Christmas Gift for a Dead Man, Sex with a Washing Machine, and Other Musings This Veterans Day.

The statue of freedom, ontop of the US C

I don’t think the glass is half empty or half full, I just think I got the wrong bartender.

This past Saturday evening, while the moon was high, full and bright I felt lyrical within myself. I was enjoying eating my fish sandwich at the bar, not caring that I did not have a date or a woman to walk the brick streets of Annapolis under that mysterious orb in the sky. Not caring that my genius goes unnoticed and financially unrewarded. Just felt damn lyrical.

Women were all around but I was more concerned placing the right amount of tartar sauce on the melted American cheese atop the fresh, fried fish.

I had already been approached by a young woman who said she liked older men. I chased her away quickly with; “I had a younger woman once who would rather hump a washing machine on the spin cycle, practice naked yoga in front of an open window, and never read a book in her life. She also threw my computer into the pool that had the contents of my book I was writing.”

“I’m sure you are exaggerating,” she said.

“Maybe a little. The washing machine didn’t have to be on the spin cycle.”

So she left quickly and my fish was served. By the time I was finishing up, two ladies had sat down beside me. Later I would learn political professionals from the liberal side of the rainbow. Even though politics was the furthest thing from my mind, my stomach was full and that is when I am the slowest man on the planet EL.

I could tell they were looking at me and finally she said, “Hello. I believe my husband and I met you before.”

“Was it a pleasant experience?”

“I think so. He is a secret service agent.”

“Damn right it would be a pleasant experience, I probably noticed he had a holstered gun.”

At this point I notice her friend with her. A beautiful brunette with a high forehead and big smile. Her name was Jessi.

As we were talking, somehow my writing came up. I gave the married woman my link, elbrookman.com. Maybe as a way, so if things went well, the big brunette had a way of getting in touch with me.

They had spent most of Saturday drinking and enjoying themselves around Annapolis, when the conversation moved to politics. Both made sure they told me they are Progressives, and I showed my ignorance when I asked how they liked working in insurance?

But one is working for the “living minimum wage” and the big brunette for some liberal politicians’ campaign.

“How did you two meet each other?”

“We both worked for John Edwards.”

It was at that moment the fish rematerialized in my stomach and started to swim up my esophagus.

It was now time to buy us all a shot so I could get drunk without going into complete mental breakdown. I just gave this woman my blog address. I’m the guy who wrote; “IT’S MY PENIS AND HILLARY CAN’T HAVE IT!”

I have to make money somehow, so this is a good time to include a sponsor who has paid me compensation here at elbrookman.com.

I asked the bartender for three shots of EXCLUSIV VODCA.

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Five times distilled and very pure. Purity is so important in vodka, because it does not leave the mind and body with a hangover the next day while doing laundry at the laundry mat because you found your washing machine was broken by a young woman having sex with it the night before.

After a rousing conversation about the hypocrite Edwards, who deserved to have fallen deep into the planet EL, we moved on to other political topics I kept trying to dodge. I just wanted to kiss the big brunette’s smile and hold the finger she was wagging in my face about the poverty in this country and man’s inhumanity to man. How about woman’s inhumanity to man? I asked if she owned a washing machine and she looked at me like, well, duh.

Even though I wanted her to like me, I kept stepping on my George Bush Boots. They were both heartsick with the way the recent elections turned out. Unfortunately the questions being ask of me were as a voter, “What makes you mad?”

“What is important to you?”

“Do we have any common ground?”

My only answer I was willing to give up, were that my words were important to me. I think they thought I was referring to the Bible, since I had admitted to being a conservative.

With all this evil politics coming at me, that Bella Luna going on outside, I was damn near reluctant to say anything. My lyrical night was turning into a bad rhyme.

I asked the big brunette if she has or had many boyfriends?

“No.”

I guess this was my opening. What would I say? Would I move toward her to show I liked her? I said the unthinkable for the man who years ago go could woo a woman with words, even a die-hard liberal. Now I just don’t anymore.

“Your smile makes your big head smaller. Did you ever think to dumb yourself down?”

It was a cold walk down those Annapolis streets. Damn moon.

Last December, I visited a friend, a former captain in the marines. A purple-heart recipient with a plate in his head and enough war chemicals in his system to shorten his life span or make him a WMD.

Never saw a wrinkle in his shirts. His soup cans and other pantry items stood at attention. Everything had always been organized in his life.

The doctors said he would not make it past January.

As we walked by the Christmas tree in the living room, he pointed to the presents wrapped in green and red colors and said; “Look, Christmas presents for a dead man.”

If anyone gave him a battery operated Christmas present, he would be gone before the battery needed to be replaced.

Now a word for another sponsor here at elbrookman.com

My gift to him was a bottle of JR EWING BOURBON. A four year old bourbon made for the now cancelled TV show. It is a drink only real men, like evil Republicans can appreciate.

0000jrewing_front_grayspot 

We sat and drank it while talking about life, women, war and politics.

Before January ended, he was gone.

I stood in Arlington Cemetery wearing my long, black wool overcoat that barely kept the bitter cold away from my bones.

He received full military honors, the horse, the caisson, the gun salute, and taps.

The ceremony was over, but it is the common ground all Americans, no matter the political divide can salute and honor.

This Veterans day I feel optimistic, perhaps it was the elections, or maybe it is the Midnight Moonshine I’ve been enjoying. Triple distilled and great while watching young girls doing naked yoga in front of their open windows.

0000midnight-moon-xl

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Categories: Humor, Life, Observations, People, Places, Politics

Tags: , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , ,

4 replies

  1. You are lyrical, satirical and a full moon writing miracle! (Progressive insurance-still laughing.). Ps. Do I qualify as a Big Brunette if I have big hair?

    Liked by 1 person

  2. Hello admin do you need unlimited content for your website ?
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  3. Sex with washing machine what are you retarded or very daring ot something ?.

    Like

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