Sex for Money (Photos)

You know how you’re looking on youtube and you see a picture of boobs so you click on the pic and it has nothing to do with the picture? (Women, please replace “boobs” with “Target Gift Certificate”)

Well, this isn’t anything like that.  This is not a teaser title, I have the goods.  And I have a camera too, which is how I got the goods, and they are good, or, at the very least, they will keep me from ever being President of the United States (the sole purpose of this blog).

As we all know, everything that’s ever posted on the internet stays there forever, so the pictures below will be part of my legacy, something my grandchildren and great-grandchildren can be traumatized by for many years to come.

I drive a Honda Element (work car/chick magnet) and crisscross the San Francisco Bay Area, spreading joy, love and hydrocarbons everywhere I go.  In a past blog I mentioned driving past Solyndra.  For those throughout the world who don’t know what Solyndra is, it’s another one of those government snafus that happens every couple of years, no matter who’s in power, and really, no matter where you live in the world.  Important people make things disappear, this time the “things” being $535 billion dollars.

Note: Let’s put these same people in charge of cancer cells, starvation and general inhumanity, because if we just put them in charge of these things, they will have no fu*king idea where any of it went.

As I drove past Solyndra, I realized, “Hey, Les, you’ve got a camera in your car, you should take a picture of yourself in front of the Solydra sign.”  So I swerved across four lanes of traffic while texting and drinking a beer and set up my tripod.  I took off my work shirt (more about this later) so as not to incriminate my employer.  I set the timer and I took this picture.

Solid gold sign with platinum paint

I thought it looked pretty good, but then I said to myself, “Les, wouldn’t it be funny to pee on the Solyndra sign, I mean, just for the grandkids?”

Golden shower x 2

So I got rid of the beer on the Solyndra sign.

But then I said, wait a second, the American people, and specifically me (I’m American) have gotten royally screwed by this company and a government board (of both the Bush and Obama administrations) for $535 million.  The least I can do is return the favor in broad daylight with cars and trucks driving by and a security guard (who’s paying that guy?) walking briskly towards me.

So then I took this picture (See, I told you the title was for real).

The sign's too heavy for Grandpa to lift!

And then (that guy is not laughing) I decided to look like I was taking a poop on the sign, but I was in too much of hurry to pull my pants down (that guy moves quick for a big guy) so I just look like I hurt my back, but honestly, there are resonant metaphors here, even with me not pulling down my pants. 

Back Ache!

It’s amazing how fast I can move when I know I’m going to get my ass kicked, so I collected up my things (thank goodness I didn’t pull down my pants) and got back to texting and driving.

NOTE:  This is a close-up of my shirt.  It’s incredibly tasteful “casual wear” gifted to me by my gorgeous neighbor/shopaholic Diana, who knows I’m a drummer and buys me anything with drums on it.  Kids don’t get the joke and it makes for awkward conversations with their mothers.

It's a play on words in a classy way

Anyway, I hope you’ve enjoyed the pictures, especially you, Elijah (my great-great unborn grandchild named after someone in the bible who smote someone).  Your great-grand daddy was a real kidder and used to do stuff like this before he became President of the United States.

Here’s a song I wrote that we (The Tear Jerkers) just recorded.  It’s a drinking song about a woman doing a man wrong.  Her name is Solyndra.

 

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