The faithful will recognise a premonition rant back on September Twenty Fourth by yours truly. Suggesting that Rush Limbaugh's plantation overseer mentality was an oil slick dumped on a multicultural sporting league. Not four weeks into the season he was declaring that the media attention and even the football accumen of Donovan McNabb was calculatingly overhyped by a coalition of liberal folks politically interested in foisting a black token up into the quarterback pantheon. His chocolate skin the only reason he commanded a squad in the NFL according to Rusha the Hutt.

I was pleased to learn that tub of bile was going deaf. I am pleased to hear ESPN fired his lumpy ass, albiet hiring him was a crime in the first place. It would please me even further to discover that a rare fungus invaded his voice box, eating away all his noise making throat organs. Racist ignorant filth's tongue should trench rot.

SPANKY FREEDOM DAY TWO: I think I'll go for a walk outside now, everything's going my way....just can't sit inside all day, gotta get out and get me some of those ra-a-ays! Sunshine day.

Clement bed conditions. All the voices in harmonious agreement. All is well in the spankverse. Been a rare occurrence that I part the eyelids with an accompanying grin. Morning pup tent not just a distraction from the rage. Welcoming invitation to greet the day together with my hard-on.

During the shower collection of self I happen upon eureka. Will break out the passport and travel past the Fourteenth Street barrier that seperates LES from Canada. Will finally check out the Cooper Hewitt museum of design. All excited like a stud horse set loose in the stables. Dressing with a purpose, dancing around slapping the clothes on.

Cab ride uneventful. Cholo was gabbering away on his hands free cell a bit much for my tastes. He also loved riding the turn lane's nuts. Both signaling that he garnered no extra special consideration tip wise. Not many excursions had into the Upper East Side, hard to comment on his taste in routes. But, I recognise a clumsy steering wheel jockey when I see one.

Whenever standing in the shadows of advantageous spoils of wealth I'm usually halted in my breath. Marvelously crafted building was once a home. Hewed stone faces. Beveled glass canvasses. Deep rich wood panelling enveloping the interior. Stones throw from Central Park. Extremely vast personal garden. These people lived well at one time in my city of adoration. It quite boggles my imagination to believe such things are possible.

Great exhibit on interactive robotic flowers. Spinning petals, reaching vines, and photo response recognition to approaching monkeys. Same room had one of the newest artificial hearts on display. Clear poly materials reminded me of the Visible Man and Woman model sets from my youth. I could not wipe the smile from my face. I find it most interesting and exciting when science and artifice combine to make functional visionally tantalising design.

They have also dedicated some valuable exhibit wall space to Jhonen Vasquez. The foundation most impressed with his renderings of various and numerous vehicles that Zim utlises in his conquest of Earth. The Chinese take out container table that illuminated from the inside gave me grins as well. A rendition of looking at the moon through a poppyseed bagel was probably my favorite piece that inspired giggles.

Being once a house I should have expected the place not to be all that expansive. Certainly not to the extent of the olympian Met a few blocks south. Still, I could not shake the feeling my viewing pleasure was truncated. I dared to explore further than most visitors normally do I imagine. A staff was shocked as I entered a room meant for academic study. Assured them I was not there to hold up the joint and bounced.

After enjoying the whisper of leaves gossiping in the wind on a garden bench, I decide to begin roaming. Stepped out to the street, decide to stroll beside Central Park. Being not my hood, slightly surprised and smacked awake about the close proximity to the Guggenheim. Shit, closed. Took a few inches off the boner.

Decide to light a candle instead of cursing the darkness. Open the pores for Gotham love. Cheapest city lust is simply walking block to block releasing all blocks on the senses. Allow my sight, hearing, smell and touch to become vulnerable to the rapid influx of NYC influences. Favorite time of year in my favorite city, with no responsibilities climbing up my hide. Damn straight I was gonna lean back and enjoy it.

Noticed the pigeons are more robust around Museum Mile. The rat wings downtown are a scraggly bunch compared to these birds. They look downright pampered. Fat and healthy plumed. Even the pigeons in the wealthy hood fare better. It was the observation of the pigeons that solidified the idea of detouring my walk to traverse through Central Park. Dope ass decision that.

Completely fascinates me that the entire park was engineered. Hardly any fauna or flora involved that wasn't surplanted from somewhere else. Hills and valleys, streams and reflecting pools, wooded and open grass, all erupting from the minds of dead New York men. It does have a rescued feel to it. Stalwart knights barricading the rectangle borders to halt the progress of dirt digging. Keeping the skyscrapers at bay. But no, all carefully constructed for polite society to sojourn with offered nature.

I must say I nearly began crying. Probably connected to my gradual drain spin. But, I was just too freaking happy about that moment in time to not be affected emotionally. Not very often it happens that I am fortunate. Hard for me to handle when it actually occurs. So my face went flush, my lungs took in more oxygen, my mind began to shine, and I felt like weeping. Chillin with my lady, New York City.