Silent Nights

We weren’t aware until now of what must be the charming Italian tradition of setting off fireworks during Christmas season. We’re not exactly sure what it represents — the sound of being pestorked by an angel? — but it certainly sounds more lively than draining the power grid so God can see your three-stage Santa display.

Still, fireworks are fireworks, and Italian officials must have their hands full keeping fingers from being blown off. So in Naples this year, women are pledging to withhold fireworks from the bedroom if their men indulge themselves on the streets:

“We’ve tried everything to stop the mayhem caused by fireworks but we’ve never reached the results we hoped for,” [Dr. Vincenzo] Sorrentino said. “We decided to get women involved because they are more convincing and they always achieve their goals.”

This of course presumes the women have more fortitude. But considering the other news this week that women are more likely than men to give up sex for the Internet, perhaps we shouldn’t put it past them.

Women’s ultimatum: Sex or fireworks [UPI]

It would make sense if they were willing to substitute “fireworks” in the street, if you know what I mean.

This may sound like RagingMonk level perviness, but on some level, the idea of one day, one day a year, where it was ok to engage in a total public bachanal appeals to me, pestorking your loved one joyously wherever the mood strikes you and everyone doing the same, and the attitude of passersby being like the attitude of the french when you eat in public, they all smile and say “bon appetite,” enjoy your meal, people would just smile and be happy for your happiness and say Bon Schtupping, enjoy your fuck, and go on happier for having seen people enjoying one of the joys of life, and perhaps inspired to enjoy life similarly. Fuck day. Everyone waiting for the stroke of midnight, like new years eve, except instead of kissing, everyone fucks their partner, there and then. Not a swinging orgy, just a mass celebration of love with ones partner. Oh well, not likely soon, is it?

@Promnight: Uh…

ADD: I don’t want to see most people naked let alone engaged in public perstorking.

@JNOV: Amen, sister. That’s been most of my problem with porn: no one was pretty enough for me.

But don’t y’all see people every day on the street, or in their cars on the way to work, or in the subway, worthy of perstorking? That’s what Carnivale is all about…I think. Plus role reversal, which should be kinky-fun. Like, some kind of dispensation to perstork at will, with the willing. A beautiful thing.

HELP! My friends, this is my last half hour here for the next week, off on vacation, nothing but basking in the sun and pestorking for the next week, no internet, no TV, nothing.

Here’s the urgent question: Whats the best way to score pot in a foriegn land? Taxi driver? Resort staff? Approach random rastas? I am going to the bahamas. Is it safe to feel out a taxi driver?

@Promnight: Resort staff is my bet. Tip well and all good things will come to you. Karma.

@Pedonator: Pedo, you are a man after my own heart, of course, everywhere, supermarkets, in court, in the cars next to me in traffic jams, people who are worthy of pestorking are everywhere, and it is not bad, it inspires going home and pestorking. I have felt instant attractions to random strangers every day of my life, and it has never yet led me to be unfaithful. Everyone on earth falls into two categories, pestorkworthy, in varying degrees, or else I feel a sad hope for them, I really do, and hope and sincerely wish that even though I am not attracted to them, that someone is, because everyone needs to be loved and desired. Everyone on earth deserves to be loved and desired, to have someone who wants to pestork with them with mindless ecstatic abandon, fat and skinny and conventionally beautiful or, um, unique in their attributes. Whatever.

I genuinely feel guilt at not being attracted to some people, dammit, they’re butt-ugly to me, and I feel bad to think that and hope that in their life there is someone who finds them beautiful, everyone, everyone, is beautiful, to the one who will see it in them. Its too fucking sad to relegate people to the discard bin, everyone should be desired, dammit, its too fucking tragic for people born not to be beautiful as we are programmed to think of beautiful, its too fucking sad and sinful to think they are not worthy of love and vigorous pestorking.

@Promnight: Christ, Prommie, are you sparking all of your home stash tonight before you go away on vacation, or what?

@Promnight: Do the little juvie potheads call it “tree” where you live? Anyone know how that started?

@Promnight: I take heart in the fact that I become attracted to many, many men whom at first glance I find forgetworthy. I like so many types it’s not even funny. I think proximity is vastly underrated. As I get to know people — in this case men –, whether through conversation or just repeated visuals, I often find masturbation fodder among the most unlikely sources. I mean this sincerely, and trying not to be creepy.

@Ewalda: But isn’t it kind of endearing, calling it “tree”, thinking by smoking pot you’re doing something good for the environment such as?

@Ewalda: Nope, I have not had any in a year, and I am jonesing for some pot.

And yes, every day of my life, I feel some heartbreak when I see some good soul in an ugly package, and I feel so bad for them, and wish that in their life just once at least there will be someone who wants them with a desperate passion. Because everyone deserves that, don’t you think?

I am told I am fairly good looking, but I was so crippled with fear and anxiety and low self esteem and desperate need that for most of my life I might as well have been quasimodo, and I feel the pain of the lonely, I have been so lonely and felt so unworthy of love and desire, how could I not feel that pain in others, who have so much less to go on?

I don’t need to be drunk or stoned to feel these feelings, I have to be drunk or stoned not to feel these feelings. Cold sober, I am a raw nerve ending feeling the pain of the whole fucking world, out among people, its all I feel, all their pain, alone, I can immmerse myself in books and music and movies, or alcohol or whatever is available, but people, I just want them all to be happy, I do, I just want them all to be happy, and I am so sad that they are not.

Thats gonna be my last for a week, stinkers, and thats difficult for me, I have no friends in the real world, noone, but Mrs. Prom, I have no friends but you all. I lost all the friends of my youth and don’t know how to make new ones, noone seems to be on my wavelength, noone seems to be sympatico, in my real world life, noone I work with, and there is no other human contact I have, work, home, sleep, work, home, weekend with special needs son, work, home, sleep, work, home sleep, this, this stinque universe is the only contact I have with people, sad, no?

@Promnight: Y’all have been the best friends for all of 2008 and I hope I can keep up somewhat, but I’m feeling so optimistic I’m not even obsessing on the news. My new job requires attention and I don’t have the luxury of monitoring my favorite blog, so I may only be able to drop by on the weekends…

Buen Viaje Promnight!

Soundtrack now is Fleetwood Mac — Bare Trees. I’m regressing. Hold on — think it’s time for Atom Heart Mother.

I am told I am fairly good looking, but I was so crippled with fear and anxiety and low self esteem and desperate need that for most of my life I might as well have been quasimodo, and I feel the pain of the lonely, I have been so lonely and felt so unworthy of love and desire….

God damn, Promnight. You’ve been cribbing my life notes, haven’t you? If I had a dollar for every time and witnessed beautiful girl avert their eyes when I made eye contact, I could buy a Chevy. (If I wanted to buy a Chevy, that is.) My love life, largely, is a museum: look, don’t touch.

[Speaking of odd love-lives — Charlie Crist got married last night. Funny old world.]

Gentlemen, start your engines:

ALBUQUEQUE N.M. , Dec 11. (AP) Two-time Indianapolis 500 winner Al Unser Jr. is listed as an alleged extortion victim in a grand jury indictment against the suspected head of an Albuquerque prostitution ring.
The District Attorney’s Office said the suspect, 47-year-old Bobby McMullin, allegedly tried to blackmail Unser with claims of a “compromising” videotape in February and March 2004.
Prosecutor Mark Drebing said Friday that the video is not related to the prostitution ring and that Unser was not a client.
“I don’t think Little Al did anything wrong,” Drebing said. “For our purposes, he is listed as a victim. He was extorted.”
Drebing said it appears that Unser made some payments to McMullin but didn’t know how much money was handed over.
Unser’s name turned up as police investigated an online escort service run by McMullin, who was arrested in May. The company, Private Ice, was tied to a Downtown strip club and alleged prostitution ring.

@chicago bureau: I am kind of odd-looking and not the life of the party, but there are some things I can do well. I think that having some measure of quiet self-confidence when you meet a girl is way more important than looks.

Dodgerblue: What is this “self-confidence” of which you speak?

Seriously — I take this as an article of faith. Confidence without evidence, or cause, is either arrogance, dishonesty or both — none of which is desirable. This is a sort of mental block between me and confidence, really.

I mean, consider the Rod. This guy had confidence flowing out of every pore of his body as if it were (erm) a beautiful head of hair. And all of it was an elaborate sham. This is something to emulate?

And now: if you will excuse me, I have to meet a girl who, I am reliably informed, likes me as a friend but does not like me “that way.” (Life is like high school, you know.)

[Oh, BTW: Little Al. Heh. But I haven’t really cared about Indycar since they did that CART / IRL split a while back. Yeah, they’ve merged again. Yawn.]

@chicago bureau: The Unsers seem to get popped fairly often for DWI, wife beating, and fighting with the cops. A friend who went a Bill Richardson event at the Iowa caucuses last year described an appearance by the Unsers as “a few drunks standing around in a tent. “

redmanlaw: And the Unsers had a few, too. (Ba-doomp-boomp.)

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