Category: health

Bad Economy–Even the Hookers are Hurting

A year ago the world’s hookers were being pinched by their flush clientele.   Now the same prostitutes are feeling the pinch.  Life is a lot tougher out on the streets and in the bordellos of the world.   The economic downturn is hurting the world’s oldest profession.

In Prague, long known for its post-communist bohemian scene and plethora of prostittues, business is bad.   There aren’t enough tourists notes a recent article in the International Herald Tribune.    Not long ago, because of its low prices and high number of prostitutes, there were sex junkets to Prague, where businessmen could sow their wild oats for a carnal weekend.    But prices are up and money is tight.   Some still come to cheer themselves up and to forget about the global meltdown.   Just not as many as there was a while ago.

In Berlin, known for its bady night life,  the sex business is down by 20%.  As for the other cities of the world, one has to presume business is off as fewer men are paying to get off.   Perhaps sex is on the increase in dating and with partners.   But I doubt it.  Sex junkets are special.   It is the alternative to golf and other escapist weekends that men use to bond.   Sex junkets are for distraction.  Sex with spouses and partners require more focus.

As for the good ol’ United States, who knows what this economic downturn will mean, sex-wise.   As for the changing of administrations, from a conservative to a more liberal government, often that means added sexual congress.   But between all the people whose libidos are reduced by anti-depressants and the depressing state of the economy maybe there just isn’t the sex there used to be.  It may no longer be a matter matter of “just say no.”  Maybe no one wants to bother.
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The article indicates that the lousy economy discourages adultery.   No one could afford that expense of the illicit romance, the wining and dining and the ancillary upkeep.   When you can’t afford to go to dinner with your spouse or partner, it’s hard to justify spending money for the sole purpose of spreading the seed.   Even dating has tapered off, at least on the grand scale and the big splash.  You know the illusion of life would be if the two of you got together in a more serious fashion.   Now, with cheaper dating habits, you tend to see what you are getting.

Driving through one section of Long Beach, California, one eyes the hookers working the corners in other desperation, the disease it seems practically dripping off of them.   Not to pick on Long Beach, or even Sunset Boulevard, where a similar scenario plays out day and night.  I am quite sure most cities in this country have its streets where prostitutes ply their trade between heroin benders and sessions at the crack house.   One has to think while driving by that in this lousy economy the usual trade for this layer of girls is unemployed or really hurting for money.   Times must be really tough.

Crime must be up here and even among the upper class hookers.   On the upper level your pockets get rifled, while here the unsuspecting trick may be lured to a remote spot where he is set upon, beaten and robbed.   As for what the higher class call girls are doing, that’s hard to say.  Most are probably working.  Just not as much.

Well it goes to show that when times are tough, times are usually tough everywhere.   No one can escape the belt tightening operation.   Most are shocked it all came down so fast.   Talk about shock and awe.  It’s tough to feel libidinous when the world is collapsing all around you.   Tough to pay for sex.   Tough, even when it’s free.

Tex Ritter to John Ritter…Cowboy’s Luck of the Draw

Tex Ritter and John Ritter were father and son, respectively.   Tex Ritter was born Woodward Maurice Ritter.  Hardly a cowboy name.  John Ritter was born John Ritter, a cowboy name, but the son was not the cowboy.   Maurice Ritter changed his name to Tex and the rest was history.  John Ritter stayed on as John, and the rest was also history.

Both were famous in their own right.  Both had successful careers.   Tex Ritter was one of the more famous post-war singing cowboys.  He made a slew of record albums.  He appeared in movies and played on Broadway.  He did concerts around the country and around the world.   He sang at the Grand Ol’ Opry and appeared on television.   He was arguably best known for singing the title song to the Academy Award Winning Film, High Noon.  The song was entitled High Noon (Do Not Forsake Me Oh My Darling).  The song too won the Academy Award.

Tex’s voice projected soulful masculinity.   He was a voice of the West, at least the West of our fantasies and wishes.   He sung about drinking and poker, romancing, the usual cowboy stuff.  He made you believe it. He was the fifth person to be inducted into the Cowboy Hall of Fame.  He was inducted as well into other Western heritage and performance organizations.   The list is a long one.

John was no slouch either.  He became famous as one of the three leads in the hit series, “Three’s Company.”  He guest starred and appeared on numerous television shows.  He was in films.   He rendered a remarkable performance in Slingblade, which also won an Academy Award.
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Tex was heavyset.  He lived in a different era and appeared to be one not overly concerned about cholestorol or fat content in food.   I don’t know if he smoked, but it is reasonable to think he liked to eat and maybe have a nip or two.

John was more of the contemporary man.  He was concerned about health.   He looked good, kept fit, wasn’t stocky like the old man.   He was a nice guy with a good attitude, and it is reasonable to believe he was never abusive to himself nor to others.

Both father and son have stars on Hollywood Boulevard.  They are the only father-son team to be so honored, especially for different categories.   There was something else they had in common.   Both died of congenital heart defects.   Tex died thirty years before John.   Tex, the stocky guy who didn’t watch his diet, passed away at 68 years of age.   John was only 54 when he died.

So what’s this all mean, besides the fact that we should remember guys who were so talented?   Guys who brought a little something to our lives.  You can live healthy, and you should, but you can still die young.   It seems at times if it is in the cards and a great deal of your mortality is simply in the luck of the draw.  I though of this while watching High Noon for the umpteenth time and thinking of poor John, as well as his father.   I thought about a friend of mine who lived clean and exercised more than any human I know.   She is a relatively young woman.   Yet she is sick and dying.  Her father had the same disease.

I guess you can’t duck the luck of the draw.

Costco at Thanksgiving and the Battle for Pumpkin Pie

Everybody wants a slice of the pie.  Pumpkin pie, that is.   It is tasty and seasonal.  Pumpkin pie is well worth fighting for.   Just ask some of the customers at Costco.

Mumbai had its terrorists.  Wal-Mart has its trampled workers.  Costco has its pumpkin pie.   While the world recoils at the horrible slaughter in the Indian City, or the poor guy who was run over at 5 A.M. by a brutally zealous Long Island crowd,  Costco shoppers kicked off the holiday season by shoving each other out of the way in quest of the great seasonal dessert.   I mean, if you can’t find your pumpkin pie at Costco, where else can you find it?

This, of course, to the saner among us is a rhetorical question.  Pumpkin pie is everywhere this time of year. Albeit it, is is neither as large a pie as those served up at Costco, nor is it as cost-effective.   Costco pumpkin pies are big and relatively inexpensive.    When you are watching your bucks, it’s a good place to pick up three or four for the Thanksgiving dinner at a very good price.   It’s not worth the risk of getting hurt for it.   Not offended, but physically hurt.

There was a battle for the pumpkin pies.  For dozens, it was a principle worth fighting for.   They needed dessert and they were going to get it no matter who got in their way.    Old women, small children, the nerdy, the needy, doesn’t matter.   Keep you hands off my pumpkin pie.

You see,the Costco bakery ovens can handle a mere sixty pies an hour.   That is going full tilt.  This of course is usually more than sufficient.   But come the holiday season when the craving comes for pumpkin pie, things are very, very different.  When you have hundreds of customers standing around waiting until the next round of pies come out of the oven.  And when there aren’t enough to go around, the flimsy veneer slides off the patina of civilization, and the battle is on.

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In this case, I expect some attorney will claim Costco was negligent by using bakery ovens that could only turn out sixty pies an hour.  And when the Costco workers, attempting to be fair, tried to limit one pie to every party, this poor excuse sharing the wealth elevated mere negligence to cruelty and deprivation.  Human rights were violated.

Human rights?  Don’t laugh.  Family values were violated.  Every family member needs at least a couple, few slices.  Piece of the pie!  Isn’t that what America is all about?   Otherwise, what will do with all that extra whipped cream?  Because any fool knows you can’t eat the whipped cream without the pumpkin pie.   You can’t have your turkey without the expectation of pumpkin pie.   Lack of pumpkin pie could result in serious disillusionment and a grievous sense of loss.

Sharing was not an option.  Customers elbowed and shoved each other out of the way.  A melee broke out in the bakery section.    People weren’t getting their pumpkin pie.  And those that did, were only allowed to buy one instead of the four they were planning to have for that special Thanksgiving dinner.

I am not one to mince words about the assault on the quality of life and the decline of manners and etiquette.  And certainly there are things to be said for our national obesity and smaller portions of everything would best promote the general well being.  A trip through Costco should tell you that.  Double wides in every aisle.  Double wide shuffling through in somnambulistic stupor.  Until you take away their pumpkin pie.   Then they come to life.

We have heard candidates and pundits talk about the quality of life and the need to make adjustments.   For the sake of our country, they say, we need to sacrifice.  We have to learn to do without, and we have to think more about our neighbors.   So come election night we hold hands and look to the future.  We are promised change.  Or not.  But what we didn’t get was pumpkin pie.

California Wildfires Are the Lesson We Never Learn

It is wildfire season in California.   The first typically come in early to middle autumn when the land is dry as a bone and the Santa Ana Winds blow hot air to fan the flames.   A spark here and the fire is started.  A few burning embers caught up in the winds, and the fire spreads to catastrophic proportions.    If not every year we are treated to this disaster, it is a good many years.

Later, when winter comes and the rains pour down, the burnt vegetation and barren landscape will never hold back the waters.  We will have mud slides.  More disaster.  Sliding mud, believe me, is a horrible menace.  Water running downhill can cause tremendous damage.  Think of mud as dense, heavy water, and you begin to see its capability.  I saw it one year roll through a house like a mucky wrecking ball.  Good thing my neighbors weren’t home that day.   Would have killed them, for sure.

So with the first we have the news crews.  We have the stories.  We have the macro stores, told from helicopters and from the fire lines, dealing with the overall intensity of the fires, where it is spreading, its percentage of containment, and the number of houses the first have destroyed.   We get to see the burning hillsides, the houses bursting in flames like Maison Flambe.   We see the fire fighters struggling bravely to contain and push back the surging conflagration.   Every year.

And every year we also get the micro stories.  The up close and personal stories.  We see men adn women sharing tears, sifting through the ruins of their houses, the charred remains of their personal possessions.  We see them looking for their pets, looking for what remains of family heirlooms and photos.  We hear them trying to console themselves by showing gratitude for the fact that they are still alive and all the lost were the material possessions.   We see these people go from a multi-million dollar house to a cot in a gymnasium shelter in twenty minutes time.  Fires move quickly in the mountain and canyon areas.

It is hard not to feel sorry for them.  You feel sympathetic, share at least a modicum of pain.  You put yourself in their shoes.   You wonder what it would be like.  And while I feel the sympathy and empathy for people who have been victimized by natural disasters, I also wonder what they were thinking when they decided to build their homes there.
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I realize this is an age old question.  People wonder it about those who build their house to closely to a river that is prone to flood.   People wonder about trailer parks and domiciles built in the path of hurricanes and tornadoes.   Sometimes you can’t help it.  Sometimes the hurricane, fire, flood or tornado just takes a wrong turn and comes barreling down your boulevard.

But the fact remains many of these houses should never be built on hilltops, canyons and wooded areas where they are just inviting disaster to come for a visit.   We have seen this movie enough times to realize as beautiful as it is in these places, we just can’t afford to be building there.  It is stupid.  It is even more stupid when the same people build and then rebuild, after a previous disaster.

I know, you live there, you love the view,  it’s so romantic, the great whatever, but it seems like it is my tax dollars that are bailing you out.   It is me who has to smell or the charring that is exacerbated by the housing developments.  Days of foul smoke and smoky stench.  Yes, it would be there anyway, but it would never be the disaster it is if the houses weren’t part of the equation.  It would just be burning woods, canyons, the natural cycle where fires eliminate the surplus vegetation.

This is a lousy economy.  It doesn’t have to be made worse by stupid planning and development.  We do not have to build on every square inch of the natural landscape.  We don’t have to transpose the natural landscape with an ugly housing development that is destined to be destroyed by wildfires.  And in a time when neither federal government or state government has the money to maintain what mediocre civic services we already have, we really don’t need to be shelling out money via emergency funding so homeowners can indulge themselves in places they don’t belong.

I believe the first time there is a disaster, the government helps you out.  The second time, if you persist on living where you shouldn’t be building, you had better have adequate insurance or be prepared to be on your own when the disaster strikes.  Sure, the fire fighters will be noble and try to save you, your pets, and your house.   But if they can’t, then it is up to you to pick up the tab.    If you can’t pick up the tab, if insurance rates are so dear that you can’t afford homeowners’ insurance, then be prepared to suffer mightily.  Be prepared to suffer financially.  Be prepared to move elsewhere.   Instead of where you don’t belong.

Beware! Female Sex Addicts Are Lurking Among Us

There is a vintage Steven Sills song.  It is called “Love the One You’re With.”  That seemed like wise words in earlier days when not only the more responsible among us but even the young had less concerns.   Today there are many things to fear, from food additives to terrorists.   You can catch every kind of disease, including some we never heard of.   So it’s hard sometimes just to have sex with someone you like, yet alone love the one you’re with.

Nevertheless, sex addiction is on the rise.  Or so they say, whoever “they” are.  I always suspect the “they’s” in this case are the ones promoting a new fear and making money from it by exploiting the susceptible.  Hey, if you can sell drugs for “Restless Leg Syndrome,” you can hold therapy sessions to cure people from wanting too much sex.   I know people who it seems the notion of sex never seems to cross their minds anymore.  Either they have given up or gotten realistic.  Or don’t know the difference.   It’s hard to say.  But I digress.

Back to the rising tide of sex addiction.    Turns out women are sex addicts as well as men.  There’s a revelation for you.   Not quite the Rapture, but nevertheless I’ll give you time to absorb it.  Women chasing around in search of wanton, mindless sex.    Whew!  How could they?

What’s more, the number of  female sex addicts is rising.  Whether the figures are on the increase or more women want this sort of attention is hard to say.    Perhaps by surrendering yourself to therapy as the great wanton hussy, you can achieve recognition for being sexual.     Or you can meet some cute guys with the same ideas.  I don’t know   But, yes, according to a recent article in the London Times women can be prone to sex addiction right along with men.

According to the article, thirty percent of the people being treated for sex addiction are female.   Not exactly a fifty-fifty proposition but notable just the same.  One woman talks about her longest romantic relationship lasting all of three months.  Other women talk about the need for intimacy, to be accepted, to be perceived as attractive.   Some talk about the romance and fantasy, the thrill of the hunt.  You know, what we typically call men stuff.

A noted writer, Susan Cheever, just wrote a book about her own sex addiction.   The book is called,  Desire: Where Sex Meets Addiction, for those who are interested.  Cheever’s father was iconic author John Cheever who it appears struggled with his own sexual behavior.   So then the question arises–is sexual addiction much like drug addiction or alcoholism?  Is it something that is passed down from one generation to another?

One must wonder if addictive personality is passed through the genes.   Sometimes it will manifest itself in the similar practices of one’s parents.   Sometimes the children will find a new channel and take their addictive personality down a new road of dependency.  Or they pair them up–alcoholism, drug and sex addiction– the Dependency Combo.  A Deli Special sandwich.    Hold the pickle.  This is all conjecture, but it seems to bear out in most cases.

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A woman has needs.  A man had needs.   A man can fulfill these needs, as Lenny Bruce once wrote, by screwing wet sand.   Anything that has intercourse with wet sand is not someone easily reasoned with.  They have an urge and they respond.  Esteem issues may enter into it.  But then again, that would give men more credit for their sexual consciousness than may ever be necessary.  Or realistic.

Women on the other hand think about it differently.   Most women.   But then there are women who are just horny as hell and just want hot sex, a shower and the time to move on down the line.   It is safe to say that they have dated.   They didn’t like what they found.   They were looking for romance and found eels in suits and jeans instead.   Or they found love and were bitterly disappointed.

Whatever their story, now they want to get their rocks off.   Perhaps it is vindication.  It may be affirmation of their good looks.   It may be a snatch at the gold ring of fantasy.   You read enough romance novels and you got to at least once try to put it into practice.   In any event, for one reason or another, there are women in this world who have decided they would rather have sex with anyone than sit and home eating ice cream and watching romantic movies that remind them of what  they are missing in life.

There are women out there who just don’t care.   They don’t want intimacy.  They want sex.  They want to get off not buy into someone else’s fantasy.   These are the type of women we love to disparage.   Some of us wish to disparage.  Others wonder where are they and what are they doing on this Saturday night?  Do you have their number?

I guess the main thing about addiction is not whether it is in control.  Addiction by its name means you are out of control.   The main thing about addiction is whether or not you are doing harm to others.   Are you busting any bubbles, wrecking families, whatever?   Then you may want to take a look at what you are doing.

Some will protest and claim the addicts are doing harm to themselves.  Yes they are.   They sure are.  Let’s face it addictive behavior hardly promotes a positive life force.   It is fair to say the spirit is wanting.   But then there are other things that may be worse.   Life in a vacuum comes to mind.  Life searching for the perfect mate to find anything but that.   Life wondering who you are and what you want.

So if you see a woman who is a confessed sex addict, she may be confessing not out of some twelve step surrender, but out of self-awareness.   Don’t try to intervene.  Don’t try to help her.  Just ask for her number.  It would probably do the both of you some good.