Ake's Pains debuted in the University of Akron Buchtelite in September of 1977. The school's reputation as an institute of higher learning has still not recovered. Ake's Pains returns after a brief 32 year hiatus. It's back, baby!

Saturday, July 25, 2015

I Wear My Speedos To The Beach

There are some very dangerous encounters happening on beaches this summer.  And I’m not referring to shark attacks in North Carolina, no; I’m talking about middle-aged and older men parading around in very skimpy swimwear.  This is figuratively a shark attack for your eyes, and once that image is burned in your brain, it is oh so tough to erase.

What do aging guys do this?  It serves the same purpose as sports cars, gold chains, too much cologne and toupees (some losers even shave their heads), it is a feeble attempt to prove to the female species that you still have something desirable to offer – “You’ve still got it”

Unfortunately you have to fish with the bait you have, not with the bait you want, or think you have.  But these guys are not master baiters (well maybe they are) however they are making a statement: I’m still relevant as a man, so I’m putting my manhood out on fully display!

However, these men strutting on the beach look so confident and liberated I thought it might be fun to try it myself.  So I ordered some Speedos before my vacation trip to Sanibel Island.  I was shaking as I opened
My new Speedos have arrived!
package. I tried on my new Speedos and the fit was skin tight and they looked really good on me.

So I wore my Speedos on the beach and I wrote a little poem to commemorate the occasion. (Exclusive, revealing photo at the end of the post!)

I Wear My Speedos To The Beach

I wear my Speedos to the beach
Then I hear the women screech
I wear my Speedos to the beach

I wear my Speedos in the sun
Please rub some lotion on my bun
I wear my Speedos in the sun

I wear my Speedos by the pool
So all the ladies see my tool
I wear my Speedos to the pool

I wear my Speedos when I strut
And wiggle my impressive butt
I wear my Speedos when I strut

I wear my Speedos to the track
Move so fast they're up my crack
I wear my Speedos to the track

I wear my Speedos when I can
Cause I'm such a sexy man
I wear my Speedos when I can

I wear my Speedos in the sand
Scratch myself with either hand
I wear my Speedos in the sand

I wear my Speedos in the heat
Showing off the Grade-A meat
I wear my Speedos in the heat

I wear my Speedos everywhere
If you're offended, I don't care
I where my Speedos everywhere

I wear my Speedos by the sea
So those chicks can ogle me
I wear my Speedos by the sea

I wear my Speedos when I jam
Makes them hunger for some ham
I wear my Speedos when I jam

I wear my Speedos in the light
It fits my body oh so tight
I wear my Speedos in the light

I where my Speedos every place
It is never a disgrace
I wear my Speedos every place

I wear my Speedos cause I'm hot
Cause maybe I still have a shot
I wear my Speedos cause I'm hot

I wear my Speedos to the park
Love to make those bitches bark
I wear my Speedos to the park

I wear my Speedos when I rock
So everyone can see my cockatoo
I wear my Speedos when I rock

I wear my Speedos to the beach
But keep my beefcake out of reach
Yes, I wear my Speedos to the beach

And yes I did wear my Speedos to the beach!


And here is the photo I promised!

Don't stare at it too long ladies, because those ankles are very sexy, no?

(I’m very sorry Margo, I know you were expecting so much more)

With apologies to Dr. Seuss.  If I could find someone to illustrate this poem, I could have my second book. And then follow it up with: One Thong, Two Thong, Red Thong, Blue Thong.

Thursday, July 16, 2015


Writer’s Note: This blog post evolved from a Facebook posting.  Kori and Carrie wanted me to write about it and you don’t tell these women “No”.

I was engaged in conversation at our annual family picnic, when we were suddenly interrupted by the enthusiastic exclamation: “My name is DAAAAAAAAAAAVE!” I looked over to see a guy in a tank top, 70’s style hair, excessive tats, and large goofy smile, eagerly extending his hand.  I shook it and introduced myself, not quite as loudly though.

I had not seen this dude before and I wondered to myself if one of the women folk had made a questionable choice of new suitors.  Of course I am wondering who he is, but I’m not going to ask for fear of hearing “My name is DAAAAAAAAAAAVE!” again.    

He anticipates my question though and says, again enthusiastically, “I’m not even a member of this family”.  Now if I was crashing a family gathering for let’s say free beer and food, I might keep it on the down low , but apparently this is not Dave’s style.

We engaged in some small (very small) talk and at one point Dave mentioned that we knew a woman who had breasts the size of my head.  Now I do have a large head, it needs to be big to house my large brain and it is shaved. But I don’t appreciate having it compared to a woman’s breast and the gleam in Dave’s eye when he looked at my head, frankly made me very nervous.

Dave soon left and I found out that he was indeed crashing the party.  He lived in the campground next to the park where we had gathered.  Carrie later informed me via Facebook that Dave had pulled the same stunt last year and labeled him “The serial, drunk, family reunion, party-crasher”.

We tried to resume our previous conversation but were repeatedly interrupted by loud outbursts of “My name is DAAAAAAAAAAAVE!” as he introduced himself to others standing near to us.

But I do have to admit, Dave knows how to network and work a room.  I can forget people’s names within seconds of being introduced, but not this time! His name is DAAAAAAAAAAAVE! No business cards needed here!

As I observed Dave though, I realized he had violated one important networking rule.  He was, as we say in my old neighborhood, $h!+faced drunk.  I would say he had one too many free beers, but in reality, he was feasting on the free beer. 

I wasn’t too happy with that but then Dave’s big moment arrived.  For the first time ever we decided to get a group family photo.  Of course the problem with group photos is the person taking the picture is not included in the photo.  But now we had a perfect solution! Non-family, party-crasher, Dave, would take the photo.

Dave enthusiastically seized this opportunity. I think he felt some remorse about consuming all the free food and beer.  He thought if he was able to help us out and take the photo, then it would be a fair trade.  He would have earned his keep.

We gathered around, happily anticipating this photo opportunity. Dave with a big smile on his face joyfully framed the group on his camera phone and shot four pics.

Of course not one of these photos turned out. Because Dave was $h!+faced drunk.   And so we all learned a valuable lesson that day:

“Never let the most drunk person at your party take the group photograph”

These are truly words to live by.  We violated this rule and now we have no group photo, and coincidentally, there was no leftover beer.

Wednesday, July 8, 2015

We Have The Right To Good Chinese Food (RUU)

A woman who lives near me just made the national news because she called 911 to complain about the poor quality of the Chinese food she received from a restaurant.  She told a dispatcher the food was “not up to par for her liking”.

Many people are laughing at this woman for this action and others are scorning her. But before you judge her too harshly, I have a question for you: Who was she going to call?  She’s staring at a plate of bad Chinese food?  Who can she call?

The food critic at the newspaper? Newspapers are downsizing and that guy was let go ten years ago.  Even if the paper still has one, he is more interested in swirling wine at the new bistro than helping you with bad Chinese food.

Call your mom?  That won’t work.  She will tell you to be quiet and “eat what is put in front of you” also “there are millions of starving Africans who would love to have your meal”.  Now mom might offer to cook you a nice, hot, meal, but not Chinese food.  Moms make terrible Chinese food.  It would probably consist of crappy Chun King stuff and be even worse than the Chinese food you are complaining about.

The BBB is no help.  It was late in the afternoon when the incident happened and these people would probably “file a report” and get back to you in six months.  So who was this poor woman going to call? If not 911, who?  Who I say?

You may claim this was not a crisis situation.  But consider the woman was expecting a great Chinese meal.  She wanted to savor the crispy vegetables, the tangy sauce, the tasty meat, all on bed of fluffy white rice. Instead she is served something “not up to par for her liking”.

This is a tragedy. Someone facing that type of situation might become violent and might take out their anger against poor, innocent, bystanders. Some of which could be children, elderly, or pregnant – or maybe even all three!  Now did you ever consider this? Well, before casting judgment I think you should.

The police issued the woman some trumped up charge of “misusing 911”.  What I want to know is this: What was the restaurant charged with for serving this lousy Chinese food that I repeat was “NOT UP TO  PAR FOR HER LIKING”?  Maybe if they were held accountable for their actions, next time the moo gai pan might be up to par.

I know you may disagree, but just remember this post the next time you are served Chinese food which is “not up to par for your liking”.  I think we can all agree that we have the right in this country to eat good, good, Chinese food, with eggroll.

Monday, July 6, 2015

Mosquitoes Want The Authority To Suck Your Blood (RUU)

I immediately noticed a very alarming and disturbing sign posted along the road near my home.  Apparently the mosquitoes have banded together to form something called the “Mosquito Authority”.  There is no way that mosquitoes should have any authority over anything.  I’m guessing they are claiming they have the right to suck our blood.  This is “animal rights” run amok.

Also extremely troubling is the fact that the mosquitoes have developed an actual website to promote their cause. Who knew mosquitoes were so tech savvy? The website is unashamedly called bugsbite.com !  Bugs bite? No $h!+ Sherlock.  This gives the impression the mosquitoes are very proud of themselves and is a blatant attempt to justify and normalize such wanton activity.  I would access the site but I’m afraid my computer my get encephalitis.  

Now I know that any schmuck can have a website these days (as donake.net clearly illustrates), but this site enables the mosquitoes to communicate and plan strategy with other radicalized mosquitoes around the world. They can trade biting techniques and get-away methods.  It also allows them to raise money to pay their attorneys.  And you know they have blood-sucking lawyers, like the ones doing TV advertising TV at 2 a.m.

Mosquito logging on to bugsbite.com
If they have a website, they no doubt have a Facebook page where they and their friends can collect millions of “likes”.  They can post photos of their conquests and comments: “Had some good Italian tonight” (under a photo of a guy named Luigi) and they can also post maps where humans have gathered for cookouts.

Well I just want to go on record of saying that I do not respect this so called “mosquito authority”. You do not have a right to bite me; you do not have the right to suck my blood.  Furthermore, if you try to exert your authority, be warned, I will take action against you. I will swat you hard with the intention to kill you.  I will swat you viciously and I will swat you all repeatedly until you are all dead.

In addition, if necessary I will utilize chemical weapons to defeat you.  I realize President Obama opposes the use of chemical weapons, but believe me; I will use all repellents and insecticides at my disposal to stop and destroy you.  If the President threatens me with economic sanctions, so be it.

So mosquitoes, you may claim you have authority over me, but I in fact have authority over you and you must respect it! So just try me you blood-sucking bitches! Just try me! You’ll be sorry you did.   

Friday, June 26, 2015

You Do Not Want To Be Fired In This Manner (RUU)

News Item: North Korea fires its defense chief

On the surface this is not unusual since the chief, Hyon Yong Choi, had fell asleep during meetings and had disobeyed his boss Kim Jong Un.  When your boss is a sadistic, evil, madman (which interestingly describes a couple of my previous bosses) and you perform poorly, you have a problem.

But Choi wasn’t just fired. He was fired upon.  We can now clearly ascertain that he “Did not meet expectations” in many areas on his last performance appraisal.  However this firing was not executed by a firing squad, it was by a single gunman.  How could they be sure the lone soldier would not miss the target? Because the shooter was operating a ZPU-4 anti-aircraft gun. The “target” was placed 100 feet away and the range of this weapon is about five
Hyon Go "boom"!
miles.  This is literally overkill.  They should have stuck poor Hyon on a distant mountain to make it more challenging and to give the shooter some target practice.  Hyon was gone on the first try.  I believe this would be considered both “cruel and unusual” punishment in the U.S.

Now when I was relieved from my job several years ago, the two people carrying out the execution were both @$$ho!e$.  Now you might think I am still bitter, but I’m not. The objective truth is that these people were @$$ho!e$ before they fired me but I didn’t realize it previously because they worked in a department called “Human Resources”.

As an employee you need to believe that Human Resource workers care about you and your welfare.  In reality, most H.R. management at larger companies are in fact @$$ho!e$ of the worst kind. They no doubt have to pass some secret @$$ho!e test to get their position.  So they have to pretend they are nice, decent, people and therefore the best H.R. managers are very skilled in the art of deception.  They have to be, because if employees discover just how big of @$$ho!e$ they truly are, the workers tend to run off screaming into the forest, sometimes naked, never to be heard from again.

And the two @$$ho!e$ who proceeded over my firing were huge, nasty, @$$ho!e$. Yes, just, filthy, extraordinary @$$ho!e$. If you tried to send them to classes to try to learn how not be @$$ho!e$, they would fail the class and fail it miserably. Because they are big @$$ho!e$ and will always be @$$ho!e$ until the day they die.

However, as big of @$$ho!e$ as they are, they did not shoot me with an anti-aircraft gun at close range. So perhaps I should cut them some slack.

Monday, June 22, 2015

My Shorts Almost Killed Me (RUU)

Recently I purchased a pair of “basketball” shorts at my local drugstore. It may seem strange to buy clothing at the drugstore, but they offer “close-out” items at very good prices.  These shorts looked to be an excellent bargain at only $3.99!

However the shorts were powder blue and “silky”.  Now they weren’t “fancy pants”. Fancy pants should never ever be worn by guys unless you are working as a clown or golfing.  These were “snazzy pants”. Snazzy pants are acceptable apparel for younger guys trying to attract young chicks.  Now my days of trying to attract young
Very snazzy, silky, shorts
chicks are long gone.  Snazzy pants are not going to do the trick at my age and even if they brought success there are health risks involved.  I’m not referring to having a heart attack, rather getting killed by your wife.

I determined even if the shorts were a bit too fancy to wear in public, I could just wear them around the house and besides they were only $3.99.  When I tried them on at home, it was confirmed these were “young man pants” and not made for a middle-aged body.  The shorts were tight in the thighs which meant when I bent over, the shorts quickly slid down about six inches in back.  This means that when picking up branches in the yard, I would be flashing half-moons to the entire neighborhood.  This is something no one wants to see, especially the children.

So the only time I could possibly wear these shorts is to mow the grass.  So I put on my snazzy, silky, pants and fired up my riding mower.  Now mowing on a rider often requires you to shift your butt to the high side of the seat on inclines to balance out the weight distribution and prevent the mover from tipping over.  Of course the first time I did this, the silky shorts caused my large butt to suddenly and unexpected slide to the bottom side of the seat.  Fortunately this sudden shift in weight did not result in the mower to tipping over, but I’m not exactly sure how I managed to stay on the seat.

Every time I came to any incline I was sliding down the seat.  I was sliding around as if the seat it was greased and it was real challenge to stay on the mower. It was similar to an amusement park ride where you are thrown violently side-to-side without warning.  It’s plain physics.  Newton’s First Law of Assnertia states: A body part in motion tends to remain in motion.  And there was no way to stop my large butt once it started to slide in those silky shorts.

If I had flipped the mower over and died, no one would have known that it was the stupid shorts that led to my demise. People would have thought that I was just careless.  It may have been worse if I had survived.  I can imagine young nurses snickering at me as the surgeon worked to reattach my genitals.

“He says he wrecked his mower because he was wearing silky shorts, tee hee, tee hee, tee hee.”

And the Internet headlines would have been just as bad: Man’s Snazzy Shorts Nearly Kill Him

In the words of Dirty Harry: A man's got to know his limitations.

This goes double for middle-aged men. And my limitations now include not wearing hip, flashy, clothing designed for younger guys. No matter the price, no matter the occasion.   

Tuesday, June 16, 2015

I Am Now Identifying As A Japanese-Mayan (RUU)

Michael Jackson used to sing “It don’t matter if you’re black or white”.  This has to be the most hypocritical song ever, since it had to mean a great deal to Jackson. He spent a ton of money and went through a lot of pain to make his transformation. Now everybody is worked up over a woman who tried to pull off a reverse-Jackson.  This is a case where it is literally “black and white” and thus complicated as all get out.

I don’t have a problem with her appearance but she was an official in the National Association for the Advancement of COLORED People.  Not the National Association for the Advancement  of White People Who Would Like to Be Colored People.  Hey you can be a leader in the NAAWPWWLBCP if you want; I just don’t see you getting much traction, or money, out of that gig.  And the name doesn’t even fit on a T-shirt.

This woman claims she identifies as a black person.  Now you may laugh at racial identity issues, but I have personally experienced issues with this.

Years ago, I received a credit card application encouraging me to “Celebrate (my) Japanese-American Heritage With The Prestige of Visa Platinum.  The letter began: “As one who takes great pride in your ancestry, you’ll be pleased to know that you can now show that pride with the  Japanese-American Heritage Platinum Visa card.”  A card that “celebrates the pride and traditions of your Japanese-American Heritage”.  And when I use the card, “I honor my cherished ancestry” (oh boy!).  The card features a map of Japan and an image of Mt. Fuji.

Of course the credit card company did a data sort of three-letter last names that begin and end with vowels, and bingo! I’m Japanese.  I showed the letter off at work and my friend Kurt referred to me as Aw-key-sun for the next two weeks and would bow when I passed.

The next incident, which I have written about before, was when a waiter in Cancun thought I was Mayan.  Again it was the weird last name that caused the confusion.

But now with all this racial identity stuff in the news I am now ready to embrace my Japanese -Mayan heritage. From now on I will identify as a Japanese Mayan. The Japanese are very smart and the Mayans were good writers, so you cannot dispute my identity. If you try, you are a bigot in the worst degree.

As a Japanese, I will expect to receive discounts and preferred seating at all hibachi restaurants. As a Mayan, I will expect great sympathy from everyone since my people have perished and have no home.  And if there are any hot Mayan chicks out there who are interested in trying to repopulate our race, that’s a cause I will enthusiastically support.