SAXOPHONE=PEOPLE DOIN' IT

So there I was on the sofa, watching a little Magnum P.I.
This certainly isn't a rarity at my place. Not sure what it is, but I can't get enough Magnum P.I. This show has it all: Hawaii, intrigue, a Ferrari, women with feathered hair and frosted lips---it's 1980's TV at it's finest.


Anyway, at a certain point, Magnum was about to get laid.
How did I know this?
It wasn't because his already tight OP shorts bulged with a boner.
It wasn't the twitching of his moustache.
It wasn't because Higgins put a "Do Not Disturb" sign on the door.

It was because the saxophone music swelled.

And it got me to thinking:
TV was so much simpler in the 1980's. You heard that saxophone music play and you knew intercourse was about to commence. In fact, that brassy sound was the harbinger of fornication. Moreover, David Sanborn (see above) telegraphed sexual intent on a regular basis.

Now it seems that the saxophone as love makin' audio cue has gone out of fashion.
People just wind up naked and I am totally unprepared for it. I'll look up from a crossword or picking my toes to find tits and tongue all over my TV screen. It's slightly unsettling.

So I say:
With other 80's trends such as skinny jeans and huge belts over t-shirts making a comeback, why not resurrect the saxophone as instrument of sex?

ASS ASSESSMENTS

So-
I was just thinking about an ex co-worker of mine.
A while back, he stumbled into work, slumped into his chair and announced, "I love puttin' it up the butt."
I turned in his direction and said, "Well, that's nice. Everybody needs a hobby."
Undaunted, he continued with "Seriously man. I'd buy my woman any kinda Coach bag, any kinda...you know...shoes. I'd give her mad cash if she gave me anal on the reg. Not just like on my birthday or Christmas. But on the reg."

I wished him best of luck with his quest for anal on the reg. Although I reminded him that he shouldn't take for granted the wondrous, nutmeg scented joy of holiday anal.

For the entire day, he continued to assess women as to whether or not he'd "put it up the butt".
Any woman who dared stray too close to him was subject to his anal analysis. Producers, editors, interns. The cleaner even made his assessment that much easier by bending over to empty his trash.

As it turned out, only one woman was not worthy of his anal attentions, primarily because she had smelly breath. He then changed his mind and said, "Maybe I'd buy her some gum. Then I'd put it up the butt."

Another co-worker and I were discussing a new employee at the Assignment Desk, stating how competent, kind and smart she was. Naturally this guy butted in and said, "I'd put it up the butt."

The point is: some people really have no business doing employee reviews.

BLACKBALLED AT THE NUDIST CAMP

Good morning Peons!
Today, we have a new mystery to solve...

PARIS (Reuters) - France's data protection authority has given permission for a nudist resort to keep a "black list" of guests barred from its facilities, the organization said.
The Rene Oltra nudist center in southern France was obliged to seek permission after a person complained of being denied a reservation, the authority said on its website. French law requires organizations to seek authorization to keep lists of individuals denied use of their services.
Contacted by Reuters, the resort declined to give further details regarding individual's exclusion from its site.
The centre's rules require guests to abide by its "naturist ethic" of nudity at all times, weather permitting, and bans upsetting other guests or failing to observe hygiene standards.
"But nudity is not exhibitionism. Any indecent behavior will be sanctioned by immediate exclusion," the rules say.

Now-
While this is very interesting, they neglect to explain why these guests are being barred.
Thus, I am forced to draw my own conclusions.

POSSIBLE REASONS A PERSON COULD BE BARRED FROM A NUDIST CAMP:

1. Skips around a little too carelessly with scalding hot Starbucks coffee.

2. Repeatedly accosts other nudists with the accusation: "Hey, you got your chocolate in my peanut butter!"

3. Tends to experience severe "treatment effects" after cheating on the ALLI Weight Loss Program

4. Looks, points and says, "Man! Check out that gunt. I thought there was a no fat chicks policy here! Where's the fucking manager? If I wanted to see Orca I'd go to Sea World."

5. Does morning "yoga" a la the Anonymous Obama supporter from the "Smokin' Presidential Polls" post.

Any other ideas?

POWER TO THE MOUSTACHE!

On the whole, I'm a pretty lazy person. I'm not what you'd call an activist. Odds are you won't find me in Union Square on a random Saturday, passing out flyers, crusading on behalf of downtrodden Alaskan skateboarders/Pimply street meat vendors/Fat people who can't fit into airline seats.
But I think I may have found a cause worthy of my ire, sweat and Sharpied placards...

Japanese Postman Fights For Moustache

TOKYO (AFP) - Japanese lawyers are rallying behind a postman whose boss told him he had to shave off his moustache to comply with grooming standards for letter carriers.
The bar association in the western city of Osaka said Wednesday that the order against 55-year-old postman Noboru Nakamura was "irrational" and violated his human rights.
"Having a moustache is part of an individual lifestyle and should be an individual decision," said Kazuo Okawa, a lawyer for the bar association.

Where can I donate to this cause?
Where is the rally/rubber chicken charity function for this man and his beleaguered moustache?

The time to act is now.
This postman cannot be denied his moustache.
So I will use this blog for good today, helping my fellow man, by making a list of the top 5 moustaches in history.
By seeing all the names of these great men, perhaps then the Japanese postal service will see the error of their ways:

1. Tom Selleck
2. Ron Jeremy
3. Doc Holliday
4. Burt Reynolds
5. John Waters

Did I miss any?
Please add to this list, thereby aiding this postman and his quest to maintain his flavor saver.

MY DRUGGY PAST

Just read an AP article today that completely destroys a huge part of my childhood:

NEW YORK - Drug company sales representatives will have to stop doling out coffee mugs and pens that push their products when they visit doctor's offices. But they can still sneak in the occasional free lunch.
Pharmaceutical Research and Manufacturers of America announced Thursday that it has revised its conduct code for interacting with health care professionals.
The updated guidelines ban the knicknacks bearing company and product logos.

This is tragic. Since my dad is a doctor, I cannot tell you how many of these drug company emblazoned items floated around our family homestead when I was growing up. Nearly every grocery list/diary entry/letter to granny was written with some herpes medication pen.
Aside from pens, we also received...

1. A Nerf football (Those of you who know just how amazingly athletic I am will appreciate just how much I used this.)

2. A wooden gavel (This was simply so the drug rep could deliver the line: "You be the judge.")

3. Countless mugs (Which I filled with colon blow-strength Starbucks, took to school and left in my locker until A) they became moldy and B) there were so many crammed in there that they came crashing out onto the floor.)

4. A penis statue from Viagra (Which my mother sent me in one of her infamous CARE PACKAGES and I left behind after vacating an apartment. See above photo.)

5. Tablets of paper in the shape of Anaprox pills

6. T-shirt showcasing a cheery, smiley-faced cartoon liver and the message "Be Kind To Your Liver" written on it. (The fact that my hard drinking father used to wear this item frequently was beyond ironic.)

7. Key chains

8. Several baseball caps (Who wouldn't want to advertise constipation remedies on their head?)

SMOKIN' PRESIDENTIAL POLLS

One of the hazards of the 24-hour news industry that so many of us work in is that there is a lot of time to fill, and only so much legitimate news to go around. This probably explains why I've been noticing some ridiculous presidential polls. I understand journalists are searching for a fresh take on the election, but it's getting to be preposterous:

"Pet Owners Prefer McCain Over Obama"
WASHINGTON (AP) — If the presidential election goes to the dogs, John McCain is looking like best in show.
From George Washington's foxhound "Drunkard" to George W. Bush's terriers "Barney" and "Miss Beazley," pets are a longtime presidential tradition for which the presumed Republican nominee seems well prepared, with more than a dozen.
The apparent Democratic nominee Barack Obama, on the other hand, doesn't have a pet at home.
The pet-owning public seems to have noticed the difference.
An AP-Yahoo! News poll found that pet owners favor McCain over Obama 42 percent to 37 percent, with dog owners particularly in McCain's corner.

If we're going to take it to this level of minutiae, what's stopping us from really bringing it on home? What about a poll that figures out the presidential preferences of:

1. People who have done the Electric Slide at a wedding...without irony.

2. People who clip their toenails on the subway.

3. People who click on NSFW links whilst at work. And then examine celebrity pubic hair on the company's dime.

4. People who sneak Jiffy Pop popcorn into the movie theatre to save a buck or two.

5. People who dress their pet ferrets up in Halloween costumes.

6. People who have taken an Olan Mills special family portrait at K-Mart.

7. People who know all the words to "We Want Some Pussy" by 2 Live Crew.

8. People who have tried to contort themselves into a position that allows them to suck their own cock.

9. People who go to a "cute little restaurant" for brunch and shriek and drink the one mimosa allotted with the prix fixe and wear idiotic capri pants with matching floral tops and tell lame stories they heard at the after church service coffee hour and HOW I HATE THOSE FUCKING BRUNCH MUNCHING HEN PACKS.

10. People who get worked up over nothing.

5 REJECTED HURRICANE NAMES

So-
Bertha has the distinction of being the first hurricane out of the gate this season.
I think Bertha is one of the better hurricane names I've heard. Bertha sounds big, blustery and rude. Bertha would slap your face with her fat ham hocks.
Then I started to think of names the Hurricane Center in Miami may have rejected:

1. Hurricane Liberace
2. Hurricane Mussolini
3. Hurricane Shaniqua
4. Hurricane Muffy
5. Hurricane Rae Dawn Chong

Any others?

CELEBRATE THE 4TH, PAUL LYNDE STYLE!

Seeing as how I'll be busy making burgers, marveling at fireworks and drinking assorted cocktails out on the terrace tomorrow, I'm wishing you all a festive holiday today.
Also, if any of you need an idea for delicious vintage side dish, I'm offering up this 1978 recipe from an American original, Paul Lynde.
I never got that Paul Lynde lunchbox I wanted, but at least I can make his "Millionaire's Salad".

Enjoy!
(Scroll down page for recipe)

MILLIONAIRE'S SALAD

GIRAFFE AS WORKPLACE LIBERATOR

This AP story is for anyone who feels imprisoned by their job:

AMSTERDAM, Netherlands - Amsterdam police say 15 camels, two zebras and an undetermined number of llamas and potbellied swine briefly escaped from a traveling Dutch circus after a giraffe kicked a hole in their cage.

Police spokesman Arnout Aben says the animals wandered in a group through a nearby neighborhood for several hours after their 5:30 a.m. breakout.

The animals were back at the circus later Monday after being rounded up by police and circus workers with the assistance of dogs. Aben says neighbors fed some of the animals — which he said was a bad idea — but they were tame and nobody was hurt.

Says Aben: "You have to imagine somebody rubbing his eyes first thing in the morning and saying, 'Am I seeing things or is that 15 camels walking past?'"

Kudos to that kick ass giraffe!
Because of his/her ingenuity, these hardworking circus performers were able to savor a few precious hours of freedom.

Now if only that giraffe would gallop over to my newsroom and knock over the computers, trample the TelePrompter, push the anchors off the sets and kick the pasty cube drones out the door. I'm picturing a bunch of Dockers clad producers and overly shellacked anchors wandering the streets of New York, bewildered, blinking at the sunlight, confused, foraging for food.

Unlike these circus performers, their freedom would not be appreciated.

They would be only too grateful to be herded back to the newsroom--back to the safety of readily available make up artists and a plentiful supply of Doritos in the vending machine.

CNN ANCHOR EXTENSIONS IN THEIR NATURAL HABITAT

Sometimes I am filled with such pride for the savvy readers here at Peon Confidential.
I have received a t-shirt, a book, an artistic rendition of "The Lone Pube" and now this...

It seems that a certain CNN anchor isn't shy when it comes to hair extensions. This person's post-show routine includes ripping them out for all to see and throwing them on the nearest hard surface. One of our wily readers saw these limp, cheap-looking, rather forlorn bits of fake hair on the set and decided to capture their beauty for us.

As always, we will keep this reader/photographer's identity shrouded in mystery. But not the anchor of course. Only Peons are protected around here.

So-
Which of the following CNN anchors attaches these ultra-fashionable extensions to their scalp on a daily basis?
Is it:

1. KIRAN CHETRY

2. LARRY KING

3. ANDERSON COOPER

THE BROTHEL BUS: A CAUTIONARY TALE

Well I am just devastated.
Read it and weep:

MIAMI (Reuters) - A "brothel bus" that detectives said cruised Miami Beach offering lap dances and drinks has taken its last ride, police said on Wednesday. Riders were offered oral sex for $100, according to Miami Beach police who impounded the limousine bus and arrested its operator early on Sunday.

The sleek black bus cruised the South Beach neighborhood popular among tourists and club-goers, offering rides and unlimited drinks for $40.

Aboard, undercover detectives said they found a fully stocked bar and several young women who stripped down to reveal G-strings stuffed with cash and offered to perform sex acts.

Suspected operator Christine Morteh, 29, was arrested on charges of offering to commit prostitution, transportation for the purpose of prostitution and operating a business without a license. She was released from jail on $5,000 bond.

This sucks for many reasons:

1. Aren't we all suffering enough with these high gas prices? Here we have a wonderful, energy-saving carpool option, and now it's been shut down. If this type of intolerance continues, we will be slaves to foreign oil forever.

2. Must we attack this delightful female entrepreneur? Statistics show that women still only earn 85 cents to the male dollar. We should be supporting this innovative businesswoman and her energy saving, carpool/blowjob service.

3. This "brothel bus" reminds me of the Gold Club van that used to cruise around Buckhead in Atlanta, looking for drunken horndog conventioneers to scoop up and transport to the Gold Club's whipped cream-basted-nipple-baring environs. Since I did not have a driver's license, and lived within walking distance of the Gold Club, I was more than once tempted to climb aboard. It seemed like a practical way to get home on time to catch Sanford and Son reruns on TVLand.
But alas, fearful of drunken horndog conventioneers, I never did.

And then poof! A few arrests and several court dates later, the legendary Gold Club was gone, just like this Miami brothel bus.

Moral of this story?
If you see a seedy, nudie bus zooming about--carpe diem!
It may not be there tomorrow...

DEN OF SPIES

Why is there a dashing photo of Roger Moore on today's Peon Confidential?
Two reasons:

1. I am a member of a very tiny minority: I think Roger Moore is the best Bond. Consider he took over in the 1970's, when Sean Connery's brand of swaggering, macho, Cold War sexuality was quite antiquated. Moore injected some humor into a role that could have become extinct otherwise. I love how he never took himself too seriously. Plus, there were times he was forced to scamper around the globe in some dubious 1970's attire. Connery, who was consistently decked out in gorgeous Saville Row suits, never had to wrestle with such sartorial indignities. Not such an easy task, and Moore wore it well.

2. The next Mama D's Arts Bordello, which is slated for October, is going to be a spy theme. So I am putting it out there:

If anyone has a short film, a short story, some great dance moves, wants to sing a Bond theme with a kazoo accompanist or is itching to offer up any type of art that would fit in with a spy theme--let me know!

P.S.
ROGER MOORE IS THE BEST BOND!

WHAT DREAMS ARE MADE OF...

Yesterday I came home from work to find a beautiful surprise.
Carefully encased in a bubble wrap envelope, someone had sent me former CNN anchor turned self-help guru Daryn Kagan's inspirational book entitled, "What's Possible!" (Note the exclamation point in the title. That really drives the concept home, doesn't it?)

Enclosed was a card which simply read, "Dare to dream, Saara!"

I cried tears of joy.
For years I've lived in the shadows of my desires. Too shy, too fearful of the consequences of daring to dream.
But now with Daryn Kagan's help, I can and will achieve my goals. No longer will I shuffle through this life unfulfilled.

Thank you, Peon Confidential reader, for sending me this treasure.
And thank you Daryn Kagan, for saving my life. By following your example, anything is possible...

Even sex with Rush Limbaugh.

PLASTIC TWEETY: THE REAL ME

I've been working on a few short stories about my bizarre early childhood in Hawaii. This means I've been sorting through family photos to jog my memory. Most of them are ripped, like the one above. Why? Because my parents split up and my dad pursued a new life of haunting Honolulu discos with a bleach blonde Pan Am stewardess. In a coked up state, this disco queen decided it would be an excellent idea to rip up the majority of our family photos.
Not sure where my father was when she was doing this. In my more cynical moments, I imagine he joined in.

The weird part is--sure we had some negatives, but for some reason, we never developed them.
My mother felt our family history was more authentic this way--ripped, yellowing, scotch taped together.

When I came across this photo, I smiled because although this one was taken on Halloween, I used to wear this costume all year round. I don't know why but I loved that plastic smell and the idea that I was wearing a costume when everyone else was stuck wearing boring clothes.
And then it struck me:
This is EXACTLY the image I have in my head when people say: "How do you see yourself?"

Whenever I try to look sexy on the dance floor...
Whenever I try to be sophisticated in a restaurant...
Whenever I try to be professional at a business meeting...

It is ALWAYS this image that comes to mind:
My chubby belly pressing up against this stupid Tweety Bird costume in the middle of June.
I am always ridiculous, juvenile and slightly absurd.

I often wonder if any political despots, sex symbols, and Wall Street titans have similar images in their heads.

IF YOU HAD JUST ONE SHOT...

Alright:
We're approaching the season of blockbuster summer films.
This inevitably means we are subjected to bombastic voiceovers proclaiming:
"If you had just one shot..."
Or:
"They had just once chance, one moment, one opportunity..."
Or:
"This moment would never come again, he had to seize it now or never..."

But seriously...
I'm asking all of you.
Have you ever felt like that? Have you ever believed that if you fucked up this one opportunity your life was over?
Maybe it's because I'm a writer and not an athlete, and I get rejection letters left and right (yet I keep plugging way) but I have never once felt that I had just one shot.

Am I alone here?

GOVERNMENT STIMULATION

So, I've been reading a few articles implying that George Bush's stimulus check strategy has not exactly been the economic lubricant he'd visualized. Far from flooding the malls with their Bush lucre, Americans seem to be spending this money on necessities like food and gas. New York Senator Chuck Schumer even said,

"It's galling to think that taxpayers' stimulus checks will be lining the pockets of OPEC. The sad truth is that the average American family will spend almost their entire stimulus check on higher gas prices this year."

Well Chuck, that may be. But I've heard of at least one American who is spending his stimulus check in a way that would make our forefathers proud...

While at work yesterday, a co-worker burst into the room all aglow. "I finally got my stimulus check!" he announced with Rocky-style fists in the air. "I'm headin' to Chinatown tomorrow night for a massage. There's this unbelievable woman there who gives a happy ending that makes you cum like a mother fucker."

Now that's what I call economic stimulus. With one government check President George Bush has provided a hard working young man with a hand job and a masseuse/hooker with a few extra bucks for her next Valtrex prescription. This is Trickle Down Economics at it's finest.

Uncle Sam, I salute you.

THE SASQUATCH GODDESS

I've received quite a few e-mails from quite a few out-of-town Peons, asking how the last Mama D's Arts Bordello was.
Answer:
Fantastic.
But with one caveat...
There were a few nerds in the audience who apparently have a problem with burlesque.
So:
To anyone thinking of attending the next Mama D's, which is a sexy spy themed show:
If you can't handle nudity, if you can't handle yummy women shaking their asses for you---stay home.
Seriously.
I mean it.
Stay the fuck home on your boring sofa and watch boring Law and Order.
We don't need you pissing on our good time.
If you come to the bordello, you WILL see nudity.
You will also have fun. You will drink too much. You may even get a hard on.
Newsflash: IT'S A BORDELLO!

Anyway-
For anyone who wants to read the Jackie Collins homage we created at the last Mama D's, I am providing you with a link.
I'm very proud of it, and very proud of the bordello.
All the nerds can kiss our naked asses...

THE SASQUATCH GODDESS

B.O. MYSTERY

New Yorkers--how about this fucking heat wave?

Actually, it seems to have let up a bit today. But I fear we're on track for a brutal summer. So I have a question about the hot city nights. Perhaps there are some scientists out there who can answer this one:

Last night I was walking home from work, through the smelly concrete sauna that is my fair city. I walked past Japanese restaurant employees having a smoke, packs of cellphone-addicted teens ordering street meat, and a few robust women squatting down to clean up their dog's shit.

However, while sauntering across a block that had no one on it, nary a pedestrian--I suddenly stepped into a vast pocket of B.O.
I looked up, down, all around and could not find anyone who could have been the culprit. I even sniffed my own armpits, but I was not guilty.

So how does a pocket of B.O. get trapped in the muggy atmosphere like that? How could it just be suspended in midair for me to stumble upon and sniff?

How?

ASSORTED VEGA$ PHOTOS

Well,
I finally received some photos from the former CNN peon pal who caused mischief in Vegas with me.
I am only posting a few--but I believe these photos capture the true heart of Vegas:
Cheap buffet food, matching denim jacketed tourists, the romantic gondolier, and Blue Man Group photo ops at the Venetian.

MAMA D'S ARTS BORDELLO PRESENTS: GUILTY PLEASURES

Tonight's the night!
Twinkies, fake blood, boobs, booze and delicious prose!

What more do you want out of your Tuesday? Get over the the Parkside Lounge and hang out with Mama D and the gang as we indulge our guiltiest pleasures...

DATE: Tuesday, June 3rd
TIME: 8pm
PLACE: The Parkside Lounge
ADDRESS: 317 E Houston St
SUBWAY: J, M, Z; F at Delancey-Essex; V at 2nd Ave
COST: 8 dollars