13 thoughts on “Elevator”

  1. Of course it does, Bill. If the elevator doors opened for us in Dubai, there would be no beautiful women for us, but rather out would come the Board of Education of Paducah, Kentucky, or the executive committee of the Springfield, Massachusetts chapter of the Daughters of the American Revolution. We must accept that finding beautiful women anywhere and under any conditions is simply one of Our Leader’s many talents, while the rest of us must check out the swimsuit issue of Sports Illustrated to find that many good looking girls in one place. Life is just like that sometimes, you know.

  2. You are right, Akaky. It happens for David no matter where he goes, beach in Rio or elevator in Dubai. As for me, I was once driving along the cliffs on the coast near San Diego. I wanted to walk on the beach and so, at a certain point, decided I would get out of the car and beach walk at the next place I came to where the road and beach met between the cliffs.

    As it happened, the beach I wound up on was Black’s Beach – a nude beach, but all the nude beach walkers were men. Every single one of them. I did not take any sexy pictures, but I did take some humorous ones.

  3. I don’t doubt it for a minute, Bill. Nude beaches are the sandy equivalent of new episodes on a fresh season of American Idol, the stage where the personally unaware and the completely self-deluded go to display themselves in all their glory to an unsuspecting world, which will spend the rest of the day slugging down gin and tonics trying to forget what it just saw.

  4. a civilian-mass audience

    sending All my best energy to ALL OF YOU in Boston,Texas,Greece,Pakistan…oime…

    wherever you are…be strong,be focused,be united…

    I LOVE YOU ALLLLLL!!!

    reporting from broken Grecolandia

    I will be back,I miss you ALL…please,keep reporting…LADIES where are YOU???

  5. One very interesting thing about limiting my Burn experience to one day a week, Saturday, is to see how the number of published essays vary from week to week. Since I started, I have on Saturday and come back the next Saturday to find the same essay at the top of the page as had been there seven days before. I have also come back to find one new essay, two new essays and today, three new essays.

    I have taken a good look at them at all but with three to digest, plus all that is going in Massaschusetts, home of the latest artist to be published, I can’t comment right now. I will see if I can before the day is over, but, if I don’t, I don’t really think it matters because what can I really say, other than I enjoyed all three and found each excellent in its own way?

  6. Boy, did I fool myself yesterday. All day long, I thought it was Saturday – my one day of the week to join in at Burn. But it wasn’t. It was Friday. Today is Saturday. Yet I used my Burn Saturday on Friday. I’m not sure what that means. Not only that, but I got my essay count wrong. There were just two new essays, not three. My memory just put the first of the three in the wrong week.

    I think its time for me to pack up and go home.

    Oh, wait.

    I am home.

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