By Seamus O'Sparks on March 15, 2016 — 1 min read

I’ve learned a few things in my hoary time and one of them is how to negotiate. The other is how to bounce. I was at the eye doctor the other day to get new contacts and they made me do that test where a puff of air is blasted into your naked eyeball. It’s not horrible, but it’s not fun. It occured to me, though, that such a machine might be put to more prurient uses- if you know what I mean? (Ahem) And by that, I mean, I thought it would be fun to blast air up my butt. Before you get on any moral stallions let me just say that I know what some of YOU get up to, so, judge not; eh? Eventually I got to SEE (heh heh) the eye doctor. He told me that I could have my eyes dialated and he could check them the old fashioned way OR they could use a photoscopic image of my eyeball(s), which they had already taken, and he could analyze that…for 35 dollars more. So, it would cost me more money for him to do less work using the technology they had already utilized on me. And we wonder why the world is busted…I thought about it and asked myself, ‘What would Chogyam Trungpa do?” After meditating on that I told the doc, “Alright, I’ll pay your 35 bucks for the analysis-but-only if I get 5 minutes (I work fast) alone with the eye-air blasting machine…no interuptions-and NO questions asked.” He did not agree to my terms. I still paid the 35 extra bucks. So much for the crazy wisdom or the crazy fun. Anymore it’s just the crazy dullness and the purple headaches. I left slightly disappointed but not dispirited. There are air hoses everywhere you can get gasoline. Which is to say, everywhere. In a kinky pinch all you really need is a sly hand and a quarter…and I got lots of quarters.

Posted in: Random

The Story of Seamus

Seamus O'Sparks is the seventh son of a Seventh Day Adventist who went on a seven-day bender starting on July 7, 1977 at a strip club called Seventh Heaven at the corner of 7th St. and 7th Ave. in the West Village.