Arthur Black Fifty Shades of Black (epub) id

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.Me? I owe some guy in a Moroccan village twenty cents.It’s not really a problem but it’s a debt I’ll never forget.Decades ago, as a teenager hitchhiking across North Africa, I found myself stranded one day in a tiny town in the Atlas Mountains.What passed for the bank was closed for Ramadan, ATMs were as yet undreamed of and I was down to my very last dirham—a small coin worth something less than two bits.Accommodation was no problem as long as I didn’t mind smelling goatish—but I was hungry.Very hungry.Around sundown I found a hole-in-the-wall restaurant that sold nothing but stew.Price per bowl, one dirham.I lined up with a sketchy-looking string of customers, nervously fingering my last coin.I arrived at the stew cauldron at the same moment as a scowling, djellaba-clad Tuareg.He glowered at me; I motioned for him to go ahead, even as my stomach voted otherwise.The stranger disdainfully swept ahead, got his stew and left without a thank you or a backward glance.When I got my bowlful and offered to pay, my coin was refused.The stew dispenser indicated with a flick of his head that Mr.Nasty had paid my tab.I can still taste that stew.And I still think of the stranger I owe for it.Being in debt isn’t always just about the money.Early in his career, comedian Jackie Gleason had an engagement at a burlesque house in Atlantic City.The gig ended, the cheque from the burlesque house bounced and Gleason couldn’t pay his room and board.Intending to skip town, Gleason packed up his clothes, lowered his suitcase out a window to a waiting accomplice then waddled casually past the reception desk wearing nothing but bathing trunks and carrying a towel.“Just off to the beach,” he assured the landlady.Years later when Gleason was flush, guilt propelled him back to the boarding house to make good on his debt.The landlady shrieked at the sight of him.“Oh, my Lord!” she cried.“We thought you’d drowned.”Fan Mail Welcome; Clipping, Not So MuchThere are three cardinal rules I try to follow in life:1.Never argue with airport security staff.(You won’t win and you might miss your flight.)2.Always answer “No” to the question “Do these slacks make my hips look big?”3.Always answer your fan mail promptly.Okay, the last one’s easy.When it comes to fan mail I ain’t exactly Lady Gaga.It’s not like I have to hire a fleet of secretaries to deal with the cataracts of emails and letters flooding in, but I do get some.And I do my very best to answer it the same day.Why, you ask? Well, I’m Canadian, eh? It’s the polite thing to do.Recently, however, I learned an even more compelling reason for responding quickly to fan mail.Justin Bieber.Not long ago, police in New Mexico announced that Dana Martin, a three-time loser and convicted killer, had arranged—from his jail cell—to pay associates to castrate Justin Bieber with hedge clippers.Interestingly, it was not the quality of Mr.Bieber’s musical offerings that Mr.Martin objected to, nor was it the pop star’s goofy hairstyle.It was the fact that Mr.Martin’s many fan letters to the pop star had gone unanswered.Because of the perceived snub, Mr.Martin was reportedly prepared to pay three hit men five thousand dollars for delivery of “the Bieber package.” Specifically, twenty-five hundred dollars per testicle.When it comes to answering fan mail, you can’t be too careful.Or too prompt.I worked in radio for many years and for some of those years my fan mail reached me with a curious time delay built in.I noticed that the envelopes (this was in pre-email times) all bore the inscription “Forwarded.” Turns out there was a gentleman in my neighbourhood who bore the exceedingly vulnerable moniker of Athol Black.Fans (friendly and otherwise) would call Directory Assistance to get my mailing address, the operator would say, “I have a Mr.Athol Black listed,” and the fan would say “Yeah—that’s the one I want! The ath-hole who talks onna radio alla time.”Which raises the question: what to do with crank mail?For me it depends on the virulence level.If someone writes to tell me that I’m an inconsiderate, illiterate lazy slob who’s ignorant, opinionated and about as funny as a root canal, I write back acknowledging that my next-door neighbours, my grade six teacher, my children and my wife wholeheartedly concur.If, however, they write that I’m a treasonous, illegitimate fascist who ought to be castrated with hedge clippers, I write back to say the RCMP have asked for a home address so they can come over for a chat.Happily, most fan mail is not so sulphurous or mean-spirited.We are Canadians after all, which means (outside of hockey arenas and Normandy beaches) most of us are friendly, generous and polite to a fault.That’s why when people write to me, even to disagree with something I’ve written, they usually do so in a genteel and civilized manner.I appreciate that.Over the years, many lively correspondences and more than a few friendships have blossomed because I faithfully answer my fan mail.As a matter of fact, this afternoon I’m off to have coffee with someone I’ve never met who contacted me by mail [ Pobierz całość w formacie PDF ]

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