Profligate Spending, Wham...Bam...Slam...Goodbye Ma'am

Fat and skinny had a race, all around the pillow case. Fat fell down and broke his face; Skinny won the race.

• There was a Jewish oil guy in Wyoming who was being offered, a ranch that included some Black Angus cattle that were being grass fed on the ranch. The oilman reacted with a classic line (true story)... "I never own anything that's eating while I'm sleeping"

• The Italians have a great line, "Unless you can stand ingratitude, never do anything for anybody". Makes it essential to do good things for good's sake, to have a good name, which is its own reward.

• Ever wonder, as I do, what 40-year-old hookers turn to when they quit hooking. Fucking for fun or sport fucking seems out. Those worn out hookers probably marry guys who have little interest in sex.

• In the late seventies the Regency Hotel bar in The Big Apple used to attract older (thirty something) hookers. Very expensive. The crème de la crème of hooker bars in NYC was the Sherry Netherland Hotel bar. Knockout looking women, seriously expensive (sadly, way out of my pay scale) but the opening, introductory question, no matter what the pay scale was, "Are you a working girl?”

• The all time fun bar in NYC was Maxwell's Plum. Always 4-5 deep with young guys looking to fall in love for an hour or two (wham, bam, slam, good bye ma’am) and the gals mostly looking to fall in love. Made little difference to me because I couldn't get laid in a whore house with a $100 bill pasted on my forehead much less pick up a straight woman for some 'action '. Without booze in me I had no delusions. Also, a guy in his 50's chasing young pussy is a non starter, except if the guy is rich and open handed.

• In Midland, Texas there was Lonnie, the bellman and an absolutely great guy, who was Midland's premier pimp (great personality with a stable of girls at his disposal). In the 70's Midland was a booming oil town and hookers were attracted to it. The last I heard Lonnie was shining shoes and making everyone laugh.

• Calgary, Canada was the last of the Wild West towns with the hookers patrolling "hotel row". The French Maid was a low down bar with upscale Johns. I stepped into an elevator at the International Hotel with a young woman already in the elevator. The elevator doors closed and she promptly grabbed my 'privates' and asked if I wanted a 'trick'. While being at a loss for words isn't my style, I was so startled that the elevator arrived at my floor before I could say 'No thanks'. Turned out that the hookers never left the elevators until some one said, 'Yes, how much do you charge?'

• In retrospect, I find it remarkable that I did my business and evolved into a very successful one-man 'investment bank'. With it all, I developed a deep store of knowledge of the oil and gas business plus a formidable address book of folks that are big and small time in the world of finance. This all happened both in my drinking and non drinking days.

• Sober, I raised some $1 billion (adjusted for inflation) from natural gas pipeline investments for blue chip pension funds while making good friends with the people I solicited for investment dollars. Bunches of money came my way which was promptly dispersed to my kids, ex wives, friends, hookers and strangers.

• Drinking or not I squeezed a ton of living out of my profligate and busted on my lower case jewish ass lives. In the bag or not, I lived on the edge always looking for the unexpected. Both courses were nerve wracking and wonderful, simultaneously.

• While I am busted on my ass, I am wealthy with friends dead and alive, not including my first ex wife who actively disliked me. I'm really sorry that she died but I sure don't miss her.

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