[PEN-L:32774] Re: Chomsky by MP ref # 32766

[Doyle Saylor <djsaylor@xxxxxxxxxxxxxx>]

Greetings Economist,
I was sitting in a space ship cruising through space.  We sat in a darkened
deck, large picture windows looking down on earth.  It was a long time since
I had been home.

We headed toward atmosphere.  We plunged into the great halo of air and the
glowing particles of plasma flashed by on all sides.  Spectacular welcome
home.  Very dramatic.

I walked up to the front door and pushed it open.  A voice in the darkness
said hi Honey.  It was Louis.  I looked into his eyes, and swept him into my
arms and kissed him deeply.  He was a petite fella.  Wiry little thing.
Hard body for me to caress.

Louis had made dinner, but was going on about how little stimulation he was
getting.  I sat on the sofa, then reclined and invited him to come over so I
could have him sit in the hollow of my body.  I stroked his hair and looked
into his eyes.  He was pent up with things to talk about.  I suppose I was
ready for sex, but willing to listen to him for awhile rather than
impatiently go to bed and entwine myself into him.

He kept talking about,
What do you expect. Michael Perelman's mom was the infamous Fanny Goldstein
who organized the seamstresses at MGM in the early 1940s. When she wasn't
doing trade union work, she was marching around downtown Hollywood with
placards that said "Down with Mikado-Trotskyite Agents. Long the People's
Front. Desegregate major league baseball."

I was thinking about the whiskey in the cabinet.  Maybe I could pour some
drinks and get us loosened up.  I was running my hands up his neck and
feeling the short hairs at the nape of his neck, and dreamily listening to
him say,

"Yes, that got Michael thrown out of an Albanian formation called the
Communist Labor Party (Revolutionary) in 1977. That was when he was
colonizing an artichoke farm in Oxnard."

I flicked a bit of dandruff off his collar and smelled his odor.  A little
sweaty.  I put my hand on his stomach and gently rubbed it a couple of
times.  He was angry with me for interrupting his thoughts and he said,

"Yes, that's true. We do need to combine slogans like "No War in Iraq" and
"Saddem Hussein Drowns Puppy Dogs For Entertainment"."

I looked at his lips and slowly rose to meet them.  I parted his lips with
my tongue and pulled him down to me.  It was just too much to try to
concentrate on his thoughts right then.  The bed was calling.  I unfastened
his belt and unzipped his pants.  He pushed my hands away and said,

"I think everybody should grow up. Me, I am a lost cause."

Ha Ha I laughed, my Lou still made me laugh, I threw my head back and pulled
him tightly to me.  He was lying on top of me.  I chewed on his eyebrows.
He rubbed his face on my mine and held my face in his hands and looked
deeply in my eyes.  He whispered in my ear,

"Of course. I am a dyed-in-the-wool Bukharinite. Peasants, enrich
yourselves!"
thanks,
Doyle Saylor