Asian Massage Parlors – The Sad Part – 2

Massage parlors promising “happy endings” are at the center of international human trafficking schemes involving underage girls and illegal immigrants.

These establishments are starting to crop up in greater numbers across the city again after previous crackdowns by authorities in 2014, and their crimes extend far past prostitution. With the assistance of sites like Backpage.com, the owners of these sex shops can update advertisements daily and better avoid scrutiny from law enforcement.

For those who argue these establishments commit victimless crimes, authorities note these parlors are typically staffed entirely by women, many of whom are forced to live at the store and are often underage. Illegal immigrants are specifically preyed on and threatened with deportation if they do not follow instructions.

The NYPD has arrested 11 people on prostitution charges in Staten Island through April 2017. Criminal complaints show five of the people arrested do not have U.S. citizenship and five provided their work address as their primary residence. All but one woman identified themselves as Asian and/or Pacific Islander.

“Human trafficking is up 50 percent in the city alone — that’s a huge red flag that this issue is permeating and it needs to be addressed aggressively,” Assemblywoman Nicole Malliotakis, a Republican running for mayor, told Staten Island Live regarding the massage parlors. “Unfortunately, we know that this is a human trafficking issue, it’s not just prostitution.”

Authorities arrested eight members of the Rendon-Reyes gang in Brooklyn in April on charges of human smuggling and sex trafficking of minors, which they allegedly participated in for a decade. All eight members face a lifetime in prison if convicted. Detailed statistics on human trafficking are difficult to assemble, but officials estimate thousands of women are trafficked into New York each year.

Officials in New York City say poor enforcement of immigration laws is aiding the human trafficking business. Women are often kidnapped from other countries and subsequently brought to the U.S. Their lives and the lives of their families are threatened in order to terrorize the victims into obedience.

“I consider forcing a woman or a child to perform sexual acts and be victims is something that should be taken seriously and I think that’s the type of message we’re sending if we don’t enforce [people being in New York illegally],”

Authorities successfully closed six of these massage parlors in 2015, but more continue to open. Malliotakis and other local lawmakers say there has been a steady increase in calls reporting shady massage parlors popping up in their communities.

If you think human trafficking, massage parlors and prostitution are limited to urban areas, you would be mistaken.

Lunchtime two weeks ago, Lower Merion Police moved in on a nondescript building, serving a warrant investigating a suspected prostitution operation. The Rock Hill Road establishment in Bala goes by the name Therapy Zone.

“We’ve had it under surveillance for a few days, and a number of things are occurring here consistent with prostitution,” said Sergeant Gavin Goschinski.

Lower Merion Police say those things would be security cameras, a lack of formal advertising and secure exterior doors where clients need to be buzzed in.

“We encountered one female inside the establishment. She’s a Russian citizen. We were taking her in for interviews and to determine if she needs to be connected to services relative to human trafficking,” said Goschinski.

Law enforcement has also been investigating Therapy Zone and similar suburban businesses. Apparently finding a massage parlor with sexual services isn’t very difficult. We found a website which claims to locate massage parlors that engage in prostitution.

For a small fee, you can read reviews that include the names of the women, sexual favors offered and price. The site claims there are more than 230 erotic massage parlors all over the tri-state area, including over 80 in Philadelphia.

Philadelphia police detectives Ashley Capaldi and Kate Gordon are part of the department’s new Human Trafficking Unit. They say the women working in the massage parlors are often the victims of human trafficking, who come to the US heavily in debt and are forced into prostitution.

“You said it cost $70, 80, 90 for me to come here, and I’m supposed to be trying to support my family at home and here, and it’s virtually impossible to ever break that cycle,” said Gordon.

“Until now, no one is ever coming for the person who owns the house, who runs the house,” said Capaldi.

According to court records, Lower Merion Police questioned several so-called “Johns” who left Therapy Zone. The “Johns” allegedly admitted to receiving sexual favors and told police during initial visits, they were asked about what sexual favors they wanted, given a price and assigned a number for booking appointments.

Police say they watched as women of Therapy Zone would discard condoms in the trash cans of other businesses.

“Our surveillance found the women who open and operate the business are dropped off a door or two away and that they come in, they operate during the day,” said Goschinski.

Investigators across the region say putting erotic massage parlors out of business is tough.

It’s supply and demand.

They close one parlor, another opens down the road in another name.

In Bala no one’s been charged yet. They continue to investigate allegations of prostitution and human trafficking.

“This is a brick and mortar operation with a significant investment. We hope to disrupt the organization today, and then follow-up with it and see where money is traveling, who owns it and that sort of thing,” said Goschinski.

 

 

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Asian Massage Parlors – The Fun Part – 1

We here at phicklephilly want to bring you all aspects of the dating culture here in Philadelphia. Asian massage parlors have been around forever and are in every city in the country. Even though it’s not technically dating, the service these places provide feels like the very best part of a date.

I spoke with my buddy Johnny R. because out of all of my friends, this cat digs vice. I asked him if he could tell me what the experience was like at one of these places.

You used to find these places in the back pages of Philly Weekly and City Paper. Two free papers that were in honor boxes all over the city. Now you can find them literally on a website called backpages.com.

Update: Sadly… Backpages.com has been shut down due to these kinds of ads.

Once you find a “massage parlor” you want to try you simply locate it in the city. There are several all over the place. Usually it is just an address, with maybe an “Open” sign illuminated in the window.

You ring the bell and are normally greeted by an older Asian woman. Somewhere in her forties or fifties. She’s the mamasan. That’s the person of authority that runs the parlor. They always ask if it’s your first time. They do that to see if you know what the deal is and also to possibly see if you’re law enforcement.

I believe prostitution should be legalized. They’re working in the oldest profession, and should have access to healthcare and anything else any working person is entitled to. But what’s wrong with these places is the human trafficking aspect of this industry. But we’ll get to that in tomorrow’s post.

Some of these places take credit cards and some only cash. Normally they charge around $180. It used to be $150, but times change. But when I tell you what you get for your $180 you’ll see what a good deal it is. Also, years ago you’d pay the mamasan $50 for the massage and then the girl who was to give you the massage asked for a tip once she was alone with you in the room. But I think it was easier for law enforcement to entrap the girls because technically she’s asking for extra money beyond the fee to perform some additional duties.

So now it’s just the whole thing up front. $180 is the price of the massage and what happens in that room between you and that girl is between you two.

So you pay the lady and takes you to a room and leaves you there. The room is normally dimly lit. Everybody looks better in the dark. There is a massage table in the room and usually some sort of little table. Usually there is some soft music playing.

Within a few minutes an attractive, young Asian girl enters the room. She’s usually wearing some skimpy little outfit with a pair of high heels. She greets you and asks your name. You can give her any name you want because the name she gives you probably isn’t her real name either. She hands you a towel and asks you to disrobe. She then leaves the room while you undress.

When she returns you’re usually sitting there on the massage table with a white towel wrapped around your waist. She takes you by the hand, and leads you into the washroom. There is a long table with a cushion on it. she asks you to remove your towel and lie facedown on the table. There is a large round tub filled with water in the corner and she fills it with warm water. She gets a bucket and takes fresh water from a faucet and fills the bucket and rinses you down. Then with a soapy bath sponge she scrubs your body down and washes you. As an adult we take for granted that we take a shower everyday. But as a man having an attractive woman who you don’t even know bathe you, it’s really nice. You feel like a king with a loyal servant to take good care of you. It’s kind of hot. She really scrubs you down paying extra attention to your butt. The foot scrub is especially good. She rinses you down and then gives you your next directive.

She tells you to flip over on to your back. You obey and let her continue to work on you. She gently scrubs the front of you and your legs. The most brilliant part of this table shower is when her soft, slippery, soapy hand grasps your manhood, and spends a little extra time “washing” it with her dexterous digits!

She rinses you off one final time and helps you to your feet. She then dries you off with a towel. When do you ever get treated like this? A cute Asian girl bathing you and then toweling off your whole body is an experience unto itself. No one’s done this for you since you were a child. It’s a nice nostalgic yet erotic experience.

She checks the hallway to make sure you don’t run into any other clients. Think about that. Can you imagine if you were in one of these places and you see your boss, or even worse, a family member?

She takes you by the hand and leads you back to your room. She leaves again, but usually returns in a short amount of time. She asks you to lie face down, and she begins to give you a legitimate massage. Really works her hands on you and hitting all the main muscle groups.

Johnny tells me that one time he was at a parlor and there was a long pipe above the bed and the lady held onto it and literally walked on his back.

It’s a solid massage and even sometimes they massage your hands and feet. During this massage the girl will normally remove her top and will gently rub her nipples on your back.

“I remember this other time the girl was massaging my buttocks and she just spread them and dug in and rimmed me with her tongue!”

“How did that feel, Johnny?”

“Fucking exquisite.”

Normally as you flip over on to your back, she catches your member in her hand and starts massaging it. He said once you’re fully aroused she’ll roll a condom on down the shaft. Johnny says he remembers this one girl had the condom in her mouth and she rolled it on using her mouth.

“That was pretty spectacular.”

Then the girl will usually climb on top of you and mount you and it just goes from there.

“And that’s it?”

“Well you don’t have to stay in that position. She’s yours for the hour. You can flip her any way you want and have sex with her until you finish.”

Once the act is complete, she leaves the room and comes back with a warm wet wash cloth, removes the condom, and wipes you down with the cloth.

She then helps you get dressed. She will even get on her knees and put on your shoes and tie them for you. It’s a lovely experience. She walks you to the door and asks you to make a return visit soon and your on your way.

Sounds amazing.

Legalize this immediately or please look the other way law enforcement.

 

 

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Cherie – Chapter 7 – Lion and the Scorpion – Part I

After our epic 10 hour date last Saturday, we decided to go again this weekend. This would technically be our 4th date, but it felt like our 7th. I knew I couldn’t top last week, but I wanted to come up with some fun activities to do with my latest lady.

I looked online for any happenings. It was Halloween weekend, so I figured there must be something fun to do. The pumpkin event at Headhouse? No. Mini Golf in Northern Liberties?  Fuck Northern Liberties. The weather was supposed to be nice. Maybe we could get on the big red double-decker bus and tour the city. I know the city pretty intimately, but it would be fun to get the official tour and be out in the fresh air on one of the last warm days of Autumn.

I go online and buy a pair of tickets. $60. Not bad. Here’s how it works. You go to 5th and Market Streets. The buses run every half an hour. You give them you ticket, and get on the bus whenever you want. That ticket is now good for the next 24 hours. The bus tours around the city and stops at 15 different landmarks. There are even tour guides on every bus telling you what it is you’re looking at. One of the best parts of this tour is, you don’t have to stay on the bus the whole time. You can get off at any number of stops at any time. Why didn’t I ever think to do this with Michelle when we were together? (See: Michelle – A Brand New Day) You chill on the tour, hop off somewhere. Grab a bite. Have a few drinks and then get back on. You could literally eat and drink your way around the whole city for a day. All the while learning things about our fair city. It would be like having your own personal driver and tour guide, while you get hammered all over the city. Genius.

But it wouldn’t be like that with Cherie. She’s a different cat all together. I tell her to meet me at 5th and Market at 1:30pm. I’d like us to start the tour around 2pm. So I have we have this thing called “Cher-time.” I always allow her an extra half hour before we’re supposed to meet at a proposed time. She’s driving down from Pottstown. There could be construction, detours, weather, etc. I’m hardcore about the clock and being on time as you well know, but I’ll make an allowance here. Because it’s she who is driving all the way into the city to see me.

So, I ordered the tickets and printed them out on Friday night. Within an hour, I get a text from Cherie, that she is having babysitter issues, and she won’t be able to get down to Philly until 4pm. That throws a wrench in things. If it were summertime, it wouldn’t matter if we got on the tour at 4pm, because it stays light until after 8pm. But this time of year it’s starting to get dark at 6pm and it’s getting colder at night.

I call the Big Red Bus Company. I tell them my dilemma. The really cordial guy who answered the phone tells me those tickets can be used at anytime. They’re only activated when I actually present them and step on a bus. I was afraid they would expire or I somehow wasted $60, but no. I can use these tickets for another future date, with Cherie!

She doesn’t know any of this is happening, it’s all behind the scenes. I think she’s just a little sad she can’t get down here sooner. I tell her I have everything under control. She says that she loves a man in control.

I like her words.

She’s on her way down and texts me that there is a detour up around 307, because of some rowing event. I tell her not to worry, and just take her time and be safe. She later texts me from 23rd and Cherry. I tell her I’m waiting for her at 21st and Pine. Somehow she gets a little lost, but finally gets to me. I hop in the Saab and off we go. I tell her about the bus tour thing and initially I could tell she was sad that it was too late to do it. I’m looking at her sweet pout lip. I tell her not to worry because we can use them anytime. She’s happy about that. I tell her it’s another day of dating that’s already paid for. I told her if we’re up on the top-level of the bus it may get a little chilly but we can sit in the back of the bus and cuddle to stay warm. She says she’s down for that for sure. I ask her if she has a problem sitting in the back of the bus. She laughs and tells me she does not. It’s not racially insensitive if the person you are with is intelligent and you’re dating her.

I don’t really have a plan at this point. It’s 5pm now. She drives up to a parking lot back out at 23rd and Cherry streets, It’s pretty deserted. She pulls in. There is no attendant. There are some signs up that say weekend permits only. It almost appears we could just park here and nobody would even know the lot is so empty. But being the honest person Cherie is, she pulls up and leans out the window. She starts putting cash in the machine. I glance over at her. She’s half way out the window because she didn’t pull close enough to the machine. Her shirt rides up her back and I see a horizontal patch of lovely brown skin. Framed above her jeans is lacy turquoise underwear. Is she doing this on purpose?

We pull in and she picks this isolated spot. It’s still light out but dusk is approaching. We’re chatting and catching up. But that slowly turns into dreamy kissing. This goes on for a while and becomes quite passionate.

It’s getting dark and Cherie seems to have no interest in going anywhere or seeing anything around the city. She’s content to stay here and be with me. So I start to feel like something is about to happen in the moment of passion. I feel like a teenager again. Making out with a pretty girl in a car in the dark. And then it happens.

The C-Block. The CB. Doesn’t a Police vehicle pull into the lot and circle around and park about 30 feet away at my 10 o’clock position? Just sits there. Motor running. Headlights shining outward. I can’t believe this is happening again. Cherie says the cops can’t see what her hands are doing below the dashboard. She also notes that the idea of law enforcement parked there while things are happening in here heightens the thrill.

It has become clear to me at this point that Cherie is very interested in me. I’m happy about this. I have been on this dating odyssey, and it’s as if I had to go on all of those dates for this woman to be delivered to me. I’ve learned much on this journey. But like she once said to me…” Be careful for what you wish for.” She’s intelligent, funny, easy-going, beautiful, fit, and on the right side of thirty. I think I just checked off every box on my list. Now it appears there is only one box left that needs checking.

But not in front of the cops.

I suppose some of you may be wondering why I don’t just take her back to my apartment and throttle her. I didn’t want to mention this before but I have a 19-year-old daughter. She lives with me. When she came to me during her senior year in high school, I was single. Technically I still am. I don’t want to start bringing strange women into the house just yet. I haven’t even discussed it with her. If she were sitting on the sofa and I just came rolling in with some young chick, and took her back to the bedroom, that just wouldn’t be cool. Maybe when I know the place is clean, and my daughter is away for the weekend for sure. I’m sure the situation is the same for Cherie. Her son is 6 years old. It’s just weird bringing a strange man into mommy’s bed. I have a lot of will power and am a very patient man. I’m not worried. We’ll figure it out.

Anyway, we’re getting antsy. Cherie suggests we take a walk. I agree. It’s a nice night. This way the police sitting there for the last hour doing nothing will see that we are clean upstanding citizens. Not some interracial couple that has to hide their forbidden romance in some vacant lot on the outskirts of town.

We walk a ways. So I figure maybe I’ll take her somewhere and get her something to eat. But she has other plans. We walk a few blocks and end up on this small street with very little on it. We get to the middle of the block and she stops. She just wants to hang out and make out. I can’t believe this is happening. When I think of all of the drinks and dinners I bought for these other women, and felt nothing, this little vixen just wants to play with me. This goes on for about 45 minutes. It’s a deserted street. We’re right in the middle of the block facing each other. So I can see if anybody is walking up the street or if a car is coming. She can do the same in the opposite direction. Again, I feel like I’m 17 years old and I’m out at night with my 14-year-old girlfriend, Anne. We’re just holding each other and chatting and kissing and gazing into each other’s eyes.

Feels like love to me.

From the very first meeting we just sort of clicked. I thought she was great chill girl. She liked that I was a white gentleman that made her laugh. Yes, I did gather more intel on this date. Her son’s father clipped her when she was 17 years old. He was in his 30’s. He was white. She said they waited until she was 18 to have sex. I agreed with that idea. (Avoid those pesky statutory rape laws.) Apparently he was married and has 4 other children! She says she was not the home wrecker. They bet in a bar but I didn’t push her for details. I asked her to describe him. I didn’t know what to expect. She simply said. 5’9″ okay looking. A douchebag. Also she seems a little sore that he doesn’t spend as much time as he should with his son with her. But he does pay child support. So kudos, buddy. But put some more time in with your boy, asshole. You only get one chance.

They’re only children ONCE.

But here’s the best part of all of that. She works in a pediatrician’s office as one of her two jobs. She says she loves children. She wants to be a doctor that practices pediatric neurosis when she finishes her education. That’s awesome. So I’m assuming, young woman, loves kids, already has one would probably want another one or two to round out the dinner table. Based on these stories you know that my last 3 relationships all ended for that reason. I already have been married. I have a child. I have paid over $125,000 in tax-free money to someone who is not a nice person and hurts those around her. My ex-wife has already burned through her second marriage and has another kid.

But I digress.

Oh sure, I could get married and have another kid and live happily ever after. Sure that could happen. But based on my track record, it’s a sucker’s bet. If I did that and somehow fucked it up again. My child support payments would be coming out of my Social Security checks. No. Just place the gun in my mouth and gently curl your finger so that everything I ever was ends up on the wall behind me.

So I pull the trigger. The lynch pin in this lovely, seemingly perfect romance. Because this way I don’t have to say my last 4 relationships ended for the same reason. I can still say 3, because this beautiful flower that has grown between Cherie myself in the last few weeks will be stomped into the earth under the hob nail boot of reality. Doomed from the start. Destroyed before it could ever flourish.

“Do you want more children, Cherie?”

Tune in 2 weeks from now for the chilling conclusion to this deal breaking tale!

 

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Tales of Rock – Ozzy Osbourne

Ozzy Osbourne, front man for Black Sabbath, and later day marble-mouthed father figure, was the central figure in one of the most legendary rock star stories of all time: He ate the head off a bat. He has since claimed that he thought the bat was fake, it having been thrown on stage during a concert. That actually sounds like a pretty reasonable assumption to make–though the decision to rip even a fake bat apart with his teeth ratchets the reasonableness meter back a bit. One assumes he had his reasons. Were his “reasons” a garbage bag full of drugs? The answer is lost in the seas of time.

Somewhat less gloriously, Ozzy also once drunkenly took a leak on the Alamo, or more precisely, on the memorial across the street. As would be expected, this action pissed off Texans, a car rental company and dead soldiers everywhere. He was actually banned from San Antonio for a decade, and suffered repeated nighttime visits by the ghost of Davy Crockett. To his credit, Ozzy did later apologize profusely for the incident, although the whole thing makes us wonder what other sacred artifacts Ozzy peed on in his day.

 

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To play or not to play, that is the question??? — Sensuality, Sex & Something else

 

After unblocking M I had about a week before he got back from his business trip to try and work my shit out and decide exactly what I wanted to do. It did not take me long to come to the understanding that I honestly did not think it was going to be possible to have […]

via To play or not to play, that is the question??? — Sensuality, Sex & Something else

 

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5th Grade

1973 – Philadelphia, PA

When I started writing this blog some poser took several shots at me about how vacuous my work was, and I was new to writing a blog. I took it hard. She said how I objectified women and missed the point. She told me how I needed to get to myself. I placated her and knew at that time I was a new writer. I was just trying to find my way.  She was mean and told me I sucked.

I was just trying to create again after 10 years and wanted to tell my stories. It really hurt me and gave me a lot of anxiety.

I was new to this and was super sensitive to writing again, especially in a public forum.

I took her negative comments to heart and felt the pain of maybe not going on.

I had no idea where this journey would take me. But I pressed on with the support of friends.

It was a mean attack and I knew I needed to armor up. She said I needed to show my real life on phicklephilly.

Loyal readers, I know you follow my blog and know what’s going on in my life, but I have been wanting to reveal some tales from my past that I want to tell…. so here we are.

Back in the early 70’s when I was in grade school. I wasn’t the best student. Was I smart? Sure, plenty. But maybe I was ADD and didn’t know it. Maybe not. But I had a very creative and artistic mind. School bored me. I would talk in class and get in trouble for causing a disruption. I wasn’t a bad kid, but just a bit of a clown.

My teacher, Miss Brown sent a note home to my mother about my talking in class. This pissed my mother off. I can see this now as a parent but when you’re a kid you don’t see anything but what’s right in front of you.

Miss Brown was a nice lady. Think about this. She was a twenty-something black woman teaching fifth grade in an all white school (except for the black kids they bused in) in an all white neighborhood in the early 70’s. I should have behaved myself and paid attention and been a better student just out of respect of this woman’s achievement.

My mother asked that the teacher let her know on a weekly basis if I was talking in class. She even employed my sister April to deliver the messages each week. Because she knew I wouldn’t do that. I’m not falling on my own sword for anybody.

My mother said if the note came back and it said that I was talking, she would slap me right in the mouth.

We got spanked as kids. I got it the most from both parents because I was the boy and got into the most trouble. Most of my lickings came from my father. But we’ll save that for a different post.

First week note comes home. Didn’t talk in class. All good. I’m on my way to becoming a model prisoner.

Second week, note comes home. Says I did talk.

Mom takes me upstairs. Makes me sit on the edge of her bed. I’m nine years old. I’m crying. I’m afraid. I’m just a little guy. She’s bigger and stronger than I am.

If you hit anyone in this world as an adult you can get in a lot of trouble. You could be arrested and/or sued. But it’s perfectly okay to hit a child that belongs to you. Nobody can do a thing about it and you won’t get in trouble. That child can’t defend himself because that would be a problem. If I waited for her to go to bed and then snuck in there and beat in her skull with her iron, I’d be institutionalized. And please those thoughts never entered my mind. I’m just making a comparison here. I loved my mom and I knew what I was doing wrong in class I just couldn’t help it. I was just being a dumb kid.

So I’m trying to cover my face and I’m crying my eyes out in fear, and my mother just holds down my hands and with her free one slams me across the mouth as hard as she can.  She gets up and walks out of the room. I don’t know if she said anything.

I bet she wished she could have done that to my father a few times for all the shit he pulled over the years.

Later my dad comes home and sees me.

“What happened to your lip?” (I had a fat lip by then.)

“I talked out of turn in class and mom hit me in the mouth.”

“Oh.”

He didn’t say anything else.

I stayed out of sight until dinnertime.

Nothing else was said about it and the notes immediately stopped to my teacher.

I don’t know if my behavior improved in class after that. I don’t remember much else from that period of my life.

I know other boys in my neighborhood got spanked by their parents. Boys are tough rambunctious souls. My friend Michael and his brother Jimmy both got the belt from their father. The sick cycle of violence and corporal punishment trickles down into the children. Jimmy would beat up Michael to disperse his rage. Michael in turn having no one to act out on would kick his dog Greta. He loved his dog and would cry after kicking her but told me had nothing to do with his anger and helplessness at the hands of his captors.

My other friend Wayne and his brother Dale would be chased through the house by their mother and beaten with their Hot Wheels tracks. Hot Wheels were these beautiful little metal cars by Mattel. The tracks were in three foot sections and were orange in color. He told me his mother would leave in the purple connecting piece in the end just to give her weapon of choice a little more bite.

Michael and I would laugh about this because although we were both being physically abused in fairly traditional methods, Wayne and his brother were being beaten with their own toys!

I remember seeing her chase them through the house with the track when we were over there sometimes so I knew the struggle was real. I wondered later would this sort of punishment develop into some sort of S&M fetsh during auto racing events for Wayne?

Of course I know these things because boys share things when their together. I remember Michael saying that his parents hit him because they loved him. I agreed. How sick is that? They beat us because they cared about us and if they didn’t that would mean they didn’t love us. Crazy right?

But our parents were good, decent people who came up in their own struggles during a different time. I remember my mom telling me her mother had a cat o nine tail that she would go after her four sons with. That’s like a real instrument of torture. Where the hell did she even get that thing?

She told me one day her brothers got tired of the beating/whippings and two of them took it out into the woods and buried it. Buried it! Just to make sure it was never found or somehow ever came back!

My mother once told me she was doing the dishes with her mother and her mom told her something and my mother who was around 18 at the time, smirked and did a “hrph” in response. Her mother, my Nana, simply backhanded her so hard in the face it dropped her to the kitchen floor.

Rage much, Nana?

I would bet you this week’s paycheck that every kid that became a bully and picked on me or anybody else was being physically and mentally abused by their parents. Mostly their fathers.

It’s just so sad. It definitely screws you up as a person and leaves and indelible mark.

Here you are this person trying to live your own messed up existence and you’re blessed with this beautiful little life form you call your child. You get the power to download all of your fucked up shit right into that pure little vessel and ruin it.

My father worshiped his father. His father didn’t give a shit about him. He’d rather be down at the tap room drinking with his buddies. I never worshiped my father. For the most part I was afraid of him. My mother and I were both victims of his wrath.

I suffered from depression and anxiety. I expressed it in my art and music. I would say my father suffered from OCD and high anxiety but in reality all of the people closest to him suffered. I treated my anxiety by throwing up and walking towards the things that scared me instead of running away. I never took medicine for any of my defects. I just worked through them and beat them all.

I used to be at war with my demons. Now we’re all on the same side.

My father had high anxiety so he would use rage to dissipate the fear. It actually works but you never fix the problem and evolve as a person. He was a very good man but had some fucked up wiring in his head his whole life.

Sad thing is, if you don’t evolve as you get older, your weaknesses and defects come in and take you. You’re done. You belong to them now.

My father never smoked or drugged or drank a lot, because he said he never wanted anything to own him. (Addiction) Addiction can be managed by some but not many. Little did he know that he was already the property of his OCD and anxiety and never fixed himself. Poor thing.

My mom had her own stuff from her childhood too. But she didn’t talk about it much. I think her dad was a good looking fair haired man who worked in sales. (Sounds familiar.) I also think he was a drunk. Times were tough during the Depression.

I told you I was going to get to all of me in this blog.

Thank you for sticking with me and riding out the journey. There are plenty of stories and the stuff from California will blow your mind. I promise.

I’d like to hear anybody else’s thoughts and comments on the subject of child abuse.

Let me close with this statement. If you are bullied by anyone even a parent you don’t have to become them. Embrace their good qualities, not their mistakes, because then history will simply repeat itself and we won’t evolve as a species.

“I’ve never raised my voice or my hand to my daughter, Lorelei.”

 

Thank you for reading my blog. Please read, like, comment, and most of all follow Phicklephilly. I publish every day.

You can check out my books here: https://www.amazon.com/s?k=charles+wiedenmann&ref=nb_sb_noss_1

Listen to Phicklephilly LIVE on Spotify!

My Young Life: 5th Grade – 1973

When I started writing this blog some poser took several shots at me about how vacuous my work was, and I was new to writing a blog. I took it hard. She said how I objectified women and missed the point. She told me how I needed to get to myself. I placated her and knew at that time I was a new writer. I was just trying to find my way.  She was mean and told me I sucked.

I was just trying to create again after 10 years and wanted to tell my stories. It really hurt me and gave me a lot of anxiety.

I was new to this and was super sensitive to writing again, especially in a public forum.

I took her negative comments to heart and felt the pain of maybe not going on.

I had no idea where this journey would take me. But I pressed on with the support of friends.

It was a mean attack and I knew I needed to armor up. She said I needed to show my real life on phicklephilly.

Loyal readers, I know you follow my blog and know what’s going on in my life, but I have been wanting to reveal some tales from my past that I want to tell…. so here we are.

Back in the early 70’s when I was in grade school. I wasn’t the best student. Was I smart? Sure, plenty. But maybe I was ADD and didn’t know it. Maybe not. But I had a very creative and artistic mind. School bored me. I would talk in class and get in trouble for causing a disruption. I wasn’t a bad kid, but just a bit of a clown.

My teacher, Miss Brown sent a note home to my mother about my talking in class. This pissed my mother off. I can see this now as a parent but when you’re a kid you don’t see anything but what’s right in front of you.

Miss Brown was a nice lady. Think about this. She was a twenty-something black woman teaching fifth grade in an all white school (except for the black kids they bused in) in an all white neighborhood in the early 70’s. I should have behaved myself and paid attention and been a better student just out of respect of this woman’s achievement.

My mother asked that the teacher let her know on a weekly basis if I was talking in class. She even employed my sister April to deliver the messages each week. Because she knew I wouldn’t do that. I’m not falling on my own sword for anybody.

My mother said if the note came back and it said that I was talking, she would slap me right in the mouth.

We got spanked as kids. I got it the most from both parents because I was the boy and got into the most trouble. Most of my lickings came from my father. But we’ll save that for a different post.

First week note comes home. Didn’t talk in class. All good. I’m on my way to becoming a model prisoner.

Second week, note comes home. Says I did talk.

Mom takes me upstairs. Makes me sit on the edge of her bed. I’m nine years old. I’m crying. I’m afraid. I’m just a little guy. She’s bigger and stronger than I am.

If you hit anyone in this world as an adult you can get in a lot of trouble. You could be arrested and/or sued. But it’s perfectly okay to hit a child that belongs to you. Nobody can do a thing about it and you won’t get in trouble. That child can’t defend himself because that would be a problem. If I waited for her to go to bed and then snuck in there and beat in her skull with her iron, I’d be institutionalized. And please those thoughts never entered my mind. I’m just making a comparison here. I loved my mom and I knew what I was doing wrong in class I just couldn’t help it. I was just being a dumb kid.

So I’m trying to cover my face and I’m crying my eyes out in fear, and my mother just holds down my hands and with her free one slams me across the mouth as hard as she can.  She gets up and walks out of the room. I don’t know if she said anything.

I bet she wished she could have done that to my father a few times for all the shit he pulled over the years.

Later my dad comes home and sees me.

“What happened to your lip?” (I had a fat lip by then.)

“I talked out of turn in class and mom hit me in the mouth.”

“Oh.”

He didn’t say anything else.

I stayed out of sight until dinnertime.

Nothing else was said about it and the notes immediately stopped to my teacher.

I don’t know if my behavior improved in class after that. I don’t remember much else from that period of my life.

I know other boys in my neighborhood got spanked by their parents. Boys are tough rambunctious souls. My friend Michael and his brother Jimmy both got the belt from their father. The sick cycle of violence and corporal punishment trickles down into the children. Jimmy would beat up Michael to disperse his rage. Michael in turn having no one to act out on would kick his dog Greta. He loved his dog and would cry after kicking her but told me had nothing to do with his anger and helplessness at the hands of his captors.

My other friend Wayne and his brother Dale would be chased through the house by their mother and beaten with their Hot Wheels tracks. Hot Wheels were these beautiful little metal cars by Mattel. The tracks were in three foot sections and were orange in color. He told me his mother would leave in the purple connecting piece in the end just to give her weapon of choice a little more bite.

Michael and I would laugh about this because although we were both being physically abused in fairly traditional methods, Wayne and his brother were being beaten with their own toys!

I remember seeing her chase them through the house with the track when we were over there sometimes so I knew the struggle was real. I wondered later would this sort of punishment develop into some sort of S&M fetsh during auto racing events for Wayne?

Of course I know these things because boys share things when their together. I remember Michael saying that his parents hit him because they loved him. I agreed. How sick is that? They beat us because they cared about us and if they didn’t that would mean they didn’t love us. Crazy right?

But our parents were good, decent people who came up in their own struggles during a different time. I remember my mom telling me her mother had a cat o nine tail that she would go after her four sons with. That’s like a real instrument of torture. Where the hell did she even get that thing?

She told me one day her brothers got tired of the beating/whippings and two of them took it out into the woods and buried it. Buried it! Just to make sure it was never found or somehow ever came back!

My mother once told me she was doing the dishes with her mother and her mom told her something and my mother who was around 18 at the time, smirked and did a “hrph” in response. Her mother, my Nana, simply backhanded her so hard in the face it dropped her to the kitchen floor.

Rage much, Nana?

I would bet you this week’s paycheck that every kid that became a bully and picked on me or anybody else was being physically and mentally abused by their parents. Mostly their fathers.

It’s just so sad. It definitely screws you up as a person and leaves and indelible mark.

Here you are this person trying to live your own messed up existence and you’re blessed with this beautiful little life form you call your child. You get the power to download all of your fucked up shit right into that pure little vessel and ruin it.

My father worshiped his father. His father didn’t give a shit about him. He’d rather be down at the tap room drinking with his buddies. I never worshiped my father. For the most part I was afraid of him. My mother and I were both victims of his wrath.

I suffered from depression and anxiety. I expressed it in my art and music. I would say my father suffered from OCD and high anxiety but in reality all of the people closest to him suffered. I treated my anxiety by throwing up and walking towards the things that scared me instead of running away. I never took medicine for any of my defects. I just worked through them and beat them all.

I used to be at war with my demons. Now we’re all on the same side.

My father had high anxiety so he would use rage to dissipate the fear. It actually works but you never fix the problem and evolve as a person. He was a very good man but had some fucked up wiring in his head his whole life.

Sad thing is, if you don’t evolve as you get older, your weaknesses and defects come in and take you. You’re done. You belong to them now.

My father never smoked or drugged or drank a lot, because he said he never wanted anything to own him. (Addiction) Addiction can be managed by some but not many. Little did he know that he was already the property of his OCD and anxiety and never fixed himself. Poor thing.

My mom had her own stuff from her childhood too. But she didn’t talk about it much. I think her dad was a good looking fair haired man who worked in sales. (Sounds familiar.) I also think he was a drunk. Times were tough during the Depression.

I told you I was going to get to all of me in this blog.

Thank you for sticking with me and riding out the journey. There are plenty of stories and the stuff from California will blow your mind. I promise.

I’d like to hear anybody else’s thoughts and comments on the subject of child abuse.

Let me close with this statement. If you are bullied by anyone even a parent you don’t have to become them. Embrace their good qualities, not their mistakes, because then history will simply repeat itself and we won’t evolve as a species.

“I’ve never raised my voice or my hand to my daughter, Lorelei.”

 

Thank you for reading my blog. Please read, like, comment, and most of all follow Phicklephilly. I publish every day at 8am EST.

Instagram: @phicklephilly                                        Facebook: phicklephilly

Modern Dating Etiquette for Men

Fol­low these dat­ing dos and don’ts to mas­ter mod­ern dat­ing eti­quette and you’re almost guar­an­teed to make a great impression.

These dat­ing eti­quette tips can be fol­lowed on your first date or even your sec­ond and third. It also doesn’t mat­ter if you met at work, through friends or online, the basics of proper dat­ing eti­quette are the same.

Get­ting to the Date

Women like for a man to lead so it’s best not to make her drive you. If you’re pick­ing her up, don’t drive too fast or openly dis­play road rage. If you hap­pen to drive a con­vert­ible, don’t drive with the top down when it’s freez­ing cold out­side just because you think it’s cool. Also don’t com­plain about hav­ing to pay valet park­ing. If you’ve arranged to meet her some­where, be punc­tual and don’t leave her to sit at the bar alone.

On-Date Eti­quette

Make eye con­tact to show that you’re pay­ing atten­tion to her and avoid the temp­ta­tion to stare at her breasts (no mat­ter how good they look). Look­ing down at your food shows a lack of con­fi­dence and look­ing past your date’s head at peo­ple pass­ing by shows a lack of inter­est. Also def­i­nitely don’t ogle other girls around you, even if they do hap­pen to be bet­ter look­ing than your date.

Touch­ing Etiquette

Each woman has a dif­fer­ent opin­ion about what con­sti­tutes an appro­pri­ate touch from some­one she just met and it also depends on the venue. When you meet her, shake her hand while smil­ing and look­ing into her eyes. This imme­di­ately breaks the bar­rier and makes it eas­ier to touch her later on.

If you are able to get her com­fort­able and laugh­ing she may touch you play­fully. If so, it can be con­sid­ered a green light for you to do the same (but don’t overdo it by touch­ing her at every opportunity).

If you are mov­ing to a dif­fer­ent venue you can touch her back briefly to guide her in the direc­tion you want to go. This is a harm­less ges­ture, but when accom­pa­nied with good con­ver­sa­tion it can build famil­iar­ity and attraction.

Mak­ing Conversation

Turn off your cell phone dur­ing din­ner so you’re not inter­rupted. Ask ques­tions when sto­ries are told, and offer opin­ions when top­ics are dis­cussed. You’re not expected to agree with every­thing she says. Dis­agree­ment is both healthy and interesting.

Avoid the temp­ta­tion to ram­ble on about your­self in an attempt to impress her. She’ll be much more impressed if you ask her ques­tions and demon­strate that you’re a good listener.

Here are some more con­ver­sa­tional no-nos:

• Don’t com­plain about dat­ing and don’t go on about your dys­func­tional family.
• Def­i­nitely resist talk­ing about how hot your ex is, how good she was in bed, or how your date reminds you of her.
• Telling your date that you feel like you’ve known her for­ever also won’t go down as well as you might expect.
• Obvi­ously you should also avoid racist and sex­ist com­ments and don’t bad mouth peo­ple because it only makes you look like a prick.

Don’t Bare Your Soul

Resist the temp­ta­tion of bar­ing your soul on a first date. We all have anx­i­eties, bag­gage, hang-ups, inse­cu­ri­ties and skele­tons. Leave these in the closet while dat­ing, and be pos­i­tive and upbeat.

It is pos­si­ble to talk about exes, but only if it’s clear that both of you want to go down that poten­tially bumpy road. You’re strongly advised how­ever, not to sab­o­tage your date with too much infor­ma­tion, too soon.

Pay­ing Compliments

You can compliment your date. (e.g. That out­fit looks great on you), but that’s all. Any more than that and you risk com­ing across as needy and low­er­ing your sta­tus in her eyes. Repeatedly telling her how beau­ti­ful she is will make her feel that you’re not wor­thy of her, so don’t do it no mat­ter how strong the urge!

Also never con­fess your love for a women in the first few dates, or even the first few months for that mat­ter. A woman wants to feel that you’ve really taken the time to get to know her and a love dec­la­ra­tion after only a few dates comes across as needy and insin­cere because you can’t love some­one that you hardly know, even if she is drop-dead gor­geous.

Din­ner Etiquette

Avoid tak­ing her to the loud­est restau­rant in town where you won’t be able to hear a word she’s say­ing. Also don’t take her to an expen­sive restau­rant and then make her feel bad for order­ing too much.

It goes with­out say­ing that you should exer­cise basic table man­ners, which means you don’t start eat­ing until both of you have your food and you don’t talk with your mouth full. Also don’t bounce your leg ner­vously at the din­ner table and remem­ber to be cour­te­ous and gen­er­ous to the waiter.

Avoid the temp­ta­tion of buy­ing her a rose in a restau­rant. It might seem like a roman­tic idea, but she’ll prob­a­bly feel a lit­tle awk­ward car­ry­ing it around for the rest of the night, espe­cially con­sid­er­ing that she doesn’t really know you that well.

Who Pays?

When it comes to pay­ing, if you asked her out you should def­i­nitely pay, even if she offers to split the bill. If you go on mul­ti­ple dates with a women and she sug­gests an event or din­ner, the chances are good that she will offer to pay. If you insist on pay­ing in this instance she may get offended, think­ing you don’t respect the fact that she has a job and can afford it.

With most mod­ern cou­ples it is not unusual for the woman to pay about 30% of the time or to split the bill on occa­sion. Def­i­nitely don’t let her pay more than 50% of the time or you’ll look like a cheap­skate, and when you do split the bill, don’t make her pay more just because your meal was slightly cheaper.

If she pays for your cof­fee or meal you can say the fol­low­ing with a smile: “Don’t think that pay­ing will let you have your way with me later!’ This kind of role rever­sal line will not only get a laugh, but will also show that you under­stand the dance of human dat­ing behavior.

Post-Date Eti­quette

At the end of the date, you have to trust your instincts. If you think you have chem­istry, there’s noth­ing wrong with going for the kiss. Then again, some peo­ple don’t kiss on first dates so don’t take it per­son­ally. If you think things went well, ask when you can see her again. you’ll know pretty quickly if her response is sin­cere. No mat­ter what hap­pens, don’t pres­sur­e her. Be con­fi­dent and be yourself.

If you felt there was chem­istry, fol­low up with her the next few days. Don’t wait any longer or she might think she’s being played. If on the other hand you don’t have fun or are not roman­ti­cally attracted to her then don’t go out with her again. Don’t be rude about it. Treat your date respect­fully as you would a pla­tonic friend.

 

Thank you for reading my blog. Please read, like, comment, and most of all follow Phicklephilly. I publish every day at 8am EST.

Instagram: @phicklephilly    Facebook: phicklephilly

Tales of Rock: Swedish Metal Fiasco – Ghost – Part 3

Ghost is a Swedish heavy metal band that was formed in Linköping in 2006. In 2010, they released a 3-track demo followed by a 7″ vinyl titled “Elizabeth”, and later their debut full-length album Opus Eponymous. The Grammy-nominated album was widely praised and significantly increased their popularity. Their second album and major-label debut Infestissumam was released in 2013, debuted at number one in Sweden and won the Grammy Award for Best Hard Rock/Metal Album. The band released their third studio album, Meliora, in 2015, to much critical acclaim and high record sales, reaching number one in their home country of Sweden, and number eight in the United States. Its lead single, “Cirice”, earned them the 2016 Grammy Award for Best Metal Performance.

Ghost is easily recognizable owing greatly to its eccentric on-stage presence. Five of the group’s six members, its ‘Nameless Ghouls,’  wear virtually identical, face-concealing costumes. The most distinguishable member is its vocalist, called ‘Papa Emeritus’, who wears a prosthetic mask of skull face paint and appears as what can be described as a “demonic anti-Pope.”  Each album cycle has brought about a change in the band’s appearance. Though the vocalist is always portrayed as roughly the same archetypal character, there are slight appearance changes, and even altered personality traits from former versions.

All of the band members’ true identities were kept anonymous until 2017, when five former members revealed themselves, four of whom filed a lawsuit against the lead singer Tobias Forge, marking the confirmation of his true identity.

Church and I get to the venue around 8:45 pm. It’s hot as hell this summer. They check our IDs at the door and stamp our hands. We go through security like it’s a fucking airport. I have to take out my keys and show them to the nice lady who is patting me down and I just pretend she’s fondling me for a second.

Then I see my adorable young friend Emily! (See: Emily – 2015 to Present – Super Baby Sister) I forgot she works here at the Fillmore. I love little Emily. I give her a hug and I feel all of the rage that I had bottled up for the last four days simply drain out of me. I’ll have to bear that in mind on the next occasion I’m angry. Simply hug a cute girl.

Church and I hit the bar. He gets a coke because he’s not drinking. But buys me a vodka and tonic. Free drinks always make me feel better. We walk around and check out the venue. He’s never been here before. The Fillmore is one of my favorite places to see a show. It’s an old refinery that’s been converted to a concert hall. So it’s very spacious. They have a big open lobby area, then there is a bar called the Foundry as you get inside. To the left is the main concert area. And again, that’s very spacious as well. There’s a huge long bar in there as well. It’s just the perfect place to see shows. This is a general admission show so there is no seating. Church tells me the show is sold out, and the place is packed. But not the bar area. So I’m happy to just sip my drink and I’ll watch from the back.

The show starts and the band comes out and hits it. Ghost is the antithesis of Catholicism where they worship the devil. They are lead by Papa Emeritus whose costume is similar to that of the Pope. Ghost had been to Philly before opening for Avenged Sevenfold in 2013. That lineup consisted of Papa Emeritus II who has since been replaced with Papa Emeritus III.

Ghost’s tour to the smaller venues is an amazing show as their light show is one of the best I have seen. The lights enhance their songs perfectly. They stay with the Catholicism theme using a thurible during one of their songs. Giving sacrament by using two ladies from the audience to give communion wafers and wine. Ghost has really reinvented their sound with Papa Emeritus III. The older songs do sound better with the new Papa. Hearing “Cirice” live reinforced the Grammy Award as it a perfect song. The Nameless Ghouls wore masks that would represent Moloch as well.

Like I said before, I don’t know anything about this band, but they rocked out and the guitar work was solid. I didn’t know any of the songs but near the end, I was swaying and tapping to the music. If Duncan were here he’d be head thrashing. I always wonder why most people I see at concerts just stand there. I always move with the music. Maybe because I’m a musician.

All in all, I had a good night and didn’t spend a bunch of money. So by the end of the night, I was happy again, and making plans to see Emily one of these days for a Sugar Baby night of drinks.

But like I said in the last chapter of this trilogy. Never again will I get roped into someone else’s plans. NEVER AGAIN!

Church wants me to go to Las Vegas to see Billy Idol at the Hard Rock casino in October to celebrate his 9 months of sobriety. Never happening. I love Billy Idol, but that dude is sixty and I don’t gamble and why would I spend that kind of money to go to something I have no interest in? Church needs to pull himself together and do whatever he needs to do, but my life is magical enough without going to Vegas.

I’m happy with my life the way it is. I’ve done so much and lived so much. I continue to live in the now and feel life’s energy. I get my energy from people and I love that. I am full, and they keep pouring it on.

I’m fine. The daughter is fine and we’re hitting on all cylinders. She gets it and of course, so do I. I’m surrounded by some empty lost souls. I’ll help them but that shit gets tiring. Let go of the bars of your prison and walk out.

 

Thank you for reading my blog. Please read, like, comment, and most of all follow Phicklephilly. I publish every day.

You can check out my books here: https://www.amazon.com/s?k=charles+wiedenmann&ref=nb_sb_noss_1

Tales of Rock: Swedish Metal Fiasco – Duncan – Part 1

My buddy Duncan reached out to me a couple of months ago. He’s the one who works all the time at the bank in commercial real estate in North Carolina and makes tons of money. He’s completely driven by succeeding and earning, so he’s lost all site of the little things in life.

But I thought there was still hope when he sent me some music clips from a Swedish heavy metal band called Ghost. I thought it was pretty good, but I’m not thrilled with metal in general anymore. I’m just not that angry. I enjoy music that’s a bit softer now as I’m well into middle age.

A few weeks later he texts me that Ghost is playing at the Fillmore here in Philly. He says he’s buying two tickets and flying up to see them with me. I’m thrilled that I’m going to spend time with my old friend. I wouldn’t care if we’re going to see the Wiggles, I’m just happy to hang with my buddy.

He also tells me he’s staying up here a couple of days because his sister is getting married on Saturday. Ghost is on Thursday so I figure I’ll take off a few days and do stuff around the city with him until Saturday. It’ll be awesome just like the last time he came up.

I was hanging in a bar with my friend Church having some food and drinks when that text came through. Church says he loves Ghost. He wants to go too. I figure the more the merrier. Church buys a ticket on Stub Hub, and now we’ll all go rock out.

Three days before the show, (I’ve already asked for the time off) Duncan texts me that he’s not coming up now. He states that it will cost him $1000 for everything round trip and he just doesn’t want to spend the money. (This clown will be a millionaire by the time he’s fifty years old in two years!) What the hell?

He says it always costs him that much with air fare hotel, transportation, etc.

“Dude. Listen to yourself. You’re close to being a fucking millionaire.  A thousand bucks is like piss in the ocean to you!”

“I just don’t want to spend that much money on anything right now. Got to stay focused.”

“What about your sister’s wedding?”

“I’d rather do a longer fun filled trip and spend a thousand dollars rather that a quick up and back for a ‘questionable’ second wedding.”

“Oh, come on! This was your idea!”

“I’m emailing you the tickets now.”

“You suck! Church already bought his ticket.”

“Well you can bring someone else, or sell the ticket or give it away.”

“I think you’re making a mistake. Dude, you work a lot, you like this band and can totally afford to take a break and come up and enjoy the show. Live a little!”

“I would have really liked to see this band with you, they are good but a little different than what we’re accustomed to listening to.”

“You should come up! We’ll rock out and you can see your family. No one ever laid on their deathbed and said, ‘I should have spent more time at the office.”

“You sound like my mother.”

“Fine.”

 

 

Thank you for reading my blog. Please read, like, comment, and most of all follow Phicklephilly. I publish every day at 8am EST.

Instagram: @phicklephilly                        Facebook: phicklephilly