Photo by Kristin Lopez on Unsplash

Back in ’69, I was a nineteen-year-old hippie living alternately in my car and at my parent’s apartment in Queens. On a chilly autumn night, taking advantage of my parent’s hospitality and in need of warmer clothes, I opened their storage closet, liberated the raunchiest old blanket I could find and turned it into a poncho.

That next night, when my father saw me wearing it, he calmly told me that it had been the blanket with which he rescued his cat when the Nazis burned down his house.

I’d never heard about the fire, and he’d never mentioned his…


‘Tis the season…

Photo by Sanibell BV on Unsplash

It was the tiniest spider the man had ever seen, no bigger than a black dot from a ballpoint pen. The man would not have noticed it, had it not been for the four legs symmetrically splayed on either side of the spec, and its frenzied, unsuccessful attempts to escape the sink, as the giant hovered above it.

The man, though not fond of spiders, was respectful of life and would catch six and eight-legged intruders in a jar, then deposit them outside. But this one was far too small to catch.

Intent on washing his hands, the man could…


I believe eating children should be illegal.

Photo by Charlein Gracia on Unsplash

I like pizza as much as the next guy, possibly more, and I’ve had some awful pizza. I’ve ordered some that tasted as if the sauce came from a twenty-year-old can. It made me want to wretch. But when reordering, I ask for an anchovy topping to disguise the taste — not baby parts.

I believe that pedophilia and infant cannibalism should be against the law, and I am sure that Donald Trump, with the help of his attorney general, will put an end to it in his second term.

I know that we’re looking to dispose of all those…


Photo by Kamil Feczko on Unsplash

Hey, it’s my face. I’m a Murikan. Don’t be bugging me.

Just found out, that old man at the front of the line was among the first of our troops to storm the beaches of Normandy. Rumor has it, he got some medals for saving a dozen lives while taking fire and bleeding. They tell me that’s why he walks with a limp and is so damn slow. Odds are he should have died that day, and I’ll be damned if I’m gonna be paying for his good luck. I ain’t wearin’ no mask.

And that old lady in the next aisle, they tell me she was a nurse in China…


Photo by Alexandru Zdrobău on Unsplash

Jack was a hoodlum, a wild and crazy drunk with no brakes. He was capable of nearly anything dark and dangerous. It made little sense that he was Bridget’s boyfriend.

Bridget was a beautiful woman, petite, with dark red hair, gigantic green eyes, and a nearly blinding glow about her. My first sight of her was at a special meeting of New York City’s largest pseudo-Buddhist group. This particular cult worshipped a piece of paper and chanted for things as mundane as money or even a parking space. …


It’s the night of the millionth day in self-quarantine; depression is engulfing me like the air of an approaching storm.

Photo by engin akyurt on Unsplash

Unlike most people during this nightmarish time, I still have work. My business, with one less client and one-third of my income gone, is still breathing and I have work to do.

But I don’t want to do it. I don’t want to do anything but watch assorted documentaries. I want only to keep feeding my brain, my insatiable organ. I do not want to do anything that might generate income or secure my future. I do not want to clean, wash, bathe, trim my trees, or mow the lawn. …


It is my Patriotic Duty to Die for the Economy

Homeless Old Man on Wall Street
Homeless Old Man on Wall Street
Photo by Woldai Wagner on Unsplash

When I first heard our beloved president and other members of the Right suggesting that saving our economy is more important than the lives of those who will die in this pandemic, I was outraged. But then I thought about it. This is America and the underlying mission of America is to make money. Money is our God and putting anything before our God would be sacrilegious and unpatriotic.

Back during the Vietnam War, I didn’t serve. While I did not suffer the trauma of a heel spur, I did by virtue of a botched lottery and a college deferment…


Judgment Day

Photo by Sergi Kabrera on Unsplash

I haven’t faced the keyboard in weeks. That doesn’t mean I haven’t thought about writing — every day. But thinking about writing is not writing.

I could claim that I’ve been too busy. My ninety-two-year-old mother has been in the hospital, my business has grown to new heights, and my interest in photography and videography has become an obsession. But these would be excuses, and as are all excuses, pure bullshit.

I could have found the time. I could have allocated the time. I own the clock. I determine my schedule.

I was afraid. I believed I had nothing worthy…


I Can Not See the Chessboard

Photo by Anton Darius | @theSollers on Unsplash

I’m a weak man, not physically, though age and a sedentary lifestyle have begun to take their toll on my body as well. I am mentally weak.

There are people who see the world as a chessboard. They see others as objects to be surmounted. They see set their targets clearly and they hit them. They have a plan and nothing, and no one may interfere with their predation.

There are salesmen who can size up the amount of money in your pocket and figure out ways to have you hand it over.

I am not and have never been…


Adjusting to a Life Without Intimacy

Solitude: Man alone by choice, walking on railroad tracks
Solitude: Man alone by choice, walking on railroad tracks
Photo by Mika Matin on Unsplash

I have not loved or been loved for decades. I have not known the touch of a woman since my prostitute client gave me a freebie way back when. But don’t feel sorry for me. I chose safety over butterflies. It was my choice to walk that path and now it’s pretty much too late to walk it back.

In my youth, thanks to the times in which I lived, in a quest to find the perfect woman to fit my version of a glass slipper, I was intimate with over a hundred women. I deeply loved several and thus…

Jeff Wild

An old freak looking for a way to survive in a world I no longer understand, but through my writing, pretend I do.

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