Posts Tagged 'beautiful women'




[The links to these two videos were originally posted March 30, 2014]


“…You know, I’m automatically attracted to beautiful–I just start kissing them. It’s like a magnet.  Just kiss.  I don’t even wait.  And when you’re a star, they let you do it.  You can do anything.”

“…Grab ’em by the pussy.  You can do anything…”

Donald Trump is not suitable to be President of the United States.  But this is not a reason why.  From the moment I heard the private conversation Donald Trump had with Billy Bush in 2005, I was appalled–not at Trump’s words, but at the deceitfulness of the American press, and at the hypocrisy of Republican politicians.

This private conversation was exposed for blatantly political reasons–allegedly by the same Republican politicians who chastised Trump so hypocritically.  We could be sure that Paul Ryan, Mitch McConnell, and even Mike Pence had made very similar comments during their lives.  The fact was that no man alive had failed to engage in such “locker room talk” during his life–and no woman either.

And of course the press completely lied about the comments–stating that Trump had bragged about sexually assaulting women–when it was clear that he simply hadn’t.  In this “locker room talk”, Trump was speaking of sexual relations with women–with their consent.  That’s not sexual assault.  Furthermore, he was simply speaking the truth–the same truth that Frank Sinatra, Elvis Presley, and Jimi Hendrix had known.

When you’re a star, women will let you do just about anything–even “grab ’em by the pussy.”  Not all women–not even most women–just a lot of women.

I envy President-elect Trump–in fact, I’m jealous of him.  Everyone in the world latches on to his every tweet as if it’s the last word on everything.

I wish I were a star–I wish I were famous.

Yes, if I were famous, women would indeed let me grab their lovely pussies.

Better still, they might let me have wild, wonderful, sexual intercourse with them.

Better still, they might turn their goddamned smartphones off, and actually let me read my poetry and prose to them.

Or enlighten them on some old, forgotten subject–like history.

Or even share with them my ideas on how we could stop changing our world for the worse, and start changing our world for the better–how we could all be human again, and save humanity itself.

If only I were famous.


Bettie PageCassandra Peterson 1Cassandra Peterson 2Cassandra Peterson 3Cassandra Peterson 4Cassandra Peterson 5Cassandra Peterson 6Cassandra Peterson 7Cassandra Peterson 8Cassandra Peterson 9Cassandra Peterson 10Cassandra Peterson 11Cassandra Peterson 12Cassandra Peterson 13Cassandra Peterson 14Cassandra Peterson 15Cassandra Peterson 16Cassandra Peterson 17Cassandra Peterson 18Cassandra Peterson 19Cassandra Peterson 20Cassandra Peterson 21Cassandra Peterson 22Cassandra Peterson 23Cassandra Peterson 24Cassandra Peterson 25Cassandra Peterson 26Cassandra Peterson 27Donna Reed 1Donna Reed 2Donna Reed 3Donna Reed 4Donna Reed 5Donna Reed 6Donna Reed 7Donna Reed 8Donna Reed 9Donna Reed 10Elizabeth Taylor 1Elizabeth Taylor 2identity unknownJean SimmonsPiper Laurie 1Piper Laurie 2Ronee BlakleyThora Birch 1Thora Birch 2Thora Birch 3


Dorothy Dell Goff


Fran Drescher


Queen Elizabeth II (1)Queen Elizabeth II (2)Queen Elizabeth II (3)Aline TowneAlison BrieAmiraAmy AdamsAmy OlsonAnn SheridanAnne ArcherAnne GwynneBarbara StanwyckCarole Landis 1Carole Landis 2Carole Landis 3Carole Landis 4Carole Landis 5Carole Landis 6Carole Landis 7Carole Landis 8Carole Landis 9Carole Landis 10Carole Landis 11Carole Landis 12Carole Landis 13Carole Landis 14Carole Landis 15Carole Landis 16Carole Landis 17Carole Landis 18Carole Landis 19Carole Landis 20Carole Landis 21Carole Landis 22

Carole Landis 1940

Carole Landis 1940

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Carole Landis 1939?

Carole Landis 1939?

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THE TONIGHT SHOW STARRING JOHNNY CARSON -- Pictured: (l-r) Actress Elizabeth Perkins during an interview with guest host Jay Leno on October 9, 1990 -- (Photo by: Paul Drinkwater/NBC/NBCU Photo Bank)

THE TONIGHT SHOW STARRING JOHNNY CARSON — Pictured: (l-r) Actress Elizabeth Perkins during an interview with guest host Jay Leno on October 9, 1990 — (Photo by: Paul Drinkwater/NBC/NBCU Photo Bank)

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BATTERY PARK -- NBC Series -- Pictured: Elizabeth Perkins as Captain Madeleine Dunleavy -- NBC Photo: Kevin Foley

BATTERY PARK — NBC Series — Pictured: Elizabeth Perkins as Captain Madeleine Dunleavy — NBC Photo: Kevin Foley

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Elizabeth Perkins as Celia Hodes (season 3) - Photo: Mark Seliger - Photo ID: weeds_gal3-epsingles-111

Elizabeth Perkins as Celia Hodes (season 3) – Photo: Mark Seliger – Photo ID: weeds_gal3-epsingles-111

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Helen HayesIda Lupinoidentity unknown 1identity unknown 2identity unknown 3identity unknown 4identity unknown 5Jacqueline SchererJane Adams 1Jane Adams 2Jane Adams 3Jane Adams 4Jane Adams 5Jane Adams 6Jane Adams 7Jane Adams 8Jane Adams 9Jane Adams 10Jane Adams 11Jane Adams 12Jane Adams 13Jane Adams 14Jane Adams 15Jane Adams 16Jane Adams 17Jane Adams 18Jane Adams 19Jane Adams 20Jane Adams 21Jane Randolph 1Jane Randolph 2Jane Randolph 3Jane Randolph 4Jane Randolph 5Jane Randolph 6Jane Randolph 7Jane Randolph 8Jane Randolph 9Jane Randolph 10Jane Randolph 11Jane Randolph 12Jane Randolph 13Jane Randolph 14Jane Randolph 15Jane Randolph 16Jane Randolph 17Jane Randolph 18Jane Randolph 19Jane Randolph 20Jane Randolph 21Jane Randolph 22Jane Randolph 23Jane Randolph 24Jane Randolph 25Jane Randolph 26Jane Randolph 27Jane Randolph 28Jane Randolph 29Jane Randolph 30Jane Randolph 31Jane Randolph 32Jane Randolph 33Jane Randolph 34Jane Randolph 35Jane Randolph 36Jane Randolph 37Jane Randolph 38Jane Randolph 39Jane Randolph 40Jane Randolph 41Jane WymanJane RussellJean SimmonsJoan BennettJulie BishopJustynaLana del ReyLenore Aubert 1Lenore Aubert 2Lenore Aubert 3Lenore Aubert 4Lenore Aubert 5Lenore Aubert 6Lenore Aubert 7Lenore Aubert 8Lenore Aubert 9Lenore Aubert 10Lenore Aubert 11Lenore Aubert 12Lenore Aubert 13Lenore Aubert 14Lenore Aubert 15Lenore Aubert 16

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Vintage portrait of actress Edith Atwater by Clarence Sinclair Bull, 1930's.

Vintage portrait of actress Edith Atwater by Clarence Sinclair Bull, 1930’s.

Loretta YoungMajel Barrett 1Majel Barrett 2

Majel Roddenberry Photo

Majel Roddenberry Photo

Maria Palmer 1Maria Palmer 2Maria Palmer 3Maria Palmer 4Maria Palmer 5Maria Palmer 6Maria Palmer 7Marie Windsor 1Marie Windsor 2Martha VickersMoira Shearer 1Moira Shearer 2Moira Shearer 3Moira Shearer 4Moira Shearer 5Moira Shearer 6Moira Shearer 7Moira Shearer 8Moira Shearer 9Moira Shearer 10

Moira Shearer, dancer and actress *** Local Caption *** Moira Shearer;

Moira Shearer, dancer and actress *** Local Caption *** Moira Shearer;

Moira Shearer 12Moira Shearer 13Moira Shearer 14Moira Shearer 15Moira Shearer 16Moira Shearer 17Moira Shearer 18Moira Shearer 19

by Yousuf Karsh, bromide print, 1954

by Yousuf Karsh, bromide print, 1954

Moira Shearer 21Moira Shearer 22Moira Shearer 23

1948: Scottish ballerina Moira Shearer plays dancer Victoria Page in the classic film 'The Red Shoes', directed by Michael Powell and Emeric Pressburger for GFD/The Archers. (Photo by Baron/Getty Images)

1948: Scottish ballerina Moira Shearer plays dancer Victoria Page in the classic film ‘The Red Shoes’, directed by Michael Powell and Emeric Pressburger for GFD/The Archers. (Photo by Baron/Getty Images)

Norma ShearerPeggy Moran (R)Rosalind RussellRosella Towne 1Rosella Towne 2Rosella Towne 3Rosella Towne 4Rosella Towne 5Rosella Towne 6Rosella Towne 7Rosella Towne 8Rosella Towne 9Rosella Towne 10Rosella Towne 11

Mary McDonoughShirley TempleTaylor SwiftTina LouiseVeronica Lake 1Veronica Lake 2Yvonne De Carlo 1Yvonne De Carlo 2Yvonne De Carlo 3

Black and white photo of Yvonne Decarlo, the original Lily Munster, colorized

Black and white photo of Yvonne Decarlo, the original Lily Munster, colorized

Yvonne De Carlo 5


“They say the truth is in the wine, but only so much…The lithium is working well…I do know what the hell I’m doing…you are alcoholic.”

Interesting, Dr. Arthur DuMont–you Zionist Jew motherfucker.  My very first psychiatrist is–as one of the other patients here puts it–a sadist.  The lithium is not working well.  I am subdued under it–but inside, I’m screaming.  Because I have no bipolar disorder.  In fact, my primary disorder is obsessive-compulsive disorder.  You didn’t recognize this–that was your first mistake.  Interesting that you don’t say I am an alcoholic–but only that I am alcoholic.  That is rather vague–and it is your second mistake, anyway.  I only used alcohol to release my inhibitions enough to carry out my crash–my “nervous breakdown”.  I didn’t drink nearly enough whiskey to get truly drunk.  And you say you know what the hell you’re doing–how mistaken you are.  Finally, you say I cannot leave this facility without your approval–this is your final mistake.  Though my parents brought me here last month–November, 1985–I signed myself in.  So I can sign myself out any time.  In fact, the only reason I have stayed here this long is that my father has told me the insurance probably won’t cover my stay, if I leave A.M.A. (against medical advice).  Wrong again.  You want to keep me here–at Southland Hospital–for six months.  Yet my parents feel that six weeks is long enough–and they will spring me out of this place in time for Christmas.  I have the memory of what I’ve learned here in Rosemary’s assertiveness training class–and even the memory of my pastor Jeff Spiller’s wisdom (I told Jeff of my fear that I no longer believed Jesus was the Son of God–and he suggested I put that fear aside, and concentrate on recovery for the moment).  So now I will sign myself out–and leave this facility, of my own free will.

“How do you know I’m Jewish?  And how do you know what Zionism is?”

Or maybe I’ll just beat the hell out of you.

And I proceed to do so.

Yet he changes into Raymond Ellis–and I continue beating him against the asphalt.

Yeah, you little piece of shit.  So it’s 1979 now–and this is the bus stop to Hillsdale Middle School.  My dad gave me the words to give you–“Raymond, I have something to tell you–you called me ‘gay’ again!”  Yet the first time, I pulled my punches–and you even sicced your German shepherd on me–shame on you!  I didn’t even know how to throw a punch correctly, because I had not yet taken boxing training at the Mobile Police Athletic League.  Now I have.

And I continue beating this little piece of shit–who was taller than I, at the time–until he is completely unconscious.

“I’m a lover, not a fighter, and I’m really built for speed”–pre-war (before the Second World War) blues song I would hear, and record, on Blues Before Sunrise on NPR early in the Twenty-First Century.  The Prince song “1999” is that with which I begin this Irish-coffee set in 2016.

And I’m on the bus home from Camp Lee in 1982.  One of the guys is playing this new song on his radio (not quite a “boombox” or “ghetto-blaster” yet)–and everyone is listening, fascinated.

I sit alone.  They don’t know I come from a time when this new musician Prince–whom a famous rapper in the Twenty-First Century would accurately label “misunderstood”–has died.

Yeah, this trip to Camp Lee was a drag.  I was in love with Alison Allen–but she didn’t even notice me.  She was too hung up on some blond-haired guy who could ridiculously recite the lyrics to some ridiculous song called “Rock Lobster”.

And I’m back at Camp Lee in 1983.  Camp Lee–a church camp in an exquisitely beautiful location outside of Anniston, Alabama.  The camp director, Jim Black, is an unforgettable man.  He tells amazing ghost stories–and brilliantly impersonates Jerry Clower (“Hawwwwwwwww!”), as he leads us to and from the “slock ride” (rock slide)–a cool, natural-spring waterfall, with a splash-landing pool in which one cannot fail to safely, softly splash-land.  There is even a knotted rope by which one can climb the mossy rocks back to the top to slide down again (and fall backward laughingly, safely into the natural pool (whose water is so clean that he can safely drink it), if he happens to lose his grip).

(I used Digital-Age gender qualifiers (“or she”)–then found it too damned complicated.  And I absolutely refused to use “their” for a singular–better to use grammatically correct language than politically correct language.)

Cathy Marlow.  Interesting.  She’s my first love–after I’ve had my first lover (the Hispanic woman whose name I wish to God I could recall), earlier this summer.  (I was in love with a girl named Ginger, in the first grade, but I didn’t understand this feeling then–this time, I understand it.)  Cathy Marlow–also the only time I will ever experience love-at-first-sight.  Yes, I see her as I enter the cafeteria at Camp Lee.  Our eyes meet for an instant, as she talks to her friends–and I just know–and so does she.

She’s a brunette who could so easily be one of those classic Hollywood actresses whose likenesses I would post on my blog in the next century. Easy on the eyes, indeed.


The youth from Christ United Methodist Church and Smyrna Baptist Church meet together in the fellowship hall.  Pick a partner–Cathy and I pick each other.  And sing, “I love you in the love of the Lord, Oh I love you in the love of the Lord.  I can see in you the glory of my King, and I love you in the love of the Lord.”  Her eyes are far brighter than mine.

And we end up walking together in a nearby meadow–this Georgia peach and I.

And we meet again and again in the blinding sunlight over the next few days–and kiss and cuddle–and talk.

It’s now the day before we take the bus back to Mobile–and I’ve received underground word that some of the couples are going to be making out in that same meadow tonight.

I meet Cathy Marlow near the pool.  She’s especially hot in that black swimsuit. And I invite her to join me in the meadow tonight–in the most delicate way possible.

And here she lies–apparently.

“I’m not ready for that–my ex-boyfriend just got my best friend pregnant.”

I explain to her that I can’t stand it–that I can’t be with her at all if I can’t get more intimate with her.

“From the moment I met you,” she says, “I knew that you were special.”

And we kiss, and part.

And that night, I take the chair.

The chair–a very effective form of therapy.

One chair in the center of a circle of chairs.

Over the course of a few hours, individuals take their turns in that chair, in the dark–and get their feelings out.

No one is required to take a turn in the chair.

But this time I do.

I let it all out–how this girl honest-to-God broke my heart–and I cry my eyes out.

And an angel descends, and holds me.

Mrs. Dart.

Golden blonde with an equally golden heart.

My den mother when I was a Cub Scout–with whom I was infatuated then, and with whom I’m infatuated now.

This angel understands–and she lets my tears soak her blouse.

That night I can’t sleep.

I get a sudden feeling of terror–as if I’m going to die.

It’s my first panic attack (or anxiety attack)–brought on by a feeling of abandonment brought on by Cathy Marlow.

The other boys in the lodge wonder if I’m okay.  I assure them that I seem to be–as I play John Denver songs on my little stereo to calm myself.

The next morning, I get Cathy Marlow’s address from her, so I can write her.

And the next night, I have a good talk with my brother-in-law Tom–who assures me that eventually I will say, “Cathy who?”

And he’s right.

Yet a decade later I write Cathy Marlow–for the first time perhaps.

And the letter is forwarded to Rome, Georgia.

Cathy’s name is no longer “Marlow”–she’s married, and has two children.

She sends me a nice photograph of her and her husband.

I cut him out of the damned thing–and paste her likeness into my journal.

And I talk with her over the phone a few times.

One night, I am speaking with her from the phone in my parents’ garage.  It is storming where she is, and her husband is away.  Her husband has one of those jobs (building contractor, I think) for which he is away from home quite often. And the thunder is making Cathy nervous.  And she finds comfort confiding in me.

And I remind her of what she said to me that afternoon in the summer of 1983–that she couldn’t go to the meadow with me because her ex-boyfriend had gotten her best friend pregnant.

And Cathy says, “I never said that.”

So Cathy was lying then–or she is lying now.

I press her–but only as far as she will allow.  Then she says she can no longer talk with me over the phone–that she is starting to get tempted.

And I’ll never know when Cathy was lying–in 1983, or in 1993.

It is to this woman’s credit that she ceased communication with me, in order to remain faithful to her husband.  But it is not to her credit that she lied to me–whenever it was.

It is thundering here now–in this goddamned Digital Age.

And the remaining $120 in my wallet will be gone before Sunday.

And loneliness for a woman’s love is the least of my problems.

There is a thirty-year-old bottle of Scotch in a secured cabinet at a liquor store I know.  It is over $400.

And ever since I first saw that thirty-year-old bottle of Scotch Wednesday I’ve wondered:

Would drinking that entire bottle of Scotch literally transport me back to 1986–or earlier?

If I knew it would, I’d sell even my truck for that one-way ticket out of this goddamned Digital Age.

It’s easy to escape a place–but how does one escape a time?

“And, behold, one came and said unto him, Good Master, what good thing shall I do, that I may have eternal life?

“And he said unto him, Why callest thou me good?  there is none good but one, that is, God:  but if thou wilt enter into life, keep the commandments.

“He said unto him, Which?  Jesus said, Thou shalt do no murder, Thou shalt not commit adultery, Thou shalt not steal, Thou shalt not bear false witness, Honour thy father and thy mother:  and, Thou shalt love thy neighbour as thyself.

“The young man saith unto him, All these things have I kept from my youth up: what lack I yet?

“Jesus said unto him, If thou wilt be perfect, go and sell that thou hast, and give to the poor, and thou shalt have treasure in heaven:  and come and follow me.

“But when the young man heard that saying, he went away sorrowful:  for he had great possessions.

“Then said Jesus unto his disciples, Verily I say unto you, That a rich man shall hardly enter into the kingdom of heaven.  And again I say unto you, It is easier for a camel to go through the eye of a needle, than for a rich man to enter into the kingdom of God.

“When his disciples heard it, they were exceedingly amazed, saying, Who then can be saved?

“But Jesus beheld them, and said unto them, With men this is impossible; but with God all things are possible.”

Then wake me from this Digital-Age nightmare.

Deliver me from this Digital-Age hell.


PIPER LAURIE 3PIPER LAURIE 2PIPER LAURIE 1Piper Laurie 1Piper Laurie 2Piper Laurie 3Piper Laurie 4Piper Laurie 5



Piper Laurie 7Piper Laurie 8Piper Laurie 9Piper Laurie 10Piper Laurie 11Piper Laurie 12Piper Laurie 13Piper Laurie 14Piper Laurie 15Piper Laurie 16Piper Laurie 17Piper Laurie 18Piper Laurie 19Piper Laurie 20Piper Laurie 21Piper Laurie 22Piper Laurie 23Piper Laurie 24Piper Laurie 25Piper Laurie 26Piper Laurie 27Piper Laurie 28Piper Laurie 29Piper Laurie 30Piper Laurie 31

Actress Piper Laurie ca. 1956

Actress Piper Laurie ca. 1956

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Piper Laurie from the Film ca. 1955

Piper Laurie from the Film ca. 1955

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CHILDREN OF A LESSER GOD, Piper Laurie, 1986, (c)Paramount

CHILDREN OF A LESSER GOD, Piper Laurie, 1986, (c)Paramount

DREAM A LITTLE DREAM, Piper Laurie, 1989. ©Vestron Pictures

DREAM A LITTLE DREAM, Piper Laurie, 1989. ©Vestron Pictures

Piper Laurie 72Piper Laurie 73Piper Laurie 74Piper Laurie 75



Piper Laurie 77Piper Laurie 78Piper Laurie 79Piper Laurie 80Piper Laurie 81Piper Laurie 82Piper Laurie 83Piper Laurie 84Piper Laurie 85Piper Laurie 86Piper Laurie 87Piper Laurie 88Piper Laurie 89Piper Laurie 90Piper Laurie 91Piper Laurie 92Piper Laurie 93Piper Laurie 94Piper Laurie 95Piper Laurie 96Piper Laurie 97Piper Laurie 98Piper Laurie 99Piper Laurie 100Piper Laurie 101Piper Laurie 102Piper Laurie 103Piper Laurie 104Piper Laurie 105Piper Laurie 106Piper Laurie 107Piper Laurie 108Piper Laurie 109Piper Laurie 110Piper Laurie 111Piper Laurie 112Piper Laurie 113Piper Laurie 114Piper Laurie 115Piper Laurie 116Piper Laurie 117Piper Laurie 118Piper Laurie 119Piper Laurie 120Piper Laurie 121Piper Laurie 122Piper Laurie 123Piper Laurie 124Piper Laurie 126Piper Laurie 127Piper Laurie 128Piper Laurie 125Piper Laurie 129Piper Laurie 130Piper Laurie 131Piper Laurie 132Piper Laurie 133Piper Laurie 134Piper Laurie 135Piper Laurie 136Piper Laurie 137Piper Laurie 138Piper Laurie 139Piper Laurie 140Piper Laurie 141Piper Laurie 142Piper Laurie 143Piper Laurie 144Piper Laurie 145Piper Laurie 146Piper Laurie 147Piper Laurie 148Piper Laurie 149Piper Laurie 150Piper Laurie 151Piper Laurie 152Piper Laurie 153Piper Laurie 154Piper Laurie 155Piper Laurie 156Piper Laurie 157Piper Laurie 158Piper Laurie 159Piper Laurie 160Piper Laurie 161Piper Laurie 162Piper Laurie 163Piper Laurie 164Piper Laurie 165Piper Laurie 166Piper Laurie 167Piper Laurie 168Piper Laurie 169Piper Laurie 170Piper Laurie 171Piper Laurie 172Piper Laurie 173Piper Laurie 174Piper Laurie 175Piper Laurie 176Piper Laurie 177Piper Laurie 178Piper Laurie 179Piper Laurie 180Piper Laurie 181Piper Laurie 182Piper Laurie 183