"Even educated fleas do it"

Dear NPR,

I never thought I'd be writing a letter to your Forum, er, um... I mean “All Things Considered” about a recent “driveway moment”.
After a day at the shore my date and I made the hour long commute back to her home. Our first date, we had agreed that a day at the beach would allow us an opportunity to explore our mutual interests and learn more about one another. The weather cooperated just as had been forecast. Just the right mix of sun and clouds kept the air temperature in the high seventies. When the sun was too strong we simply ran into the surf and swam until the periodic billowy clouds provided shade and cooled down the sand. We had a wonderful picnic lunch and fresh lemonade.
I can only speak for myself but I didn't want this date to end too soon because it was all so perfect. My date looked adorable with her slightly pinkish tinge. Her hair a bit disheveled, I watched as she brushed out the tangles. I knew as we walked to the car I could easily fall hard for her. 

   The leisurely drive back with afternoon NPR broadcasts allowed my date and I to discuss current events and topical cultural features you folks so lovingly prepare each and every day. As I turned onto her street a most fascinating piece began.
   One of your reporters was speaking to Isabella Rossellini about a project she is involved with. We learned Ms. Rossellini is the narrator of a television program about the love lives of insects and other creatures. Her sultry Anglo-Mediterranean voice described in great detail how insects and other creatures procreate. My date and I listened in fascination as she vividly described acts that can only be termed “erotic”.
I became aware that my breathing had become a bit shallower. I had become aroused not just by my date sitting next to me, the natural perfume of the beach and sun and surf in her hair and on her skin, but by Ms. Rossellini’s narrative. I sat there in the car wondering if my date was feeling the way I was. As the piece ended and a promo for an upcoming pledge drive came on I made my move. I slowly and deliberately reached across the console and around the stick shift and placed my hand on the inside of her thigh. I turned to look at her to see what reaction I would receive when she reached out with her left hand and cupped it behind my head and drew my face towards hers.    Our mouths met and we kissed gently. We broke apart but kept our gaze. Again we kissed one another but this time with more ardor. She took my hand and placed it on her breast. I slipped it inside her pale blue sleeveless blouse and with my index finger traced her aureole several times before finding and gently pinching her erect nipple. To my surprise my date reached over and with a deftness so defining unzipped my fly. I popped out like a spring in a Looney Tunes featurette. I moved from my date's mouth to her neck as she massaged the crown of my penis. We sighed at the same time with the realization that we had passed the point of no return.
I reached inside her Capri pants and to my delight found her well lubricated. With my finger on her button I swirled my middle digit and she writhed and twisted in her seat. We massaged one another to climax in the minutes that followed.
I needed to share with you our “driveway moment”. Thank you, NPR. Thank you, Ms. Rossellini. We are making a joint donation to our local affiliate. We have discussed since that moment our future together. We jokingly talk about naming any issue of our love for one another after one of you.

Names withheld by request

For Carrie Fisher with deep appreciation and abiding empathy

A desert place between the seas
In a valley watered from the south.
The air the texture of a Van Gogh canvas.
The canyon hills again on fire:
A land of make believe.

There floats a mind unsettled,
a spirit unharnessed, roaming pensive
From a trauma often spoken.
An endless struggle of creativity and apathy.

High mood/low mood fades to black
What Pole today will she tread?
Leap out of or stay in bed;
Attempting to be brave through sometimes overwhelming dread.

In my eyes I see a woman of substance.
With my ears I hear a woman speak of strength.
In my mind my touch can feel her power;
Bitter-sweet the taste of her lips.

Erudite and exclusive is not her essence.
Earthy, she walks alone among the stars.
Never struggling to be who she is -
Steeling the courage to be her all.

The daffodils of Spring returned in Victorian tradition.
The Summer's roses complete with thorns.
Mum was the word for Autumn's proposal.
Winter's holly berries so pretty yet fatal.

The bloom is off the Flower Children yet she remains everlasting.

"Damn it, Jim! I'm a doctor not an escalator!"

   With the passing of the Labour Day weekend the Summer party season has come to an end. I mourn the end of the season of gathering with family and friends outdoors and am not looking forward to the approaching Winter weather. We do have the holidays to look forward to however. 

   Each year our scattered family gathers at Christmas and gets re-acquainted. We usually begin by emotionally and psychologically abusing one another and then move on and have pie. I love tradition.     This past Summer season I attended one outdoor party that had not one but two bonfires. One campfire was for the tobacco users who shared stories and anecdotes about not being able to smoke anywhere but their cars (with the windows rolled up of course). The second bonfire was exclusively for the non-tobacco users. The conversation around this campfire centered around saving the planet and how the tobacco users were polluting the air others use. The wisps of smoke swirled around the non-users and they breathed in the visable vapours of the burning wood. Complaints about the tobacco user's could be heard as tobacco smoke wafted in their direction. 

   With tobacco use on the sharp decline the Health industry is now focusing on over-weight persons. Americans always need to find a group to focus their anger on. Our leaders have created wars on poverty, racism, drugs, tobacco, and now obesity. Along with a war against the Muslim peoples, the Department of Offense along with the Surgeon General are particularly interested in fat, tobacco using Muslims who might be plotting a terrorist act. Citizens are reminded if you see such a person take a photo of them using your mobile and contact authorities. 

   Since the 1970's Americans have become more aware of environmental issues. Socially conscious individuals are all doing their part to save the planet. People are drinking bottled water because they feel the water from their taps is unsafe. Of course the bottled water they purchase came from a tap from somewhere. And that plastic bottle they are drinking from is a petroleum product and will end up in a landfill with a half-life of forever. The personal computers and mobiles environmentally conscious persons are using to send around emails reminding one another to be conscious of recycling their rubbish also ends up in landfills where the heavy metals used in their construction leach into the water supply. People are eating more "organic foods" these days. If anything contains carbon, hydrogen, oxygen, and nitrogen it is organic. The idea that pesticide laden foods in the shops and markets are going to shorten a human beings life is unfounded. "Organic foods" are a marketing ploy. No agribusiness person (farmers) uses more herbicides or pesticides than necessary. They are extremely expensive and if you know farmers you know what a cheap bunch of bastards they are. The cost of commercial fertilizers made from petroleum is on the rise. Food prices are soaring. This is all part of the conspiracy to make overweight people thin. A mate of mine restores 17th century paintings. It is painstakingly slow work. Her approach to her work is, "If it ain't Baroque, don't fix it".