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Michael Kindt
Lives in South Dakota
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Michael Kindt

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Walking around with your fly open is embarrassing, but the other day I took it to a whole new--even cosmic--level

I was shopping for household sundries, at the store of course, in public. My fly was open the whole time. Only, it wasn’t just open, but WIDE open, as if each side was being pulled apart by invisible fingers. Add to this the the fact that I was wearing black pants and bright red boxers and you have eye-catching contrast. Additionally, my penis was poking out, albeit covered in bright red fabric, but still. It was POKING OUT.

Jesus.

Everybody was staring at me as I pushed my cart around the store, but I figured it was just because I am a gorgeous man with a kick ass beard and big brown come hither eyes. Slowly, I pushed that cart, leaning on it really, as I wandered around and got the stuff on my list, plus a few other things besides. Eventually, in the pasta aisle, a store security guard approached me and said “You can’t walk around here like that.”

"Like what?"

"Like that." He pointed at my crotch, but I didn’t notice that’s what he was pointing at. I thought it was just a general pointing.

"Hey, man," I said. "Don’t hate me because I’m beautiful."

"Put the mouse back in the house or take it outside."

I looked down then and quite literally gasped. Well, ‘gasp’ is a good, writerly word to use for what I did. Really, though, there is no word in English for the sound I made, a sort of guttural cough mingled with the words “What the holy fuck?”. In retrospect, it sounded like Klingon.

Quickly, I shoved my junk back in my pants and zipped up. I apologized and the security guard said I could finish my shopping. He wanted me to know, however, that I would be watched constantly through the store’s security cameras because “There’s kids in here, for Christ’s sake!”

I didn’t finish shopping. I was too embarrassed and left my cart and all my stuff right there in the pasta aisle. I fled the store, never to return again. I went home, changed clothes, and burned the bright red boxers in a clearing I had made in the yard. I sat nearby with a jug of water for fire safety reasons, weeping bitterly and shaking a fist at the sky.
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Eric Geissinger's profile photo
 
Ouch! At least you hadn't gone commando that day. :-)
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Michael Kindt

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At the laundry mat again. I’ve decided that from here on out until I die, I will only be photographed in a laundry mat. This is my new thing and I am quite serious about it. Hello.
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Eric Geissinger's profile photoBen Handy's profile photoNesbi Maret's profile photo
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Is my machine finished yet?
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Michael Kindt

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Well said. Of course that's not going to sell any papers....
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Michael Kindt

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Next year, Major League Baseball will ban home plate collisions.

Additionally, managers have promised to take their teams out for ice cream after each game if everybody tries real hard and exhibits good sportsmanship
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I believe they are also no longer keeping score, and just playing for the joy of the game. Should be a great season!
(All 184 games of it.)
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Have him in circles
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I think Johnny Weir should be the flag-bearer for the U.S. at the Olympics opening ceremony next month in Russia.

Johnny is an openly gay figure skater and Russia is, to put it lightly, going backwards on gay rights (thus human rights).

I think Johnny marching at the head of our entire team carrying our flag would be a great way to tell Russia to “bite me”.
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Have him in circles
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Introduction

I am a writer living in South Dakota. I have written my whole life, but only seriously these last few years. Giving up conventional notions of career and success, I changed my life and plunged full-time into the world of the starving artist. It was the best decision I’ve ever made. I have had several stories, articles, and poems published, and am currently writing a weekly column for Cagle Cartoons & Commentary. Be forewarned, it is very liberal and very sarcastic.

I am also the author of the infamous “Mechanically Separated Chicken” article, which made the rounds awhile back and was widely misunderstood. I’m also author of “Shitty Tattoo,”  a short work of comedy that also made the rounds and which nobody got but me.

I consider myself a satirist and am interested in the dark side of everything.
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South Dakota