In our post-9/11 era, entering a federal facility is security-wise about the same as boarding a plane. Every piece of metal on your body (including your belt) and (in my case) my backpack has to run through the scanner. It’s a routine I’ve been dealing with either monthly (initially) or bi-monthly (now) at the Eastern District building pursuant to my pretrial probation.

The first time I arrived it was in a suit and tie (to impress the judge with a show of respect). Predictably, the guards addressed me as “counselor.” As in…aging jewish-looking guy? He must be a lawyer. But ever since then, I’ve been more casual. My probation officer doesn’t really give a crap what I wear. Just so I’m there when I’m supposed to be and pass my pee test we’re good. (Actually, I like my probation officer as it turns out.) Continue Reading

Though not really an expert hiker, I’m well aware of the first rule of hiking. Which is…don’t hike alone! That’s great in theory. But for a guy who likes to go on the spur of the moment. And on weekdays only. I find myself breaking that rule constantly. Nor am I alone. Other oddballs hit the trails solo as well.

Out in the woods the social norms are different from those in the city. Just for example, people generally nod or acknowledge each other’s existence on a hike. And often when we reach a scenic overlook, strangers will converse. For me, I strike a happy medium. While I do tend to talk with people, I cherish the solitude of being alone in the woods. And as such, I rarely team up with another hiker and spend more than a few minutes with him or her. Continue Reading

All women – but especially escorts – worry about two things: The tightness of their you-know-whats. And aging gracefully. While it’s true that men worry about the size and hardness of their you-know-whats as much as women, the aging thing is of less concern. While men are often perceived as as attractive and wise silver foxes as they advance in age, women are often viewed as shriveling deserts.

As such, you would be amazed at the figurative hoops women will jump through to delay that aging process. They’ll rub expensive goop all over their faces and bodies to eliminate wrinkles. They’ll go to the gym to reduce belly fat, cellulite and bulges. When that doesn’t work, they’ll go under the knife and get liposuction, a procedure which is very painful for months afterward. Continue Reading

It should come as no surprise that I really don’t give a crap about social media. Facebook, Twitter, Tumblr? I’d trade ’em all in for one good hand job. Ok! I know what you’re thinking. Asshole! You have a blog. That is social media. To me, this blog isn’t social media. It was a way to get rid of the fucking mob (or the faux mob – I never was really sure).

The year was 2001. Some hustler who was grinding out “meet and greet” rags for the local bent-nose distributor convinced me to start a paper. I could write it and sell the ads. And he would do the layout and hook us in with “the mob.”

It was a terrible fucking deal. Not only did the printer have us paying top dollar for the print job, but he took 1/3 of the profits as well in exchange for guaranteeing that our paper would be distributed wherever Screw was. Schmuck that I was (and am for that matter), I thought this was a great deal! Continue Reading

This morning I woke to find an email from an old customer which contained a link to an article from yesterday’s HUFFINGTON POST. In the piece, the author reports that a new study conducted by three renowned academics reveals that thanks to CRAIGSLIST, murders of females in the US was down 17% during the years that site’s adult section was in existence.

This might be an astonishing revelation to bookworms and people not associated with the escort business. But to insiders it’s mostly a big “duh!” Like who doesn’t know that fewer ho’s get offed when they can advertise on the web and vett their prospective clients before meeting them? Do we really need a study to reveal the obvious? Continue Reading

Initially only about a fat slob rustling up some pussy behind his position of influence in the movie biz, the HARVEY WEINSTEIN case has now exploded in an entirely new realm. Political campaign financing has always been a problem in the world’s greatest democracy because let’s face it. Campaign contributions are all about buying influence and affecting that democracy. And people like Harve and the current president of the United States have both been exposed as part of the hustle thanks to the Weinstein case.

In an odd turn of events, CYRUS VANCE Jr., New York County’s current District Attorney, is now in the spotlight for having received campaign contributions (directly or indirectly) from both the aforementioned parties. All of which is democracy as we know it except that what some people viewed as slam dunk cases against Weinstein and Donald Jr. and Ivanka Trump went mysteriously unprosecuted by Vance after lawyers close to the accused parties had made – or did make shortly after the case was dropped – contributions to Vance’s campaign fund. Funny thing about that! The appearance of impropriety is now staring American democracy in the face. At very close range. Continue Reading

Ok! Fear not! I’m not about to defend HARVEY WEINSTEIN. To me, he looks like the type of guy who would commit the indiscretions of which he stands accused. I realize that’s probably a judgmental/prejudicial statement. But sue me…it’s just a feeling I get.

Anyway…here’s the other side to which I refer. Old Harve didn’t sexually harass every woman with whom he came in contact. Like MERYL STREEP for one. She’s been outspoken in her condemnation of the mogul but stated for the record that meetings with him could be contentious. But he never made any inappropriate sexual advances toward her. Continue Reading

While recently reading a memoir about a New York City police officer, I came to realize that as a convicted felon, I have lost many privileges and civil rights afforded those who haven’t been convicted of a serious crime. The fact that my crime was nonviolent – and that the government got twice as much as I would have owed had I paid in a timely fashion – matters not. I have lost the aforementioned privileges. Curious to discover the magnitude of the situation, I googled the subject and am happy to report that in my somewhat unique case, it looks like I’m better off for the loss. Continue Reading

I’ll be the first to admit that I don’t give a crap about major league baseball. And I don’t watch any of its games until the playoffs. Maybe not even then unless the Yankees or Mets make it to the post season. But I’ve been tuning in to catch at least a few innings recently and last night I got a good look at why I’m happy not to route hard for the Yankees. Their manager is a moron!

JOE GIRARDI was never a great player. He was ok offensively – and just below average behind the plate. In fact, some of the Yankee pitching staff insisted on having Jorge Posada catch when it came their turn to start because they didn’t like the way Girardi called the game. Now 20 years later, the guy who in some pitchers’ opinion ran a shit show from behind the plate has become the Yankees’ manager!  Continue Reading

Playing some of my old music for new friends, the question inevitably arises as to why I quit the business in the first place. There was a good reason. Picture having a love affair with a beautiful woman who is constantly leading you on…making bull shit promises…and essentially breaking your heart. Eventually, you see the light and just have to quit her. Just too much pain and not enough pleasure. That in just a few words sums up my experience with the music biz. Yes, the heartbreaks and humiliations were myriad. But there was one which became the proverbial straw that broke the camel’s back. The deal breaker if you will. Continue Reading

Here’s a piece of nostalgia from over a decade ago detailing a long-gone carefree time in my life when cabs, fishing boats and lap dance venues were my reality. I leave this entry more or less intact and as such, feel obliged to repeat…I am no longer chained to my computer nor selling ads for – or hanging out in – Korean establishments.

More or less chained to my computer like it’s some kind of dialysis machine or something, I harken back to my former life…one which did not revolve around escorts. Back then, I not only worked with immigrants – but I worked like an immigrant as well. It’s like this: Continue Reading

Note: There’s stuff about the old music biz and the Deuce at the end. You might want to click through!

So yesterday, two days after it arrived at Best Buy, I mosied on down to the superstore to pick up my $25 boom box/4 band radio/cassette to mp3 converter. As I mentioned previously, I wasn’t expecting much for the price I paid. And those expectations were met.

The first and biggest problem lay in the volume control – which was somehow stuck on el blasto! Even when I moved the knob from ten to zero!

Rather than completely piss off the neighbors, I found an old pair of headphones I don’t care about…wore them slightly off my ears to preserve my hearing…and proceeded. File that one under necessity is the mother of invention. Despite the glitch, I wasn’t that angry. With a legitimate reason to return the faulty product once I’m done transferring the relevant files, I vowed to do just that. Continue Reading

In a prescient moment, I actually wrote this Sunday morning before the worst mass shooting in US history took place that very night. Prayers to the victims and their families.

Just like most people who can turn on a computer, I shop online. And inevitably, that search is reflected seemingly forevermore whenever I log on to the next site where I’ll see an advertisement which is obviously based on my previous activity. Such is life in the world of Big Brother.

So anyway, I get lots of K Mart sidebar ads because (hello), I’ve been known to buy anything from socks to beer at the store. And yesterday, in the lineup of “targeted” products, I saw a pistol advertised for $13! I kid you not! I’m not really a gun nut. But a pistol for thirteen bucks? This I had to check out.

The weapon is in fact, a 13-shot semiautomatic Daisy CO2 air pistol which propels a .177 millimeter projectile at 337 miles per hour! Which is sufficient to penetrate a soda can! This piece of mini-artillery can be purchased online with absolutely no requirement. I sat in amazement while I viewed the ad.

With further research, I found that the BB gun is not available within 50 miles of people who live in the East Village. But as an experiment, I changed my zip code to one that turned out to be in Washington, D.C. And while the gun wasn’t available for “store pick up,” anybody with a debit (or possibly even a gift) card can order and have this item shipped for $19.99! No proof of anything required!!

Call me crazy. But this doesn’t seem like such a good idea. Anybody remember that asshole “Tony”…who robbed dozens of Korean joints with exactly this type of weapon many years back? You get the idea. It is made of metal – by the way! So it looks like a real gun!

My point: A weapon which can shoot projectiles that travel at 337 miles per hour and can penetrate a soda can shouldn’t be available to just anybody who owns a debit card and knows how to log onto the Internet. And if it is available, it should be available everywhere! There’s something discriminatory in the reality that you can buy the pistol in Washington, D.C. – but not in New York!

K Mart really needs to delete this item from its web-mined come-on. It’s just inappropriate on sooo many levels. Hard to rationalize this one away.

Two Saturdays ago, my phone rang with a frantic and frustrated friend seeking advice. Part of her job involves posting Squackpage ads and she was stymied by a new policy which requires that posters provide a link to their social media accounts to change or create a new ad.

This crap isn’t my business anymore but still, a friend in need is a friend indeed – or some bull shit like that. So I got her password and logged on to see what was up. Not a huge problem. I solved the riddle quickly and she was on her way. But I wondered why the hell would Sqackpage suddenly require social media accounts. And then I found the answer. Continue Reading

Down at the old Catholic Worker, I mentioned my dislike for CARDI B and her abominable number one record when of all people, a lily white college student (a chaste girl) professed her admiration for the object of my derision. I couldn’t believe it! I mean…this girl is so wholesome I literally tip toe around her. And here she likes – and even admires – a self-professed stripper and ho!

So I went back to You Tube determined to find what I was missing. And I found it in a 7 minute interview. CARDI is actually a sweet – albeit dysfunctional – young lady whose honesty, forthrightness, and lush mouth completely seduced me. By the time I’d finished watching the 7 minute interview video, I’d fallen in love. Continue Reading

My life is hardly the bed of roses some people think it once was. I can’t travel outside of the US – and have to ask permission to move around within its borders. The probation department can come visit me anytime they see fit. And I have to pee into a cup in front of a stranger the third Thursday of every other month. If I have an active and varied sex life, I dare not talk about it here. I’d hate for anybody to think I’m anywhere but purgatory currently.

On Saturday, a reasonably cute and young girl at the soup kitchen wanted to go hiking with me on Sunday. She lives in Queens, has a car, and was specific about the details of how and when we’d meet up the next day. She had also volunteered with her bull dyke girlfriend, who looked distraught as my prospective date leaned in and hugged me goodbye. Continue Reading

And it ain’t BHAD BHABI (gag). But it is somebody just as egregious (if that’s possible). Her name is CARDI B, and her first release has just topped the Billboard pop chart.

Reading the blurb on Yahoo’s homepage (which has become the defacto Internet New York Post), and seeing her overdeveloped chest (thank you doctor), I decided to click the link and listen to the current #1 record in the country.

Not only is it the worst piece of shit ever…but the girl who raps it has to be about the lowest role model pop music has ever produced. Quickly (so I don’t puke), Cardi grew up in the South Bronx…was a gangbanger…and had a job in a downtown fruit market but got fired and then recommended by her manager to a strip club owner. There she shook all her fake body parts (might not have been fake then – just not as big)…became an Instagram model…danced in a couple of rap videos…and got herself on a VH1 reality show. Then she dropped out of school…got a record deal…and now has the #1 record in the nation. And no doubt, every lazy, worthless, undisciplined spoiled, hood rat brat dreams of following in her footsteps. And I know exactly where most of them will end up. One guess as to where! Continue Reading

After several rounds of lewd texting, the last of which landed ANTHONY WEINER square in the Feds’ crosshairs, our ex-congressman will face the music today in Federal court. Will he get the two years the prosecution has recommended or just probation as his lawyers have requested in a 216 page treatise?

First, being the kind of guy I am, I can only imagine what the astronomical billing on that treatise is. Either Anthony Weiner is made of money – or he really doesn’t want to go to prison.

But on to the issue. Do you think Anthony Weiner should actually be incarcerated for his indiscretion? There’s a possibility I could be biased on this question. Still, I don’t see the point of locking him up (I know…he wouldn’t actually be locked up). Ask yourself this: Who did he hurt? Really, only himself. Did he actually have sex with anybody underage? No. Did he steal anybody’s money? No. Continue Reading

Against my better judgement (and mostly because I’m bored), I’ve decided to reenter the music business. BRUNO MARS has had several big hits most of which sound like they could have been written 30 years ago. So why not? What’s old is new and I have a bunch of songs that just might be relevant!

The problem is that some of them are on cassette and need to be transferred to digital files before I can submit them. Several years ago, I did transfer whatever was on record or acetate with the help of my turntable and the Audacity software everybody uses to digitize their analog music. Unfortunately, my attempts to do the same with what lived on cassettes was thwarted by the untimely death of both my cassette decks – which I hadn’t fired up for years. And now, I’m gonna want to make those transfers to assemble my “reel” (which is obviously no longer a reel). Continue Reading

It’s Saturday. And that means you can find me down at the Meatloaf Kitchen hookin’ up the homies. I italicize the “loaf” in meatloaf for a reason. It’s about the letters l-o-a-f on their own. The word has more than one meaning – as the following clip from You Tube illustrates (skip to 4:10 for the relevant part).

In my youth, I was a big fan of Abbott and Costello as well as Amos and Andy. Both half hour sitcoms portrayed a pair of hustling and loafing ne’er-do-wells. The latter was pulled off the air for implying that Afro-Americans were lazy and shiftless. For some curious reason, A and C did not suffer the same fate. Some sort of affirmative action thing I’m guessing.  Continue Reading

The year was 1967. I was just 17 years old and already a freshman at Lafayette College, a decidedly patriotic institution of higher learning. The Vietnam War was in full swing and as such, all incoming students were required to take at least one year of Reserve Officers Training (ROTC). While only that one year was required, the army officers in charge strongly suggested that we take all four to become Second Lieutenants when we got shipped off to the bush. They reasoned that we’d get paid 7 G’s a year instead of the paltry grunt pay the have nots earned. It was all stated in monetary terms.

Here’s what they didn’t tell you: In addition to being reviled by the troops who saw the newly anointed officers as privileged pussies, Second Lieutenants in Vietnam had the highest mortality rate of any rank. They weren’t just killed by the enemy as they led men into battle. Their own troops were known to frag them from behind using the heat of battle to excuse the “mistake!” Yeah, whatever! Continue Reading

Watching ‘THE DEUCE on HBO last week brought back memories from that time when 42nd Street intersected with dirty funky Broadway and seemingly everything around that corner was about sex, drugs or muggings.

New York’s music business offices were almost all located just north of Times Square. So it figured that a young, ambitious lad like myself would naturally gravitate toward the maze of booths, lap dance parlors, squeeze-through windows and whatever other location a horny guy might enjoy visiting after hustling his butt trying to place songs or get work.

Somewhere in all this process, I happened upon a kindred spirit in the form of a street life man of color who scratched out a meager subsistence selling promotional copies of new records he’d get from labels. Having convinced them that he was a meaningful DJ who wanted to play their product at his club, it wasn’t that difficult. I didn’t necessarily approve of his hustle. But the guy (though tone deaf) had a knack for coming up with song titles and quick verses which complemented the tracks I could produce. Continue Reading

Speaking of misguided youth (see yesterday’s post), I broach the subject of KENNEKA JENKINS, a girl who will never score a record deal because after attending a party in a hotel where she got very high, Kenneka managed to stumble into a freezer and surprise surprise…froze to death.

Obviously, this is an unfortunate accident that shouldn’t be particularly newsworthy because kids do dumb shit and die young all too frequently yet don’t make it to the 6 o’clock telecast. It strikes me that had she been white, we may never have heard about it. But the truth is that this isn’t about race at all. Rather, mom has created an environment in which it suddenly is rather than what is should be about. Which is responsibility. Continue Reading

If a bear craps in the woods and nobody’s there…does his shit stink? And what does it sound like when somebody rolls over in his grave? Philosophical questions of this sort constantly occupy my mind. And I rarely had any of the answers until this morning when the soundtrack to the latter jumped out of my computer. I now know the sound of AHMET ERTEGUN, founder of ATLANTIC RECORDS, rolling over in his grave. It’s in a video of a new artist his old label signed.

DANIELLE BREGOLI, aka BAD BHABIE, has already garnered 23 million views on You Tube for her new release THESE HEAUX (pronounced predictably, these ho’s). Even more predictably, the rap describes how all the other bitches are fake while she’s not! How utterly trendsetting and original. You’d think she invented the twelve bar blues!  Continue Reading

A friend asked “Why would you even do that? What are you trying to prove?” I really wasn’t trying to prove anything. I was bored and it was a beautiful day. And I wanted to do something new. Or maybe it was all those books I’ve been reading about Arctic expeditions or some wack job taking six months to row across the Northern Pacific. Hard to say.

And so yesterday morning, I hopped on my too heavy Fuji cruiser (which I bought for $100 from a Central Park bike renter after my Cannondale was stolen) and rode crosstown to the Hudson Greenway…over the George Washington Bridge…and all the way up to Nyack on 9W. I’d heard that there’s a nice bike excursion in New Jersey and I thought I’d give it a try. Continue Reading

HBO is the acronym a certain cable network uses to signify Home Box Office. But half the time it might be more apt to simply leave out the “B” and call it the HO Network. It seems as if they always have at least one series dedicated to the sex biz.

First, ya had “The Point” about all the street action in the Bronx. And then there was Denis Hof’s “Cathouse. ” Finally…that other show about grimy strippers whose name eludes me at the moment. Maybe we should call HBO the AAH Network? Ya know…All About Ho’s!

Ok! Enough of that stupidity. The new entry in HBO’s Ho Entertainment Network (HEN if you will) is a change of pace titled “THE DEUCE” which if you aren’t aware, was the nickname for Times Square many years ago. Having exited from New Orleans in favor of New York City’s bright lights in 1972, I’m certainly familiar with life in the Big Apple during the era depicted in the aforementioned new series. And I can tell you that the “look” of the presentation is fastidiously authentic. Up at 164th and Amsterdam, the production crew recreated 42nd Street as it existed 46 years ago. All of which is to the show’s credit. Continue Reading

Today I offer a two parter because essentially, I don’t really have a whole lot to say on either subject. To part 1: TURNING UP THE HEAT.

I’m not a huge fan of texting. In fact, I find it kind of retarded. The telegraph came first. And then the telephone almost 150 years ago. For some illogical reason, youth culture has decided to turn back the hands of time to an era when there was no telephone. I’m befuddled.

Initially, I simply resisted text messaging. But then one day, I missed a Village Voice ad when an on-and-off client decided to text her desire for an ad that week. It was then and only then that I relented and added texting to my repertoire.  Continue Reading

The end of just one chapter in the saga of my legal problems is drawing near. I’ve been given a date for my collection due process hearing concerning the 750k I don’t owe the IRS though for bureaucratic reasons too mind-boggling to comprehend for my brain, nobody at the agency can see the obvious (that I do not owe that money).

In the communication I was given a number and name I’m free to call anytime up until the cdp hearing date. Of course, I did just that to see if I could finally once and for all rid myself of this migraine. And this is how it went:

Within a few seconds of me identifying myself, Ms. Smith (not her real name) had my paperwork in front of her (or actually some of it) and stated that I didn’t owe the 750 k the agency had initially requested but was responsible for over a year in interest payments and penalties due because I had not submitted the agreed upon monies in a timely fashion. But here’s the rub: Continue Reading

Well…while everybody’s taking the day off, I’ve been laboring. Laboring on my new track, that is. At this point, the only labor I really do is feeding the homeless. And that’s only part time. So this is a change of pace.

Anyway…today’s labor centers around writing and singing (ugh) my new opus which granted, ain’t exactly Beethoven’s 5th. But somehow despite my lack of aptitude, I’ve found my way to a good pop hook to go with the previously published track. The basic premise is bobby sox simple. Dude sees girl…likes what he sees…and wants to get next to her. He pleads his case only to have her laugh him off until finally, he wears her down and she decides to relent and accept his overture.  Continue Reading

Recently while reading some book or other about the music business, I came upon the name of SAM TAYLOR as a seminal bluesman. Once upon a time, I’d met a guy named Sam Taylor. And the memory wasn’t a good one! Curious as to whether this Sam Taylor was the same Sam Taylor I recalled from my past, I googled “Sam Taylor + musician” and quickly discovered that the Sam Taylor I’d read about – and the one I’d met – were one and the same.

The year was 1975 (I believe). And the BT EXPRESS was a red hot outfit whose record DO IT TILL YOU’RE SATISFIED had started the disco craze. So successful had the first record been that all the Broadway songwriters wanted to get a tune on the next album. Knowing how desperately the organization would need hit songs in the near future, the Publisher actually hired two staff songwriters to churn out # 1’s (hopefully) for BT and another act (Brass Construction) which figured to be a chart-topper. Continue Reading

If you think “bootylicious” isn’t really a word, just look it up in the Oxford Dictionary. It’s there but the funny thing is…the meaning is wrong. According to Oxford, bootylicious means “sexually attractive.”  I beg to differ. “Bootylicious” means the girl’s got an attractive butt. It could be big…or round…or smooth…or jiggly…or whatever. But the word is descriptive of a specific body part. You wouldn’t say a girl with a big chest and a small booty was “bootylicious” even if you found her sexual attractive.

How could the good people at Oxford blow that? Oh well. I guess they’re even lamer than I am! But then again…if you look up “ratchet,” I bet the definition will be “a tool.” What does Oxford know anyway? Continue Reading

If you think it’s just regular Joe’s who patronize escorts (and not the rich and famous), here’s yet another anecdote…this one courtesy of a guy who owned an agency that ran ads on late night Manhattan Cable TV…to prove you wrong!

Back before the Feds effectively shut the whole operation down, several escort services used to run bare bones 30 second spots – complete with mood-setting background music – on Channel 35 of Time Warner cable. Given the limited budget, where did the advertisers get that music? Continue Reading

I’m currently in the middle of a book written by a stand-up comic/journeyman actor named Fred Stoller who describes his career as basically consisting of cameo appearances on 70 something sitcoms, never quite achieving his goal – that of actually starring in one. In pursuit of his dreams, Fred has been humiliated or failed miserably on more than one occasion. It’s not that I can relate to Fred as I’m not an actor…but reading his book did remind me of one disastrous experience I had long ago in his realm.

I know I’ve mentioned my days as ad salesman and editorial contributor to an egregious taxi rag – and that its owner and publisher sent copies of the newspaper to all the New York media outlets in his quest to attain fame and notoriety. And to a certain extent, his effort worked. We at the office became go-to media sources on anything taxi-related. Continue Reading

While it seems like escort websites have been around forever, it is in fact a phenomenon only 20 years old. And I distinctly remember the first day I was introduced to the concept.

Back in 1996 when I got my job at Action mag, the advertising options for escorts were limited. Screw and Action were the only two publications which featured display ads (pictures of the actual girls – or fakes representing them). The NY Press, Voice and NY Mag sold only tiny line ads to their adult advertising customers. And that was it! That was the entire smorgasbord of options!

As a result, Action had a big reputation when I was first hired. The paper worked…girls knew it…and I was immediately treated like a player in the community simply by virtue of my employment at the paper. It was a little strange but hey! No problem. Hot women treating me with respect? That didn’t happen when I drove a cab! Continue Reading

Unlike previous summers when I did more hiking and fewer bike rides, this year I’ve reversed that trend forever in search of a new thrill. As chronicled previously, circumnavigating Manhattan had a distinct downside (not a continuous nor especially scenic ride). Ditto for going up Manhattan’s East Side to Randall’s Island and then the shoreline in Queens and Brooklyn. Staten Island has a few good spots but nothing sensational. Inwood Hill Park similarly has a few moments but again, nothing orgasmic. But the CLOISTERS was a pleasant surprise.

I can’t remember the first time I discovered the Cloisters. But I imagine it was on a Sunday cab ride (while driving) that I first beheld the wonders of northern Manhattan. I’d always been curious about actually visiting the park (rather than passing through) but never had until yesterday when I decided to ride on up. Continue Reading

In the beginning, it was an amazing story. Young girl lost in the woods for 25 days – surviving on mushrooms, berries and muddy water? Who couldn’t feel good about that ending?!?! And the way she looked! Kind of like Jody Foster in “NELL.” But scratch the surface and in fact, this isn’t a feel-good story at all.

LISA THERIS is a 25 year-old girl who before returning to her parent’s home and enrolling in a local community college, was living with a boyfriend and waitressing at (drum roll) HOOTERS! While home from cohabiting for just a month, Ms. Theris managed to get arrested for disorderly conduct when she blew a gasket and caused a scene in a courtroom at a friend’s appearance. Maybe I’ve been around escorts too long, but right away, I’m getting a picture here. Lisa ain’t no goody goody Harvard undergrad. Continue Reading

I just finished reading a new book titled “BLUE ON BLUE,” an expose written by a cop who headed NYPD INTERNAL AFFAIRS for 20 years. Interesting subject matter! But while reading, I harbored all sorts of suspicions about the author. At times, it sounded like a paid political announcement in favor of the department. Like the part about 99.9% of policemen (and women) are good cops. Really? To be introspective, I wasn’t so sure that my thinking wasn’t biased. So I searched my soul to figure out why I rolled my eyes one too many times while reading and remembered back to a couple of significant moments which shaped my opinions on the men in blue.

At age 10, I attended a lawn party at my aunt’s house where family and friends were celebrating my cousin’s Sweet Sixteen. Auntie lived in a swell house in an equally cushy town. And for whatever reason, there was a local Nassau County policeman on the premises to ensure everything went off without a hitch. Now even at that tender age, there were some things I understood. Like you’re not supposed to drink and drive – or steal something that wasn’t yours.  Continue Reading

Pink-logo-on-white-backgroundNo, I’m not about to tell y’all that I don’t belong with escorts. I’m way past that stage. So anyway…I have several t-shirts bought for me by an old “girlfriend” which I’ve never worn. And last week while I was rummaging through my closet to see what I might give away at the soup kitchen (yes, they give away clothing as well), I happened upon these shirts many of which still had their H & M tags on them.

Well today I went visiting and stuffed the t-shirts in my backpack to see if maybe I could swap them for something else in the store. Without the receipt I didn’t figure I could turn them into money…but with the tags still on the apparel there was a possibility I could  get a store  credit. Continue Reading