Dear Internet: It has been too long since I have filled these electronic pages with stirring words! Too long has my typing pen lain dry! My esteemed friend S.A. Bean will no longer be burdened with commandeering this ship made of unwieldy internet timbers! Yet since my gentleman partner has so ably manned our ‘netquarters I feel hesitant to disrupt such a fine collection of his musings.
But disrupt I must. The topic of sin was raised, and I thus feel compelled to spew forth a complementary narrative of recent meanderings. The evening in question begins with the drink. This story excites by having the twist right in the very beginning! But so distant from gentlemanly musicking, what else was I to do?
Forgiving reader, I was hardly myself. Must I be judged? Torn from my gentleman partner, and suffering from Florida’s lack of a bitter wintry season, the only solace sprang forth from the drink. That joyous alchoholocky waterfall that coursed through my gullet birthed a lengthy tour of some of the evils that can befall man — even a Gentleman. But, kind reader, it also showed me that perhaps there is no such thing as sin. The wondrous soul-warming that these so-called ‘evils’ brought forth must be real, and forsake it I shall not!
As the barkeep made his visits to my first perch, each icy beverage told me many things -some which I already knew and some which I did not. Sometimes it would whisper, and sometimes it would yell. The yelling made me drink faster. As I took leave of this delicious filling station, the drink suggested I explore the new Hard Rock Casino, on Seminole lands.
I made Godspeed to the casino, ready to do battle with the Redman and his rocks. Convenient ATM machines enabled me to take out all of my money. Convenient drink fetchers enabled my bets to be strong and mighty. I was ready to show that most native of Americans who indeed was native! I arrived at the table, and eight of their kind sat there silent as I gave them a collective, “Evening” salutation. The dealer, a seasoned young man of perhaps the ninth or tenth grade, had the beginnings of a small moustache sprouting from his upper lip, which distracted me at the outset. A gentlemen would most certainly shave that off! Regardless, I then proceeded to trample upon these under-dressed keepers of the Great Spirit, via Texas Hold ‘Em — which proved not to be the Injun’s strongest card game. I then asked the vanquished, “Who holds council now? I!” I!
—A brief bout of unconsciousness —
And awake! Conversing with the drink once more, a grand idea came to us, that of passing time in a ‘Gentlemen’s Club’ with our gambled winnings! Is there not a more perfect place for a Gentlemen? Needless to say, I was ecstatic. I looked forward to a gathering with others like myself, in suits, engaged in stimulating nighttime conversation.
Upon arriving, however, it was not what my sauced-up brain had imagined. There were no gentlemen here, whatsoever, and it was dark, with seizure-inducing lights and unreasonably loud music. As I turned around in disgust, angry at the drink and even angrier at myself, a beautiful young naked person stood before me. I stopped, as any Gentleman would, to prepare to greet the lady properly. “Why don’t you stay, and sit at a table?” she implored. I tipped my hat, and kindly obeyed.
I had no words. But I say now, with words: Thank you fair young naked person. So lovely and naked, your words just right — words which explained to me exactly what I was supposed to do. And do I did! I reclined, and more wonderful barely-clothed joy givers danced all around. I cursed my eyes for their having to make blinks. Of course, it gave me great pleasure to give my hard earned one dollar bills to these most incredible dancing things. Yet instead of in guitar cases, the money goes right onto their person! And so grateful they are to tippers! In addition, I learned that these ladies — much like a Gentleman — are generally disdainful of small change.
After leaving that sweet-smelling land, I thought long and hard about the evening’s adventures, and also of my growing nausea, which kept threatening to soil my fine outerwear. I became aware that the night’s triumphant activities may have changed the very meaning of the word sin — at least for this Gentleman. That evening, that word was replaced by a different word, a word that is not bad and does not make one feel guilty, like victory, or breast. Both are far from bad; both shall be sought again soon.