Short stories and essays by Shaun Costello, as well as excerpts from manuscripts in progress.

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THE ASHLEYFICATION OF SMUT

THE ASHLEYFICATION OF SMUT

by Shaun Costello

The actual “Deuce” way back when.

 

(Below is a link to a Village Voice story that describes how Ashley and April Spicer helped David Simon and George Pelecanos research their new cable TV Series, The Deuce.)

https://www.villagevoice.com/2017/09/12/how-the-deuce-recreated-the-naughty-bawdy-gaudy-world-of-old-times-square/

 

So, rather than researching the era with people who actually lived it, David Simon and George Pelecanos, the producers of the new Cable TV series, The Deuce, chose Ashley and April Spicer, neither of whom were born when all of this happened. Amazing. Now I understand why neither Simon nor Pelecanos responded to my offer to help. Ashley obviously told them not to. I stood up to Ashley’s Nazification, or is it Ashleyfication, of the history of the adult film world of the Sixties and Seventies. Ashley Spicer actually thinks he owns the rights to any people or events that he chronicles from those days. My publicly expressed disdain for Mr. and Mrs. Spicer has gotten me banished from the pages of their web site, a fate I relish. Mr. Spicer is an investment banker with a hobby – the yesteryear of smut. He has used and abused many in his efforts to become the Ayatollah of smut history.

Mr. Spicer has left many victims in his wake.

No matter how many people Mr. Spicer interviews, no matter how many pieces of archival material he collects, the fact remains that he wasn’t there. His connection to that era is second hand. He never lived it. He is a revisionist historian on a mission. I am amazed at how easily people can be fooled. The porn people he digs up are flattered by his interest and seduced by his persistence. He demands exclusivity from his discoveries, like a real estate broker with a fresh new listing. He has hoodwinked almost the entire population of an era, with his adorable British accent, and his attentive manner. And when he has milked his victims out of every ounce of information, farmed their memories, sometimes painful, until they have exhausted their use to him, he simply discards them, like yesterday’s news; with the understanding that he now owns the rights to their memories, in perpetuity. Mr. Spicer is a charming con man, who has left a long string of victims in his quest to become the curator of an era that has fascinated him since adolescence. And, I suppose, he has succeeded. When Simon and Pelecanos needed to research the smutified world of The Deuce, who better to call on, then the undisputed Nabobs of Seventies 42nd Street, Ashley and April Spicer. So Mr. Spicer’s dream has been realized. His expertise in sleaze is recognized by those who don’t, unfortunately, know any better. He sits atop his collected mountain of memorabilia like a Pasha with his harem. But the fact remains that all he has collected is hearsay. His encyclopedia of erotica is strictly second hand. He has no direct memory of any person or event he has so painstakingly chronicled. He speaks the words of those who lived them. Those words are not his own. He was never there.

Ashley and April Spicer, the Nabobs of smut history.

 

*

© 2017 Shaun Costello

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SHAUN’S SIRACUSA SAUCE

 

 

Shaun’s “SIRACUSA” Sauce

 

(Actual Italians marvel at it’s authenticity)

 

“ONLY THE SPECIAL ONES GET MY SAUCE!”

 

A long time ago Johnny Bonanno’s grandmother, Anna Maria Bonanno, an immigrant from the town of Siracusa, in Sicily, taught me to make this sauce. Over the years it hasn’t changed much. As much as I’ve tried, I just couldn’t improve it. Mrs. Bonanno insisted that each time I made this sauce, I should give a portion to someone special. She was a wise woman.

 

This product has been known to cure the following:

 

PHLEBITIS

MALE PATTERN BALDNESS

CHRONIC NAIL BITING

LACTOSE INTOLERANCE

SUBDURAL HEMATOMA

THE HEARTBREAK OF PSORIASIS

SHYNESS

SEXUAL DYSFUNCTION IN LABORATORY ANIMALS

&

FEAR OF TRUFFLES

 

Remember, tics and fire ants hate people who eat my sauce.

 

enjoy!

Always have some sauce in the fridge. You just never know.

 

 

THE RECIPE

 

Ingredients:

 

Four 28 ounce cans of Italian plum tomatoes. There are many brands available. Don’t fall for, “Wow, these California Marzano tomatoes are great.” They’re not. Product of Italy only.

One can Italian tomato paste.

Extra Virgin olive oil.

Six good sized cloves of garlic – minced. You can never have too much garlic.

Fresh basil. The pile of leaves on your cutting board should be about the size of a volleyball. You can never have too much basil. Chop into sensibly sized pieces, but not too small.

One good sized sweet onion – peeled, sliced, and the slices halved.

Freshly ground black pepper.

Kosher sea salt.

Crushed red pepper. More is better than less.

Red or white wine. More is better than less.

Granulated sugar. A small handful.

A good friend’s daughter once said to me, “Shaunie, sometimes a girl likes to sit down to a nice plate of macaroni.”

 

Preparation:

 

With the stove burner on medium, sprinkle some olive oil on the bottom of your pot. More is better than less.

Into the heated oil goes first the onion – cook until soft. Then the garlic. Don’t let it burn. (Maybe 45 seconds) Spinkle with sea salt and ground pepper. Now, in goes the tomato paste and a hand full of the chopped basil. Stir vigorously. This becomes the glue. The quality of the glue determines the quality of the sauce. Simmer for a minute or two, until it turns into heavenly red sludge. Now, in go the tomatoes. Crush them as they cook in the pot. I use a potato masher. Crush thoroughly, but not completely. You want some solidity to your sauce. Now, in goes the remainder of the basil. No, it’s not too much. You can never have enough basil. Now, sprinkle with crushed red pepper – you guessed it, more is better than less.

Now we reach a critical moment: In The Godfather, there is a scene in the Corleone kitchen where Clemenza is making sauce for a bunch of family soldiers. Michael gets a phone call from Kay, but refuses to say he loves her within earshot of the boys in the kitchen. Clemenza teases him when he hangs the phone up.

“C’mere kid, learn somethin’. You never know when you might have to cook for twenty guys.” He explains his process to Michael, ending with, “You put in your wine, a little sugar, and that’s my trick.”

In order for your sauce to be successful, it is imperative that you quote Clemenza. As you put in the final two ingredients, you must say out loud, “You put in your wine, a little sugar, and that’s my trick.”

Reduce heat, simmer for two hours, and………………..Siracusa Sauce.

 

If Mario Perillo were alive, he would describe this sauce as, “Più è meglio di meno.” This roughly translates as ‘More is better than less.’

 

                    Più è meglio di meno.

*

© 2017 Shaun Costello

 

 

 

 

 

 

SATURDAY KIDDIE MATINEES

SATURDAY KIDDIE MATINEES

By Shaun Costello

Flash, Dale, and Dr. Zarkoff take on Ming the Merciless


When I was a kid, I lived in Valley Stream, a suburban community in Long Island’s Nassau County. On some Saturday’s, the local movie theater would offer Kiddie Matinees. From 10AM until 4PM the theater would provide six hours of uninterrupted movie madness to ecstatic youngsters, who were devouring lethal doses of movie candy, and screaming their brains out.

Flash does battle with Ming the Merciless.

Parents would simply drop their kids off at 10AM and come back six hours later to pick them up. Very few parents ever accompanied their children inside the theater. It was just us kids, most of us armed with projectile weaponry like rubber bands and paper clips, and bean shooters, ready to turn the inside of that theater into a war zone. Some days the venue would offer an assortment of kid-friendly features, like Martin and Lewis, or Francis the Talking Mule. On other days, the offering might include six hours of theatrical serials, like Flash Gordon, who did battle with Emperor Ming the Merciless, who ruled the plane Mongo with his evil Death Ray, and enslaved its population, which included the Clay People, the Shark People, and Hawk People: all of whom would eventually be freed by Flash and his erudite pal Dr. Zarkoff. In addition to Flash, the theater might offer my all-time favorite – Tim Tyler’s Luck.

In my dreams, I rode in the Jungle Cruiser with my hero Tim, on a mission to save the world

Tim, at the helm of his trusty Jungle Cruiser, traversing the jungles of Africa, (which looked oddly like the same location used for Hopalong Cassidy) spent his time searching for his lost father, saving gorillas from heinous hunters, befriending black panthers, rescuing a variety of blonde women from the clutches of evil doers, wrestling with alligators, avoiding the dangers of quick sand, and basically saving the world.
At 4PM a long line of station wagons (we had a Nash Rambler) waited outside the theater, to collect the kids, who were exhausted from six hours of unsupervised screaming, and green from a serious movie candy overdose. Boy, this was fun.

Tim was my ultimate hero

 *

 

© 2017 Shaun Costello

VETERANS CHOICE – A TOXIC VA PROGRAM – A VETERAN’S NIGHTMARE

In the late summer of 2016, at the VA Clinic in Port Charlotte, Florida, I was told by Dr. Alice Higgins, that my cataracts had grown to the point where surgery would be necessary. She arranged for an appointment for me with an Ophthalmic Surgeon, Dr. Bethlehem Belachew, at the VA facility in Cape Coral. Because of the many senior Veterans in this area who need cataract surgery and the fact that Dr. Belachew is the only surgeon available, an appointment with Dr. Belachew could not be accomplished for several months. The scheduler at the Ophthalmology Department at Cape Coral told me that, in cases like mine, Veterans were turned over to the Veteran’s Choice program, which is administered by Healthnet, an insurance provider. Healthnet is contractually obligated to pay private sector medical providers for those same medical services provided at VA facilities, in cases where an appointment cannot be provided within a reasonable amount of time, or when distance to a VA facility is prohibitive.

The problem is, that, Medical Providers who will do business with the Veteran’s Choice program are difficult to find. It seems that Healthnet does not pay the Medical Provider for services rendered, or they pay only a small percentage of the invoice, even though they are contractually obligated to the VA to do so. I had been told by the VA, that finding a Medical Provider would be my responsibility. I did the research and began making calls. After being told NO by fifteen or so Medical Providers, I found a Company that would do business with Healthnet.

The Eye Associates: Bob Marshall CFO, 2111 Bee Ridge Road, Sarasota, FL 34239 – 941 923 2020

Cataract surgery for a patient with astigmatism, and in need of distance correction, requires the insertion of a Toric Lens during the surgery. When cataract surgery is performed at a VA facility, the VA provides Toric lenses for its patients who require them. During my first examination by Dr. Robert Friedman at The Eye Associates, I was told that Toric lenses are considered an upgrade by insurance companies and are not covered. I told him that I was a VA patient, and that, since the VA provided Toric lenses when cataract surgery was done at VA facilities, Healthnet was contractually obligated to the VA to cover the cost, which, in this case would be $4,000. During the following two months, an exhaustive negotiation took place between myself, The Eye Associates, and Healthnet. Healthnet simply refused to guarantee payment of the Toric lenses. I enlisted the help of the VA, and after another month or so, Healthnet agreed to guarantee payment of the Toric lenses.

My first surgery was on January 17, 2017. My second surgery was on March 28th, two months later. In late February I began getting phone calls from Bob Marshall, the CFO of The Eye Associates. It seems that Healthnet was not making the payment they had guaranteed to The Eye Associates. Mr. Marshall told me that, if Healthnet failed to pay for the lenses that I would be held responsible for payment. Once again, I called the VA for help, and they attempted to help.  By mid-March the VA personnel had read the riot act to Healthnet, and Healthnet finally agreed to make the proper payment.

On April 11th 2017, I received a call from Bob Marshall. It seems that Healthnet had reneged on its promise to pay for the cost of the Toric lenses, They paid a small percentage of the invoice, and refused any payment at all for the Toric lenses. Unless this matter is resolved, The Eye Associates will have no choice but to hold me accountable for $4,000, the cost of the Toric lenses.

For the VA, the Veteran’s Choice program has become toxic. For the Veteran, in this case me, it has caused an impossible financial liability. Believe me, I am not the only Veteran who has been put in this position by Healthnet and their Veteran’s Choice program. I sought help in the Veterans Advocate’s Office in Cape Coral, Florida. Two advocates, Brett Kangas and Susan Billington, attempted to intervene with Healthnet, but after a while, Healthnet seemed to bully them into submission.

Here are two emails, from and to Susan Billington, a Veteran’s Advocate:

Dear Mr. Costello

I apologize for the delay as Mr. Kangas is not in. He did brief me on his efforts on your behalf before he departed. His discussions with our eye care specialists indicate the Toric surgery was not authorized in your case. Additionally, there is no authorization for this procedure in your Healthnet authorizations.

I am sorry we could not provide a more favorable reply

Susan G. Billington

Patient Advocate

Hello Susan,

I am a bit stunned by your email. I never saw a VA eye specialist. I assume you mean Dr. Belachew, who I never met. I was enrolled in the Veteran’s Choice program by Dr. Belachew’s assistant, without being examined by Dr. Belachew. It was Veteran’s Choice followed by Healthnet that claimed Toric lenses were not authorized for VA patients. And it was Dr. Belachew’s office that confirmed that, when necessary because of astigmatism or distance correction, Toric lenses are provided during cataract surgery performed at VA facilities. Healthnet is contractually obligated to pay private sector medical providers who perform identical services to those performed at VA facilities. Healthnet is notorious for not paying out benefits for Veterans who are enrolled in the Veterans Choice Program. Healthnet, is an insurance provider that is contracted by the VA to administer the Veteran’s Choice Program. Healthnet is a for-profit corporation that has a long history of taking monies ear marked for Veterans, and lining their pockets. Benefits eat into profits.

In my opinion, Mr. Kangas has been remiss in his duties as an advocate for Veterans. He seems to be advocating for Healthnet. Healthnet has obviously bullied him into submission. The medical provider involved, The Eye Associates, will now attempt to collect the four thousand dollar fee for the Toric lenses from me personally. It is my opinion, and the facts are on my side, that a government contractor, Healthnet Inc, is lining its pockets with monies ear marked for Veterans. It is my opinion that Mr. Kangas has forgotten who pays his salary.

I will not rest until this outrage is resolved. I have made this matter known to Suzanne Klinker in Bay Pines, as well as the office of Secretary of Veteran’s Affairs Shulkin, Senators Rubio and Nelson, Congressman Rooney, and White House senior staff. I’m quite certain that I am not the only Veteran who has fallen victim to the Veteran’s Choice Program, and its criminal administrator, Healthnet Inc.

Best regards,

Shaun Costello

I have been helped by Ms. Billington in the past and was shocked that both she and Mr. Kangas seem to have been bullied into submission by Healthnet. The Veterans Choice Program is dysfunctional because Healthnet has a long record of not paying medical providers. In this case, I spoke with 15 medical providers, all of whom refused to deal with Veterans Choice because of past unpaid invoices; before I finally found The Eye Associates in Sarasota. After two months of negotiating, between Healthnet and Bob Marshall, the CFO of The Eye Associates, Healthnet finally guaranteed payment for the Toric lenses. Two weeks later they, once again, refused to make payment.

With a large invoice from The Eye Associates looming in my immediate future, I sought help from those whose good offices seemed appropriate in the solution of my problem. Listed below are those from whom I sought help, and how they responded.

For those keeping score, here’s the scorecard:

Senator Marco Rubio

Senator Rubio

I received three emails, one snail mail, and two phone calls. I was told that my problem was being handled by a senior staffer in Orlando.

Grade…A

 

Congressman Tom Rooney

Congressman Rooney

I received two emails, one snail mail, and one phone call. I was told that Rooney’s office had submitted a Congressional Inquiry to the Congressional Liaison Office at the VA. 

Grade…A

 

 

 

Senator Bill Nelson

Senator Bill Nelson

I was ignored.

Grade…F

 

 

 

 

Secretary of Veterans Affairs Shulkin

Secretary of Veterans Affairs Shulkin

I was ignored.

Grade…F

 

 

 

 

 

Director of the Bay Pines VA Healthcare System Suzanne Klinker

Director of the Bay Pines VA Healthcare System Suzanne Klinker

I sent two detailed letters. Both were ignored.

Grade…F-

 

 

 

 

 

President Donald J. Trump

President Donald J. Trump

I was ignored.

Grade…F

 

 

 

 

 

Only two out of six responded, which, while not surprising, is still a disappointment. To my knowledge, the medical provider in Sarasota has still not been paid, and the VA has washed its hands of this event, a problem of their creation, and of their responsibility. The two alleged Veterans Advocates; Susan Billington and Brett Kangas, no longer respond to my emails or phone calls. Any day now, I expect the invoice from The Eye Associates for approximately $5,000, which Healthnet has refused to pay.

 

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NOCTURNAL NONSENSE

NOCTURNAL NONSENSE

by

Shaun Costello

A creature of habit.

A creature of habit.

I was awakened about 3AM by the light. The kitchen lights were on. Had I left them on before going to sleep? I got up to reconnoiter. The office lights were on as well, and the computer. What the fuck? I could never have gone to bed with everything on, but I was too tired to care. I turned everything off and went back to sleep.

Jazzbo begins his morning assault on my blissful unconsciousness at approximately 5AM. He begins with subtle murmurs, and gradually steps up the decibel level and physicality of his attack, until a few minutes before six when, while sitting squarely on my chest, the biting begins. He knows this is effective because it works every morning. I sit up on the edge of the bed and, after a series of head butts on my legs, we settle in to some head scratching, back petting, and tail stroking. OK, I’m up now. I turn on the light, grope for my flip flops, and mosey toward the kitchen, with Jazzbo weaving between my legs at every step.

The routine is always the same. I turn on the lights in the office, then the computer. Next is the kitchen, and making coffee – but wait…..not this morning. Something’s wrong. On the counter, next to the coffee maker is my cup – the one I use every morning. There’s coffee residue on the bottom. It’s been used. The coffee maker is filled with cold coffee. I always wash it after it’s done its work. And Jazzbo’s milk snack bowl is on the counter with some milk still sitting on the bottom. What is happening? Then it dawns on me. The lights at 3AM. At some point in the middle of the night I must have awakened, thinking it was 6AM. It’s just as dark here at six as at three. And I began my morning routine of turning on the lights, the computer, and the coffee maker. I even drank a cup of coffee. And I gave Jazzbo his milk snack. I have no memory whatsoever of doing any of this. Was I sleep walking? Did I have a psychotic episode? Is this early Alzheimers? I have no idea what triggered this event, or any recollection of Jazzbo’s participation. He was probably too freaked out by my sleep walking to join in.

Here’s what normally happens:

After I’ve poured the water into the coffee maker, Jazzbo attacks the empty sink, lapping up what water he can find. This is disgusting, and I tell him so every morning, but he’s a creature of habit, and his sink fun is an integral part of his early routine. Next, I measure some coffee into the machine, and turn it on. Then the geezer pills – five of them. Jazzbo helps by trying to head butt the pill container out of my hands and onto the floor. He’s sometimes successful, sometimes not. Next, the ‘Where is it’ game begins; and Jazzbo, knowing what come next, becomes agitated, and begins pacing back and forth on the counter. I take the container of cat treats out of the cabinet, and head toward the bedroom. Halfway there I begin the shake the little bag and I hear ka thump – ka thump, as Jazzbo descends from the counter to the floor by way of a small table I placed there for his convenience. (After all, he’s twelve) I sit down in a chair and count out four treats. These are given to him individually, accompanied by embarrassing ‘yum yum’ sounds. Then I count out six more, which I place in front of him on the floor.

While Jazzbo’s gobbling up his treats and the coffee maker is finishing its work, I walk to the office to check email. I then click on the New York Times’ web site, and head back to the kitchen for my first cup. Jazzbo’s already sitting on the counter, waiting anxiously for his milk snack. I pour myself a cup, and take the milk container out of the fridge. Jazzbo becomes highly agitated, attempting to knock the container out of my hands. I take his bowl out of the cabinet and pour him some. Then off to the office to read all the news that fits.

This has been our morning routine for many years. But I guess it’s all different now, given that I have obviously lost my mind and become a rabid sleep frolicker. Maybe we have a poltergeist. No, that would be too easy. I’m just nuts now. That must be it. Why did this happen? I’m open to any suggestions. Something must have caused this to happen, but what? Could I be suffering from Trump Anxiety? Maybe I’m not alone. Could America become so Trumpatized that we are turning into a nation of sleep walkers? Maybe, tomorrow morning, after I succumb to Jazzbo’s early morning assault, I will awaken to find that it’s all been a dream. That Hillary had won be a large margin and that all was well and good in the world. Or would that be too easy?

Trump Anxiety is the enemy of a good night's sleep.

Trump Anxiety is the enemy of a good night’s sleep.

*

© 2017 Shaun Costello

HAS AMERICA SIMPLY BEEN A LIE ALL ALONG?

 

HAS AMERICA SIMPLY BEEN A LIE ALL ALONG?

america-3

Do you suppose that America is simply an enormous lie that we all bought into? The Home of the Brave was carefully presented to us, when we were all too young to know the difference, by the brush of Norman Rockwell and the lens of Frank Capra. Were we hoodwinked? The twentieth century saw America emerge as an imperialist, expansionist, unstoppable juggernaut, swallowing little countries one after another. Building the canal and annexing Panama. Faking the explosion of The Maine in Havana harbor to start a phony war with Spain, out of which America gobbled up Puerto Rico and the Philippines. America, in spite of popular belief, did not win World War Two, the Russians did. After that war, the newly formed CIA went to work deposing elected heads of state in Iran, and throughout Central and South America, and replacing them with dictatorial strong men friendly to ever-expanding America, and willing to cash in on the CIA’s seemingly limitless payroll. Then America replaced France in Southeast Asia, defoliating tiny countries who wound up kicking the crap out of us. The American demonizing of Communism became a world wide joke. The USSR would die of its own faulty reality, not of anything America and its CIA could conjure. And George Bush decided to invade Iraq in a felonious war the would forever change the balance of power in the Middle East, and create the largest refugee crisis since World War Two. We Americans are an arrogant bunch, sweeping our many sins under the carpet while marching the path of self righteousness. We never forgave African Americans their freedom, espousing our fair mindedness in between lynchings, both public and private. And now America has Donald Trump, an openly misogynistic, racist, white supremacist buffoon, moving into the White House. Maybe we’ve finally gotten exactly what we deserve. These feelings have been festering inside me since Black Tuesday. They simply won’t go away. Has it all been a lie all Along? I’m just asking.

You're fired.

You’re fired.

*

ME AND JFK IN THE OVAL OFFICE

white-house

ME AND JFK IN THE OVAL OFFICE

An odd dream last night – actually this morning.

Kennedy and some of his senior staff were standing there, in the Oval Office.

Kennedy and some of his senior staff were standing there, in the Oval Office.

I’m a naked and newly born infant lying on the President’s desk in the Oval Office. The President is John Fitzgerald Kennedy. He is standing at his desk, looking down at me. Some of his senior staff are standing on the other side of the big desk. Although newly born, I have an enormous erection. Kennedy remarks to his staff, in his distinct and easily recognizable voice, “Hey, that’s quite a Woodie on this little fella. I didn’t think that was possible.”

"Hey, that's quite a Woodie on this little fella. I didn't think that was possible."

“Hey, that’s quite a Woodie on this little fella. I didn’t think that was possible.”

Dissolve to another room, off the Oval Office. I’m lying on a small table – still naked. I still have an enormous erection. I am approached by a teenage Caroline Kennedy. She is smiling – obviously fascinated by the sight of this naked infant, and his enormous erection. She reaches out and pokes it with her index finger. I instantly ejaculate in orgasm. She shrieks with joy.

She kept poking it.

She kept poking it.

 

 

 

She pokes it again. I come again. She never stops smiling. She keeps poking and I keep coming. This goes on for quite some time, until I feel a sharp pain in my left hand. My cat Jazzbo has just bitten me in an attempt to get me up – one of his many ‘wake-up’ tricks.

Jazzbo wants me to wake up and play with him. I have the scars to prove it.

Jazzbo wants me to wake up and play with him. I have the scars to prove it.

 

It worked. I am now awake – sort of. I can still hear the music. The dream lingers, then begins to fade. Then it’s gone. But I can still hear the music. From beginning to end, this dream is scored by Bing Crosby and the Andrews Sisters singing “Pistol Packin’ Mama”.

 

https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=b39ALX4neIk

 

 

Here are the lyrics, written by Al Dexter in 1941:

“Lay that pistol down Babe, Lay that pistol down,
Pistol Packin’ Mama, Lay that pistol down.

She kicked out my windshield, She hit me over the head,
She cussed and cried, and said I lied, And I wished that I was dead.

Lay that pistol down Babe, Lay that pistol down,
Pistol Packin’ Mama, Lay that pistol down.

Drinkin’ beer in a cabaret, And dancing with a blonde,
Until one night she shot out the light, Bang! That blonde was gone.

Lay that pistol down Babe, Lay that pistol down,
Pistol Packin’ Mama, Lay that pistol down.

I’ll see you every night Babe, I’ll woo you every day,
I’ll be your regular Daddy, If you’ll put that gun away.

Lay that pistol down Babe, Lay that pistol down,
Pistol Packin’ Mama, Lay that pistol down.
Lay that pistol down Babe, Lay that pistol down,
Pistol Packin’ Mama, Lay that pistol down.”

bing-and-the-sis-2

I have no idea as to what might have prompted these nocturnal images. I have not thought about JFK in quite some time. Fidel Castro died last night. Do you suppose that’s what caused it?

fidel-2

 

*

© 2016 Shaun Costello