You know, given that the nights come early, enveloping the world in dark and cold, and given that the time when one must thank God for all things is coming, I always take time out to reflect upon the primitives of Skins's island.
There's only two primitives utterly irredeemable, two drek primitives, their souls black with decay and gangrene and pus; all the rest are human, although one reasonably suspects that 99% of this "rest" are rather baser, rather less, than decent and civilized people.
But surely out of circa 6,000 primitives, there must be one or two or three of them one can find pleasant company--POLITICS EXCEPTED--for lunch, for a few beers, or for whiskey and poker.
Again, remember, POLITICS EXCEPTED.
Are there any primitives on Skins' island one might feel comfortable socializing with, for an hour or so?
I actually have a whole pocketful of them, from the warped primitive to Grandma with the diverted intestine to the cboy4 primitive, to about four or five others whose names escape me at the moment.
I'd take especial care with the warped primitive, to remind her she has a pretty smile or great eyes or lovely hair or whatever it is that's aesthetic about her mannish-looking physique. The warped primitive is a woman after all, with the natural longings of women, including the desire to be praised for whatever is attractive about her.
And then maybe we could have some fun arm-wresting over beers.