lo zio indegno

Your family has assembled around a festive table. All are in full feather. Most are slightly ruffled. One geezer stands out. They say he is somebody’s uncle. He came alone. No one knows his name. The tablecloth is bouncing above his lap. The putative uncle is jerking off. More like, just jerking.
    The adults are averting their eyes. They are chatting about current events. Their voices are strained. No one wants to be caught staring. Only a little child breaks rank, transfixed by this public display of affection. When the child grows up, he is going to be somebody’s sleazy uncle.
    Note for our visitors: The uncle is Los Angeles. The child is you.

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