Arthur Kay by Arthur Kay

The Price of Fame by Arthur Kay

He's been buried by obscurity
So no one knows his name.
For years he managed easily
To dodge this thing called fame.

Then one day, to his surprise
His name was all the rave.
And any soul with two good eyes
Can read it on his grave.

Here lies George de Mestral 1907-1990

While walking in the woods one day
He saw the cocklebur.
It truly had a funny way
To cling to clothes and fur.

His microscope revealed the fact
Upon that fateful morn.
That hooks and loops can interract
And Velcro had been born!

I'm 65, of average height (5' 9") and weight (165). Brown hair, brown eyes. While I'm no Tag Bonewell, alas, I'm not quite chopped liver, either. Whoopee!

I've been writing sexy tales about a year now, and I don't know the fuck why---it certainly ain't the money!---and, for sure, it ain't the praise from a loyal fan base---less than 1% of all readers even bother to take the time to send feedback---and, at my age, I don't give a fucking rat's tit for fame or fortune. That's a younger man's game.

Many years ago---forty?---I dumped my ego in the trash. So, I don't write to get it stroked. Not that you give a shit, but I got rid of my ego because of backgammon!

I was supplementing my meager income---at the time---by hustling guys out of their hard earned money. All it took was a little study of the game---strategy,etc.---to be better than some--- the fish, so to speak.

I realized, early on, that you didn't have to be the best BG player, you only had to be better than a fish---if you wantted to make cash, that is. There was no percentage in playing better players---or even equals---you could lose your frigging money! That was considered stupid. So, you sought out a fish---and cleaned it!

While I made nice cash in this manner, which helped me over some rough times, I really didn't like the whole sordid hustling aspect of it---it didn't sit too well with my general psyche makeup. Thus, in the middle of my heyday, I analyzed it all and came to the conclusion that being competitive wasn't for me. So, I gave up hustling BG.

At the time, I had read two books, one by Thomas A. Harris, MD called "I'm OK, You're OK!" and another called "Games People Play!" by Eric Berne, MD. Their main theme was based on TA (Transactional Analysis), which simply means the why's and wherefore's of human interacting---or intercourse.

I started to see the salient points in the books popping up all over in my everyday life, from the bullshit some guy was spouting at the end of the bar, to some upset woman in line ahead of me at the Macy's complaint and returns desk.

Once I learned how to listen, really listen, using my Parent, Adult, and Child, the whole world changed for me! As the song said, I could see clearly now.

People, it was obvious to me, talked to each other from their own mental base---of that particular moment---as either a rule-making, iron-ass, no-no Parent, a Gimmee-gimmee-I- Want-It-Now! Child, or, very rarely, as an Adult, with all the logical aspects that being an adult connotes.

A person, who's Parent was uppermost---at the moment--- would say, "Yeah, fine, but you should NEVER do that!" Or some such. Those folks with their Child in temporary command of the helm, wore lampshades on their heads at parties, and pissed in the fishbowl---or passed out stoned on the lawn. When this type asks for advice, ha ha, they don't really want it---they just want to run their bullshit by you.

You know the type, right after you've given the best advice you can come up with, they always say, "Yeah, that would work for you, but (always listen for the 'but!') I can't . . . blah, blah, blah."

Ring a bell? Sure it does. You either know one, or you are one!

The Adult users never did that crap! They just enjoyed life, without carping or doing cartwheels. Hence, goodbye ego!

I didn't have to win to win---sometimes you can win by losing---
if you really played the game of life for the fun of it, and not the competitive sport most people think it is. Or has to be.

The Adult users know when to be childlike or parental. And, more importantly, when not to be either. In essence, their Parent, Adult, and Child are well-balanced, which, while not easy to do, is attainable---most times.

To string this along a bit farther, it should be noted that anyone with their personality stuck in Child---all the time---can be way beyond neurotic, they can be downright psychotic! Serial killers and rapists come to mind. Their Child is of the rebellious type, and they see no need to obey authority, which they consider to be of the rotten-assed Parent nature.

We've all known the one's perpetually stuck in Parent! They tell everyone how to live, what to say, what to do, even what to think and what one should believe in. At their very worst, they can become the Hitlers and white supremacists of the world---the leadership, that is, and not the sheep. Those sheep fools have a very weak Parent, Child, and Adult---they prefer the path of the least resistance. "Tell me who to kill, boss, and I'll kill 'em for ya!"

Last, but not least, are those stuck in Adult all the time. You've met them, these logicians, at one time or another. They're not much fun to be around. Everything is serious to them. And everyone around them is inferior. Especially you.

They have no patience, or tolerance, of what they consider to be the dopes in their midst. And everyone is a dope to them. Fun? They have no time for such nonsense. The world needs figuring out, for Christ's sake! Can't anyone see that, but them? Sheesh!

These types are the control freaks of the world, and of far too many marriages, it's sad to say. "Margaret, how many times must I tell you, my socks get folded this way, not that way! And, damn it, can't you do anything right? Even a simpleton knows that egg starts with an E, and therefore they go on the second shelf in the fridge! Sheesh!" Sound familiar?

Even nations, countries, and ideologies can get caught up in the Parent, Adult, and Child syndrome. Muslim extremists don't just want to tell us what to do, they want to take Parent to the nth degree by killing the baby and getting it off the planet. And the Child in them is so unreasonable, so demanding, they cannot be negotiated with. Leaving us with the only recourse of kill them before they kill us. And we will.

Further, being an Adult, in their narrow way of thinking, is being anything we're not! And putting the planet back the way it was thousands of years ago, before we came along and fucked it all up. This is their logic: We must go!

It's as simple as that.

You will never hear anyone say---ever!---"Hey, Osama, have you read the latest priurient piece by Arthur Kay? Man, it's a
hot one! How's about I e-Mail it to you?"

Ha ha ha! Yeah, and cute little pigs will sprout feathers in preparation for leaving the nest on their first solo flight.

Wisdom is not, I firmly believe, something we're born with, like talent. It has to be learned. And there's the friggin' rub! There are no classes to take that teach one how to be wise. And no wizened, old wise ones to show you the ropes that lead to wisdomhood. In fact, and it's sad to say, there are very few truly wise people in the world today. Except you and me, of course.

But I'll tell you, Charlie Brown, a great place to start is with those two TA books I mentioned! For, really now, what else is there in the world more important than human interactions? Let's face it---it is the world! That, and nature. And nature doesn't give two shits about it all, which is as it should be.

But watch it! TA can be abused and used for power and control over people. Once you know where a person is really coming from, it's easy to play into his or her game of the moment---and take unfair advantage of them. Some airlines use it to handle upset passengers.

Upset passenger: "What's wrong with you people? You've lost my luggage . . . again! Can't you people do anything right?" If that doesn't sound a tad Parental, what does?

Airline worker: "You're right! And I'll let you in on a little secret. I'm tired of all the screwups, too. I keep telling them to change their methods, but do they ever listen to me? Know what I mean?" See the shit going down? The airline worker, knowing the complainer is coming from the Parent, uses this fact by acting as an ally, rather than as a foe. Commiseration time.

The griper, having now found a sympathetic ear, feels that yelling at this person would be just plain old cruel. Situation defused. Everyone's happy.

TA used for good, not evil. But, let's face it, someone has been manipulated, even though, in this case, it's harmless.

Of course, TA has come a long way in the past 30 years, so if you're interested in the latest poop, do some research. But, these two books should be, I firmly believe, your "foundational" reading. And they're both easy reading. No psychobabble.

These two books, I promise, will put more magic into your life than any of the pseudo-arts, such as witchcraft.

Witchcraft!

Talk about the Child coming to the fore and believing in fairy tales, while, ho ho, rebelling against a Parenl-like society.

"Look at me! I can cast spells that make magic happen---shit, I---er, we---our sweet little coven, that is, once cured a woman of cancer---and you can't do that!" Yeah, and science and medicine had nothing to do with it, either. Hogwash, dear old Murgatroyde.

Hell, if witchcraft worked, other than giving one a nice feeling inside from the self-delusional idea that one is really, ha ha, communing and becoming one with Nature, a force beyond our control, or comprehension, I'd start a freaking coven! Right in my living room.

More than one practicing witch has accused me of having "a closed mind" by not being able to see the truth, their brand of it. Well, someone is not seeing "the truth" when they believe something works when it doesn't, and never has and never will. Ask Aleister Crowley. I touch on this madman, and his warped views of the world, in my little yarn called, "Chance Gim's Black Arts Magick Plan!"

These same accusatory witches would be easily manipulated by me with the use of TA---placate and make nice-nice!---but I choose not to. For witches, even the so-called good ones, bore the hell ouf of me! With their pseudo-magical nonsense and their idiotic black candles, that cost ten times more than a regular black candle does simply because it doesn't have the magic! Just go an price their incense!

My ass! Spare me, Horatio. These witches are worse than the Mensans! Mensans! Don't get me started.

Many of the teens of today, in their never ending quest for uniqueness and individuality, have glommed onto "the craft," as if it's some kind of salvation. And, lo and behold, Harry Potter is doing his part in fostering the myths---in minds far too young for real cognitive reasoning.

However, kids have always loved fairy tales, and if all Harry ends up being is one of those, well, who am I to complain?

"You're welcome here, Harry, to stay and entertain me, but I hope you know when it's time to go!" Amen and bless you, Potter, for at least you've got zillions of kids reading their little arses off, and, with each book getting thicker and thicker---the last at 870 pages!---that's no easy feat!

"Kudos, young man, now get the fuck out of here."

Anyway . . .

Because most of my stories revolve around various sexual situations, with humor liberally tossed in, here's my take on the many categories available for sexual experiences, or experiments. Your pick. Now, you may agree or disagree with my opinions, but as Tim Conway used to say, "It don't matter!"

I'll start you off on this long journey with the only picture I have of my most precious and dearest friend, who, it turns out, is just as old as I am!

HETERO SEX: Love it! See my true story, "Susie Cream Cheese: E-Z to Spread!" Sue loved it, too.

GAY SEX: Love it! See my true story, "Duke's Sex Slave!" While I see absolutely nothing wrong with being homosexual, I'm just not one. A gay guy once told me the definition of being gay: "If you love making love to a man, you're bi-sexual. If you love the man you're making love to, you're gay."

See? I just can't find it in my makeup to love a man. If I could have, I don't think I would have married five women. Then again, maybe the right man just hasn't come along . . .

ANAL SEX: It's fantastic, giving and getting. As I always say, "The most overrated thing in the world is fucking, the most underrated, crapping." See my "Jane/Joe's Prison Ordeal!"

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