How very Saxon of you… now take my son.

i like beerFirst off my apologies…  it’s been quite a while since the inaugural post…   it’s just this ‘Weinergate’ scandal has me all loop the looped and such.  Rep. Weiner should recognize what we all know to be true:  our friend privacy is no longer around.    Social media has taken my privacy and left the building. I miss the hell outta him.  Sure, it still feels good when I look at old pictures of me and privacy in the backyard playing, or stealing my neighbor’s rhubarb and setting his boat on fire, yet I still find myself feeling a bit…  melancholy.

Privacy and I used to do all kinds of things-like when we started the BMX bicycle chop shop/theft ring; though as I mentioned, we as a group of one (1) couldn’t technically even form a ring.  Privacy and I were one, we had only each other and together we stood united.  Still we enjoyed each others company.  He laughed when I was kidnapped by burnouts somewhere along my paper route. These bastards stalked me for what must have been blocks.  I should have but didn’t hear them pulling up behind me, driving an old Buick Skylark sans the muffler.

The last thing I remember before being plucked off the street and injected into the smokey plume of the Skylark’s interior were the sounds of Saxon.  Remember Saxon?  Their one hit ‘Denim and Leather‘ hit me and hit me hard.  These guys, this kidnapping, the whole incident changed me for the twisted, for the better.

They kept me for like five hours, we drove all over the city.  They rolled joints and played cassette tapes, a very confusing time indeed.  I specifically remember one of the kidnapper’s being a Judas Priest fundamentalist.  Over and over we listened to ‘British Steel‘ or ‘Stained Class‘.  There were four of them and I recognized a couple of their faces from high school.  Two of the kidnappers flanked me in the backseat, so making a mad dash for the door handle to escape was out of the question.

Seconds after the incident I remember looking back through the rear window… there, alone stood my best pal privacy next to a spilled bag of undelivered newspapers.  Shit.  What am I gonna do now?  What I am telling you is the absolute truth.  It happened in 1981.  Though I am grateful for this particular incident I have to ask why me?

Very seldom do I see my friend Privacy anymore.  It’s funny, we used to be pals.  More importantly our time spent together was crucial and significant.  I am jealous because I see Privacy hanging out with my 5-year-old son Van Martin.   I’m quite content to watch them through the window playing together outside, talking to his new friend, arms gesturing wildly into the air,  having his time with Privacy.  He’s creative, a self-less piece of innocence discovering every cool nuance and minuscule catalyst that Privacy can show him.  I hope that he too gets “kidnapped” by a life changing event years down the road.  I hope for him that it encourages his talent for art and expression.  Saxon should do.

3 comments to How very Saxon of you… now take my son.

  • twitterpated

    There I was completely wasted… Out of work and down…

  • amish electrician

    btw i rss’ed the blog. decent stuff. will keep up to date. Privacy is for the children and I was glad I had mine. In my cave surrounded by the parts of my parents recently purchased stereo (It had dual tape players). It could record one tape onto another. My inquisitive mind absorbed by the marvel wanted to know how it worked.
    Things like that never go back together and never work once pulled apart. At 12 you don’t grasp the concept of labeling wires. I was kidnapped by my father going ape****. Never stopped fiddling though. More careful about what I tore apart, but never stopped.
    Privacy may be gone and the happy little world shattered but those life lessons shared by you and privacy never really leave you. Just get tempered by experience.

    • decent al

      After the Amish “make” the electric they make the raisin pies. Your pies are the ‘dopest’… don’t you ever forget THAT my son. Thanks for checking in, ASJ.

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