Super Phony at a Lesbo Bar

Barry had the typical male-hetero fantasy. He loved to watch girls kiss other girls. Porn sites on the internet no longer sufficed. He wanted to watch in person. But where? Gals at the bars were on the defensive or with guys.

 

He’d heard of this place on the outskirts of town. A super hot night spot for gays/lesbians. Exclusive. Door charge was twenty bucks.

 

Yikes! Barry winced and paid, hoping it was worth it.

 

It was. There was a disco dance floor and laser light show. A DJ spinning the latest house tunes. A fancy bar and plush banquettes.

 

Barry couldn’t believe his luck. Place was chock full of talent on a happenin’ Saturday night. Gals boppin’ skin on skin to the disco beat. He bought a pink cocktail and sat towards the back.

 

The plan was simple. Play it cool. Don’t do anything stupid. Just relax and enjoy the show.

 

And what a show it was. Not ten feet in front of him were two gals locked in an embrace. Lost in the music. Oblivious to anyone around. Tongue-kissing with abandon.

 

Probably high on ecstasy, Barry thought. He nursed his fifteen dollar drink and gaped open mouthed. One gal reached her hand up the other’s skirt. Yes! He leaned back with a shit eatin’ grin.

 

Suddenly he couldn’t see. Someone was blocking his view. Barry glanced up to the sight of three beefy specimens.

 

They glared at him in open hostility. Bull Dykes! Flexed muscles, leather outfits and butch hair-cuts.

 

Barry never got to finish his drink. He was frog-marched out of the bar and dumped on the sidewalk.

 

Deadly Angel author Andrew Cofrin

Libertarians need to join The Party

Libertarians are feeling frustrated these days. One would think their message of personal liberty and ethical government would find safe haven in these tough economic times. But no.

 

The people want a Warfare State. Fiscal sanity? Get real.

 

Although Ron Paul has had some success he’ll never be the next JFK. Libs don’t do cool. Think Ron Paul will learn to boggie?

 

No way. Libertarians are the most uptight people you’ll ever met. They walk around ram-rod straight with noses in the air. Saying things like “There’s no free lunch.” They belittle our political process. They snub the Great Society and denigrate Woodrow Wilson.

 

They’re dour and pedantic. They have no fun. They ask too many questions about going to war. They’re in a perpetual daze, constantly muttering about this . . . this . . . gold standard . . .

 

The poor saps will never get it. They’re easy marks for media crits. Mocked at every turn. Ducks in a row for target practice.

 

Libertarians need to get in television with their masses. Find their squishy selves. Touchy-feely their self-esteem. Locate their inner loci.

 

It’s glitz and glamour, stupid.

 

Bright lights and limosines, red-carpets and chandeliers, photo-ops and fine cigars, fluted champagne and black tie. Camera, action, wardrobe, make up. Talk shows and silk threads, ha-ha funny face, tabloid gossip, sex appeal, neato-presto, dog-ate-my-homework, shameless episodes.

 

Mega-important to exude vast amounts of money.

 

Stuff that moldy Ron Paul in the attic with his coin collection. Get a face lift. Mothball the Austrian accountants. Purchase a wide screen. Tell David Walker to take a hike.

 

And do something about those clothes, for creepin’ sake.

 

The people need a strong man. Be one.

 

Stand up and say it. Wear a power suit. Smile for the camera. Shake the hands. Pump the minions. Ring the bells. Raise the flag. Grunt the noises. Spread the news. Be the parent. Use the whip.

 

Scatter cash like cherry confetti. Chocolate soda whipped cream on top.

 

Get with the program. Join The Party.

 

Deadly Angel author Andrew Cofrin

Cat’s Cradle

A free-lance journalist, researching material for his book: The Day the World Ended, tracks down the family of the father of the atom bomb. His quest takes him to a banana republic where he meets the love of his life and magically becomes El Presidente. But he gets more than he asked for when he comes face-to-face with Ice-Nine.

 

Vonnegut, who witnessed the horror of the Dresden fire-bombing, takes us on a light-hearted romp through the madness of mankind. He challenges us with wry humor, zany characters and a half-baked religion. Do we really know or do we only think we know?

 

Cat’s Cradle has become ever more relevant over the years.

 

Deadly Angel author Andrew Cofrin

Rock and roll maven, Peter Cofrin, is dead at 63

Peter Austin Cofrin, founder of Star Studios and Pierce Arrow Recorders, died of cancer on July 10, 2008. He was 63 years old. Mr. Cofrin, grandson of Fort Howard Paper Co. founder Austin E. Cofrin, recorded numerous rock acts during his music career, including national artist Cheap Trick.

 

Peter attended Howe Elementary and Washington Jr. High in Green Bay, then continued his education at Choate Prep and Cornell University back east. He was born on May 26, 1945. His father, John P. Cofrin, was a respected industrialist and president of Fort Howard Paper. His mother, Barbara H. Cofrin, was active in the community and a member of the school board.

 

Well-known for his kind and generous nature, Mr. Cofrin founded The Good for All Society for the benefit of orphans and hurricane victims in Jamaica. He also served for many years on the UWGB Arboretum committee.

 

Peter is survived by his ex-wife Cheryl Heinlein, their son Austin J. Cofrin, and his four siblings: Patricia Shepard, John Cofrin, Andrew Cofrin, and Penelope Cofrin. A memorial service is planned for early October.

 

Deadly Angel author Andrew Cofrin

Bailout Boon

It’s great to see Big Government to the rescue. The bailout of Wall Street came just in time. Many were worried but there’s no worry now. King George and the Democrats are on the case to save our bacon.

 

Some whined and opined that the bailout may not benefit the folks on Main Street. That Ron Paul guy was at it again. Isn’t he that cranky old man who’s always talking about that . . . that gold standard? Ewww! That is so like . . . two centuries ago.

 

Dude, get with the program. New York, New York is where the action’s at. If we can make it there, we can make it anywhere.

 

The working man is nothing. Wall Street rules. Hillbillies in the hinterlands are content to work their slop jobs and shop at Wal-Mart.

 

Big Government prints the money. The collapse has been averted. For at least a couple years. Party on, dude. Go shopping.

 

Deadly Angel author Andrew Cofrin