Effective, yet way too "Zen" or new aged for many people. Smoking pot? Probably the most effective of the three yet, there is a certain lack of... .....what was I talking about again? .....oh yeah short term memory or focus that rides shot gone with our glass bong weilding heros. Then again when is the last time someone went on a rampage completely stoned out on grass? Or the almighty solution and the absolute essence of my ramblings here in our introductory piece, is the something we've been doing since the dawn of mankind.... Get laid. Not only get laid, but out and out completely enslaved to all your primal, pent up aggression and engage in the most satisfying sex one can imagine. And speaking of imagination, get innovative, get creative, unleash the wild demon inside you. Don't have a partner? No problem, engage in the freakiest, guilt free self exploration you'd ever dared embarked upon. Go to your local novelty shop, get a new toy. Too shy to go in person? Go online. The possibilities are endless. And not to generalize, but when is the last time you say someone really all that sour when they are still basking in the after glow of copius amounts of earth shattering fucking? Exactly.

So here it begins a venture to take together a slow and deliberate slither into the perils of abyss that lie as obstacle to stand in our way of A.ll S.atisfying S.ex C.an R.ender E.veryone W.onderstruck.

Peace be with you and may all your moans and groans be in bed