The KY column

Down the road, there are two cold stores (corner cafes) with doors right next to each other. The first one is half the price of the second. The second also has the largest shelf of KY jelly I’ve ever seen, right there next to the cigarettes at the teller, in case you forgot your KY on the way out. The shelf is half-empty since I saw it last on Thursday, before the weekend. Apparently Muslim women have to take it up the ass during their period, but I’m sure that’s not the half of it.

The other half may be The Church of the Latter Gay Saints, which we decided to start up over a 10-hour lobster and champagne session on Friday. Our deity is the chef who poured these substances into our now aching bellies. The rosaries only have two beads and we cross ourselves with middle fingers erect.

But embedded in the holy trinity of KY and saints must be the local internet cafes, one of which I braved yesterday. Each computer is housed in a sealed cubicle, like a change room, for the innocent minded. For the perverted like me who noticed the video cam and the stains of pink yogurt on the walls, like a dime-a-titty-stall.

For all this country’s modest conservatism, why does there seem to be porn around every corner? Even I have caught a bout of football fever. Go France!

Oh, and I made the social pages of some entertainment rag here.