“What took you so long,” Henry Lee asked.
“Had to do something.”
“What?”
“Lexi.”
“She in trouble again?”
“Hardly. She was doing her nails.”
“Yeah and?”
“I had to help her.”
“What’d you do? Blow on ‘em?”
“Just saying.”
“Just saying what? What you saying, boy?”
“Nothing,” Bill said. He cracked the seal on the bottle and twisted the cap open. He took a long, long drink, one that he knew was gonna change his head a bit then handed the bottle to Henry Lee. Henry Lee took a long, long drink too.
“We need to get a bottle at lunch and replace this one.”
“I’ll get Lexi to go.”
“Tell her buy two and we’ll have a extra.”
“I got a good mind to just tell Drenovis we took his goddamn bottle and tough titties.”
“That’s a good way to start some trouble.”
“Sometimes I just get fed up. We’re working double and triple hard this week and the least they could do is buy us the bourbon.”
“I see you’re in a mood.”
“I guess I am.”
“What Lexi do to you?”
“She didn’t do anything.”
“Maybe that’s the problem.”
“Aw, shut up,” Bill said.
But that was the problem. He was horny. Soon as he’d finished doing Lexi he’d kissed her bye, went around the bar to get the bottle and come back to the meat room. He was realizing he wanted some and he was irritable because the little man inside his pants wanted some too and he wasn’t getting any.
“Let’s smoke a joint before you start carrying up the meat,” Henry Lee said.
As he always did, Bill carried up two meat trays at a time. He carried them the same way the waitresses carried their trays, up on his shoulder, balanced. He’d had to learn how to do this, but it was easy once he knew how.
He put the meat away in the reach-in opposite the Garland and went around back to see what Mary was doing. She was bent over checking the round which was just about ready to come out. Not even thinking about it, Bill grabbed her at the hips and pushed himself against her, grinding on her. Lexi had left him hard. He drilled that hardness against Mary’s behind.
Not even turning to face him or move from him Mary said, “Boy, I’m gonna smack the shit out of you, you don’t stop that.”
Bill paid her no mind and pushed harder until Mary forced her way up and away from him. She used one foot to kick the oven door shut and stood facing him, looking directly into his eyes.
“Goddamn you. Boy, you messed up?”
“No. A little drunk, a lot high and extremely horny. I’m about to get my ass in some trouble too, cause I’m feeling ornery.”
“Well you better check out your mind. Drenovis coming over soon. He’s doing the meat pick up instead of Alvin. We’re gonna be crazy busy all day and all day tomorrow. Even Sunday looking good.”
“Fuck it,” said Bill.
Mary was taken aback. This was so unlike Bill she was shocked. She took a long look at him, checked him out. Then she thought a moment and finally said, “Potatoes gotta come out and I know you got more meat to bring up. I could use all the help you could give me back here before the lunch starts.
Bill focused. “Yeah okay.”
“First thing when you come back up is help me get this round out.”
“Yeah all right.”
“Then we cooking off two prime ribs. Tell Henry Lee get them ready.”
“Yeah, all right,” said Bill.
“And don’t you start nothing with Drenovis,” said Mary. You keep your thoughts to yourself and your damn mouth shut.”
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By Peter Weiss
For years now our government has been running a Kabuki Theater on us. Every day we see the same crap over and over. We’re told one thing, but the government’s interests go somewhere else. We’re told the government cares and “will get to the bottom of what’s going on,” but it never does. Congressional approval hovers around 18%. About 50% of Congressmen are millionaires and more than 60% of Senators are millionaires. Their median net worth is more than one million dollars and thus one lawmaker’s net worth is more than eighteen regular American households combined. No wonder Nancy Pelosi referred to the tax cuts as crumbs.
We’ve come to insanity, of course. The informal definition of insanity is doing the same thing over and over and expecting different results. In this regard we fought the war on poverty for more than 50 years without actually putting a dent in poverty in America or changing the demographics of the poor. In this regard, we’ve spent more and more and more money per capita on education and yet we rank approximately fifteenth in the world in education. And that’s being kind of kind.
It gets worse, not better. The Democrats, who have been mostly in charge of our inner cities, have managed to create and sustain urban centers where poverty abounds, murder rates soar, crime is rampant, education is poor and the homeless litter the streets defecating wherever they choose while the police are instructed not to bother them.
Of course when asked about it the Democrats will continually blame other people and other things while they make sanctuary cities which allow more poor, more ignorant, more culturally dissociated people to roam freely and use the limited resources that are available. The Democrats insist they have no culpability and they insist that they are looking after the best interests of the American citizens. They are only power-hungry, and like the laws of Social Darwinism” dictate, they are only striving to keep power. Or, as what happens when the goals shift from wanting to do good by servicing the American citizens who elected them to keeping and increasing their power, they have lost their way, gone amok if you will.
Kabuki theater.
If the Democrats cared for the American people they would denounce what happened to Justice Kavanaugh. They would uphold innocent until proven guilty. They would denounce the bias in the media. They would castigate people like Louis Farrakhan and distance themselves from people like Harvey Weinstein, Bill Clinton and Keith Ellison. They would be willing to accept a deal on DACA and secure the borders while working with the Republicans and the President on Immigration reform. They would own up to their search and destroy mission against President Trump and they would surely denounce personal attacks against his family.
But pigs don’t fly.
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By Peter Weiss
This was originally posted on July 11, 2017.
How stupid are we?
Talking about America, there seems to be no limit to the depth of our stupidity, the depth of the pit of stupidity we have fallen into. It’s rather amazing actually. Think about it. When the Soviet Union collapsed and the Berlin wall came down, the United States was the only world power. In the thirty years since then we have allowed Russia to regain its world-power status and we have allowed China to become a world power. China’s economy has overtaken ours and just recently, for the first time ever, the dollar is no longer the world currency.
So how stupid are we? Well, how stupid can you be?
The war on poverty has been going on for fifty-two years, since 1965. We’ve poured twenty-three billion dollars into it. That’s 23,000,000,000. For that money there has been no real noticeable change in the poverty rate and no real change in the demographics of the people in poverty. Yet we continue down the same road. Stupid?
As regards education, we spend more per capita than any other country and yet we still rank only fifteenth in the world in education. Now that’s not a big bang for the buck. Furthermore, segregation was outlawed in 1954 and yet our schools are becoming more and more segregated. The rate at which segregation is occurring continues to increase.
Stupid?
It gets better. There are those who fought against segregation who now insist they have a right to their own spaces, or they insist that whites not be allowed into certain spaces. Well then…
Stupid? You bet
Just as stupid and actually most dangerous to our society is the disregard shown for logic and facts. Replacing logic and facts are feelings and subjectivity. The gender identity laws exemplify this. But that raises a controversial issue and God forbid that should happen. So let’s put it this way. Mr. X doesn’t have any cash and can’t buy that five-dollar super mochaccino he wants because he left his wallet in his Porsche. He feels poor. He identifies with poor people at that moment. In accordance with the gender identity rules, he is poor. He identifies himself as poor, ergo, by the new rules, he is poor. If that happened on April 15th, Mr. X should be eligible for not paying taxes and even getting an earned income credit.
Stupid? Beyond stupid. How stupid can we be?
Let’s see. Remember “you have to sign it to see what’s in it?” Stupid? Well, what’s even more stupid is that she’s still in office and the head of her party. She’s not stupid. She didn’t have to read it because she doesn’t have to deal with it. She and her cronies voted themselves an exception so they could stay on the government congressional plan. That’s the Cadillac of Cadillacs plan.
Stupid? Not them! Us. More than half of them are millionaires And they way their positions work, they don’t really have to pay for anything. Our tax dollars pay for everything. Or, they’re having a great, self-enriching time on our dime. So how stupid can we be?
Russia. Russia’s goal is to create chaos here in America. Well, look at what our media have been pushing for the last eight months or so. Look at what the party of opposition has done. How stupid are we as a people and as a nation? Haven’t we played right into Putin’s hands? Stupid.
Well, aren’t we stupid for allowing all this to go on? Aren’t we more stupid for continuing to fund it?
Finally, as the liberals push left toward the welfare state and socialism, history tells us that capitalism and the free market pay for the bulk of all charity work done throughout the world. It also tells us that no socialist government thus far has ever managed to succeed. Why would we push toward that which we know will fail?
Stupid. Stupid. Stupid. Really, how stupid are we?
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By Peter Weiss
Henry Lee was pissed when they ran out of bourbon. He’d known they needed a bottle for the day but he didn’t have money to buy it on the way to work. So they ran out. It wasn’t gonna be enough to just smoke a joint. He needed the whiskey.
He used his sharpening steel to break the empty bottle in the trash can, whacking it good several times so it smashed into pieces. That done he told Bill to go steal a bottle from the party room bar.
“You go,” said Bill.
“No you.”
“You want the bourbon, not me.”
“C’mon man, go get it for me.”
Bill was happy he went because when he walked into the party room Lexi was sitting there doing her nails. Her skirt was riding high up her legs and she was flashing plenty of thigh.
“I’ll be damned,” said Bill.
“They’re covering for me, so it’s okay.”
“Who’s covering for you?”
“Norma, Lorraine and Victoria.”
“Who else is working?”
“That new one, Arlene. The redhead.”
Bill walked close up to Lexi. She was defenseless since her nails were wet and he knew she didn’t want to mess them up. Seizing the moment, he reached to her legs and pushed them so she let them open. Then he leaned in and kissed her. While he did he ran his hand up there.
“Sure, take advantage of a helpless girl,” said Lexi.
“You bet.”
Bill did not hold back. He let himself take advantage of her. She wasn’t upset at all. She spread wide for him and didn’t hesitate in the slightest when his hand found his way in her underpants. She kissed him hard and only complained once between kisses saying that she’d have to do her lipstick all over again.
“In that case,” Bill said, “I won’t hold back.”
He smothered her lips and licked all around them, pressed hard into her face and deep-kissed her. She kissed back as his fingers happily worked on her in ways he already knew she liked.
“We have to have a date,” Lexi said. She was no longer doing her nails. She was no longer doing anything but allowing him to do what he did and encouraging him both with her clear expressions of pleasure and her tongue’s dancing with his.
“Yeah, we do. And you can invite one of your friends.”
“Oh, you bet I will. You bet I already know exactly who too.”
Then it turned serious. Lexi was captivated, Bill working her over. She closed her eyes and leaned as far back in the bar seat as she could.
“Wait,” she said abruptly. “Stop.”
“What’s the matter?”
“I want more.”
“No time.”
“No. We can. Here.” Lexi got up from the bar seat. “Help me onto the bar.”
Bill lifted her, sat her on the bar where she, small and agile as she was, settled her legs for him so he could kiss all the way up her thighs without any difficulty.
“You know what to do, baby. You know what I like.”
Bill leaned in. He didn’t have to bend much due to the height of the bar. She carefully placed her hands on his back so as not to disturb any nail polish that could still be wet. She gently stroked his neck as he moved to where she wanted him and did what he knew she wanted him to do.
In just a brief moment she was moaning. Just a brief moment after the moaning began she was finished.
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By Peter Weiss
They can accept 32 different genders. They can accept that Elizabeth Warren is an Indian. Pocahontas! They can accept that a boy of fifteen is allowed to walk into a girl’s dressing room because he says he feels like a girl on that particular morning. They can accept just about anything, no matter how preposterous, as long as it fits in with their narrative, with their beliefs, with their vision of how America should be according to them.
But they can’t accept that maybe, just maybe, their vision of how America should be isn’t the vision shared by the mainstream, Joe Q Average American, that same mainstream Joe Q Average American family who voted for Donald Trump. In not accepting that “maybe,” they’ve become Election Deniers and are willing to challenge the very pillars of our democracy.
The Democrats simply can’t believe that America isn’t the way they say it is and want to force it to be. They simply can’t believe that most Americans, regardless of race and ethnicity, believe in simple, straight-forward old-fashioned American values, values like believing in God and being allowed to express such a belief, even in a Judeo-Christian God. They simply can’t believe that most Americans want safety, secured borders, good jobs and good education for their kids. They simply can’t believe that most Americans are tired of the PC police, are tired of the false narratives (Hands Up, Don’t Shoot, for one) they’ve been yelling at us for over fifty years, narratives that are belied by the results of their failed policies.
The Democrat story is that of that naked emperor whose subjects were too afraid to tell him he was naked though everyone could see it but him. He thought he had the most beautiful set of new clothes on and insisted everyone agree how beautiful they were.
The Democrats repeat over and over that they speak for America and that they are imposing their will on America because all America agrees with them.
Lions and tigers and bears, oh my!
So they’ve become election deniers and disruptors whose only goals are to discredit the President, undermine his presidency and disrupt everything he does even if it means ripping apart the very foundations upon which America was founded.
For Obama, who has consistently shown himself to be petty and spiteful, maybe it’s payback for Trump’s birther-issue stuff even more than trying to protect his legacy, a legacy only he thinks, like that naked emperor, is a good one.
The more the Democrats hold to the moral high ground they assume they possess, the more lowdown they become and are seen to be. As election deniers and disruptors, the more they deny, the greater the chance they lose more and more of their support base and their power, precisely what they most fear.
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By Peter Weiss
Originally posted in January 2017
Ask a Jew in Nazi occupied territory before and during WWII about Nazis. Ask him/her about the ghetto. Ask if they could have ripped off the Star of David they were forced to wear and freely walked out of the gates to go move someplace else.
Then, let’s talk about Nazi comparisons and Hitler comparisons to President-Elect Trump. Rational minds do not even entertain such ridiculousness. Irrational and politically-oriented minds post such comparisons on social media to incite the unthinking lambs who think they are cute and then re-post the idiocy. The media people eager to make a story or further their careers and/or their political ideology exploit the posts on the airwaves and in the newspapers by making them into stories. This is not normal. In fact, it’s as abnormal as a man saying he feels like a woman on any given morning and so he’s considered a woman and allowed to use the women’s bathroom.
Rational minds know better. Rational minds know that if people could be classified according to their feelings on any given day, then every April 15th the fifty-one percent of the American people who pay taxes would say they feel poor and would be classified as poor so as to get money back instead of having to pay.
Rational people know that what the blacks in America refer to as the ghetto is not really a ghetto. It may have some similarities, but even that’s a little stretch. It’s hyperbole and nothing more, a rhetorical device they use to keep themselves where they are.
And so we come to the leftist rhetoric and the destructive Democratic rhetoric specifically designed to denigrate and de-legitimize President-Elect Donald Trump. But in this case, at this time, it works simultaneously to serve another equally destructive purpose. It organizes and further enslaves those minorities who still believe that the Democrats have their backs. Yes. Those lambs are enslaved by the Democrats who are without doubt paying the bill for Fascist/Nazi/Hitler rhetoric aimed at blocking the Republicans from doing what the American people elected them to do. Not only did the American people elect them, but in doing so they rejected the despicable Dems who labeled more than half the American people as deplorable and irredeemable. Those are the same despicable Dems who cannot accept their loss and who still believe that only their vision for America is the vision. Or, like the chief despicable Dem, the exiting the White House one, that belief, that only their way is the right way, is the irrational cry of extreme egotists.
Look at what their more than half a century’s control over our inner cities has wrought. Then it is clear how truly delusional their proclamations are, especially the ones coming from their leaders about how only they care for the little people. Just look at what their care has done.
The Hillary Clinton team’s billionaire patrons paid for the Nazi/Hitler/Fascist rhetoric that the Clinton campaign leaders laid on Trump through the biased media because they thought it would make her a winner. Along with Obama and the narcissist leftists, they have perpetrated the narrative to scare their troops into thug behavior in the name of righteousness. It stinks to high heaven.
Anyone with any common sense can see what is going on. The leftists think if they can say it enough, people will believe that Trump is Hitler reincarnated. Such comparisons insult any person who fought the fascists in the second world war. Furthermore, they insult every Jew alive and especially those who are Survivors or relatives of Survivors.
Leftist scare tactics only incite fear and chaos. The lefties know this and are purposeful about it. But such tactics only make the right-wing more popular and accepted because the tactics are so underhanded and evil in and of themselves.
Bill popped a black beauty on his way back to the meat room. Henry Lee had the grinder set up and was already feeding the meat scraps in. Bill took himself some bourbon and went about getting the wax paper squares they set the burgers in and the bleu cheese wheel they would use for the bleus. By the time he had everything in place, including the trays to place the burgers and bleus on, Henry Lee had almost finished the grinding.
“Alvin called. They gonna need meat early. So he’s on his way.”
“We have enough for here,” said Bill.
“Yeah, we good. They just gonna have to make two trips today.”
“Freda must be busy over there.”
“Yeah. She called too. She said she was gonna try and come by for the second trip. She said she wanted to see Mary about some shit for next week.”
“State’s out of town next week. We’ll have time to catch up.”
“I don’t care. Long as I’m getting paid, I’ll work long as I have to.”
“Me too.”
Done grinding the meat, Henry Lee broke down the machine and brought the parts over to the sink. Bill helped him and when they’d cleaned their space, they started making the burgers. Henry Lee rolled the meat into balls, dropped the balls on the scale, set them on the wax paper squares Bill laid out. Bill covered them with another square and pressed them down into hamburgers. Working this way, they knocked off a cool hundred in a short period of time. They were familiar with the routine and practiced at it.
Then came the bleus. Bill hated these. The routine was similar except they were formed into ovals then a thumb hole was gouged in them and filled with bleu cheese which Bill picked off the wheel with his fingers. Bill hated the cheese. He hated its feel and its smell. He hated everything about them. Regardless, he made them and he made them pretty.
The bleus would only be one of the things Bill would hate throughout his career. He would come to hate curry, not because he didn’t like it, but because he had to make fifteen gallons of it a week at one of the hotels in which he worked. He could never get the smell out of his nose. He hated liver, hated having to cook it, hated its smell, hated having to taste it. And he hated sweetbreads. He had to cook them, hated tasting them as well.
But you did what you had to do to make your paycheck. You took the good with the bad and the easiest way to accept certain things was to get high and forget about them as much as you could.
There was no time to fool around this day. They finished the burgers, bleus and chopped steaks as quickly as they could and soon as they were done, Henry Lee went back to cutting meat while Bill carted the meat trays for the lunch service upstairs. On his first trip, he checked in with Mary who was busy with the chickens for Bea. The chickens were cooked, boiled, and Mary was scooping them out of the stock pot onto a kitchen tray. Bill made a quick mental note of where she was at then went back down to finish carrying up the meat.
Bill made sure he had plenty of frozen items, the French fries, onion rings, fried shrimp and pickerel, more than plenty actually, actually as much as he could physically fit into the reach-ins. He did this because he figured whatever they didn’t use at lunch was less that he had to bring up for dinner.
One thing after the next after the next, and once he was sure Mary was pretty much set, he went back down to cut more meat.
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Books by Peter Weiss.
Youth Turn
Copyright © 1996; 2018 by Peter Weiss
All rights reserved.
This is a work of fiction. The names, characters, places and incidents are products of the writer’s imagination or have been used fictitiously and are not to be construed as real. Any resemblance to persons, living or dead, actual events, locales or organizations is entirely coincidental.
“You got yours. What you get now is silence. Long as you pay. Otherwise you can kiss your job and your wife good-bye. And you might as well kiss off your life too, cause when I’m finished talking to everyone, they’ll be interviewing your students one by one, boys and girls.
“A thousand dollars to start. Tomorrow. Here. Same time.”
“Melina,” Kagel said, but before the words came out, she was out of the car and trucking down the street.
Kagel sat dumbfounded. First he thought to kill her, but he could never do a thing like that. Next he thought to kill himself. It wasn’t the money—he had the money. But shame, fear and guilt took over. His life—he would have to pay and keep paying. He folded his head into his hands and he wept. How frail is the human condition.
The first police on the scene were two uniforms. They pulled up and with hands on guns went over into the embankment. The body lay limp, a pool of blood by the head. It was a clear-cut suicide, they decided.
Back at the patrol car they radioed for an ambulance, a supervisor and a forensic team. One officer interviewed people in the cars and the other, wearing latex gloves, reached through the open door into Kagel’s car. He found a school bag in the back and nothing else. In front, on the passenger seat, was a white envelope. He picked it up, careful to remember how it was sitting, and looked inside. Cash. His instinct was to return it to its place, but then, he reasoned, who would know? Cash? A plain envelope? Payoff money. But this guy was regular and just did himself in. He tucked the envelope into his pants pocket.
More patrol cars arrived, and the ambulance too, and these strangers began cleaning up the remains of Joel Kagel. In a bar after their tour, they would joke about the way the body looked, and, in a more serious tone, they would talk about the sadness of suicide. Latex gloves paid the tab.
Melina rolled her skirt at the waist and opened the top two buttons of her blouse. She took the lipstick from her school bag and with several deft strokes left a slick, smooth coat of red on her lips. She pressed her lips together, tossed the lipstick back in her bag and waited for the bus.
She wanted new lipsticks and new clothes and new roller blades. Virginia wanted things too. Maybe Sunday morning while her parents were at church, she and Virginia would do each other. Life is good, she thought.
