I want to tell the world how my skin feels beneath your hands.

I want to tell the world how my skin feels beneath your hands.

I want to share with the world the way my skin feels beneath your hands.

I want the world to experience the way my skin feels beneath your hands.

I think I would like to bottle in old blue Mason jars the way my skin feels beneath your hands.

I think I could sell these old blue Mason jars filled with the way my skin feels beneath your hands.

I could sell them for a profit and we could have six houses worth $33 million dollars.

I could do that, but it seems to me that there would be something terribly wrong about profiting from the joy my skin feels beneath your hands.

In fact, these Mason jars of the way my skin feels beneath your hands should be given away free of charge to all of mankind.

Not to be overly idealistic or a moon eyed hippie, but these Mason jars of the way my skin feels beneath your hands could accomplish much good in the world.

These Mason jars of the way my skin feels beneath your hands could soothe away so much pain.

These Mason jars of the way my skin feels beneath your hands could truly make the world a better place.

I want to give away these Mason jars of the way my skin feels beneath your hands to every man, woman and child.

Therein lies my problem.

How would I possibly get a Mason jar of the way my skin feels beneath your hands to every man, woman and child on Earth?

I would need trucks and warehouses, drivers and secretaries, managers and group leaders, an immense factory and a huge international distribution network.

I would need a lot, a very lot, no several mountains of Mason jars. I would need cardboard boxes. I would need packaging tape and address labels. I would need a broom to sweep up the occasional jar that slipped from someone’s hand.

I would need to borrow a lot of money to buy all of these things because I currently do not have, nor am I ever likely to have, the resources to distribute a Mason jar of the way my skin feels beneath your hands to every man, woman and child on the planet.

And you know, I am pretty confident that there are no banks or individuals willing to loan money to a certain to lose lots of money enterprise. Even if it were for the benefit of all mankind.

Maybe…I could scale back my plans and distribute our Mason jars of the way my skin feels beneath your hands to every man, woman and child in the Town of Riverhead, New York. In other words a real life example of the old granola bumper sticker, “Think Globally, Act Locally.”

I fear that even that would be problematic.

I foresee people complaining because they did not get their Mason jar of the way my skin feels beneath your hands as fast as their next door neighbor.

I foresee people failing to follow the directions on our Mason jars of the way my skin feels beneath your hands, over applying it, using up their Mason jar too quickly and demanding another.

I foresee people in the next town over protesting that it is unfair for me to restrict the distribution of our Mason jars.

I foresee people in San Francisco walking picket lines with magic markered placards, “We Deserve Joy Too!” “Kramer is a Fascist” “Share the Love!”

Due to this restricted distribution, I foresee more and more people moving to the Town of Riverhead, NY just so that they can receive our Mason jars. More houses and condos and convenience stores and strip malls will need to be built. Open space will disappear, the buffalo will be sent back to Montana, potatoes exiled to Idaho, sprouts and cabbage sent packing to Texas so that more unending tracts of soulless, vinyl, cookie cutter homes can be built.

Or…I foresee people not using our Mason jars of the way my skin feels beneath your hands at all, but selling them to someone on a street corner for a large sum of money, thereby giving birth to a black market.

I foresee the black market expanding, no exploding until everyone is selling their Mason jars of the way my skin feels beneath your hands to an organized crime syndicate that empties the jars, cuts it with talcum powder or baby laxative and sells it to people who are now addicted to the way my skin feels beneath your hands.

As a result of the enormous black market in our Mason jars, I foresee turf wars, blood, violence, gun battles and 10 year old inner city kids caught in the crossfire.

I foresee 12 step programs, detox clinics and halfway houses overflowing with people addicted to the way my skin feels beneath you hands.

I foresee a great blossoming of evil if the world were ever to experience the way my skin feels beneath your hands. So that is why I must keep to myself the entire supply of the way my skin feels beneath your hands.

It’s sad, I truly wanted to share the way my skin feels beneath your hands
with the entire world, but the world is not ready for,
and never will be ready for

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