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228 pages, Kindle Edition
First published January 1, 2015
By the way, I did manage to chat up two Eskimo women (not the beautiful ones, of course) to the point where they were willing to invite me back to their home.
The physical beauty [of Jamaica] is overwhelming, the women gorgeous, willing, and plentiful.
I thank Jeffrey Epstein for supplying an early vision of how the chapters might be organized.
Nor were the reverberations of Be-be's death limited to my stay in Jamaica. Within a month I was facing down twenty near-homicidal Germans in a bar in Seewiesen, Germany and, a week later, a German doctor bent on injecting a syringe full of tranquilizer into me as I was held by several orderlies in a Göttingen hospital. I declared that no “Nazi” doctor was going to inject anything in me, Germany still being an occupied country. Indeed, the amount he intended to inject would have put me in a coma for a week, if not a month.

"You don't remember what you were yelling when they brought you here last night?" I did not. "You were cursing them left and right, calling them mother-fuckers for holding you for the night."
In 1980 I had a prestigious fellowship from the Smithsonian and space provided to do a year of tropical research in Panama.
It was these actual details [of a murder] that soon came to trouble me and, in fact, set me off on a ten-day tear in which I ended up "investigating" the crime, sleeping two to four hours night, smoking ganja [marajuana] continuously, and so polarizing the community that by the end of my stay some men were carrying guns against me, and I had to seek refuge in my lawyer's home By then I had also had several physcial fights, both in Southfield and elsewhere, inccluding one in a Kingston night club that resulted in an icepick being shoved almost completely though my left hand.
