I’ve been discussing my opinions regarding Janet Reno and Hillary Clinton.
“So, what’s the P.C. expression now?”
“Vagitarians!”
“Damn carpet-munchers, they get more pussy than I do.” This from Captain Charlie extra pickles.
I bitch about not getting laid much. Geri and I are friends, and are more like brother and sister, than husband and wife. Whenever one of us asks the other if our lack of quantity sex seems abnormal, we placate each other with our relationship was never based on sex, to begin with.” We started out as friends. But when we do occasionally get around to it, it’s always great…we always wind up asking, “Man, why don’t we do this more often?” But today I’m feeling sorry for myself, sharing my gripe with D.B. and Jerry.
“Hey, ‘Chubster,’” Jerry asks, “You know what rodeo sex is?”
“No, what?”
“When you slide up behind your wife, slip it in nice ‘n gentle, grab her around by the tits, and whisper in her ear that she’s not as tight as her sister… then you got to try to hold on for 10 seconds!”
“Hey, Jer, once a year if I wake up and Geri’s already up I pretend I’m still sleeping, stay real still. Then I slowly ‘come awake,’ look over at her like I’m still groggy, and ask. ‘What base did you say you were from?” Geri always falls for that one, gets her real pissed-off, and I always get a punch in the arm, or something!”
“Chubby Stevie,” this from Jerry, “you’re getting to be as big as Sheamus O’Connor!”
No wonder you don’t get laid a lot, Rabbi!”
I pose, a la a body builder, No way, Jose, I’m on Adkins now! Stevie SchwartzenKeshner.”
Charlie asks us, “Know what pilots use most for birth control?”
“What?”
“Their personalities!”
“No dick, shit Tracey!” Jerry Lovell is about sixty, but a well-earned reputation, well earned, as a smooth talking, ladies man. He’s been divorced for years, is the single parent to a little girl he adores, back in Texas, and between his Zam-Zam scam and his personality, he gets laid alot.
We’re heading out on a military charter to Guam and we will have 36 hours on the ground before continuing to Kadena and Yakota in Japan and Okinawa. I know Jerry’s got some female phone #’s in Agana, and he’s already set himself up with a ‘cheap date.”
“Yeah boys,” he rubs it in, “I’ll take her to Shirleys for fried rice and coffee. She loves Shirley’s fried rice.”
So do I, but jealously, I keep it to myself.
“…then we’ll head back to her place” smirks Lovell, …“life is good!”
Zeppah Zaydeh-Revelation
Not even the loudspeakers’ overlap wailing, jarring their echoing prayers, nor the smell of cheap paint and the over-chlorinated pool can upset my tranquility this day.
My head is reeling with new emotions. I have finally flown with Zeppah Zeydah, the quiet Captain with the riveting, intelligent eyes. Zeppah has a gentle, loving spirit, is a multi-faceted, thinking, caring man. The hours I’ve just spent with him flew by with our animated discussions about Persian history, the revolutionary overthrow of the Shah of Iran, Rehza Pahlevi, and its effects on Zadeh, and his family. We talked of our children, his Bahai Faith, our mutual love of Italian opera, classical music, impressionist painters, and of racism.
I unpeeled my defensive layers for Zaydeh, and he awakened in me not a hope for some kind of a faith, but for some kind of dignity! You see, unlike me, Zeppah has been able to create a Disease-Free zone around himself, within which he will not permit racist thoughts or remarks to be made. Neither will he suffer sexist feelings, nor foolish, sloppy thinking.
Yet, Zeppah is admired by everyone, pandering to no one, and does not sell out bits of his soul for acceptance, as I do. Believing that part of our different approaches to acceptance might have to do with his Faith, I have asked him to provide me with literature about Bahai, which he has graciously done…. but have not yet had the courage to broach what I perceive to be the major difference in our souls….. I’m not yet ready for him to discard me for my weaknesses.
Why do I allow myself to be corrupted for acceptance, while he is strong enough not to bend to the need to fit, to bond with the bullshit secret-handshakes of Racism, and of Us-ism against Them-ism? As I get to know Zeppah better, I will plumb him for his methods, the secret of his Self. Meanwhile, I will observe from a distance, trying to learn, and revel in what I see now as possible.
I am glad that Zeppah, my Jonathan Livingston Seagull, has come to show me what is possible, and more importantly, what is not necessary.
Sheamus — World Cup
We’re on our way to Paris, Sheamus’s Mexican Company has booked the charter, Mexico City — JFK — CDG, and return. Two planes, 1000 people, total.
This year, France is hosting the world-cup soccer matches, and Paris is packed.
“Seriously, Sheamus, how’d you pull it off?”
“Easy, Rabbi,” he explains. Two planes, round trip, a total of about 50 hours of power. I figure Moe’s costs are about seven grand an hour, so I offer him ten grand an hour, a total for both flights, round off to about $500,000 for the charter. I use my Mexican company’s name.”
“What’s that?”
“Manana Air. Any way it was easy. My partner Paco did the negotiating, so that Nachtomi won’t connect it to me. Paco and I put up $25,000 each, ‘chump change.’ We drafted a contract calling for a 10% deposit, ($50 grand), refundable, if we cancel out more than ten days prior.
Sheamus and his buddy had sold lottery tix in Mexico for $40 U.S. apiece out of the major supermarkets in Mexico City. They promised twenty million Mexicans a chance to fly to Paris to see their beloved Mexican soccer team play in the World Cup matches. These people have never been out of Mexico City before, no less flown to Paris to see the World Cup playoffs. There will be 1000 lucky winners.
We had rules,” Counting on his fingers, “Rule #1 — no suitcases, no baggage, no hotel room.”
“What? How’s that possible, Sheamus?”
“Easy. The deal is that the lucky 1000 wet-backs would fly to JFK —refuel / recrew, fly to Paris, get on buses and be taken directly to the soccer arena. After the game, it’s back on the buses, back to the plane and the flight home, period!”
“How much did the soccer tickets in Paris cost?”
We picked up 1000 cheap seats for $20,000 total. Nobody wanted to see Mexico play!”
“Yeah, except your Mexicans!”
“Got that right, Rabbi! We started selling those tickets six months ago. Sold more than 50,000 of those babies, raised $2,000,000 in no time. We gave the supermarkets $2 a ticket for selling them. $500 grand for the planes, 20 grand for the busses. So, we netted 1 million four.
I’ve got about $700,000 U.S. dollars waiting for me in Mexico City. “Jesus, Sheamus!”
“Rabbi, the best part was that our original risk, our actual exposure, was only the $50K for the planes, and the $20K for the tickets and buses. The rest came out of receipts, even the $50K would have been refundable if the tickets didn’t sell well in Mexico City.”
“So you and your partner had an actual exposure of what, only $12,000 each?”
“Got that right, Rabbi…. Stevie, do you know the difference between a speculator and an investor?”
No Sheamus, but you’ll tell me.”
“I’m an Investor…. all the other guys are Speculators!”
Serious now, I ask, “So what’re you gonna do with your $700,000, retire?”
“Well, there is a slight hang up, so I’m not sure yet about timing my retirement.”