Free Sex

 Note: Sex isn't sacred; it's thrown around so freely nowadays that I feel like canceling my Hustler Magazine subscription, throw out my  adult video collection.

As a world-renowned paleontologist and Advice Guru I am inundated with sex stories, compulsions, obsessions.... the list goes on and on... In part, because of this, I am compelled to share a few of my own thoughts on the matter. I hope that you keep an open mind. I know that I do, you slut! Just kidding.

"I'm on fricking cloud nine, man and it feels better than having sex with my Anna Nickel Smith&Wesson Blow-Up doll. It does, oh it really does. . .Nah, what the hell am I thinking? Nothing is better than that. Just kidding, I'm not that weird.

Folks, I love sex the old fashioned way! In the bedroom. With mirrors on the ceiling and a shag rug on the side. And lots of foreplay. Well enough of my sexual proclivities.

Sex is sacred, well, that's the way it's supposed to be. But all that changed when some guy with a Hoover went door-to-door exciting bored housewives with his Show-and-tell act. And then some geek with a toupee and a few hand-me-downs got the bright idea of promoting free sex at the circus. And it was all downhill from there. Now we have mini-cameras posted at every crotch in Hootersville and places beyond. Anyway, I'd like to change the subject and I know you people would hate me doing that, now wouldn't you?

Well folks, I just got back from the Pre-Democratic National Convention in Honolulu and let me tell you all, they got the best baked beans in the entire world. Oh, and a nice harbor too. I heard that a bunch of  people threw buckets of tea into the harbor because they were protesting against taxis or was it Texas?  Can't keep up with the politics, I got more important matters to tend to. Like getting head in the back seat of my therapist's sedan. Just kidding. Actually, I prefer my sedan.

Oh, I just landed a movie deal. With PairImount Pictures. It's about the life and times of John Holmes. I am going to play his stunt double. Can't wait!

In the news today. . . let me see . . .  another Senator caught with his pants down . .. I can't stop laughing. You'd laugh too if you saw the bill he was trying to pass - a three dollar bill! And you know what they say about three dollar bills, don't you?  Good, now tell me!

Ok, now that I got that off my chest, let me tell you how I really feel about sex. I wrote this not so long ago: "Sex may perpetuate the species but it is love that perpetuates the soul."

By Rick J. Fico aka Dan (The Man) Landers

The Life of the Facebookian and the Twitterer

It amazes me, really does. I'm smitten. I sit here day after day reading various posts from other bloggers, Twitterers and Facebookians and I'm like in the twilight zone or something. I have to pull at myself just to bring myself back to earth.

You know, I had visited many a library in my time, from the river's edge of the Arno to the Little House of Books on the Thames and had read various authors, well-known authors and let me tell you, I had wasted my time. I could've stayed home and logged on to Facebook or Twitter instead. Instead of Dickens we have, well, who do we have here? There are a few Facebookians and Twitterers who come to mind. Well, excuse my ignorance or my feeble mindedness but the names of these bloggers are eluding me right now. In time, though, just like always--my memory will return to its acuity and I will celebrate--first by unearthing the bag full of lira I had buried years ago-- saved for a rainy day. And then I will don my sombrero and do the polka with my parakeet. I love the rites of celebration, really do.

I'm a busy man, so busy in fact, that I have a hard time keeping up with the comings and goings around here. If only I had more time. Maybe you guys can wire me with an update or something. I'd really appreciate it. Some of you, I know this, have much more time than I do. I know that one gal, Bloggy Blue Butt sure does. Geez, how does she do it? She must be glued to her blogging chair, I tell ya. And there are a few others, but I don't know if I should mention them by name, I may get sued or something. I'd hate that. The last time I got sued I had to fork over my T-bone. The steaks were high, what can I say.

I wish I had more time to involve myself in one of the famous cliques that we have here on the Facebook or the Twitter. But most times I can't get a word in edgewise. I often have to sneak it in. It's like I'm on the outside looking in. The story of my life, I tell you.

Okay, I have shared with you a piece of my mind, a very, very small piece. I had it measured and it measures in at .000000143 of the totality. Hey, at least it's better than nothing.

As most of you already know, I'm multifaceted. That's right, I'm a man with various dimensions. Now, ladies. . . let's not get carried away here. No innuendos. Just kidding. Oh, I am suddenly reminded  of that time when I was carried away.

I was at one of those all- you- can -eat Swedish Smorgasbords and took full advantage of its offerings. One thing I didn't understand though was that big sign over the buffet line. It read: "Absolutely No Carry Outs." Well, excuse me for going against policy but let's see you eat 12 pork chops, three pizzas, a pot of Swedish potato stew and a Swedish meatball and see if you're not carried out. After that incident, a change of policy was instituted which in turn, instigated a change of sign. The little painter guy with the purple mohawk and pencil-thin mustache reconfigured the sign which now read: "Eat it and Beat It. And don't let the door hit you on the ass on the way out."  Not wanting to go against policy again, with a new sense of invention and a sudden bout of creativity I obliged, thank you. I crawled right out that door backwards. And who said I'm not a genius? If it was you I'd kick. . . kick your soccer ball and scream.

Oh, and because I am such a genius I was rushed to the hospital after that incident. A concussion. That was one frickin' door, let me tell ya. I think it was made of solid iron and its retraction spring was set way too high. Hey, I ain't no spring chicken.

Thanks for listening,

Ricky J. Fico XXIV

Sure, I'm Self-Centered!

Some people think I am a real A-Hole just because I'm a genius and extremely handsome with huge muscles and a dark tan. They think I'm a conceited jerk but I'm far from conceited. I'm one of the most modest persons you would ever meet if you ever get the good fortune to meet me. If you ever were so lucky to meet me, you'd be surprised to see how down to earth I really am. After you bow and kiss my feet, you'd see that I'm no different than you. Although everybody is wanting of my attention, I'd be sure to give you my full attention as I sign my autograph for you so that you'd have something to frame when you get back home. . .

Okay, now that I cleared up that unfortunate misunderstanding, let me tell you a little about myself - here I go: "I am Great!"  I really mean it! I am great at a lot of things - like giving huge tips to hard-working waiters and waitresses; I'm great at opening doors for people, especially the elderly; I'm great at helping others when I see that they are over-burdened; I'm great at helping others understand that life could be so wonderful and not as dismal as one may think -that is part of the reason why I became a world-renowned advice guru. To offer my services to those who could use a little boost.



I'm great at being myself, oh yes I am . . . And if you still think I'm an A-hole be sure you don't leave a tip on any of my tables - especially the one with your last supper.


Ricky J. Fico

Gimme Money

Don't Judge Me By The Size of My....

Well, judge for yourselves and fill in the blanks, you scientific geniuses out there. . ..

I don't like judges who try to judge me on the color of my polyesters and my "I love Momma" tattoos.

As I had dictated to my stenographer the last time in court, "I hate fricking judges who think they're members of the Cabinet or worse yet, God incarnate." 

Just because I was ticketed for doing five mph in a 65mph zone, doesn't mean hizzoner should take it upon himself and fine me three dollars for every mile I drove under the minimum. 

Hizzoner assessed me a fine of $255.00 which, by the way, does not equate to three dollars a mile. I told the judge, "I think you made an error in your calculations." 

He decided that I was in contempt of his court and threw the book at me. Not only was it a poorly written book and had been banned in sixty-six countries including England, its corners were sharp and jagged and made my head bleed. I should sue but I'm afraid if I do, I'd end up in the same court with the same judge and then what, hire a librarian to represent me?

Really, I believe to an extent the judicial system and try to abide by it's rules and laws and protocol but sometimes, some of the shit is absolutely ridiculous. I had been told before I was old enough to wear diapers, "Ricky Boy, you'd make a great lawyer."

"You know what, Miss Babysitter; I think you're right! But, if you'd first stop bouncing me atop your lap as if I were a rag doll, I'd tell you a story. It's about the life of Abe Lincoln, a poor farmer boy who grew up to be a lawyer and then became President and did a few good things like help free the slaves after hanging out his shingle at his new address - I think it was The Gettysburg Address."



By Rick J. Fico

It Was Einstein After All!

(Warning: Contains Satire & Reality-Driven Time  Travel)

Is My World Really That Different Than Yours?

Really, though, it's probably not much different from your world. Although your world had sustained a different beginning than mine, I'm willing to bet that my world will probably end the same way as yours. In my time, I had tried to keep to my philosophy of never letting our world's collide. It could result in disaster. I've seen it happen before and it's not pretty.

My world may be in a different orbit than yours but pretty much, the same laws of physics applies to my world as it does yours. You may remember Newton as much as I remember Euclid. And Albert Einstein.What about him? Yes, he was a visionary. No, he wasn't God. Nor were the Beatles. Talented, yes. Did they move the masses in ways not done before? Yes and no. Did you ever move masses. I did. Me and the crew. We put the church atop the flat bed and drove it to the other side of town where it looks real pretty with the big blue mountain as a backdrop. Driven by Inspiration

The Big Bang. Ask Stephen Hawkins about that one. This man, too, a visionary. Not so much the future but he has a good eye for the past. Influenced by Einstein, pressed into service by Inspiration.

Thomas Edison, he was another one. What did he say? He said, "Genius is one percent inspiration and ninety nine percent perspiration." I sent him a case of Right Guard. Good job, Eddie!

***

Oh, If memory serves me right, it was sometime after the war when our front porch became refuge for a few of society's outcasts--members of the down-trodden and misguided; it was place where we'd convene on a hot summer night, discuss not the misfortune that fell upon us in a destined way but of the possibilities.

Sure, we may have smoked some hemp, downed a few jugs of wine and on some of the crazier nights, when ghouls went to bed with saints, we'd pop tabs of acid, just to see what the universe was really supposed to look like.

We were the children of tomorrow, unprivileged yet proud, impoverished but determined. Mike, with his long straight hair and moustache hovering above his carefully cultivated beard, resembled Jesus, especially when we dallied down the street to the Saint Peters church and he jumped on the pedestal in front of the real Jesus. Silhouetted in floodlight, we begged his forgiveness and tossed him another joint to fire up. Oh, and his little brother Jack, a throwback from the days when a boy would take his pole down to the crick and pray to Lord Jesus, that he'd catch something other than crabs . . .

***

As far as claiming myself a genius, I didn't... it was actually Albert Einstein who did. You see, we were sitting at a cafe on the River Thames, discussing extremely important issues -- those which are of paramount significance to the high-falutin, paparazzi-driven acolytes of mammary implants and the latest brand of lip gloss(talk about lip service).

 After guzzling a few buckets of espresso and munching on salvers of Crumpets we delved into the rhetorical side of existentialism and other ethereal isms concerning the plight of our genus, when I just about floored Albert with one of my  observations. The way he looked, it seemed as though he just stuck his fingers in an electrical socket... He got up so quick he reminded me of the Energizer Bunny sporting a reinvigorated libido... he ran over to his Volkswagen car to retrieve his legal pad. He began scribbling furiously all types of funny looking equations while mumbling, this kid's a genius and just then, the waiter came over and plopped the check down upon the table, breaking Ol' Einey's train of thought. 

Shlock and Sloe

Not so long ago I was a hard partying Rock N'Roller who sang a lotta Led Zeppelin. But sometimes I was so drunk that I messed up the lyrics as evidenced from the recordings I recently uncovered. I am embarrassed to put the original recording out here but here are the exact lyrics that I sang!

Shlock and Sloe

(while gravitating to Roll N' Roll by Led Zeppelin)

 It’s been a long time since I saw Larry and Moe
….a long time since I stubbed my toe
Apparently, in a coma, oh I really don’t know
… I’ve a hairy back, a hairy back…
and my hair is black, baby, where did you come from?
I need a drink of wine . . . a drink of wine
Cuz I’m sad

It’s been a long time since I lost my glove
My hand is cold, neither can push or shove
Give me some slack, hand me a jack
and a warm bottle of rum
It’s been a long climb, just about outta rhyme
Give me a drink of whiskey and lime

 My seams are long, my pants, oh they are so tight
Ready for chow, it really seems so right
Play with my charms, oh my wonderful charms.
Oh baby, hand me your glove and pray for sin
It’s been a long time, a long climb
Been a wrong, and a pony-less, moaning-infested rhyme.

Ricky J. Fico

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