Up with Winter

As the leaves transform themselves from deep chlorophyll green to hues of brown, the Indian summer is keeping the temperatures hovering in the 70’s and 80’s. This is the worst possible environment for the likes of me and is not unlike a pedophile hanging out in playgrounds or Girl Scout camps. The summer is like visiting a Chinese buffet table looking at the offerings of pork fried rice, lo mein, Peking duck and the sundry edibles that exhibit their appetizing attractions. You can pick among the many offerings on the buffet table but for every bite you take there is one less you can take of the other 150 items. Attraction and desirability rub your nose in your appetites and your proclivities for your oralism. The women of warm weather, which is why I hate Florida so much, tease and tantalize us with their moist and delectable flesh. It is so powerful an allure that I want to self flagellate myself, poke my eyes out, incarcerate myself in Alcatraz and never leave the halls of weight watchers. Flesh, flesh, flesh and not an inch to lick, taste, smell or lose myself in. The perfume of human flesh and the geometry of the female form torture my masculinity and testosterone with meals I will never get to gobble up.

I am like a cannibal wanting to eat flesh yet I am tantalized by these summery bodies which I will not get to nibble on. If I were Donald Trump or a famous actor I would get to experience the reality of these hardbodies that are a tribute to a non-existent God. In the animal kingdom does the Kimono Dragon, repulsive male scorpion and the killer bee look at its female counterpart with the same lust? As I get older and my physical strength diminished I want this young flesh more than ever. Rape is not an option because the women are stronger than me and I don’t want to go to Riker’s Island again.

My favorite courtship line is to remind these nubile beauties of the charity called the Make-a-Wish foundation and say I don’t want the charity to permit me to go to Alaska to shoot a polar bear but for one these lovely women to sit on my face before cancer kills me. I will go to any length, pity, lies and begging to get some 20 year old cheerleader’s pubic hairs stuck in my teeth. In conclusion I am moving to Alaska where I can see no flesh or perhaps a Muslim country where the women are covered head to toe. Or I can just stay here in New York where the cold weather looms like a vulture ready to swoop in and carry away my tortuous desires.