Okay, we got about an hour left.
Halloween has almost passed.
I was drifting asleep when dancing through my head sugar plums and snickers bars were keeping me awake. And then you know G, my head went spinning into candy land from yesterday and I couldn't help myself; so I popped a little somethin' somethin' in my mouth and got up.
I had to laugh; for surely as the sun will come up tomorrow, an hour later than today thanks to a little something called daylights savings time, this sugar daddy act America seems to be all cuckoo over in the present moment is made of nothing more than saccharin.
Whats more, delving into the nuances of what makes a sugar daddy in the first place, I couldn't help but realize we probably had a few of those masquerading around tonight -- given the propensity of the season to dawn the latest Bernie Madoff mask. A sugar daddy is usually nothing but a phony.
His largest characteristic is the size of his yacht or Swiss bank account or mansion in Miami; his charms of waving a little green around seemingly outweigh any need for good looks or the one thing most women want -- a sense of humor. No, he needs none of that.
Matter of fact, he may be able to pull it off even without the real green, looking around these days. All it takes is a little ponzi scheme here, perhaps a little monkey business over there, and presto, a sugar daddy romance can begin.
Which leads me to the other half of defining what creates a sugar daddy in the first place, for what else do sugar daddies have in common besides perhaps a few sugar babies hidden in the closet? How about this, the guys and dolls hanging on their arm (had to include the guys, as its the age we are in); and these little numbers don't come cheap. The schweetheart is usually laced with diamonds and pearls and Dolce and Gabbana; and underneath the facade is everything naughty and nice through peroxide, silicone, acrylic and botox.
And voila, a match made in heaven.
So if the government is no longer Uncle Sam but an Uncle Sugar Daddy, how long are we gonna keep this up -- you know, acting like we haven't got a clue, or two cents in between our ears, or masquerading as the dumb blond having had a little too much to drink, or thinking it doesn't even matter if its real or not?
I can't help but think it must take a lot of energy to keep up the appearances -- for both parties. Nothing is about integrity -- how empty is that?
It doesn't take much to blow the wad, or the game, when entertaining with high stakes amidst the big boys; my guess is it probably calls for a couple of thugs for protection and a team of a lot of people to take care of the details of living large -- especially if its only make believe.
And as for d'ladies and d'pretty boys hanging on every platter of pate, my guess is it doesn't take much for a new play toy to come along and snatch the little Bernies away. A glance, a batting of the eye lashes, a little come hither saunter may be just enough to turn his head and change his mind.
Must be exhausting; Bernie has to be sleeping again; matter of fact, I bet its more like a gigantic sigh of relief for him now that its over.
And speaking of sleep, I think my sugar high has reached its peak as I'm quickly deteriorating here.
But on this spooky Halloween Eve I have to wonder, when we turn back the clocks tonight -- just how far can we go back?
Sweet Dreams, G
PS Richard Gere only happens in the movies...you'd get that if you clicked into dear america