tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-45633057591429275542024-03-17T20:34:08.352-07:00Ake's PainsDon Akehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/06268533664760244722noreply@blogger.comBlogger301125tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4563305759142927554.post-49304855580041756592024-01-15T17:23:00.000-08:002024-01-15T17:23:08.693-08:00Smelly Solutions For A Stinky Problem<p><span style="font-family: Arial, sans-serif; font-size: 14pt;">There it was once again—the pungent, thick, almost toxic
cloud of cheap perfume. It penetrated my lungs, and for a split second, I
thought I might faint. Surprisingly, the noxious odor was encountered in a
spacious atrium of a basketball arena, which made me wonder if the cologne had
been applied with a paintbrush. </span></p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiNnuLzlh0tl7dJbvF_tu8jKVyHUAsbu9orU3ZLZx2xOEzC3hWeXdsg8WdQpn9sOXAF_MRMy0_i_os799Gv5C0M4wcLvOn7Ko3pMsX_1iOwKvXygiqHeUe47NyQQ3JpQrOCNgQ9cxkll6F6Rus2cBXZfN9r0u9Y6cytYYP7hNsn8y9-CB1ig0On0mOGuMU/s634/smelly.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; float: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="423" data-original-width="634" height="214" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiNnuLzlh0tl7dJbvF_tu8jKVyHUAsbu9orU3ZLZx2xOEzC3hWeXdsg8WdQpn9sOXAF_MRMy0_i_os799Gv5C0M4wcLvOn7Ko3pMsX_1iOwKvXygiqHeUe47NyQQ3JpQrOCNgQ9cxkll6F6Rus2cBXZfN9r0u9Y6cytYYP7hNsn8y9-CB1ig0On0mOGuMU/s320/smelly.jpg" width="320" /></a></div><br /><p></p>
<p class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-family: "Arial",sans-serif; font-size: 14.0pt; line-height: 107%;">Stupid old lady, I thought. Yes, throughout your life, you
consider your age to be the smartest age there is. People younger than you are
obviously stupider because they have yet to gain the knowledge you have. People
older than you are dumb because they do weird, irrational stuff that you would
never think of doing.<o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-family: "Arial",sans-serif; font-size: 14.0pt; line-height: 107%;">Yes, you think that older people are weird until you reach
that age and find yourself mysteriously adopting behaviors that you ridiculed
ten years earlier. These "aha" moments occur all throughout our lives.
Still, strangely, we don't learn from them and thus keep thinking that older
people are peculiar. <o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-family: "Arial",sans-serif; font-size: 14.0pt; line-height: 107%;">My best personal example is how much I resented my mother
seeking to interfere in my adult life. It didn't matter that I was a business
professional with a graduate degree; she thought she knew the best course for
me and would strongly voice her opinion on every decision I made. <o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-family: "Arial",sans-serif; font-size: 14.0pt; line-height: 107%;">After this happened, I would be enraged (but only internally).
On the way home, I would think: <i>WHAT THE HECK IS WRONG WITH HER? I am an
adult, fully capable of making my own decisions and figuring out what to do.
Why would she think she has any right to interfere?<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span><o:p></o:p></i></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-family: "Arial",sans-serif; font-size: 14.0pt; line-height: 107%;">I responded to these impositions by withholding information
from her, only telling her what she really needed to know. Her intrusions only
stopped after she suffered a heart attack and knew her life was winding down.<o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-family: "Arial",sans-serif; font-size: 14.0pt; line-height: 107%;">However, I am embarrassed to say that my desire to
interfere in the lives of my two daughters actually exceeds that of my mother
dealing with me. Of course, my daughters respond to this behavior by telling me
virtually nothing when important stuff happens in their lives. I only find out
the details months after the fact, and then I think:<o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-family: "Arial",sans-serif; font-size: 14.0pt; line-height: 107%;">Oh, if I would have known that was happening, I would have
….. And then I understand why I was kept in the dark – wise women they are. Of
course, I blame my behavior on my mother – it's in my DNA, so I can’t help
myself, even though I know it’s wrong. <o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal"><b><span style="font-family: "Arial",sans-serif; font-size: 14.0pt; line-height: 107%;">Now, Back to the Pungent Old Lady <o:p></o:p></span></b></p>
<p class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-family: "Arial",sans-serif; font-size: 14.0pt; line-height: 107%;">The encounter with the perfume cloud was still fresh in my
mind, or still stuck in my nostrils, when I saw an Internet headline for what
turned out to be a deeply disturbing article. The piece was about why older
people stink. From here on, I will refer to this phenomenon as OPS (Old People
Stink).<o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-family: "Arial",sans-serif; font-size: 14.0pt; line-height: 107%;">I had always thought that OPS was caused by poor hygiene
habits combined with reduced olfactory sense. While this can be true, the
article explained that primary OPS results from something else. Our body
chemistry changes throughout our lifetime. When we are born, the chemistry is new
and fresh, giving us that ‘sweet baby smell’. But after that, our scent
deteriorates over our lifetime until we smell so bad that they bury us six feet
underground or burn our bodies. The good news is that the change in body
chemistry is only nasty once we reach our golden years, thus producing OPS. <o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-family: "Arial",sans-serif; font-size: 14.0pt; line-height: 107%;">But the bad news is horrible. As I read the article, I made
a mental note that I will eventually need to shower more to wash off this OPS.
But unfortunately, that won't help. Because the odor is not on your skin; it
emanates from the chemistry within your body. If this were a hygiene horror
movie, the heroine would scream, “IT’S COMING FROM INSIDE MY BODY. THE TERRIBLE
ODOR IS INSIDE THE BODY!<o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-family: "Arial",sans-serif; font-size: 14.0pt; line-height: 107%;">OPS is further enhanced because senior citizens tend to be
dormant and spend more time huddled up in their homes. The stench can be
overwhelming when a group of golden-agers is stuck in one place, such as a nursing
facility.<o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-family: "Arial",sans-serif; font-size: 14.0pt; line-height: 107%;">Therefore, our over-scented old woman is not stupid. She is
an intelligent person who still has enough of her olfactory capacity to know
she smells bad and is trying to mask it. You don’t have as many older men
over-cologning because they don’t know they stink and thus don’t try to hide
it. <o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-family: "Arial",sans-serif; font-size: 14.0pt; line-height: 107%;">However, dousing yourself in strong perfume is not a good
solution to the problem. A guy on a local message board complained that his
wife suffers from asthma attacks and migraines when exposed to women bathed in “old
whore” perfume. Many people then commented about being sickened by “White
Diamonds” and other fragrances over-applied by senior gals.<o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-family: "Arial",sans-serif; font-size: 14.0pt; line-height: 107%;">I can’t believe that our country just accepts OPS, and no
one sees this as a real problem. Only one Japanese company is working on a
solution that uses green tea to try to mask the emissions. There is a mountain
of money to be made if some pharmaceutical comes up with a cure:<o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal"><i><span style="font-family: "Arial",sans-serif; font-size: 14.0pt; line-height: 107%;">“I used to stink so badly that no one, not even
my family, would visit me. But now I take Noreeka, and everybody wants to get
close to grandma! And now the guys at the senior center all want hugs <span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>– hubba, hubba! Ask your doctor if Noreeka is
right for you.’<o:p></o:p></span></i></p>
<p class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-family: "Arial",sans-serif; font-size: 14.0pt; line-height: 107%;">Somebody needs to do something soon because as the baby
boomers enter into the high-stink years and live longer, we have not seen the
peak of OTS. At some point there could be a giant OPS cloud terrorizing people
across the country. I would hate for our body odor to destroy our nation:<o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal"><i><span style="font-family: "Arial",sans-serif; font-size: 14.0pt; line-height: 107%;">“Today is day eight of the Old Person Stink
alert. OPS levels are in the Red Zone – No one should leave their homes …..”<o:p></o:p></span></i></p>
<p class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-family: "Arial",sans-serif; font-size: 14.0pt; line-height: 107%;"><o:p> </o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-family: "Arial",sans-serif; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 107%;"><o:p> </o:p></span></p>Don Akehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/06268533664760244722noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4563305759142927554.post-5251865287783985482023-12-18T16:45:00.000-08:002023-12-18T16:45:16.859-08:00I’m So Not Jealous of Taylor Swift’s New Beau<p><span style="font-family: Arial, sans-serif; font-size: 14pt;">All my inboxes and message boards have blown up the past
few weeks asking if I am jealous of the Taylor Swift - Travis Kelce relationship.
Apparently, people believe I am obsessed with Taylor Swift just because I have
blogged about dating her and wrote a story that appears in a recent book
describing our future marriage.</span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-family: "Arial",sans-serif; font-size: 14.0pt; line-height: 107%;">So, I will address the issue here: I am not jealous at all.
I really am not jealous. No jealousy here. Definitely, and totally, not
jealous. If she values muscles and athletic ability over someone who has
written, yes, written four books, then that’s her insipid, shallow choice. But
I’m not jealous one bit. </span></p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiHhxuVpNzAYO7vzKEXOr-HKJg7StJbT-v_KxpPUGBxQlAxQNGvXlCLaUhMqw2yeA1wJ7ZlU79lgzL_FHfWdwlQGpkClovUdalKsAO7whmpOcYbOX5c4LbyRldTBKDc93lGurk5whkbG8aHK-L5JPjSOHbayaeaziNuuLwMf1xpUuqyTwUAUxL5KiKWBEI/s960/Taylor-Swift-Travis-Kelce.png" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; float: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="540" data-original-width="960" height="180" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiHhxuVpNzAYO7vzKEXOr-HKJg7StJbT-v_KxpPUGBxQlAxQNGvXlCLaUhMqw2yeA1wJ7ZlU79lgzL_FHfWdwlQGpkClovUdalKsAO7whmpOcYbOX5c4LbyRldTBKDc93lGurk5whkbG8aHK-L5JPjSOHbayaeaziNuuLwMf1xpUuqyTwUAUxL5KiKWBEI/s320/Taylor-Swift-Travis-Kelce.png" width="320" /></a></div><br /><o:p></o:p><p></p>
<p class="MsoNormal"><b><span style="font-family: "Arial",sans-serif; font-size: 14.0pt; line-height: 107%;">Why The Relationship Is Such A Big Deal<o:p></o:p></span></b></p>
<p class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-family: "Arial",sans-serif; font-size: 14.0pt; line-height: 107%;">The Swift-Kelce hook-up is similar to the high school
quarterback dating the head cheerleader. The interest in this relationship is
immense because this high school now has millions of <i>‘students’</i>. However,
the curiosity and impact are much more intense because athletes and rock stars
are the gods of our age. So, we have a god hooking up with a goddess – this is
real-life mythology. (Hey, I just created an oxymoron!) <o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal"><b><span style="font-family: "Arial",sans-serif; font-size: 14.0pt; line-height: 107%;">An Interesting Story about the Taylor Swift Blog
Post<o:p></o:p></span></b></p>
<p class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-family: "Arial",sans-serif; font-size: 14.0pt; line-height: 107%;">Shortly after my post in May 2013<i>, "I Dated Tyler
Swift and She Wrote A Song About Me</i>", I was at a networking meeting
yucking it up with several friends who had read the post and were ribbing me
about it. Suddenly, the Asian lady seated next to me, who had been talking with
another person, spun around and exclaimed, “You dated Taylor Swift? !!!!” It is
the greatest off-hand compliment anyone has ever paid me. The woman, newly
emigrated to this country, actually thought I had dated Taylor Swift.<o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal"><b><span style="font-family: "Arial",sans-serif; font-size: 14.0pt; line-height: 107%;">Does Travis Kelce Play Better With Taylor at
the Stadium?<o:p></o:p></span></b></p>
<p class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-family: "Arial",sans-serif; font-size: 14.0pt; line-height: 107%;">People seem intrigued by the statistics showing Kelce
performs better when Swift attends the game. People consider it a humorous coincidence
or that Taylor is a good luck charm. <o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-family: "Arial",sans-serif; font-size: 14.0pt; line-height: 107%;">However, this is a natural occurrence and not a
coincidence. I contend that males are biologically wired to up their game when
their love interest is present. I call it the “Girlfriend In The Stands Effect”
or GFITSE. I'm not a physiologist or psychologist, but believe it or not, I
have personal experience with this. <o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal"><b><span style="font-family: "Arial",sans-serif; font-size: 14.0pt; line-height: 107%;">My Catch For My Catch</span></b></p>
<p class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-family: "Arial",sans-serif; font-size: 14.0pt; line-height: 107%;">I had been dating my future wife for only a few months when
I brought her to my softball game for the first time. I wasn't nervous at all
about how I would play that evening, but I was highly anxious about how she would
get along with the wives and girlfriends of my teammates. This event was her
first exposure to this group of friends, and I wanted it to go well.<o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-family: "Arial",sans-serif; font-size: 14.0pt; line-height: 107%;">In this game, I was playing what is called 'short-center field’
(In softball, there are four outfielders). In the bottom of the first inning, the
first two batters made easy outs. Then, up to the plate strode the best hitter
in the league. His smooth, powerful swing produced scalding line drives all
over the field.<o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-family: "Arial",sans-serif; font-size: 14.0pt; line-height: 107%;">I was on high alert as I positioned myself between second
base and our shortstop, about 20 feet behind the infield. The second pitch was
flat and on the inside corner, and I instinctively began moving to my right as the
batter prepared to swing.<o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-family: "Arial",sans-serif; font-size: 14.0pt; line-height: 107%;">He blistered a hard line drive that cleared the shortstop by
at least ten feet before the topspin violently drove the ball downward. I took four
or five steps and lunged for the ball, fully extending my 6’3” frame. It was
hit to my backhand, so I couldn’t look the ball into my glove, but I felt the
ball smack hard and securely into the webbing.<o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-family: "Arial",sans-serif; font-size: 14.0pt; line-height: 107%;">That was fortunate because the force of the dive and the impact
of the drive drove my head into the ground. I rolled over several times before
holding up my glove. All our fans, except one (more on that later), cheered
wildly at the sensational catch. My teammates pulled me up and guided me back
to our bench, as I was somewhat dizzy due to the head thump.<o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-family: "Arial",sans-serif; font-size: 14.0pt; line-height: 107%;">The batter looked at me in disbelief as he took his
position in the field. This is by far the most exceptional play I have ever performed
in an athletic contest. Now, maybe it was just a coincidence this happened the
first time my future wife saw me play, but I seriously doubt it. And Leroy
Jethro Gibbs would concur.<o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-family: "Arial",sans-serif; font-size: 14.0pt; line-height: 107%;">Ironically, this catch did cause some controversy. My
girlfriend had not cheered when I made the catch. The other women in the
bleachers had taken notice, and I was informed discretely about this faux pas
after the game. They thought she didn’t cheer because she was ignorant about
softball. She claims she was concerned for my health when my head hit the
ground. I just think she holds me to a higher standard, which continues to this
day – “You’re supposed to catch the ball, and you caught the ball. What’s the
big deal?”<o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal"><b><span style="font-family: "Arial",sans-serif; font-size: 14.0pt; line-height: 107%;">What Happens Next?<o:p></o:p></span></b></p>
<p class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-family: "Arial",sans-serif; font-size: 14.0pt; line-height: 107%;">Kelce performs like a typical male when Taylor is present,
and these days, I applaud him for that. You have to admit, they make a cute
couple.<o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-family: "Arial",sans-serif; font-size: 14.0pt; line-height: 107%;">But we know from high school and modern life that
high-profile romances seldom last, and many end poorly. Many people are
following this situation, hoping to see a train wreck.<o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-family: "Arial",sans-serif; font-size: 14.0pt; line-height: 107%;">And when this does end, I just wasn’t to say, “Taylor, I’m
still here for you. I’m still here, Honey.<o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-family: "Arial",sans-serif; font-size: 14.0pt; line-height: 107%;"><o:p> </o:p></span></p>Don Akehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/06268533664760244722noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4563305759142927554.post-19235271223350746662023-11-21T07:55:00.000-08:002023-11-21T07:55:22.858-08:00The Last Big Diet, Part 2 - Hot Blonde Motivation <p> <span style="font-family: Arial, sans-serif; font-size: 14pt;">Because
the first post about ‘My Last Big Diet’ generated so many questions, Ferd
DeBerg from TMZZ interviewed me:</span><span style="font-family: Arial, sans-serif; font-size: 14pt;"> </span></p>
<p class="MsoNoSpacing"><span style="font-family: "Arial",sans-serif; font-size: 14.0pt;">Ferd:
Don, our investigation has revealed that you have hired someone to help you
lose weight. Do you confirm or deny?</span><span style="font-family: Arial, sans-serif; font-size: 14pt;"> </span></p>
<p class="MsoNoSpacing"><span style="font-family: "Arial",sans-serif; font-size: 14.0pt;">Me:
Investigation? Well, yes, I am using a nutritionist, and she has been great.</span><span style="font-family: Arial, sans-serif; font-size: 14pt;"> </span></p>
<p class="MsoNoSpacing"><span style="font-family: "Arial",sans-serif; font-size: 14.0pt;">Ferd:
A nutritionist? You? You expect us to believe you are taking advice from
someone about your food! That’s almost laughable.</span><span style="font-family: Arial, sans-serif; font-size: 14pt;"> </span></p>
<p class="MsoNoSpacing"><span style="font-family: "Arial",sans-serif; font-size: 14.0pt;">Me:
Babette is a professional, and she has been very beneficial.</span><span style="font-family: Arial, sans-serif; font-size: 14pt;"> </span></p>
<p class="MsoNoSpacing"><span style="font-family: "Arial",sans-serif; font-size: 14.0pt;">Ferd:
Ah, yes, beneficial! Let’s talk about that Babette. Is it not true that your
so-called nutritionist is a young, hot blonde? Confirm or deny?</span><span style="font-family: Arial, sans-serif; font-size: 14pt;"> </span></p>
<p class="MsoNoSpacing"><span style="font-family: "Arial",sans-serif; font-size: 14.0pt;">Me:
Come on! Babette is a professional, a skilled professional, giving me strictly
professional advice on nutrition matters. Did I mention that she is a
professional? <o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNoSpacing"><span style="font-family: Arial, sans-serif; font-size: 14pt;">Ferd:
A professional, young, hot blonde? I see.</span><span style="font-family: Arial, sans-serif; font-size: 14pt;"> </span></p>
<p class="MsoNoSpacing"><span style="font-family: "Arial",sans-serif; font-size: 14.0pt;">Me:
Wait, a minute! Babette is NOT a young, hot, blonde. That is absolutely not
true. I deny that statement! Not a young, hot blonde. Totally false! Got it?</span><span style="font-family: Arial, sans-serif; font-size: 14pt;"> </span></p>
<p class="MsoNoSpacing"><span style="font-family: "Arial",sans-serif; font-size: 14.0pt;">Ferd:
Okay, what about this photo here of you and Babette sharing smoothies at the
local juice bar? That looks like a tasty treat you’re having there. Now, based
on this evidence, do you still deny your nutritionist is a young, hot blonde?</span><span style="font-family: Arial, sans-serif; font-size: 14pt;"> </span></p>
<p class="MsoNoSpacing"><span style="font-family: "Arial",sans-serif; font-size: 14.0pt;">Me:
Well, yes, that smoothie was delicious. It contained some goji, mango, and chia
seeds – and it was all organic!</span><span style="font-family: Arial, sans-serif; font-size: 14pt;"> </span></p>
<p class="MsoNoSpacing"><span style="font-family: "Arial",sans-serif; font-size: 14.0pt;">Ferd:
No, I was talking about that tasty, young, hot blonde who you seem to go-ji places
with.</span><span style="font-family: Arial, sans-serif; font-size: 14pt;"> </span></p>
<p class="MsoNoSpacing"><span style="font-family: "Arial",sans-serif; font-size: 14.0pt;">Me:
Like I said, Babette is not a young, hot blonde. She happens to be in her 50s.</span><span style="font-family: Arial, sans-serif; font-size: 14pt;"> </span></p>
<p class="MsoNoSpacing"><span style="font-family: "Arial",sans-serif; font-size: 14.0pt;">Ferd:
So, she is a hot, older blonde?</span><span style="font-family: Arial, sans-serif; font-size: 14pt;"> </span></p>
<p class="MsoNoSpacing"><span style="font-family: "Arial",sans-serif; font-size: 14.0pt;">Me:
Okay, so she’s a smokin’ hot blonde. Many nutritionists are in great shape due
to their profession.</span><span style="font-family: Arial, sans-serif; font-size: 14pt;"> </span></p>
<p class="MsoNoSpacing"><span style="font-family: "Arial",sans-serif; font-size: 14.0pt;">Ferd:
But doesn’t her age make it even more alluring? You wouldn't have much of a
chance with a chick in her 20s, but things could heat up with someone closer to
your age, couldn't they?</span><span style="font-family: Arial, sans-serif; font-size: 14pt;"> </span></p>
<p class="MsoNoSpacing"><span style="font-family: "Arial",sans-serif; font-size: 14.0pt;">Me:
Look, Babette and I have a strictly professional relationship. I don't even
notice her hotness, except that time when she demonstrated some yoga positions
she thought I could incorporate into my fitness routine. Her Downward Dog is rather
impressive!</span><span style="font-family: Arial, sans-serif; font-size: 14pt;"> </span></p>
<p class="MsoNoSpacing"><span style="font-family: "Arial",sans-serif; font-size: 14.0pt;">But
if you asked her about the possibility of us, say, expanding our relationship,
I'm sure she would go all Taylor Swift and proclaim, “We are never, ever, ever,
getting together!”</span><span style="font-family: Arial, sans-serif; font-size: 14pt;"> </span></p>
<p class="MsoNoSpacing"><span style="font-family: "Arial",sans-serif; font-size: 14.0pt;">Ferd:
So, her blonde hotness has no impact whatsoever on your professional
relationship?</span><span style="font-family: Arial, sans-serif; font-size: 14pt;"> </span></p>
<p class="MsoNoSpacing"><span style="font-family: "Arial",sans-serif; font-size: 14.0pt;">Me:
No, I never said that. Having a hot, blonde nutritionist does help me lose
weight.</span><span style="font-family: Arial, sans-serif; font-size: 14pt;"> </span></p>
<p class="MsoNoSpacing"><span style="font-family: "Arial",sans-serif; font-size: 14.0pt;">Ferd:
How so?!!</span><span style="font-family: Arial, sans-serif; font-size: 14pt;"> </span></p>
<p class="MsoNoSpacing"><span style="font-family: "Arial",sans-serif; font-size: 14.0pt;">Me:
It’s a fact that a man’s brain responds to praise from a hot blonde with greater
intensity. I call it HBM – Hot Blonde Motivation.</span><span style="font-family: Arial, sans-serif; font-size: 14pt;"> </span></p>
<p class="MsoNoSpacing"><span style="font-family: "Arial",sans-serif; font-size: 14.0pt;">Ferd:
That’s ridiculous! How does that work?</span><span style="font-family: Arial, sans-serif; font-size: 14pt;"> </span></p>
<p class="MsoNoSpacing"><span style="font-family: "Arial",sans-serif; font-size: 14.0pt;">Me:
Well, even though my rational brain understands the professional relationship,
my man-brain believes that if I lose enough weight, Babette could be so
impressed that she might reward me with a bit of dessert.</span><span style="font-family: Arial, sans-serif; font-size: 14pt;"> </span></p>
<p class="MsoNoSpacing"><span style="font-family: "Arial",sans-serif; font-size: 14.0pt;">Ferd:
Your man-brain is that stupid?</span><span style="font-family: Arial, sans-serif; font-size: 14pt;"> </span></p>
<p class="MsoNoSpacing"><span style="font-family: "Arial",sans-serif; font-size: 14.0pt;">Me:
All man-brains are that stupid. That’s what causes all men to think like idiots
most of the time.</span><span style="font-family: Arial, sans-serif; font-size: 14pt;"> </span></p>
<p class="MsoNoSpacing"><span style="font-family: "Arial",sans-serif; font-size: 14.0pt;">Ferd:
And this Hot Blonde Motivation helps you lose weight?</span><span style="font-family: Arial, sans-serif; font-size: 14pt;"> </span></p>
<p class="MsoNoSpacing"><span style="font-family: "Arial",sans-serif; font-size: 14.0pt;">Me:
Sure it does! <span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>When my rational brain thinks,
"I think I will have some cake," my man-brain intercedes with
“Nooooooo! Babette won’t be happy, and we certainly want Babette to be happy. So,
no cake for you!"</span><span style="font-family: Arial, sans-serif; font-size: 14pt;"> </span></p>
<p class="MsoNoSpacing"><span style="font-family: "Arial",sans-serif; font-size: 14.0pt;">Honestly,
my man-brain is so stupid that you could have any hot blonde text me, “Oh, very
good!” when I report a weight loss, or “I am so disappointed in you” when I
gain weight, and I would be just as motivated to lose weight. She wouldn't have
to know anything about nutrition. Heck, she wouldn’t have to know how to spell
nutrition for the Hot Blonde Motivation to work.</span><span style="font-family: Arial, sans-serif; font-size: 14pt;"> </span></p>
<p class="MsoNoSpacing"><span style="font-family: "Arial",sans-serif; font-size: 14.0pt;">Ferd:
Well then, what would motivate you to lose the most weight?</span><span style="font-family: Arial, sans-serif; font-size: 14pt;"> </span></p>
<p class="MsoNoSpacing"><span style="font-family: "Arial",sans-serif; font-size: 14.0pt;">Me:
That’s easy! If Taylor Swift would take notice of my weight loss. If that
happened, I soon would be strutting around in skinny jeans! - very skinny
jeans.<o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNoSpacing"><span style="font-family: Arial, sans-serif; font-size: 14pt;">Ferd:
Yeah, like that is going to happen!</span><span style="font-family: Arial, sans-serif; font-size: 14pt;"> </span></p>
<p class="MsoNoSpacing"><span style="font-family: "Arial",sans-serif; font-size: 14.0pt;">Me:
Well, I wrote this song parody to get her attention. I have even pitched a
music video for the song featuring me dancing around wearing a European
man-thong. I just need to drop another 60 pounds and, of course, work out more.</span><span style="font-family: Arial, sans-serif; font-size: 14pt;"> </span></p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiVTLvynUXWzdwEYhyxwhVrNirT8AXaGWCHlGbnsDIjawA1vvZ8SlySPJAK8Kahq9sFevie0GAPhkTCJyE1Ioi0XXnBpjtdym28ga5UY3XatKPzDKAOrhyphenhyphentU9Kd6JTG3Xj8ZQF0U8NMZWolcPWhFo15WVrIf9k2CJfrPU95Kk7KKykxijxV8udsgeV_qp8/s427/man%20thong.PNG" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; float: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="322" data-original-width="427" height="164" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiVTLvynUXWzdwEYhyxwhVrNirT8AXaGWCHlGbnsDIjawA1vvZ8SlySPJAK8Kahq9sFevie0GAPhkTCJyE1Ioi0XXnBpjtdym28ga5UY3XatKPzDKAOrhyphenhyphentU9Kd6JTG3Xj8ZQF0U8NMZWolcPWhFo15WVrIf9k2CJfrPU95Kk7KKykxijxV8udsgeV_qp8/w218-h164/man%20thong.PNG" width="218" /></a></div><br /><p></p>
<p class="MsoNoSpacing"><span style="font-family: "Arial",sans-serif; font-size: 14.0pt;">Ferd:
Working out, yes, I almost forgot. There is still another rumor that you are
considering hiring a personal trainer.</span><span style="font-family: Arial, sans-serif; font-size: 14pt;"> </span></p>
<p class="MsoNoSpacing"><span style="font-family: "Arial",sans-serif; font-size: 14.0pt;">Me:
Yes, my friend Candy does that, and we have been discussing it.</span><span style="font-family: Arial, sans-serif; font-size: 14pt;"> </span></p>
<p class="MsoNoSpacing"><span style="font-family: "Arial",sans-serif; font-size: 14.0pt;">Ferd:
She’s a young, hot blonde, isn’t she? I bet she is.</span><span style="font-family: Arial, sans-serif; font-size: 14pt;"> </span></p>
<p class="MsoNoSpacing"><span style="font-family: "Arial",sans-serif; font-size: 14.0pt;">Me:
Look at the time! I gotta run.</span><span style="font-family: Arial, sans-serif; font-size: 14pt;"> </span></p>
<p class="MsoNoSpacing"><b><span style="font-family: "Arial",sans-serif; font-size: 14.0pt;">Take
It Off</span></b><span style="font-family: Arial, sans-serif; font-size: 14pt;"> </span></p>
<p class="MsoNoSpacing"><i><span style="font-family: "Arial",sans-serif; font-size: 14.0pt;">Got
so much on my plate<o:p></o:p></span></i></p>
<p class="MsoNoSpacing"><i><span style="font-family: "Arial",sans-serif; font-size: 14.0pt;">I’m
snacking way too late<o:p></o:p></span></i></p>
<p class="MsoNoSpacing"><i><span style="font-family: "Arial",sans-serif; font-size: 14.0pt;">That’s
what people claim<o:p></o:p></span></i></p>
<p class="MsoNoSpacing"><i><span style="font-family: "Arial",sans-serif; font-size: 14.0pt;">That’s
what people claim<o:p></o:p></span></i></p>
<p class="MsoNoSpacing"><i><span style="font-family: "Arial",sans-serif; font-size: 14.0pt;"><o:p> </o:p></span></i></p>
<p class="MsoNoSpacing"><i><span style="font-family: "Arial",sans-serif; font-size: 14.0pt;">I
eat too many scones<o:p></o:p></span></i></p>
<p class="MsoNoSpacing"><i><span style="font-family: "Arial",sans-serif; font-size: 14.0pt;">Got
issues with big bones<o:p></o:p></span></i></p>
<p class="MsoNoSpacing"><i><span style="font-family: "Arial",sans-serif; font-size: 14.0pt;"><span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>At least that’s what people claim<o:p></o:p></span></i></p>
<p class="MsoNoSpacing"><i><span style="font-family: "Arial",sans-serif; font-size: 14.0pt;">That’s
what people claim<o:p></o:p></span></i></p>
<p class="MsoNoSpacing"><i><span style="font-family: "Arial",sans-serif; font-size: 14.0pt;"><o:p> </o:p></span></i></p>
<p class="MsoNoSpacing"><i><span style="font-family: "Arial",sans-serif; font-size: 14.0pt;">But
I keep losin’<o:p></o:p></span></i></p>
<p class="MsoNoSpacing"><i><span style="font-family: "Arial",sans-serif; font-size: 14.0pt;">Lean
foods I am choosin’<o:p></o:p></span></i></p>
<p class="MsoNoSpacing"><i><span style="font-family: "Arial",sans-serif; font-size: 14.0pt;">It’s
like I got this message<o:p></o:p></span></i></p>
<p class="MsoNoSpacing"><i><span style="font-family: "Arial",sans-serif; font-size: 14.0pt;">In
my head sayin’, You’re going to be so light<o:p></o:p></span></i></p>
<p class="MsoNoSpacing"><i><span style="font-family: "Arial",sans-serif; font-size: 14.0pt;"><o:p> </o:p></span></i></p>
<p class="MsoNoSpacing"><i><span style="font-family: "Arial",sans-serif; font-size: 14.0pt;">Cause
the eaters gonna eat, eat, eat, eat, eat<o:p></o:p></span></i></p>
<p class="MsoNoSpacing"><i><span style="font-family: "Arial",sans-serif; font-size: 14.0pt;">And
milk-shakers gonna <a name="_Hlk150365502">shake, shake, shake, shake, shake<o:p></o:p></a></span></i></p>
<p class="MsoNoSpacing"><span style="mso-bookmark: _Hlk150365502;"><i><span style="font-family: "Arial",sans-serif; font-size: 14.0pt;">Baby, I’m just gonna
take, take, take, take, take <o:p></o:p></span></i></span></p>
<p class="MsoNoSpacing"><span style="mso-bookmark: _Hlk150365502;"><i><span style="font-family: "Arial",sans-serif; font-size: 14.0pt;">Take it off, take it
off<o:p></o:p></span></i></span></p>
<p class="MsoNoSpacing"><span style="mso-bookmark: _Hlk150365502;"><i><span style="font-family: "Arial",sans-serif; font-size: 14.0pt;"><o:p> </o:p></span></i></span></p>
<span style="mso-bookmark: _Hlk150365502;"></span>
<p class="MsoNoSpacing"><i><span style="font-family: "Arial",sans-serif; font-size: 14.0pt;">Snack-breakers
gonna break, break, break, break, break<o:p></o:p></span></i></p>
<p class="MsoNoSpacing"><i><span style="font-family: "Arial",sans-serif; font-size: 14.0pt;">And
the bakers gonna bake, bake, bake, bake, bake<o:p></o:p></span></i></p>
<p class="MsoNoSpacing"><i><span style="font-family: "Arial",sans-serif; font-size: 14.0pt;">Baby,
I’m just gonna take, take, take, take, take <o:p></o:p></span></i></p>
<p class="MsoNoSpacing"><i><span style="font-family: "Arial",sans-serif; font-size: 14.0pt;">Take
it off, take it off<o:p></o:p></span></i></p>
<p class="MsoNoSpacing"><i><span style="font-family: "Arial",sans-serif; font-size: 14.0pt;"><o:p> </o:p></span></i></p>
<p class="MsoNoSpacing"><span style="font-family: "Arial",sans-serif; font-size: 14.0pt;">….
But I will not be taking off that European man-thong in the video!<o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNoSpacing"><span style="font-family: "Arial",sans-serif; font-size: 12.0pt;"><o:p> </o:p></span></p>Don Akehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/06268533664760244722noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4563305759142927554.post-92193554202917002562023-10-17T10:33:00.000-07:002023-10-17T10:33:17.011-07:00The Last Big Diet – Part 1<p><span style="font-family: Arial, sans-serif; font-size: 14pt;">I recently embarked on what I refer to as ‘</span><i style="font-family: Arial, sans-serif; font-size: 14pt;">My Last Big
Diet</i><span style="font-family: Arial, sans-serif; font-size: 14pt;">’. After years of yo-yo dieting, I hit close to my all-time weight and
must shed, or more appropriately shred, significant poundage, or I will die a
fat man. </span></p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgp6cfh1MjE3qtP4Eq1r8q8vHLrdQXJ7KVJVAS4IwR9RQe1PrUdgoVPFQ-6tSvythMjG917t63ZFHvqfULMmvUecusP72Gge6DasIBx0CRJckmAtYrEbpEF_pf4AXts_5CfR3D0lER89Dni86XXpkfJ2404fSufOkIyDGunVZ4RysTIekgOo8Ve6R1GFNI/s702/fat%20man.PNG" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; float: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="702" data-original-width="410" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgp6cfh1MjE3qtP4Eq1r8q8vHLrdQXJ7KVJVAS4IwR9RQe1PrUdgoVPFQ-6tSvythMjG917t63ZFHvqfULMmvUecusP72Gge6DasIBx0CRJckmAtYrEbpEF_pf4AXts_5CfR3D0lER89Dni86XXpkfJ2404fSufOkIyDGunVZ4RysTIekgOo8Ve6R1GFNI/s320/fat%20man.PNG" width="187" /></a></div><br /><p></p>
<p class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-family: "Arial",sans-serif; font-size: 14.0pt; line-height: 107%;">And I believe that a fat man will die sooner than a thin
... , oh I mean, a not-so-fat man. I remember my friend and former co-worker,
Fat Jerry. We all would marvel at the immense portions Jerry would consume at
company functions. Fat Jerry would just retort with a huge grin, "It's all
good! They're just going to have to get some more pallbearers!" We would
all then laugh hysterically and resume eating. But nobody laughed when Fat
Jerry's heart gave out at age 64. I hope they were able to find enough pallbearers
to lift that casket.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span><o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-family: "Arial",sans-serif; font-size: 14.0pt; line-height: 107%;">I blame part of my weight problem on COVID. I was in the
midst of a highly successful diet when the virus hit. I speculate the COVID
weight gain for many people resulted from the survival instinct we are born
with. Your brain is telling your appetite: "You don't know when you will
be able to eat again. The virus may kill everyone working at the grocery store,
and you may die if you go outside. So, you need to eat mass quantities of
anything and everything you can at every chance."<o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-family: "Arial",sans-serif; font-size: 14.0pt; line-height: 107%;">Using this strategy, I am glad to report I survived the
virus. I did not starve! However, I gained 28, yes 28 pounds in 2020 after the
pandemic began. So, I started a new diet at the beginning of this year. It had
just begun when I came down with influenza. After recovering and eating
heartily to rebuild my strength, I got sick for a week with a stomach virus. I
bounced back just a few weeks before vacation, and this diet was over almost
before it began.<o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal"><b><span style="font-family: "Arial",sans-serif; font-size: 14.0pt; line-height: 107%;">The Last Big Diet<o:p></o:p></span></b></p>
<p class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-family: "Arial",sans-serif; font-size: 14.0pt; line-height: 107%;">So, on September 1, it began. I won’t publicly detail my
diet because I’m not a nutritionist. I will say I am counting calories, and
unfortunately for me, I don’t get to count above 1,500. Sometimes, it feels as
if all the grocers did die of COVID, and the only food available is a can of
beans I bought at the warehouse club.<o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-family: "Arial",sans-serif; font-size: 14.0pt; line-height: 107%;">Unfortunately, when Facebook finds out you are on a diet,
you are bombarded with every modern diet program known to man. There’s paleo, keto,
groucho, harpo, and chico. You are supposed to eat fat or not eat fat. To eat
carbs or not eat carbs. To consume any of the 20 magical meal-replacement
shakes or rely on one of the traditional programs. But you can’t try Jenny
Craig because she died right after COVID, and her followers were so hungry at
that point, they consumed the body. I, however, was not impressed with any of
these pitches and stuck to my original plan. <span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span><span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span><o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal"><b><span style="font-family: "Arial",sans-serif; font-size: 14.0pt; line-height: 107%;">But I Couldn’t Resist This One</span></b></p>
<p class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-family: "Arial",sans-serif; font-size: 14.0pt; line-height: 107%;">In addition to the diets, there were ads for all types of devices,
all promising to magically dissolve your extra pounds. I dismissed every one of
them as hoaxes, except one. I started reading the ads for men’s compression
shirts. The shirts are made of thicker spandex material, and the ads claimed
that by wearing the shirts, you would burn more calories and effortlessly lose
weight. Well, I didn’t believe the hype and decided they were a waste of money
until one ad said that in addition to helping you lose weight, the shirt would
“flatten your moobs”. Moobs is the new acceptable term, replacing "man
boobs" and the ridiculous "chesticles".<o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-family: "Arial",sans-serif; font-size: 14.0pt; line-height: 107%;">But flatten my moobs? Now you’ve got my attention.
Overweight men tend to develop those unsightly and embarrassing moobs. Now, I
don’t have moobs like Jagger. Jagger, being Fred Jagger, a retired custodian so
chesty that he makes high school girls jealous. But if you can flatten my moobs,
I’m in.<o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-family: "Arial",sans-serif; font-size: 14.0pt; line-height: 107%;">Surprisingly, there were many different brands of
compression shirts. I chose a black, mid-priced one. The first time I wore the
shirt, I was impressed by how it pushed my excess weight together, improving my
shape. Then the light went on! This is why women wear girdles. I always thought
girdles were funny, but now I get it. I feel you, girlfriends! What I had
purchased was a male girdle – or a mirdle. In discussing the subject with some
female friends, they pointed out that the term girdle has been replaced by
Spanx. I find the Spanx term too provocative. Because a woman is wearing Spanx
leggings and makes the mistake of telling me, I consider that an open invitation
to … uh … well -- I have been known to get slap-happy.<o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-family: "Arial",sans-serif; font-size: 14.0pt; line-height: 107%;">And the shirt was successful in flattening my moobs!
However, initially, the tight fabric irritated my nipples, excuse me, my mipples,
which could have the opposite effect of drawing attention to my chest.
Although, I have no idea if women even notice mipples, let alone get excited by
them.<o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-family: "Arial",sans-serif; font-size: 14.0pt; line-height: 107%;">Putting the shirt on after showering is challenging because
your skin is moist. It took me almost ten minutes of intense struggle to get
wrapped in the shirt the first time. I was out of breath and sweating by the
end, which I wondered if that is part of the shirt’s fat-burning mechanism that
they neglect to mention in the ad. So, putting on a mirdle can be a struggle –
so once again, I feel for you, girlfriend, I feel for ya! If there were a TikTok
video of me putting on that shirt after the shower, “Fat Man Puts on Mirdle”
would have gone viral around the globe.<o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-family: "Arial",sans-serif; font-size: 14.0pt; line-height: 107%;">But I do like my mirdle. I wear it on occasions where I
want to look my best. My mipples are now used to it, and I am getting better at applying the shirt after a shower. And it does motivate me to keep losing
weight because it shows what I could look like if I could just stay on the
diet.<o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-family: "Arial",sans-serif; font-size: 14.0pt; line-height: 107%;"><o:p> </o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal"><b><span style="font-family: "Arial",sans-serif; font-size: 14.0pt; line-height: 107%;"><o:p> </o:p></span></b></p>Don Akehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/06268533664760244722noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4563305759142927554.post-76904737391022270382023-10-03T17:51:00.000-07:002023-10-03T17:51:15.330-07:00Not a French Kiss - Just A Friendly Spanish One<p><span face="Arial, sans-serif" style="font-size: 14pt;">A firestorm has erupted over the president of Spain's
soccer federation kissing the star player on the women's team at the medal
ceremony after Spain's victory in the World Cup final. Luis Rubiales kissed
Jenni Hermoso on the lips in celebration, but without her alleged consent. Yes,
he kissed her on the lips – on the lips, mind you – on the lips! And for this,
some want Luis to be charged with sexual assault.</span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal"><span face=""Arial",sans-serif" style="font-size: 14pt; line-height: 107%;">Now, somebody has to defend the guy. And who better than
me? A man who understands men - who understands sports - and has at least a
minimal understanding of women.<o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal"><span face=""Arial",sans-serif" style="font-size: 14pt; line-height: 107%;">I do need to say that this behavior was inappropriate. Without
her consent, you should not plant a surprise kiss on a “non-relationship” woman
anywhere on her body. Of course, there are much worse places than the lips to
apply this kiss, but I digress. But I contend that the kiss in question was a
minor indiscretion, a faux pas, as it were, with the appropriate penalty being
a mere reprimand, a red mark on his personnel file. It doesn't come close to warranting
a sexual assault declaration.<o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal"><span face=""Arial",sans-serif" style="font-size: 14pt; line-height: 107%;">Here is why I believe Luis’ actions were negligible, and
even understandable under the circumstances. <span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span></span></p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><span face=""Arial",sans-serif" style="font-size: 14pt; line-height: 107%;"><span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiLiXMhi19QOdRdSTEGw4_vxZO9xhSE5rGOlokclYmR0bgR4NGm6TjfPXeJBEDKs6xWo7_-KoulOh167M5BiaDbKMDMJyL55s5QR4ECzoQfaJ_2VqqQbFykda1N2auOO-FrtLqHQehZ03hqHWkLH4ome6VG-emMFIYM1z4xXaO6YLcQuzIDvgA-Ab_KfdI/s468/kiss.PNG" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; float: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="322" data-original-width="468" height="181" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiLiXMhi19QOdRdSTEGw4_vxZO9xhSE5rGOlokclYmR0bgR4NGm6TjfPXeJBEDKs6xWo7_-KoulOh167M5BiaDbKMDMJyL55s5QR4ECzoQfaJ_2VqqQbFykda1N2auOO-FrtLqHQehZ03hqHWkLH4ome6VG-emMFIYM1z4xXaO6YLcQuzIDvgA-Ab_KfdI/w264-h181/kiss.PNG" width="264" /></a></span></span></div><span face=""Arial",sans-serif" style="font-size: 14pt; line-height: 107%;"><span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"><br /></span><o:p></o:p></span><p></p>
<p class="MsoListParagraphCxSpFirst" style="mso-list: l0 level1 lfo1; text-indent: -0.25in;"><!--[if !supportLists]--><b style="mso-bidi-font-weight: normal;"><span face=""Arial",sans-serif" style="font-size: 14pt; line-height: 107%; mso-fareast-font-family: Arial;"><span style="mso-list: Ignore;">1.<span style="font: 7pt "Times New Roman";">
</span></span></span></b><!--[endif]--><b><span face=""Arial",sans-serif" style="font-size: 14pt; line-height: 107%;">The Kiss Was Not Premeditated</span></b><span face=""Arial",sans-serif" style="font-size: 14pt; line-height: 107%;"> <o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoListParagraphCxSpMiddle"><span face="Arial, sans-serif" style="font-size: 14pt;">Luis was caught up in the moment of his countrywoman
winning the World Cup. He was excited. He was exhilarated. And when the person
who was most responsible for this victory approached him, he reacted with a
gesture that showed a tremendous amount of appreciation for that effort. In the
moment, it was an emotional response to winning the grand prize. The kiss, in
this sense, was a reward for a game well played. (Note: I will detail my
similar experience at the end of this post.)</span><span face="Arial, sans-serif" style="font-size: 14pt;"> </span></p>
<p class="MsoListParagraphCxSpMiddle" style="mso-list: l0 level1 lfo1; text-indent: -0.25in;"><!--[if !supportLists]--><b><span face=""Arial",sans-serif" style="font-size: 14pt; line-height: 107%; mso-fareast-font-family: Arial;"><span style="mso-list: Ignore;">2.<span style="font: 7pt "Times New Roman";"> </span></span></span></b><!--[endif]--><b><span face=""Arial",sans-serif" style="font-size: 14pt; line-height: 107%;">The
Kiss Was Not Sexual in Nature</span></b><b><span face=""Arial",sans-serif" style="font-size: 14pt; line-height: 107%;"><o:p> </o:p></span></b></p>
<p class="MsoListParagraphCxSpMiddle"><span face=""Arial",sans-serif" style="font-size: 14pt; line-height: 107%;">Yes, the kiss may have been passionate,
due to the athletic accomplishment, but it was in no way sexual. It was a quick
peck, with minimal lip contact. He held Jenni’s head in his hands and delivered
the smooch. He held her head steady to kiss her straight on and not miss the
mark. You do not hold the sides of a woman’s head when executing a sensual kiss,
and it is much more titillating to approach the target from the side, and then
hold the lip-lock for a while. Because he is much taller, this was the only way
to deliver the deed straight on and not risk a wet, sloppy result. And there
was no tongue – no tongue at all. This was just a friendly Spanish kiss – not a
French one.<o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoListParagraphCxSpMiddle"><b style="text-indent: -0.25in;"><span face=""Arial",sans-serif" style="font-size: 14pt; line-height: 107%; mso-fareast-font-family: Arial;">3.<span style="font-family: "Times New Roman"; font-size: 7pt; font-stretch: normal; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; font-weight: normal; line-height: normal;"> </span></span></b><b style="text-indent: -0.25in;"><span face=""Arial",sans-serif" style="font-size: 14pt; line-height: 107%;">“Consent”
is Very Nebulous for Kisses</span></b><b><span face=""Arial",sans-serif" style="font-size: 14pt; line-height: 107%;"><o:p> </o:p></span></b></p>
<p class="MsoListParagraphCxSpMiddle"><span face=""Arial",sans-serif" style="font-size: 14pt; line-height: 107%;">Consent for sex is easier to establish. Still,
in most cases, the green light for copulation is seldom verbalized. The man proceeds,
if the situation presents itself, unless and until the woman tells him to stop.
Also, there is a "dance" and process to the sexual act, usually
carried out over a few minutes at least, allowing for consent or “no consent”
to be expressed one way or another.</span><span face="Arial, sans-serif" style="font-size: 14pt;"> </span></p>
<p class="MsoListParagraphCxSpMiddle"><span face=""Arial",sans-serif" style="font-size: 14pt; line-height: 107%;">Rarely does a man ask permission for a
kiss. In our culture, and probably more so in Spain, asking a woman for a kiss
is a sign of weakness and doesn’t qualify as a sign of respect for the woman.
And this is not Victorian England: “I would be blessed me lady, if thy might
honor me by the pressing of thine lips together.”</span><span face="Arial, sans-serif" style="font-size: 14pt;"> </span></p>
<p class="MsoListParagraphCxSpMiddle"><span face=""Arial",sans-serif" style="font-size: 14pt; line-height: 107%;">New couples, or first encounters (think
bar pick-ups), figure out this kissing consent thing non-verbally, by what I refer
to as the “google eyes” (which has nothing to do with the search engine). I
can’t describe the google eyes, but a female knows when she is flashing them,
and a male certainly knows he’s receiving them, and then the puckering
commences.</span><span face="Arial, sans-serif" style="font-size: 14pt;"> </span></p>
<p class="MsoListParagraphCxSpMiddle"><span face=""Arial",sans-serif" style="font-size: 14pt; line-height: 107%;">If the male doesn't get the google eyes,
but goes in for a kiss anyway, the female may turn her head to the side to
avoid the kiss, or accept it, if she deems it non-repulsive. That’s how consent
for a kiss works, like it or not.</span><span face="Arial, sans-serif" style="font-size: 14pt;"> </span></p>
<p class="MsoListParagraphCxSpMiddle"><span face=""Arial",sans-serif" style="font-size: 14pt; line-height: 107%;">Luis and Jenni did engage in an extended,
tight, celebratory hug. They had already invaded each other’s personal space,
as it were. There weren’t romantic google eyes, but probably a passionate eye-lock
as they celebrated the moment. <span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>There wasn't
time to ask for consent. I do concede that holding both sides of her head did
not allow her to reject the kiss. It was forced, which makes it inappropriate –
but yet still understandable.</span><span face="Arial, sans-serif" style="font-size: 14pt;"> </span></p>
<p class="MsoListParagraphCxSpMiddle" style="mso-list: l0 level1 lfo1; text-indent: -0.25in;"><!--[if !supportLists]--><b><span face=""Arial",sans-serif" style="font-size: 14pt; line-height: 107%; mso-fareast-font-family: Arial;"><span style="mso-list: Ignore;">4.<span style="font: 7pt "Times New Roman";"> </span></span></span></b><!--[endif]--><b><span face=""Arial",sans-serif" style="font-size: 14pt; line-height: 107%;">She
Ain’t That Hot</span></b><b><span face=""Arial",sans-serif" style="font-size: 14pt; line-height: 107%;"><o:p> </o:p></span></b></p>
<p class="MsoListParagraphCxSpMiddle"><span face=""Arial",sans-serif" style="font-size: 14pt; line-height: 107%;">Jenni is cute, very cute for a soccer
player, but not hot. She’s not the most attractive woman on the team. It’s not
like Luis played tonsil tennis with a super sexy, but mediocre defender. That
would have raised a serious concern. This kiss was a reward, not a come-on.<o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoListParagraphCxSpMiddle"><span face=""Arial",sans-serif" style="font-size: 14pt; line-height: 107%;">And I don’t believe he felt “it” after the
kiss. The guys know what “it” refers to. (Ladies, “it” is a uniquely male
reflex). And you don't feel "it"; that kiss was platonic.</span><span face="Arial, sans-serif" style="font-size: 14pt;"> </span></p>
<p class="MsoListParagraphCxSpMiddle"><span face=""Arial",sans-serif" style="font-size: 14pt; line-height: 107%;">And while Jenni is not hot, Luis is a
freaking stud of manhood – no homo. I mean, he is tall, bald, and middle-aged –
which is the ultimate standard for all Adonises. He is so handsome that maybe
he should have asked for consent from Jenni.</span><span face="Arial, sans-serif" style="font-size: 14pt;"> </span></p>
<p class="MsoListParagraphCxSpMiddle"><span face=""Arial",sans-serif" style="font-size: 14pt; line-height: 107%;">But there is a strong possibility Jenni
didn’t feel anything by kissing this studly hunk either. My comprehensive
Internet research found there is considerable evidence that Jenni, like many
women soccer players, has a sexual prefer…., um is a, um – let’s just say she may
kick from the other foot. If that is the case, the incident would be the
equivalent of two straight men exchanging a celebratory peck. If this were, in
fact, the case, it would be extremely weird, though not so much in Europe, but
probably not an infraction at all.</span><span face="Arial, sans-serif" style="font-size: 14pt;"> </span></p>
<p class="MsoListParagraphCxSpMiddle"><b><span face=""Arial",sans-serif" style="font-size: 14pt; line-height: 107%;">My Experience With This</span></b><b><span face=""Arial",sans-serif" style="font-size: 14pt; line-height: 107%;"><o:p> </o:p></span></b></p>
<p class="MsoListParagraphCxSpMiddle"><span face=""Arial",sans-serif" style="font-size: 14pt; line-height: 107%;">My experience in this situation is why I
am defending Luis so intently ….</span><span face="Arial, sans-serif" style="font-size: 14pt;"> </span></p>
<p class="MsoListParagraphCxSpMiddle"><span face=""Arial",sans-serif" style="font-size: 14pt; line-height: 107%;">Many years ago, I played in a very
competitive company softball game between the Marketing and Sales departments.
The outside salespeople disliked some of the marketing managers, turning what
was supposed to be a friendly game into a grudge match. <o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoListParagraphCxSpMiddle"><span face=""Arial",sans-serif" style="font-size: 14pt; line-height: 107%;">Debbie, a marketing assistant, was a
reluctant member of my team and may not have ever swung a bat in her life. However,
after striking out badly the first time, in her next at bat somehow dribbled a
ball past the pitcher and got to first base. Our team followed that up with a
couple more hits, as we coached Debbie around the bases until she scored.</span><span face="Arial, sans-serif" style="font-size: 14pt;"> </span></p>
<p class="MsoListParagraphCxSpMiddle"><span face=""Arial",sans-serif" style="font-size: 14pt; line-height: 107%;">I was on deck when Debbie proudly strutted
by me. She had done a great job and scored a much-needed run. Instinctively, I
swung my hand back to smack her on the @$$. It’s what guys do during games if
someone does well. If you are face to face, you do a high-five. But if he is
walking past you, you don’t stop him, you just smack his butt. Be advised that
this behavior is only permissible on the field, and not in the shower afterward.
So, I’m just about to congratulate Debbie, when my brain realizes what I’m
about to do and screams NOOOOOOOOOOOO! I quickly drop the hand back to my side
and yell, "Way to go, Deb!”</span><span face="Arial, sans-serif" style="font-size: 14pt;"> </span></p>
<p class="MsoListParagraphCxSpMiddle"><span face=""Arial",sans-serif" style="font-size: 14pt; line-height: 107%;">I breathed a sigh of relief that I had
narrowly escaped an embarrassing situation. Debbie probably would have been surprised if I
had slapped her, but ultimately found it funny. I would have apologized, but
the action would not have been sexual in nature. (And guys, I know you are now
wondering what the quality was of that @$$ I almost spanked. Well, it was a Grade-A
quality rump roast)<o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoListParagraphCxSpMiddle"><b><span face=""Arial",sans-serif" style="font-size: 14pt; line-height: 107%;">The Final Word</span></b><b><span face=""Arial",sans-serif" style="font-size: 14pt; line-height: 107%;"><o:p> </o:p></span></b></p>
<p class="MsoListParagraphCxSpLast"><span face=""Arial",sans-serif" style="font-size: 14pt; line-height: 107%;">I think situations of this type are bound
to happen when men and women interact in sports-oriented activities. Yes, Luis
should have apologized, but the apology should have been a soft, conditional
one that fit the minor indiscretion. This was a social flub, not a sexual
assault. <o:p></o:p></span></p>Don Akehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/06268533664760244722noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4563305759142927554.post-85590045299593980702023-09-04T12:34:00.000-07:002023-09-04T12:34:35.400-07:00The Amish Are Hot! - Literally<p><span style="font-family: Arial, sans-serif; font-size: 14pt;">It’s been a painfully slow news-summer, but I was still
shocked to see this headline in my local paper*:</span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal"><b><span style="font-family: "Arial",sans-serif; font-size: 14.0pt; line-height: 107%;">Amish Cope With Heat Without Air Conditioning</span></b><span style="font-family: "Arial",sans-serif; font-size: 14.0pt; line-height: 107%;"> – <o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-family: "Arial",sans-serif; font-size: 14.0pt; line-height: 107%;">My first thought is they should have added the
sub-headline: <b>As they have for almost 500 years</b>.<o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-family: "Arial",sans-serif; font-size: 14.0pt; line-height: 107%;">But the article was serious and I became alarmed that the
Amish, like some tree frogs and rodents, might be in danger of becoming extinct
due to global warming. But no, the angle was the Amish could not “avoid the
discomfort of the overbearing temperatures” because they “eschew” electricity. <i>(As,
of course, they have for almost 500 years).<o:p></o:p></i></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-family: "Arial",sans-serif; font-size: 14.0pt; line-height: 107%;">The topic so enthralled the newspaper, they sent a reporter
out in the field, literally an Amish field, to discover how the Amish are able
to survive the oppressive summer heat. <o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-family: "Arial",sans-serif; font-size: 14.0pt; line-height: 107%;">An Amish guy named Yoder said he just sweats it out. That’s
right, the Amish must use that primitive human function, which has existed
since mankind began, to cool their bodies in the summer. Yoder also said he
opens his windows, and lets the door swing open to take advantage of something
known as a “breeze”. “You just kinda get used to the heat”, Yoder concluded.
‘The reporter states that the Amish use fans (battery or propane powered)
whenever they can, but for the most part, they just grin and bear it.”* </span></p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjKvzuBjApg6n3l3PnDmPpCR4MX48-JAN3VI0vNcimtp0E-e5yfJGZYvjEuODY-3OXPiS8l9-Fne8jmTE5gy_m0mW0hRbDdhZRxgnRCMZpC3K9Fdqmx5smvBnnalUk89tMDiMExoJB42pPqaHXRjqGBbRUHq5F7UZg3OhrZcnXEy4Glsim69hNRiXkxsWo/s747/amish%20farmer.PNG" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; float: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="747" data-original-width="538" height="214" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjKvzuBjApg6n3l3PnDmPpCR4MX48-JAN3VI0vNcimtp0E-e5yfJGZYvjEuODY-3OXPiS8l9-Fne8jmTE5gy_m0mW0hRbDdhZRxgnRCMZpC3K9Fdqmx5smvBnnalUk89tMDiMExoJB42pPqaHXRjqGBbRUHq5F7UZg3OhrZcnXEy4Glsim69hNRiXkxsWo/w154-h214/amish%20farmer.PNG" width="154" /></a></div><br /><o:p></o:p><p></p>
<p class="MsoNormal"><b><span style="font-family: "Arial",sans-serif; font-size: 14.0pt; line-height: 107%;">But Now For The Sage Advice<o:p></o:p></span></b></p>
<p class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-family: "Arial",sans-serif; font-size: 14.0pt; line-height: 107%;">The article could have ended there, but because the
reporter thinks the Amish also eschew intelligence, he went and asked some
local experts what the Amish could do to stay cool. *<o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-family: "Arial",sans-serif; font-size: 14.0pt; line-height: 107%;">The Advice:<o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoListParagraphCxSpFirst" style="mso-list: l0 level1 lfo1; text-indent: -.25in;"><!--[if !supportLists]--><span style="font-family: "Arial",sans-serif; font-size: 14.0pt; line-height: 107%; mso-fareast-font-family: Arial;"><span style="mso-list: Ignore;">1.<span style="font: 7.0pt "Times New Roman";"> </span></span></span><!--[endif]--><span style="font-family: "Arial",sans-serif; font-size: 14.0pt; line-height: 107%;">Stay
Inside – Of course, if your income is derived from working outside in the
summer – say as a farmer or roofer – I’m not sure this is going to work.<o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoListParagraphCxSpMiddle" style="mso-list: l0 level1 lfo1; text-indent: -.25in;"><!--[if !supportLists]--><span style="font-family: "Arial",sans-serif; font-size: 14.0pt; line-height: 107%; mso-fareast-font-family: Arial;"><span style="mso-list: Ignore;">2.<span style="font: 7.0pt "Times New Roman";"> </span></span></span><!--[endif]--><span style="font-family: "Arial",sans-serif; font-size: 14.0pt; line-height: 107%;">Stay
Hydrated – with water or Gatorade. Wow, these experts are good! I’m sure the
Amish hadn’t thought of that one. And since the Amish are such great athletes,
they probably already have plenty of Gatorade on hand.<o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoListParagraphCxSpMiddle" style="mso-list: l0 level1 lfo1; text-indent: -.25in;"><!--[if !supportLists]--><span style="font-family: "Arial",sans-serif; font-size: 14.0pt; line-height: 107%; mso-fareast-font-family: Arial;"><span style="mso-list: Ignore;">3.<span style="font: 7.0pt "Times New Roman";"> </span></span></span><!--[endif]--><span style="font-family: "Arial",sans-serif; font-size: 14.0pt; line-height: 107%;">Dress
Appropriately – Well, I don’t reckon the Amish have a summer wardrobe, and
modesty would prevent the showing of much skin. So, don’t expect the Amish
ladies to start flashing halter tops. Although, if they did, I’m sure the next
breaking news headline in this paper would read:<o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoListParagraphCxSpMiddle"><span style="font-family: "Arial",sans-serif; font-size: 14.0pt; line-height: 107%;"><o:p> </o:p></span><b><span style="font-family: "Arial",sans-serif; font-size: 14.0pt; line-height: 107%;">Amish Women Have Breasts – and
some are even impressive</span></b><span style="font-family: Arial, sans-serif; font-size: 14pt;"> </span></p>
<p class="MsoListParagraphCxSpMiddle" style="mso-list: l0 level1 lfo1; text-indent: -.25in;"><!--[if !supportLists]--><span style="font-family: "Arial",sans-serif; font-size: 14.0pt; line-height: 107%; mso-fareast-font-family: Arial;"><span style="mso-list: Ignore;">4.<span style="font: 7.0pt "Times New Roman";"> </span></span></span><!--[endif]--><span style="font-family: "Arial",sans-serif; font-size: 14.0pt; line-height: 107%;">Keep a
Cool Bucket of Water and Towel Handy – This type of advice is only possible from
experts with college degrees.<o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoListParagraphCxSpMiddle" style="mso-list: l0 level1 lfo1; text-indent: -.25in;"><!--[if !supportLists]--><span style="font-family: "Arial",sans-serif; font-size: 14.0pt; line-height: 107%; mso-fareast-font-family: Arial;"><span style="mso-list: Ignore;">5.<span style="font: 7.0pt "Times New Roman";"> </span></span></span><!--[endif]--><span style="font-family: "Arial",sans-serif; font-size: 14.0pt; line-height: 107%;">Stay
Out of the Sun – Also take frequent breaks, and stand in a windy area. The
experts point out that this cooling advice works not only for the Amish, but
for the English too!</span><span style="font-family: Arial, sans-serif; font-size: 14pt;"> </span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal"><b><span style="font-family: "Arial",sans-serif; font-size: 14.0pt; line-height: 107%;">My Personal Experience<o:p></o:p></span></b></p>
<p class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-family: "Arial",sans-serif; font-size: 14.0pt; line-height: 107%;">Yes, this article was filled with critical advice for the
Amish to survive the summer heat, but it had a much deeper meaning for me. I
now realize I am fortunate to be alive. For I did not have air-conditioning
growing up. Now unlike the Amish, we didn’t lack electricity – what we did lack
was money. Air-conditioning was considered a luxury for a blue-collar household
in the city.<o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-family: "Arial",sans-serif; font-size: 14.0pt; line-height: 107%;">What we did have is what I will call Pennsylvania Dutch air
conditioning, which consisted of putting box fans blowing air out of the two
front windows, with one fan in the back hall, pulling air out of the two
bedrooms. This created a constant wind tunnel, cooling down the house.<o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-family: "Arial",sans-serif; font-size: 14.0pt; line-height: 107%;">However, I still remember those hot, muggy nights when I
slept at the foot of my bed so I would be directly in the jet stream as it
were. You heard that right, sometimes I HAD TO SLEEP AT THE FOOT OF THE BED TO
SURVIVE! Oh, the horror! Oh, the humanity! Because just like the Amish – I HAD
NO AIR CONDITIONING!<o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-family: "Arial",sans-serif; font-size: 14.0pt; line-height: 107%;">But thank goodness! Through sweating and drinking lots of water
(although my father preferred beer) – just like the Amish, somehow, I survived
– Yes, I have survived. And survived to write about it.<o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal"><b><span style="font-family: "Arial",sans-serif; font-size: 14.0pt; line-height: 107%;">* </span></b><span style="font-family: "Arial",sans-serif; font-size: 14.0pt; line-height: 107%;">This is actual content from
the article <o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-family: "Arial",sans-serif; font-size: 14.0pt; line-height: 107%;"><o:p> </o:p></span></p>Don Akehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/06268533664760244722noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4563305759142927554.post-92191345641919450472023-08-15T14:20:00.000-07:002023-08-15T14:20:32.325-07:00Ladies – That’s No Bonus Hole!<p><span style="font-family: Arial, sans-serif; font-size: 14pt;">I never, ever thought that I would write a blog post about
that private part of a woman, her, uh, that uh,</span><span style="font-family: Arial, sans-serif; font-size: 14pt;">
</span><span style="font-family: Arial, sans-serif; font-size: 14pt;">-- well, I am so uncomfortable with the subject that I will call it the V-word,
which is much more tasteful, uh, refined than the C-word or the P-word. My aim
here is to write a funny, yet classy – okay, as classy as I can get, commentary
on this most sensitive, heh heh, subject.</span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal"><i><span style="font-family: "Arial",sans-serif; font-size: 14.0pt; line-height: 107%;">Bloggers Note: If you are easily offended by a
traditional view of biology, please stop reading now, or your head will explode
later. – Emergency rooms nationwide tend to get upset when I don't include this
disclaimer.<o:p></o:p></span></i></p>
<p class="MsoNormal"><b><span style="font-family: "Arial",sans-serif; font-size: 14.0pt; line-height: 107%;">Mass Confusion?<o:p></o:p></span></b></p>
<p class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-family: "Arial",sans-serif; font-size: 14.0pt; line-height: 107%;">We have known what a woman is since the beginning of time.
But suddenly, in 2023, we seem to have forgotten. Some of our supposedly wisest
people become bugged-eyed and speechless when asked to define a woman. <o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-family: "Arial",sans-serif; font-size: 14.0pt; line-height: 107%;">Because most of us common folk slept through Biology class,
we tend not to refer to the XX chromosomes when answering that question. We
tend to point to, well not literally, well anymore, the possession of a V-word
to define a woman and as a way to differentiate the sexes.<o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-family: "Arial",sans-serif; font-size: 14.0pt; line-height: 107%;">Guys do that because we surely didn’t sleep through Sex-Ed
class. There, they showed us a diagram with arrows pointing toward the Netherlands.
They never actually showed us a picture of Amsterdam but assured us we would
recognize it when we got there. The cruel part is they never instructed us on
how to get to Amsterdam because they did not want us running out of the
classroom and trying to breach the city walls. Crueler yet, at the same time,
the girls were being taught that if a boy got to the Netherlands, they should
close the city gate and deny entry, lest the world's population grow uncontrollably.
<o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-family: "Arial",sans-serif; font-size: 14.0pt; line-height: 107%;">So even though we were exposed to the V-word, guys
preferred using the P-word, because getting some P-word sounds much more
exciting than getting some V-word. However, if a girl broke up with us, we
called her the C-word because we would not be getting any more P-word.<o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal"><b><span style="font-family: "Arial",sans-serif; font-size: 14.0pt; line-height: 107%;"><o:p> </o:p></span></b></p>
<p class="MsoNormal"><b><span style="font-family: "Arial",sans-serif; font-size: 14.0pt; line-height: 107%;">A New Modern Term<o:p></o:p></span></b></p>
<p class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-family: "Arial",sans-serif; font-size: 14.0pt; line-height: 107%;">But now, in our gender-bender world, there is a new term
for that thing: <b>Bonus Hole</b> - and in the spirit of Dave Barry – unfortunately,
I am not making this up. The expression was coined a few years ago but has
gained traction lately, especially in the U.K. </span></p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh4l6OBc1B_2KMT2QR6vVyRWuD24CbJJeCZ9tzkA_6taGl2PwV9aM_pEmWkqV92ojrjEu2D7OGTcMlxY-gBXFftJQQRImJaBTo4FAs9P_b8wZR6Dxw6HcBtzLzIWeQd3LykLDAx5k10Y-iY2T84dyxS0q_PJ7TW5mz-IvX3oeDtu1bZQlBRs6ynCSYg9P8/s795/Bonus%20Hole.PNG" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; float: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="323" data-original-width="795" height="140" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh4l6OBc1B_2KMT2QR6vVyRWuD24CbJJeCZ9tzkA_6taGl2PwV9aM_pEmWkqV92ojrjEu2D7OGTcMlxY-gBXFftJQQRImJaBTo4FAs9P_b8wZR6Dxw6HcBtzLzIWeQd3LykLDAx5k10Y-iY2T84dyxS0q_PJ7TW5mz-IvX3oeDtu1bZQlBRs6ynCSYg9P8/w344-h140/Bonus%20Hole.PNG" width="344" /></a></div><br /><o:p></o:p><p></p>
<p class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-family: "Arial",sans-serif; font-size: 14.0pt; line-height: 107%;">I wonder why we need a new word for the V-word when so many
others exist, including several P-words. But here is my best guess:<o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-family: "Arial",sans-serif; font-size: 14.0pt; line-height: 107%;">Vern so much wants to be one of the girls, but he doesn’t
have a V-word like the other ladies. This makes Vern sad, especially when the
women talk about their V-words.<o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-family: "Arial",sans-serif; font-size: 14.0pt; line-height: 107%;">But now Vern, it's a Bonus Hole! You are just like all the
other girls. It's just that they have an extra, unnecessary hole – the Bonus
Hole! It's just a hole, Vern – a stupid hole. This makes Vern happy – but now complicates
that suddenly tricky definition of a woman.<o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal"><b><span style="font-family: "Arial",sans-serif; font-size: 14.0pt; line-height: 107%;">Poking a Hole in the Logic <o:p></o:p></span></b></p>
<p class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-family: "Arial",sans-serif; font-size: 14.0pt; line-height: 107%;">I learned about this new moniker from a commentary written
by a fizzed-off British woman entitled: My vagina is not a 'bonus hole.' In
which she eloquently defends her, uh, womanhood – uh V-word. Her conviction
about her V-word aroused me – in a purely journalistic fashion. I agree with
all her female-based arguments, but I will add some of my own.<o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-family: "Arial",sans-serif; font-size: 14.0pt; line-height: 107%;">Technically, it is not a "bonus hole." Men and
women have the same number of holes. The holes are roughly the same size and
location except for the female hole in question and the corresponding male
hole. The male hole has to be smaller for reproductive purposes than the female
hole. Even holes the same size would present problems. Females cannot have a
bonus opening if the total number of holes is the same. (Note: If you doubt
this and try to count the holes on someone of the opposite sex, it helps if you
know them very well).<o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-family: "Arial",sans-serif; font-size: 14.0pt; line-height: 107%;">Secondarily, the term Bonus Hole is blatantly sexist, and
now take a moment to consider the source of that statement. If men start
viewing the V-word as a Bonus Hole, they will look at it as a mere prize to be
obtained. Yes, a prize they have earned as a reward for good behavior! Men will
connive and try anything just to get that "bonus." They will lie and make
women ridiculous promises just to gain access to that hole. They will focus
intently on the Bonus Holes, ignoring all other aspects of womanhood, and lose
respect for the total woman. The V-word will be reduced to just a piece of
P-word. And it would be horrible if that ever happened. Uh, well, uh - let’s
forget I ever made that argument.<o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-family: "Arial",sans-serif; font-size: 14.0pt; line-height: 107%;">Similarly, suppose women look at their V-word as a Bonus
Hole. In that case, they will trade this bonus for affection, jewelry, cars,
nice clothes etc. They will consider it a bargaining chip or “honey-trap” to
get anything they desire. They may even use their Bonus Hole to snare a
husband. They could even sell their bonus to men on the street. Once again, we
would never, ever want to get to that place. Uh, well, er, why don't we forget
this argument also?<o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal"><b><span style="font-family: "Arial",sans-serif; font-size: 14.0pt; line-height: 107%;">Let’s Respect and Value the V-Word<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span><o:p></o:p></span></b></p>
<p class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-family: "Arial",sans-serif; font-size: 14.0pt; line-height: 107%;">The V-word is one of the greatest wonders of this world. I
speak of it not as a horny teenage boy but as an older man filled with many
years of wisdom. The V-word is essential because what goes into it, and what
ultimately comes out of it, is how our species thrives and survives.<o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-family: "Arial",sans-serif; font-size: 14.0pt; line-height: 107%;">The V-word is a natural marvel, so complex that you wonder
how this thing could ever have "evolved." It must be tight enough to,
to, create enough, uh – Let's just say it has to be tight – some would say the
tighter the better. But then it must expand to incredible lengths to deliver
the goods. After that, it must recover its tightness, but sadly not all of it,
to repeat the process all over again.<o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-family: "Arial",sans-serif; font-size: 14.0pt; line-height: 107%;">So ladies, yes, be proud of your V-word, and don't let
anyone call it a Bonus Hole! Say it loud, and say it proud! Okay, maybe not so
loud. Be a believer in the actual V-word, as I am, just not in the particular
blog post.<o:p></o:p></span></p>Don Akehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/06268533664760244722noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4563305759142927554.post-57952369086422448112023-07-23T16:09:00.000-07:002023-07-23T16:09:16.864-07:00Boys Just Wanna Have Fun<p><span style="font-family: Arial, sans-serif; font-size: 14pt;">When I started watching the business-based drama
Succession, I immediately identified with the character of Roman Roy. While the
other characters screamed and freaked out about business dealings and
catastrophes, Roman was gratified by making smart-@$$ sarcastic comments and
ridiculing everyone and everything.</span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-family: "Arial",sans-serif; font-size: 14.0pt; line-height: 107%;">I absolutely loved Roman. His sharp wit was outrageous. He
was a guy who was not afraid to test the boundaries as he spoke hilarious truth
to power. He could spot the ridiculous aspects of pompous business people and
cut them down to size. He saw the humor in even the most serious business
situations and verbalized it. He had a low tolerance for <a name="_Hlk140775983">bull$h!t
</a>and called it out repeatedly.</span></p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiTthSz4C5tylQzTLjDvLJf3xKgmrIZUKtPC7xsxU9TpiY1K1i9z9iC8leCgeRxfU29dRMYQRZ5jTadnHmtU0IR9cdzNZx0Y-9OoKnANnOflR9Xy2sjjglqr78Vbf3QKM6n8UJbByP8EQCPqzAjUSul1lYi7riphz7RVn8AtcrCZvQrJmBsB0CmXsoP_vY/s500/Roman%20Don.PNG" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; float: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="272" data-original-width="500" height="174" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiTthSz4C5tylQzTLjDvLJf3xKgmrIZUKtPC7xsxU9TpiY1K1i9z9iC8leCgeRxfU29dRMYQRZ5jTadnHmtU0IR9cdzNZx0Y-9OoKnANnOflR9Xy2sjjglqr78Vbf3QKM6n8UJbByP8EQCPqzAjUSul1lYi7riphz7RVn8AtcrCZvQrJmBsB0CmXsoP_vY/s320/Roman%20Don.PNG" width="320" /></a></div><br /><o:p></o:p><p></p>
<p class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-family: "Arial",sans-serif; font-size: 14.0pt; line-height: 107%;">And I identified with Roman because I did the same things
my entire career. I cracked jokes during meetings. I made fun of bosses. I
pointed out the absurdity of company motivational seminars and horse-$h!t<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>strategy. I was always joking and kidding
people even during serious meetings. And I called out that bull$h!t. Sure, many
of my comments were inappropriate, but I am still proud that I was never called
into HR for anything I said. Of course, if I said those same things in today's
hyper-sensitive environment, I would be fired. And by fired, I mean they would
bound and gag me, take me behind the building, and burn me at the stake – maybe
as part of the company fire extinguisher training!<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span><o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-family: "Arial",sans-serif; font-size: 14.0pt; line-height: 107%;">But then, as the television series progressed, I noticed
that because of Roman's sarcastic attitude, he was not taken seriously when it
came to important business matters. It was as if the other characters assumed
that he couldn't have any corporate smarts because he was always cracking
sarcastic jokes. And then the shovel smacked me in the face – I was watching a version
of my own business career played out on my big-screen television.<o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-family: "Arial",sans-serif; font-size: 14.0pt; line-height: 107%;">My career was not a failure, but on paper, it appears,
until my last position, that I failed to reach my business potential.
Throughout my career, I was not given the opportunity to advance, and many of
my best ideas were ignored. I was promoted only once and managed just four
employees total – and one of them hated me. To be fair, she hated everyone,
including herself, but my final resume screams underachievement.<o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-family: "Arial",sans-serif; font-size: 14.0pt; line-height: 107%;">Now I had other things working against me. Still, by
watching Succession, I came to the conclusion that my career growth was
hindered by my sarcastic sense of humor. Naturally, I began to regret my
actions. If only I could have kept my mouth shut. I should have concentrated on
my career advancement instead of cracking all those funny jokes. <o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-family: "Arial",sans-serif; font-size: 14.0pt; line-height: 107%;">I was still feeling somewhat despondent about this until
the next time I saw my grandson. He sees me and immediately gets that ornery
look in his eye. I can instantly recognize that look because I have been making
that face my entire life. I imagine his brain thinking: Hey, it's the big goofy
kid who only cares about having fun. It's time to laugh and get into trouble.
And already Little Donnie (not his real name) has shown a propensity for having
fun when you are not supposed to and getting into trouble with his mouth. <o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-family: "Arial",sans-serif; font-size: 14.0pt; line-height: 107%;">For example:<o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-family: "Arial",sans-serif; font-size: 14.0pt; line-height: 107%;">Recently, two-and-a-half-year-old Little Donnie was
promoted to a new area at daycare. A ball went over the five-foot fence
surrounding the play area on his first day there. No problem! Little Donnie is
an excellent climber and easily scaled the fence to retrieve the ball.<o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-family: "Arial",sans-serif; font-size: 14.0pt; line-height: 107%;">The daycare staff was not amused by this at all. They
hauled Little Donnie into the director's office and sternly told him: "You
can't do that!" Now, of course, we understand the context of this
statement because we are adults. However, Little Donnie thought they were
questioning his ability to climb the wall, so he explained to them in detail how
to climb over a fence. Now, while I find that laugh-out-loud amusing, the
daycare people thought he was being a smart-@$$ and got fizzed. So fizzed, that
they called my daughter to report her son's terrible behavior and attitude. My
daughter’s reaction? – “Meh” – because she is my daughter, and she understands
her son.<o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-family: "Arial",sans-serif; font-size: 14.0pt; line-height: 107%;">It’s a good thing the daycare didn’t call me to complain
about Little Donnie’s behavior because after realizing their error, I would
have replied: For people who are supposed to be skilled in child care, you
don’t communicate with little kids too well, do ya?” And it’s comments just
like that which resulted in me reporting to bosses like Mr. Dingleshitz for
most of my career.<o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-family: "Arial",sans-serif; font-size: 14.0pt; line-height: 107%;">So, after spending time with my grandson, I realized that I
cracked those jokes and mouthed off because that's how I'm wired. It's not an
excuse, but I was born this way, and there is no way to change it. <o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-family: "Arial",sans-serif; font-size: 14.0pt; line-height: 107%;">I finally flourished at the final job of my career. And
that's because the people there surely thought: Don is a goofball, doesn't take
things seriously enough, and sometimes makes inappropriate jokes – but he is
darn good at what he does. So we will laugh at him, laugh with him, and let Don
be Don. I love these people!<o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-family: "Arial",sans-serif; font-size: 14.0pt; line-height: 107%;">Many of my colleagues over my career advanced further, got
promotions, and made more money than I did, but nobody, and I mean nobody, had
more fun than me. And because that's what I'm about, my business career was truly
a success. <o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNoSpacing"><i><span style="font-family: "Arial",sans-serif; font-size: 14.0pt;">I
get to work when the sun is bright</span></i></p><p class="MsoNoSpacing"><i><span style="font-family: "Arial",sans-serif; font-size: 14.0pt;">The
boss man says, “When you gonna start acting right?”</span></i></p>
<p class="MsoNoSpacing"><i><span style="font-family: "Arial",sans-serif; font-size: 14.0pt;">Oh
boss man dude, I’m not the usual one<o:p></o:p></span></i></p>
<p class="MsoNoSpacing"><i><span style="font-family: "Arial",sans-serif; font-size: 14.0pt;">And
boys, they wanna have fun<o:p></o:p></span></i></p>
<p class="MsoNoSpacing"><i><span style="font-family: "Arial",sans-serif; font-size: 14.0pt;">Oh
boys just wanna have fun<o:p></o:p></span></i></p>Don Akehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/06268533664760244722noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4563305759142927554.post-82974328838553858142023-07-05T16:29:00.002-07:002023-07-05T16:29:58.896-07:00Men Have The Right To Whiz Standing Up<p><span style="font-family: Arial, sans-serif; font-size: 14pt;">Earlier this year, a school district in New Hampshire
banned the use of urinals as part of a new policy of locker room/bathroom use as
a result of the gender-bender debate. The urinals were now considered so
dangerous they immediately placed garbage bags over them to prevent their use.
This fizzed everyone off, but unfortunately, they now had nowhere to go. </span><span style="font-family: Arial, sans-serif; font-size: 14pt;"> </span><span style="font-family: Arial, sans-serif; font-size: 14pt;">Once again, in the words of the legendary Dave
Barry, I am not making this up! </span></p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEibC2QtwnDW5hsT1yE6D-kkGFi27dL_7Z0UJyn1iiYl-NIYIBdvG97Uc_4Q7pr44irtjcSjmtQIcX7TQ_3ROOWeTzpFm5ntBIHanTn2S22UYzS3Asl8orBiwCJueY3q8D1yKyxclfJCdNbxvMTyKu2bsMK5hxegw6dp0KDC65o_jU8_BoaLaxZOhVJlXyU/s737/urinal.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; float: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="737" data-original-width="478" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEibC2QtwnDW5hsT1yE6D-kkGFi27dL_7Z0UJyn1iiYl-NIYIBdvG97Uc_4Q7pr44irtjcSjmtQIcX7TQ_3ROOWeTzpFm5ntBIHanTn2S22UYzS3Asl8orBiwCJueY3q8D1yKyxclfJCdNbxvMTyKu2bsMK5hxegw6dp0KDC65o_jU8_BoaLaxZOhVJlXyU/s320/urinal.jpg" width="208" /></a></div><br /><p></p>
<p class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-family: "Arial",sans-serif; font-size: 14.0pt; line-height: 107%;">I am outraged by this action. Regardless of the more
significant issues in this argument, I cannot sit still on this one. As a man,
I must take a stand. And after I stand, I will whip out my wanker and take a whiz.
Because it is a man’s duty to whiz standing up. It is an essential part of what
makes us men. It is a fundamental man-right to whiz long, and whiz freely,
while standing up. <o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-family: "Arial",sans-serif; font-size: 14.0pt; line-height: 107%;">I know this freedom, like others, is not explicitly
mentioned in the U.S. Constitution. However, I assure you that if the British
had forced the colonists to sit down to urinate, there would have been an 11<sup>th</sup>
Amendment stating:<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span><i>A well-managed
wanker, being necessary for a free flow of urine, the right of all men to whiz
standing up, shall not be infringed.<o:p></o:p></i></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-family: "Arial",sans-serif; font-size: 14.0pt; line-height: 107%;">Beyond this, it is a fundamental human right. Therefore,
the decision should be appealed to the United Nations. Of course, this
dignified body would form committees to study the impact of forcing men
worldwide to whiz sitting down. They would eventually issue a 500-page report,
including many anatomical diagrams.<o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-family: "Arial",sans-serif; font-size: 14.0pt; line-height: 107%;">Men have had the right to whiz standing up from the start
of time. The Bible tells us that “God created them, male and female," with
the male having a wanker designed for whizzing standing up. It has been that
way since the beginning and must continue that way forever – thus sayeth me. <o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-family: "Arial",sans-serif; font-size: 14.0pt; line-height: 107%;">We, as men, should be willing to fight for the right to whiz
standing up. We have nothing to offer than blood, toil, tears<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>…. and whiz – delivered standing up.<o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-family: "Arial",sans-serif; font-size: 14.0pt; line-height: 107%;">We shall whiz on the seas and the ocean<o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-family: "Arial",sans-serif; font-size: 14.0pt; line-height: 107%;">We shall whiz on the beaches<o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-family: "Arial",sans-serif; font-size: 14.0pt; line-height: 107%;">We shall whiz on the landing grounds<o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-family: "Arial",sans-serif; font-size: 14.0pt; line-height: 107%;">We shall whiz in the fields<o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-family: "Arial",sans-serif; font-size: 14.0pt; line-height: 107%;">We shall whiz on the streets<o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-family: "Arial",sans-serif; font-size: 14.0pt; line-height: 107%;">We shall whiz in the hills – all while standing up!<o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-family: "Arial",sans-serif; font-size: 14.0pt; line-height: 107%;">We shall never surrender …. by whizzing sitting down. <o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-family: "Arial",sans-serif; font-size: 14.0pt; line-height: 107%;">Now, if they succeed in forcing us to whiz sitting down,
they will soon require that we wear dresses and drink Bud Light, so we must
literally nip it in the Bud. We must stand up to this tyranny. Stand up, unzip
our flies, and let loose with ramparts of whiz to declare our freedom!<o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-family: "Arial",sans-serif; font-size: 14.0pt; line-height: 107%;">At one of my former workplaces, the guys when excusing
themselves, would proclaim “I need to go whiz excellence!" (From Talladega
Nights) and upon returning, would boast, "I did indeed whiz excellence!”
And you absolutely cannot whiz excellence if you are sitting down. </span></p><p class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-family: "Arial",sans-serif; font-size: 14.0pt; line-height: 107%;">However, I
must admit that the floors in the men's room would be a whole lot cleaner if we
did whiz while sitting. But that is not the point. So you guys, please improve
your aim. It’s okay to look into the urinal if that prevents unleashing your torrent
all over the floor. This is especially true for us older guys whose equipment
may be in decline.<o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-family: "Arial",sans-serif; font-size: 14.0pt; line-height: 107%;">Fortunately, the students at the affected New Hampshire
schools staged a protest, and the policy was reversed, and the urinals were freed
from their captors. So cooler heads … er well, in this case, better functioning
heads, prevailed. The protest was highly effective because the First Amendment
guarantees freedom of expression. And the male students were prepared to
express those rights, all over the school board members. <o:p></o:p></span></p>Don Akehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/06268533664760244722noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4563305759142927554.post-78072017756144119912023-06-19T13:01:00.000-07:002023-06-19T13:01:01.592-07:00This Women’s Sports League is a Bust<p><span style="font-family: Arial, sans-serif;"><span style="font-size: 14pt;">Several months ago, I was channel surfing through the
sports offerings when I </span><span style="font-size: 18.6667px;">accidentally</span><span style="font-size: 14pt;"> clicked on a women's soccer match. I
chuckled to myself because I find both soccer and women's sports excruciatingly
dull, and combining the two is mind-numbing. I smiled as I clicked on to the
next channel, wistfully asking myself what it would take for me to actually
watch women's soccer.</span></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-family: "Arial",sans-serif; font-size: 14.0pt; line-height: 107%;">Of course, it took my man-brain only a second to answer
that question. "You would watch a match if the women were topless,"
it said. I nearly laughed out loud at that thought. The concept was funny and
bizarre; thus, I considered it for a future Ake's Pains blog post.<o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-family: "Arial",sans-serif; font-size: 14.0pt; line-height: 107%;">But I immediately rejected it because it is <a name="_Hlk137890786">crude, outrageous, and excessively sexist. </a>I have a
lot of women readers, and it just seemed over-the-top and too much guy
locker-room talk. Yes, believe it or not, I do have standards, and this topic did
not meet them.<o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal"><i><span style="font-family: "Arial",sans-serif; font-size: 14.0pt; line-height: 107%;">But Don, why are you now writing about this subject
now, if it is so taboo?<o:p></o:p></span></i></p>
<p class="MsoNormal"><b><span style="font-family: "Arial",sans-serif; font-size: 16.0pt; line-height: 107%;">We Live in a Crazy World</span></b></p>
<p class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-family: "Arial",sans-serif; font-size: 14.0pt; line-height: 107%;">I almost wish I had written about the topic back then
because I would have been considered a visionary. We live in a wacky, messed up
world, where bizarre stuff seems to happen constantly, such as …..<o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-family: "Arial",sans-serif; font-size: 14.0pt; line-height: 107%;">In May, former sports reporter Holly Sonders launched the
Topless Sports League featuring “the most beautiful women you’ve ever seen”. In
the words of Dave Barry, “I’m not making this up.”<o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-family: "Arial",sans-serif; font-size: 14.0pt; line-height: 107%;">The <a name="_Hlk137909929">Xposed Sportz </a>league will
feature Instagram and OnlyFans models competing in basketball, bowling, tennis,
ping pong, jump rope, chess, billiards, and that immensely popular sport,
Twister. <o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-family: "Arial",sans-serif; font-size: 14.0pt; line-height: 107%;">The women will be "sweaty and oiled up,"
competing wearing "little-to-no clothing and bikinis." So, yes, this
league is topless, crude, outrageous, and excessively sexist, but now it’s a
thing, or maybe more appropriately, two things. And the sexism is mollified
somewhat because the CEO is a woman, and nobody is forcing the woman to shed
their jerseys <i>before </i>the competition.<o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal"><b><span style="font-family: "Arial",sans-serif; font-size: 16.0pt; line-height: 107%;">Breaking Down This New League</span></b></p>
<p class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-family: "Arial",sans-serif; font-size: 14.0pt; line-height: 107%;">Well, because I'm a sports fan and had the idea first, I am
compelled to speculate, not fantasize, I assure you, but speculate, on how
these sports might operate in the new league.<o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal"><b><span style="font-family: "Arial",sans-serif; font-size: 14.0pt; line-height: 107%;">Jump Rope</span></b></p>
<p class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-family: "Arial",sans-serif; font-size: 14.0pt; line-height: 107%;">I’ve never watched competitive jump rope, but I assume it
is a contest based on speed. If so, it will be the most dangerous of the league’s
sports. Protective goggles are a must and an on-site, medical crew, similar to
those at boxing matches, will be necessary when a competitor knocks herself
out. And slow-motion replays are a must.<o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal"><b><span style="font-family: "Arial",sans-serif; font-size: 14.0pt; line-height: 107%;">Billiards</span></b></p>
<p class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-family: "Arial",sans-serif; font-size: 14.0pt; line-height: 107%;">There’s limited motion here, but there is a lot of leaning
and bending which could hold viewers’ interest. Announcers will have to refrain
from using the term “nice rack” because it will be blatantly obvious and
redundant.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span></span></p><p class="MsoNormal"><b><span style="font-family: "Arial",sans-serif; font-size: 14.0pt; line-height: 107%;">Basketball</span></b></p>
<p class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-family: "Arial",sans-serif; font-size: 14.0pt; line-height: 107%;">The rules must be modified to eliminate “double-dribble”
violations because, let's face it, every dribble will be a double dribble. And
all the referees must be female because it will be impossible for a male to
focus on the game with 20 boobies bouncing up and down the court.<o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal"><b><span style="font-family: "Arial",sans-serif; font-size: 14.0pt; line-height: 107%;">Tennis</span></b></p>
<p class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-family: "Arial",sans-serif; font-size: 14.0pt; line-height: 107%;">Lots of running and bouncing will make this a popular
league sport. However, the silicone-enhanced ladies have an advantage here
because their “cores” are much more stable. Better have some of those medics
from jump roping ready in case one of the natural players rips a backhand and
gets smacked on the follow-through.</span></p><p class="MsoNormal"><b><span style="font-family: "Arial",sans-serif; font-size: 14.0pt; line-height: 107%;">Bowling</span></b></p>
<p class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-family: "Arial",sans-serif; font-size: 14.0pt; line-height: 107%;">There is sufficient motion to keep the viewers’ interested.
And oh, those celebrations when they roll a strike! And no need for any reracks
– we got all the racks we need.</span><span style="font-family: Arial, sans-serif; font-size: 14pt;"> </span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal"><b><span style="font-family: "Arial",sans-serif; font-size: 14.0pt; line-height: 107%;">Ping Pong<o:p></o:p></span></b></p>
<p class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-family: "Arial",sans-serif; font-size: 14.0pt; line-height: 107%;">It might be the most popular league sport because of all
the quick motion in a confined space. Doubles, or in this case quads, add to
the action.</span><span style="font-family: Arial, sans-serif; font-size: 14pt;"> </span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal"><b><span style="font-family: "Arial",sans-serif; font-size: 14.0pt; line-height: 107%;">Chess<o:p></o:p></span></b></p>
<p class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-family: Arial, sans-serif; line-height: 107%;"><span style="font-size: 14pt;">This is the weirdest choice. Let's rename it Ches(t). But
this one allows </span></span></p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; font-size: 14pt; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhLF4DEFFUBoMnWlslTCS8sM2AS-GIMcG_JQm9PSS4kCimkjbXNAfaR7vZker8TO1jvqW8B5H1-xtMC_3XhjiUGPtRWFeWbLHMdUC0pfEUmtmpwNU3zUp0hYaUcS7iVLPBKebGl90N3FNHQg_e69t5Ro1XnnnmCpgFqrgNT3RUnmFP3fgQHWL309U6nmL0/s681/chess1.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; float: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="681" data-original-width="650" height="237" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhLF4DEFFUBoMnWlslTCS8sM2AS-GIMcG_JQm9PSS4kCimkjbXNAfaR7vZker8TO1jvqW8B5H1-xtMC_3XhjiUGPtRWFeWbLHMdUC0pfEUmtmpwNU3zUp0hYaUcS7iVLPBKebGl90N3FNHQg_e69t5Ro1XnnnmCpgFqrgNT3RUnmFP3fgQHWL309U6nmL0/w227-h237/chess1.jpg" width="227" /></a></div><br /><span style="font-size: large;">participation by more mature ladies, provided they can bring
some big bishops to the table. And let's use an over-sized table in case those
bishops need a resting place. In this case, the trophies are placed on the
table before the match starts.</span><span style="font-family: Arial, sans-serif;"><span style="font-size: large;"> </span></span><p></p>
<p class="MsoNormal"><b><span style="font-family: Arial, sans-serif; line-height: 107%;"><span style="font-size: large;">Twister</span><span style="font-size: 14pt;"><o:p></o:p></span></span></b></p>
<p class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-family: "Arial",sans-serif; font-size: 14.0pt; line-height: 107%;">Give them credit for figuring out how to make Twister an
exciting spectator sport. I would spice it up even more by remaking it as
"Titty Twister" and allowing the ladies to tweak their opponents at
any time to win the match. Oh, and no need to pay the male refs to officiate.<o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal"><b><span style="font-family: "Arial",sans-serif; font-size: 14.0pt; line-height: 107%;">Final Thoughts</span></b></p>
<p class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-family: "Arial",sans-serif; font-size: 14.0pt; line-height: 107%;">Give Xposed Sportz credit for figuring out how to keep
penis-wielding femme fakales out of their women’s league. Because, by going
topless, players that don’t belong are going to fall flat.<b><o:p></o:p></b></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-family: "Arial",sans-serif; font-size: 14.0pt; line-height: 107%;">Finally, soccer was not included. I guess soccer is so
boring guys won't even watch women play it topless. Perhaps, if the shorts were
also gone … Oh no, way, way, too sexist, I hope they don’t see this post. Let’s
forget I said anything about this …….<o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-family: "Arial",sans-serif; font-size: 14.0pt; line-height: 107%;"><o:p> </o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal"><o:p> </o:p></p>Don Akehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/06268533664760244722noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4563305759142927554.post-72416665438942109172023-06-05T13:47:00.001-07:002023-06-06T05:56:55.690-07:00Discussing Dick Pics<p><span face="Arial, sans-serif" style="font-size: 14pt;">Dick pics are one of the worst uses of technology in the
digital age. At some point in our digital evolution, it became possible to take
a photo of your erect penis on your phone and send it to someone through
message, text, or email - and the dick pic was sprung. And because of the rise
of social media, you don’t even have to know the person to flash them your
Willie!</span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal"><span face=""Arial",sans-serif" style="font-size: 14pt; line-height: 107%;">Dick pics burst, okay, wrong word … rose to, still not
right …. came upon the, this is going to be difficult to write about. Okay,
dick pics made headlines several years ago when former U.S. Congressman Anthony
Weiner was indiscriminately tweeting his wiener all over the stratosphere. I
blogged about that, meaning this is technically my second post on the subject.<o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal"><span face=""Arial",sans-serif" style="font-size: 14pt; line-height: 107%;">And based on my extensive research, the number of dick pics
has exploded … okay, has proliferated since then. Iva Biggun, Director of the
National Dick Pic Institute of America, estimates that over 87 million dick
pics were sent over the information superhighway last year. However, this
number is in dispute, with Carly Bimbastic claiming she received 23 million
dick pics alone in 2022.<o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal"><a name="_Hlk136370215"><b><span face=""Arial",sans-serif" style="font-size: 14pt; line-height: 107%;">Wait! We have a question from
the audience!<o:p></o:p></span></b></a></p>
<span style="mso-bookmark: _Hlk136370215;"></span>
<p class="MsoNormal"><i><span face=""Arial",sans-serif" style="font-size: 14pt; line-height: 107%;">Don, why are you writing about this? Women find
dick pics disgusting, and men are pigs for sending them! Case closed!<o:p></o:p></span></i></p>
<p class="MsoNormal"><span face=""Arial",sans-serif" style="font-size: 14pt; line-height: 107%;">Well, unfortunately it’s not that simple. </span></p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhfZa8eWYOWvExStsVEYUwhmJMwxjT3J7K6pEnUodx8tBTgie1sLaHD4uNxNQfcS2KV8HCcL-OrxdtPWm8oaQpCNBAcKGFUAH7P2FvuDyaaEuZkX3aapQzscQR5y1s2blLuZO0u0moeqXGMek6L3pWf7_Vzaig6nrB8_-H7jYCKstRdQ41v4yeNSyB1/s897/censored%202.jpg" style="clear: right; float: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="730" data-original-width="897" height="173" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhfZa8eWYOWvExStsVEYUwhmJMwxjT3J7K6pEnUodx8tBTgie1sLaHD4uNxNQfcS2KV8HCcL-OrxdtPWm8oaQpCNBAcKGFUAH7P2FvuDyaaEuZkX3aapQzscQR5y1s2blLuZO0u0moeqXGMek6L3pWf7_Vzaig6nrB8_-H7jYCKstRdQ41v4yeNSyB1/w213-h173/censored%202.jpg" width="213" /></a></div><br /><o:p></o:p><p></p>
<p class="MsoNormal"><b><span face=""Arial",sans-serif" style="font-size: 14pt; line-height: 107%;">The Woman Issue<o:p></o:p></span></b></p>
<p class="MsoNormal"><span face=""Arial",sans-serif" style="font-size: 14pt; line-height: 107%;">Dick Pics are much more complex than they appear. Well, not
the pics themselves, but the issue. You see, regarding dick pics, women fall
into three general categories:<o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoListParagraphCxSpFirst" style="mso-list: l0 level1 lfo1; text-indent: -0.25in;"><!--[if !supportLists]--><span face=""Arial",sans-serif" style="font-size: 14pt; line-height: 107%; mso-fareast-font-family: Arial;"><span style="mso-list: Ignore;">1.<span style="font: 7pt "Times New Roman";"> </span></span></span><!--[endif]--><span face=""Arial",sans-serif" style="font-size: 14pt; line-height: 107%;">Those who
are disgusted by them.<o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoListParagraphCxSpMiddle" style="mso-list: l0 level1 lfo1; text-indent: -0.25in;"><!--[if !supportLists]--><span face=""Arial",sans-serif" style="font-size: 14pt; line-height: 107%; mso-fareast-font-family: Arial;"><span style="mso-list: Ignore;">2.<span style="font: 7pt "Times New Roman";"> </span></span></span><!--[endif]--><span face=""Arial",sans-serif" style="font-size: 14pt; line-height: 107%;">Those
that enjoy them.<o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoListParagraphCxSpLast" style="mso-list: l0 level1 lfo1; text-indent: -0.25in;"><!--[if !supportLists]--><span face=""Arial",sans-serif" style="font-size: 14pt; line-height: 107%; mso-fareast-font-family: Arial;"><span style="mso-list: Ignore;">3.<span style="font: 7pt "Times New Roman";"> </span></span></span><!--[endif]--><span face=""Arial",sans-serif" style="font-size: 14pt; line-height: 107%;">Those
that say they are disgusted by them but secretly enjoy them.<o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal"><span face=""Arial",sans-serif" style="font-size: 14pt; line-height: 107%;">I know some people will take offense at this, but I must write
about what is, not what should be. And I do speak the truth ….<o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal"><span face=""Arial",sans-serif" style="font-size: 14pt; line-height: 107%;">Yes, unfortunately for those women in Category 1, some
women actually like getting dick picks. My evidence are comments made by various
women on social media who show a fondness for a show of raw masculinity. This
includes a hot, classy woman, a Facebook friend from England, who loves receiving
unsolicited dick pics. In addition, there is an episode of Succession where Kendall
Roy’s love interest demands he send her a dick pic. And because she is such a hot
chic, he sticks his phone down his pants and reluctantly complies.<o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal"><span face=""Arial",sans-serif" style="font-size: 14pt; line-height: 107%;">Women are complex beings and react to men’s crude actions
very differently. Years ago, I was behind a group of five women walking through
a factory when the workers began to catcall and whistle. Two of the women were
disgusted, two ignored it, but one, the most attractive in the herd, just ate
it up.<o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal"><span face=""Arial",sans-serif" style="font-size: 14pt; line-height: 107%;">I’m speculating that the great majority of women don’t like
dick pics. It’s impossible to know how many women secretly enjoy them. But if
some of these women in Category 3, along with the women who enjoy the practice,
respond favorably to the sender; guys will continue to send dick picks and lots
of dick pics.<o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal"><i><span face=""Arial",sans-serif" style="font-size: 14pt; line-height: 107%;">Note, I am in no way advocating the practice.
I’m just blogging about it.<o:p></o:p></span></i></p>
<p class="MsoNormal"><b><span face=""Arial",sans-serif" style="font-size: 14pt; line-height: 107%;">The Guy Issue<o:p></o:p></span></b></p>
<p class="MsoNormal"><b><span face=""Arial",sans-serif" style="font-size: 14pt; line-height: 107%;">Wait! We have another question from the
audience!<o:p></o:p></span></b></p>
<p class="MsoNormal"><i><span face=""Arial",sans-serif" style="font-size: 14pt; line-height: 107%;">Don, if most women don’t want dick pics, why do
guys send so many of them?<o:p></o:p></span></i></p>
<p class="MsoNormal"><span face=""Arial",sans-serif" style="font-size: 14pt; line-height: 107%;">Well, the simple answer is: Because we can. The second
simple answer is: Because, we are guys, and testosterone makes us do crazy
things. But the real answers, believe it or not, are much more complicated.<o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal"><span face=""Arial",sans-serif" style="font-size: 14pt; line-height: 107%;">Lack of communication skills<o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal"><span face=""Arial",sans-serif" style="font-size: 14pt; line-height: 107%;">Many guys lack the necessary communication skills to woo
women. And these skills have deteriorated in the younger generations due to social
media and video games. The dick pic is the simplest, most direct communication
available for a guy to show romantic - oh excuse me, I mean sexual (for this
younger generation) interest in a female. The dick pic says: I have a penis,
and it works! It is available for use if you desire its services. I mean, how
romantic is that?! But it is efficient; no icky flowery poetry or flattery
words are needed, just a pic of a hard wanker is all you need. <o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal"><span face=""Arial",sans-serif" style="font-size: 14pt; line-height: 107%;">Fun – and that tingly feeling<o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal"><span face=""Arial",sans-serif" style="font-size: 14pt; line-height: 107%;">Guys flirt, catcall, make sexual comments, over-compliment,
and do stupid things regarding women, because it is fun. It also can give us a
tingly feeling in our naughty bits - a result of the surge in testosterone for
being well, naughty. <o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal"><span face=""Arial",sans-serif" style="font-size: 14pt; line-height: 107%;">Of course, some guys don’t know when to quit and all those activities
can cross the line, resulting in sexual harassment. I’m sure some guy out there
has sent 50 dick pics to the same woman, even after she has demanded that he
stop. <o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal"><span face=""Arial",sans-serif" style="font-size: 14pt; line-height: 107%;">Evolution<o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal"><span face=""Arial",sans-serif" style="font-size: 14pt; line-height: 107%;">I believe that social media is causing devolution. (Yes,
the guys from Akron with the funny hats were ahead of their time.) This
de-evolving includes the male of the species displaying his reproductive organs
to all potential hot female in hopes of finding a partner to propagate the
species. So, we devolve into baboons. Baboons with camera phones capable of flashing
our junk way beyond the jungle. From a purely evolutionary perspective, it is
perfectly normal behavior, and guys can’t help themselves. Are we not men? We
are men with penises! Here let me show you ….<o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal"><span face=""Arial",sans-serif" style="font-size: 14pt; line-height: 107%;">Because It Sometimes Works<o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal"><span face=""Arial",sans-serif" style="font-size: 14pt; line-height: 107%;">If a guy throws his penis around cyberspace long enough,
eventually, it will find a dick pic lovin’ gal. And if this convergence results
in the subject gaining entrance to the predicate, the dude will still be sending
dick pics from the nursing home when he is 90 years old.<o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal"><b><span face=""Arial",sans-serif" style="font-size: 14pt; line-height: 107%;">An Effective Dating Strategy?<o:p></o:p></span></b></p>
<p class="MsoNormal"><span face=""Arial",sans-serif" style="font-size: 14pt; line-height: 107%;">But we people of a certain age have the wisdom to see the
folly of dick pics. If the only thing the guy has going for him is that his
penis takes an impressive photo, how impressive is the guy in general? And any
woman who is attracted to a pic of your penis is probably going to be impressed,
and maybe even compressed, by any erect penis that pops up, so good luck hanging
on to her and keeping her satisfied long-term. And your penis is going to be
under extreme pressure to constantly perform.<o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal"><span face=""Arial",sans-serif" style="font-size: 14pt; line-height: 107%;">And even though my foxy friend from England enjoys getting
dick pics, she explicitly states she would never date any man that would send
her one. So, this doesn’t appear to be an effective dating strategy in the year
2023. This kind of makes the argument for dick pics rather flaccid. <o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal"><b><i><span face=""Arial",sans-serif" style="font-size: 14pt; line-height: 107%;">Oh look, another question:<o:p></o:p></span></i></b></p>
<p class="MsoNormal"><i><span face=""Arial",sans-serif" style="font-size: 14pt; line-height: 107%;">Don, you haven’t explained how you are Facebook
friends with a beautiful woman from England.<o:p></o:p></span></i></p>
<p class="MsoNormal"><span face=""Arial",sans-serif" style="font-size: 14pt; line-height: 107%;">Oh yes, she writes books, and I write books. So, we
connected because we are both authors, meaning my interest in her is purely
literary in nature. I hardly notice when she posts her sexy modeling pics.<o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal"><b><span face=""Arial",sans-serif" style="font-size: 14pt; line-height: 107%;">And Another Thing<o:p></o:p></span></b></p>
<p class="MsoNormal"><span face=""Arial",sans-serif" style="font-size: 14pt; line-height: 107%;">Women need to stop complaining on Facebook about receiving
so many dick pics. It is a distasteful humble brag – “Lordy, I don’t know what to
do. So many men want to have sex with me.” Listen, there will come a day when
you long for a dick pic, but there will be none, so perhaps you should save
some of the more impressive ones for nostalgia purposes.<o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal"><span face=""Arial",sans-serif" style="font-size: 14pt; line-height: 107%;">And your humble brags are very hurtful to all the lonely, plain-Jane
types who may enjoy dick-pickery. She would cherish a dick pic, even a “shortie”,
but she gets none, while you get all that dick pic action and complain about
it. So just shut your pie hole already!<o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal"><b><i><span face=""Arial",sans-serif" style="font-size: 14pt; line-height: 107%;">Another question!<o:p></o:p></span></i></b></p>
<p class="MsoNormal"><i><span face=""Arial",sans-serif" style="font-size: 14pt; line-height: 107%;">“So Don, you do condemn the practice of sending
dick pics in the strongest of terms.<o:p></o:p></span></i></p>
<p class="MsoNormal"><span face=""Arial",sans-serif" style="font-size: 14pt; line-height: 107%;">Well, I would like to but, but …. <o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal"><span face=""Arial",sans-serif" style="font-size: 14pt; line-height: 107%;">It might be hypocritical of me to do so. If I had access to
today’s technology when I was 18 years old, when my hormones were raging, with
my penchant for ornery behavior, and with my enormous crush on Cindy McPherson,
I cannot say for certain that my boner would not have gone flying through the
information superhighway and sliding into Cindy’s inbox.<o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal"><b><span face=""Arial",sans-serif" style="font-size: 14pt; line-height: 107%;">The Rebuke<o:p></o:p></span></b></p>
<p class="MsoNormal"><span face=""Arial",sans-serif" style="font-size: 14pt; line-height: 107%;">But guys, it is not a good practice to send unsolicited dick
pics, especially to women you don’t know. It is ineffective and crude. Please
keep your camera phone out of your pants.<o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal"><b><span face=""Arial",sans-serif" style="font-size: 14pt; line-height: 107%;">Still more questions …<o:p></o:p></span></b></p>
<p class="MsoNormal"><i><span face=""Arial",sans-serif" style="font-size: 14pt; line-height: 107%;">That doesn’t sound like a powerful rebuke. Have
you ever sent a woman a dick pic?<o:p></o:p></span></i></p>
<p class="MsoNormal"><span face=""Arial",sans-serif" style="font-size: 14pt; line-height: 107%;">I can unequivocally state that I have not.<o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal"><i><span face=""Arial",sans-serif" style="font-size: 14pt; line-height: 107%;">Okay, but has any woman ever requested that you
send her one? Perhaps someone in England?<o:p></o:p></span></i></p>
<p class="MsoNormal"><span face=""Arial",sans-serif" style="font-size: 14pt; line-height: 107%;">Oh look, we’re out of space today! Wouldn’t want to take up
too much of the Internet. That’s all we the time we have. Gotta run …..!<o:p></o:p></span></p>Don Akehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/06268533664760244722noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4563305759142927554.post-46188686568009663422023-03-12T13:24:00.000-07:002023-03-12T13:24:38.031-07:00When You Write Her Up – It Never Stops<p><b><span style="font-family: "Arial",sans-serif; font-size: 14.0pt; line-height: 107%;">Web Headline: His Wife Is A Stay-At-Home Mom,
And After He Gave Her A Written Performance Review, She Lost It</span></b></p>
<p class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-family: "Arial",sans-serif; font-size: 14.0pt; line-height: 107%;">When I read this headline, I winced, thinking what might
happen if I did the same thing. I wondered what the mourners would say at my
subsequent funeral –<o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal"><i><span style="font-family: "Arial",sans-serif; font-size: 14.0pt; line-height: 107%;">Yeh, Don was sure an intelligent man, but that
performance appraisal thing, well ….<o:p></o:p></span></i></p>
<p class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-family: "Arial",sans-serif; font-size: 14.0pt; line-height: 107%;">Now, in the guy’s defense, his complicated, unusually
blended family had formed internal factions and became highly dysfunctional.
Which coincidentally describes the office environment at every large company I
have ever worked for. Thus, the contrived idea of a written performance
appraisal for his wife, I guess.<o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-family: "Arial",sans-serif; font-size: 14.0pt; line-height: 107%;">His family needed counseling, but he went for the easiest,
cheapest alternative, which in this case, was far from the best. If he had
asked just one guy, any guy, about this idea beforehand, he could have been
saved a lot of grief.<o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-family: "Arial",sans-serif; font-size: 14.0pt; line-height: 107%;">Because if you have the insidious balls (and they better be
inside you to prevent them from being ripped off) to present a written list of
grievances to your wife (a marital Festivus, if you will), prepare to be
presented with your wife’s unwritten list of your indiscretions, which could go
back many years.<o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-family: "Arial",sans-serif; font-size: 14.0pt; line-height: 107%;">Yes, you will have opened a Pandora’s Box – appropriately
named after a woman – which includes that comment you allegedly made five years
ago, at some alleged dinner, that you don’t even remember, to her cousin, which
was (select one):<o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoListParagraphCxSpFirst" style="mso-list: l0 level1 lfo1; text-indent: -.25in;"><!--[if !supportLists]--><span style="font-size: 14.0pt; line-height: 107%; mso-bidi-font-family: Calibri; mso-bidi-theme-font: minor-latin;"><span style="mso-list: Ignore;">A.<span style="font: 7.0pt "Times New Roman";"> </span></span></span><!--[endif]--><span style="font-family: "Arial",sans-serif; font-size: 14.0pt; line-height: 107%;">Offensive<o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoListParagraphCxSpMiddle" style="mso-list: l0 level1 lfo1; text-indent: -.25in;"><!--[if !supportLists]--><span style="font-size: 14.0pt; line-height: 107%; mso-bidi-font-family: Calibri; mso-bidi-theme-font: minor-latin;"><span style="mso-list: Ignore;">B.<span style="font: 7.0pt "Times New Roman";"> </span></span></span><!--[endif]--><span style="font-family: "Arial",sans-serif; font-size: 14.0pt; line-height: 107%;">Suggestive<o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoListParagraphCxSpMiddle" style="mso-list: l0 level1 lfo1; text-indent: -.25in;"><!--[if !supportLists]--><span style="font-size: 14.0pt; line-height: 107%; mso-bidi-font-family: Calibri; mso-bidi-theme-font: minor-latin;"><span style="mso-list: Ignore;">C.<span style="font: 7.0pt "Times New Roman";"> </span></span></span><!--[endif]--><span style="font-family: "Arial",sans-serif; font-size: 14.0pt; line-height: 107%;">Embarrassing<o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoListParagraphCxSpMiddle" style="mso-list: l0 level1 lfo1; text-indent: -.25in;"><!--[if !supportLists]--><span style="font-size: 14.0pt; line-height: 107%; mso-bidi-font-family: Calibri; mso-bidi-theme-font: minor-latin;"><span style="mso-list: Ignore;">D.<span style="font: 7.0pt "Times New Roman";"> </span></span></span><!--[endif]--><span style="font-family: "Arial",sans-serif; font-size: 14.0pt; line-height: 107%;">Weird<o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoListParagraphCxSpMiddle" style="mso-list: l0 level1 lfo1; text-indent: -.25in;"><!--[if !supportLists]--><span style="font-size: 14.0pt; line-height: 107%; mso-bidi-font-family: Calibri; mso-bidi-theme-font: minor-latin;"><span style="mso-list: Ignore;">E.<span style="font: 7.0pt "Times New Roman";"> </span></span></span><!--[endif]--><span style="font-family: "Arial",sans-serif; font-size: 14.0pt; line-height: 107%;">Stupid<o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoListParagraphCxSpLast" style="mso-list: l0 level1 lfo1; text-indent: -.25in;"><!--[if !supportLists]--><span style="font-size: 14.0pt; line-height: 107%; mso-bidi-font-family: Calibri; mso-bidi-theme-font: minor-latin;"><span style="mso-list: Ignore;">F.<span style="font: 7.0pt "Times New Roman";"> </span></span></span><!--[endif]--><span style="font-family: "Arial",sans-serif; font-size: 14.0pt; line-height: 107%;">All
off the above<o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-family: "Arial",sans-serif; font-size: 14.0pt; line-height: 107%;">To which you will probably reply: Is she the one with the enormous
breasts?<o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-family: "Arial",sans-serif; font-size: 14.0pt; line-height: 107%;">And the discussion will all go downhill from there.<o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-family: "Arial",sans-serif; font-size: 14.0pt; line-height: 107%;">Rest assured that your wife’s unwritten list will dwarf
your written one. And you will have totally forgotten about all your alleged transgressions,
including the ones you committed yesterday, and thus, will not be able to put
up even a token defense. <o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-family: "Arial",sans-serif; font-size: 14.0pt; line-height: 107%;">And in this case, the guy’s wife reacted harshly, as
expected, and then yacked about it to all her girlfriends, resulting in a huge
estrogen-fueled pity party, as always happens when a guy does something stupid.
In this case, it was so absurd that it made its way onto the Internet, which
caused a national pity party, and got the guy ridiculed as a colossal jerk.
Let’s hope he didn’t “write her up” because of it.<o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-family: "Arial",sans-serif; font-size: 14.0pt; line-height: 107%;">So guys, a written performance is not recommended if your
wife is not performing up to acceptable standards. What is recommended? I don’t
know – maybe ask Dr. Phil.<o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-family: "Arial",sans-serif; font-size: 14.0pt; line-height: 107%;">But maybe my opinion of the performance appraisal process
itself is somewhat biased ….<o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal"><b><span style="font-family: "Arial",sans-serif; font-size: 14.0pt; line-height: 107%;">Performance Appraisals<o:p></o:p></span></b></p>
<p class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-family: "Arial",sans-serif; font-size: 14.0pt; line-height: 107%;">During my business career, I hated the disgusting,
humiliating concept of yearly performance appraisals. I wouldn’t even have
agreed to do these, except you had to submit to this tortuous abuse to get a
salary increase. In effect, you become a prostitute, getting screwed for money.
Oh, and they do enjoy boinking you.<o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-family: "Arial",sans-serif; font-size: 14.0pt; line-height: 107%;">I’m convinced that the large companies I worked for predetermined
what raise they could afford to give to you, and then wrote the performance
appraisal to match the percentage increase. So:<o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-family: "Arial",sans-serif; font-size: 14.0pt; line-height: 107%;">If you were doing a great job – The company had to rip you
apart to justify not giving you a higher raise.<o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-family: "Arial",sans-serif; font-size: 14.0pt; line-height: 107%;">If you were doing a poor job – The company ripped into you
in hopes that you might quit.<o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-family: "Arial",sans-serif; font-size: 14.0pt; line-height: 107%;">If you were doing a fair job, well-matched to your raise
amount – The company still ripped into you just because it was fun.<o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-family: "Arial",sans-serif; font-size: 14.0pt; line-height: 107%;">They asked you to rate yourself to make it appear fair, but
they don’t even look at your drivel most of the time. When I was young and
naïve, I spent over an hour writing my first self-appraisal. At the end, it was
pencil-whipped in five minutes.<o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-family: "Arial",sans-serif; font-size: 14.0pt; line-height: 107%;">At one of my former employers, where the appraisals were
the worst, I was skewered for the type of neckties I wore, who I ate lunch
with, and other trivial matters. Instead of being at home with my wife the week
after my second daughter was born, I came in to work to launch a new product I
was responsible for (the project ran two weeks late, and my daughter arrived
three weeks early, creating the conflict). Still, I received a grade of “needs
improvement” on the “Is Committed to the Job” metric on my performance
appraisal just two months later. The former company president is buried at the
same cemetery as my parents. I hope I never happen upon his gravestone after
drinking a couple of liters of Dr. Pepper.<o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-family: "Arial",sans-serif; font-size: 14.0pt; line-height: 107%;">One of the jokes I planned to use in this post is to ask
what I would rather do:<o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoListParagraphCxSpFirst" style="mso-list: l1 level1 lfo2; text-indent: -.25in;"><!--[if !supportLists]--><span style="font-family: "Arial",sans-serif; font-size: 14.0pt; line-height: 107%; mso-fareast-font-family: Arial;"><span style="mso-list: Ignore;">A.<span style="font: 7.0pt "Times New Roman";"> </span></span></span><!--[endif]--><span style="font-family: "Arial",sans-serif; font-size: 14.0pt; line-height: 107%;">Go
through a performance appraisal at work?<o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoListParagraphCxSpLast" style="mso-list: l1 level1 lfo2; text-indent: -.25in;"><!--[if !supportLists]--><span style="font-family: "Arial",sans-serif; font-size: 14.0pt; line-height: 107%; mso-fareast-font-family: Arial;"><span style="mso-list: Ignore;">B.<span style="font: 7.0pt "Times New Roman";"> </span></span></span><!--[endif]--><span style="font-family: "Arial",sans-serif; font-size: 14.0pt; line-height: 107%;">Have a
vigorous prostate exam? <o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-family: "Arial",sans-serif; font-size: 14.0pt; line-height: 107%;">Funny joke, I reasoned, but then I truly pondered it. Both
examinations are intrusive, highly disgusting, painful, and degrading. And
surprisingly, my preference, provided I still received the same raise after
either option, is the prostate exam. Something is going up my @$$ anyway, it
may as well be only a finger and corporations eschew rubber gloves! </span></p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgecaJTNQrLE4E7d6hCi6xRV1VE883TIxrisqe8S9e0HfeYL7mAhqjuc_zkoqlCh6m0OMnbrJckMa2EoYGEMCjzZqr8OztT4Ku_rdEmSiRHsuCtV5gQlks-x1d-mC9QBu9l5DEJTDBQuFZRo7NHrkad25ms7WzZlTJB5FkwViZ1BDUNJxe3KDUPM_Ln/s800/finger.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; float: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="450" data-original-width="800" height="147" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgecaJTNQrLE4E7d6hCi6xRV1VE883TIxrisqe8S9e0HfeYL7mAhqjuc_zkoqlCh6m0OMnbrJckMa2EoYGEMCjzZqr8OztT4Ku_rdEmSiRHsuCtV5gQlks-x1d-mC9QBu9l5DEJTDBQuFZRo7NHrkad25ms7WzZlTJB5FkwViZ1BDUNJxe3KDUPM_Ln/w261-h147/finger.jpg" width="261" /></a></div><br /><o:p></o:p><p></p>
<p class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-family: "Arial",sans-serif; font-size: 14.0pt; line-height: 107%;">I reason that the prostate exam is shorter in duration, and
once your sphincter returns to its original size, you are all fine and normal.
And I have also passed all my prostrate exams and have never been criticized by
my doctor during the procedure. Whereas I could be upset and sore for a whole
month after getting my @$$ ripped apart in a performance appraisal. Maybe you
guys who are still working can suggest this alternative next time you are due
for a performance appraisal.<o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal"><b><span style="font-family: "Arial",sans-serif; font-size: 14.0pt; line-height: 107%;">Final Words of Wisdom<o:p></o:p></span></b></p>
<p class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-family: "Arial",sans-serif; font-size: 14.0pt; line-height: 107%;">So guys, never give your wife or woman a written
performance appraisal. And at work, don’t spend much time doing your
self-appraisal, and remember to always keep your sphincter tight during the
actual performance review.<o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoListParagraph"><span style="font-family: "Arial",sans-serif; font-size: 14.0pt; line-height: 107%;"><o:p> </o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-family: "Arial",sans-serif; font-size: 14.0pt; line-height: 107%;"><o:p> </o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal"><o:p> </o:p></p>Don Akehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/06268533664760244722noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4563305759142927554.post-12810158560149386352023-01-27T07:51:00.000-08:002023-01-27T07:51:18.153-08:00We Couldn’t Care Any Less – Except for the beer thing<p><span style="font-family: Arial, sans-serif; font-size: 14pt;">When you are a toddler, you basically live a carefree
existence. You literally can make it through the entire day without a care in
the world. People actually make you sammiches without you even having to ask!
How terrific is that?</span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-family: "Arial",sans-serif; font-size: 14.0pt; line-height: 107%;">You only start to care about things when you start school. Learn
something! Or else you could die penniless in the street. Of course, you are
too young to realize they are manipulating you. <span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span><o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-family: "Arial",sans-serif; font-size: 14.0pt; line-height: 107%;">You need to care about school! That is why they never teach
about, let alone mention, “living on welfare” anytime between kindergarten and
12<sup>th</sup> grade. If you knew you could exist without ever working, you
would have kids dropping out of school in fifth grade. “Long division? Screw
you; I’m going home – to play video games. They never mention “living on welfare”
in college either, because if you drop out, you deprive the school of revenue.
No, it is important to “join the workforce,” where your soul will be sucked out
of you.<o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-family: "Arial",sans-serif; font-size: 14.0pt; line-height: 107%;">But some kids figure out you don’t need an education to
survive. At the time, we viewed these as the dumb kids. But who are the real
dummies? Remember that Ralph kid who was always cutting class? Well, you ended
up paying for his Cheetos and lottery tickets for his entire life, not to
mention beer. <table cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="float: right;"><tbody><tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhjOgxPprP-dwaC8MyM0QnHYSQepp1j7bd0Jal4KgtztcZLg5iMEN00hxotbA-u9whUuMpUf6uI7aEr5TgWXMLABTz5f8mvPRJrktEzWJPkuCTcPUCQzOAt86bNMWx21B7xawKek9-J8SgJEnOgSEVQmew7TyV6hIKUrxDnOjz4AUO_Tegnp70UJkUR/s563/beer%20and%20lottery.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" data-original-height="563" data-original-width="283" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhjOgxPprP-dwaC8MyM0QnHYSQepp1j7bd0Jal4KgtztcZLg5iMEN00hxotbA-u9whUuMpUf6uI7aEr5TgWXMLABTz5f8mvPRJrktEzWJPkuCTcPUCQzOAt86bNMWx21B7xawKek9-J8SgJEnOgSEVQmew7TyV6hIKUrxDnOjz4AUO_Tegnp70UJkUR/s320/beer%20and%20lottery.jpg" width="161" /></a></td></tr><tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Ralph thanks you!</td></tr></tbody></table><br /><o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal"><b><span style="font-family: "Arial",sans-serif; font-size: 14.0pt; line-height: 107%;">Everything Matters<o:p></o:p></span></b></p>
<p class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-family: "Arial",sans-serif; font-size: 14.0pt; line-height: 107%;">Once you graduate from high school, you suddenly become
aware of the whole world, and you care about everything. Your mind is young,
wild and adventurous, and so idealistic. You want to save the whales, feed the
world, explore the supernatural, and attempt to fix things that have worked
just fine for the last few hundred years.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;">
</span><o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-family: "Arial",sans-serif; font-size: 14.0pt; line-height: 107%;">But then you enter your 30s and must start adulting. You
may still care about many things, but life forces you to prioritize. You may
still want to save the whales, but saving 15% on that big-screen tv becomes so much
more rewarding. And it basically stays that way throughout your adult life.
Your caring is spread throughout multiple concerns as you juggle those balls
and spin those plates, hoping only to drop a few along the way.<o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal"><b><span style="font-family: "Arial",sans-serif; font-size: 14.0pt; line-height: 107%;">Becoming Care-Less<o:p></o:p></span></b></p>
<p class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-family: "Arial",sans-serif; font-size: 14.0pt; line-height: 107%;">A significant change occurs when you join the MOACA (Men of
a Certain Age) tribe. (And please, no crap about offending Indians because
tribes have existed for over 30,000 years. So I apologize to all of you
remaining Neanderthals out there.) MOACAs have retired from most of their adult
responsibilities and now have time once again to care about everything.
However, now they care about very little.<o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal"><a name="_Hlk124423397"><span style="font-family: "Arial",sans-serif; font-size: 14.0pt; line-height: 107%;">Random Someone On Facebook: </span></a><span style="font-family: "Arial",sans-serif; font-size: 14.0pt; line-height: 107%;">Hey!
Who can solve this equation?<o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-family: "Arial",sans-serif; font-size: 14.0pt; line-height: 107%;">35 / 54 + 6 x 3 – 8 <o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-family: "Arial",sans-serif; font-size: 14.0pt; line-height: 107%;">MOACA: Tell me the real-life problem this represents, and I
will tell you the answer.<o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-family: "Arial",sans-serif; font-size: 14.0pt; line-height: 107%;">RSOF: Ha, ha. It doesn’t represent anything! I just made it
up.<o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-family: "Arial",sans-serif; font-size: 14.0pt; line-height: 107%;">MOACA: WTHC (Who the Heck Cares) – Note: you can substitute
a stronger H-word if so inclined. You might even prefer to go full MOACA with
the WTFC version.<o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-family: "Arial",sans-serif; font-size: 14.0pt; line-height: 107%;">RSOF: By the way, the answer is 4! <o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-family: "Arial",sans-serif; font-size: 14.0pt; line-height: 107%;">MOACA: 4 what<o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-family: "Arial",sans-serif; font-size: 14.0pt; line-height: 107%;">RSOF: Uh, 4 nothings. Just 4.<o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-family: "Arial",sans-serif; font-size: 14.0pt; line-height: 107%;">MOACA: Then what difference does it make? STHU (Shut the
Heck Up) or of course, STFU if you prefer.<o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal"><b><span style="font-family: "Arial",sans-serif; font-size: 14.0pt; line-height: 107%;">Is That Your Final Answer?<o:p></o:p></span></b></p>
<p class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-family: "Arial",sans-serif; font-size: 14.0pt; line-height: 107%;">MOACAs signature answer to many things is WTHC. The
question can be irrelevant, irreverent, or too difficult. Often, when the MOACA
should know the answer but can’t remember it, the WTHC answer is still the
same. It is that wisdom, blended with experience, coupled with all that
crankiness, which gives the MOACA his charm.<o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-family: "Arial",sans-serif; font-size: 14.0pt; line-height: 107%;">MOACAs are terrible at trivia since they either can’t
remember the answers they should know, and don’t care about the rest of them.
And they are never chosen to be contestants on Jeopardy!<o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal"><a name="_Hlk124428395"><span style="font-family: "Arial",sans-serif; font-size: 14.0pt; line-height: 107%;">Jeopardy Host: </span></a><span style="font-family: "Arial",sans-serif; font-size: 14.0pt; line-height: 107%;">She
became Queen of France in 1422. <o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-family: "Arial",sans-serif; font-size: 14.0pt; line-height: 107%;">Brrrrrrrrrrrg!<o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-family: "Arial",sans-serif; font-size: 14.0pt; line-height: 107%;">Jeopardy Host: Yes, Mr. MOACA, you buzzed in first. Your
answer?<o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-family: "Arial",sans-serif; font-size: 14.0pt; line-height: 107%;">Mr. MOACA: Who the hell cares?<o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-family: "Arial",sans-serif; font-size: 14.0pt; line-height: 107%;">Jeopardy Host: I’m sorry, that is incorrect. Your total is
now negative $12,000. The correct answer is Marie of Anjou.<o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-family: "Arial",sans-serif; font-size: 14.0pt; line-height: 107%;">Mr. MOACA: Who the hell is she? And can we leave her mother’s
religion out of it?<o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal"><b><span style="font-family: "Arial",sans-serif; font-size: 14.0pt; line-height: 107%;">There Are No Social Cares Either</span></b></p>
<p class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-family: "Arial",sans-serif; font-size: 14.0pt; line-height: 107%;">MOACAs also lose their interest in social causes also. The
whales have been just fine looking out for themselves all these years and will
continue to do so. <o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-family: "Arial",sans-serif; font-size: 14.0pt; line-height: 107%;">And the cranky MOACAs have no tolerance for social protests:<o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-family: "Arial",sans-serif; font-size: 14.0pt; line-height: 107%;">“Git you’re a$$es out of the street and git yourselves a
jerb! I had to work in $h!+holes my entire life, so find yourself a $h!+hole,
get your soul sucked out of you, and make something of your life! You will be
much less likely to burn down that building when you helped pay for it.<o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal"><b><span style="font-family: "Arial",sans-serif; font-size: 14.0pt; line-height: 107%;">Full Circle <o:p></o:p></span></b></p>
<p class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-family: "Arial",sans-serif; font-size: 14.0pt; line-height: 107%;">You came into this life without any cares, and for the
MOACA, the task is to leave it with as few as possible.<o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-family: "Arial",sans-serif; font-size: 14.0pt; line-height: 107%;"><o:p> </o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-family: "Arial",sans-serif; font-size: 14.0pt; line-height: 107%;"><o:p> </o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-family: "Arial",sans-serif; font-size: 14.0pt; line-height: 107%;"><o:p> </o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-family: "Arial",sans-serif; font-size: 14.0pt; line-height: 107%;"><o:p> </o:p></span></p>Don Akehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/06268533664760244722noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4563305759142927554.post-63755643928867834952022-12-13T12:39:00.000-08:002022-12-13T12:39:41.195-08:00This Year’s Weirdest Christmas Gift Ever!<p><span style="font-family: Arial, sans-serif; font-size: 14pt;">Several years ago, at Christmastime, I began donating a
goat for poor people through ChildFund International. While I admit it’s kind
of a gimmick to get you to donate, it is a legitimate thing. I wrote about this
a few years ago, and the essay appears in my book Turkey Terror At My Door! (If
you want to send a goat to Africa, </span><a href="https://www.childfund.org/ecommerce/product.aspx?id=17179870258" style="font-family: Arial, sans-serif; font-size: 14pt;">click
here</a><span style="font-family: Arial, sans-serif; font-size: 14pt;">)</span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-family: "Arial",sans-serif; font-size: 14.0pt; line-height: 107%;">I wanted to use ChildFund’s photo of the African kid
holding a goat in my book, so I sent a copy of the essay to the head of the
organization with my request. The woman didn’t find my writing all that
humorous, but let me use the picture. In response, I did tone down some of my wisecracks.<o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-family: "Arial",sans-serif; font-size: 14.0pt; line-height: 107%;">The purpose of the goats is to provide milk to their hungry
owners. I enjoyed giving a goat so much that <span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>I started giving two goats. I was ready to do
the same this year when I noticed another option. Instead of giving two female
goats, I could donate a pair of breeding goats. So, when the female goat wasn’t
supplying milk, the couple could get busy and end up creating a Ponderosa full
of goats.<o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-family: "Arial",sans-serif; font-size: 14.0pt; line-height: 107%;">I was intrigued by this idea, so I decided to go with the
breeders because my gift could potentially populate the continent with goats
and solve world hunger. Because that’s just the type of guy I am. </span></p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhU_Gx8lsgP3IfVUZH9GUsHqmT1BNByDt9i0E_7IsRFTxVbnAqqfTRZvlChhY5MzpBc2ieXDnOuv9os4BfBW3PgQMsWB0i8TrywQS8Lsk44Nns0euoJ1QBi2342suPjMT-btDr56mQT1_6wsz_Z9ZSY9o9exwCoCsjzfp-bIf0Qk85Jp6AAxiz7obNY/s426/goats.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; float: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="426" data-original-width="378" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhU_Gx8lsgP3IfVUZH9GUsHqmT1BNByDt9i0E_7IsRFTxVbnAqqfTRZvlChhY5MzpBc2ieXDnOuv9os4BfBW3PgQMsWB0i8TrywQS8Lsk44Nns0euoJ1QBi2342suPjMT-btDr56mQT1_6wsz_Z9ZSY9o9exwCoCsjzfp-bIf0Qk85Jp6AAxiz7obNY/s320/goats.jpg" width="284" /></a></div><br /><o:p></o:p><p></p>
<p class="MsoNormal"><b><span style="font-family: "Arial",sans-serif; font-size: 14.0pt; line-height: 107%;">Here Is Your Mission – If You Decide To Accept
It<o:p></o:p></span></b></p>
<p class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-family: "Arial",sans-serif; font-size: 14.0pt; line-height: 107%;">But then, of course, I began to worry about what could go
wrong with my master plan. Did my male goat truly understand his mission? Does
he know he is supposed to impregnate his traveling companion as soon as
possible after arriving in Africa? Wonder if my goats are not compatible
lovers? What if she is a stuck-up bitch goat, and this turns him off?<o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-family: "Arial",sans-serif; font-size: 14.0pt; line-height: 107%;">Now my fears were spinning out of control. Could he be a
gay goat? There is such a thing; it’s called a gayoate’ (please don’t look this
up). I’m really hoping they check this out before they ship him out. Maybe show
him photos of some hot goat babes and see how he reacts, because I ain’t paying
for a gay goat. And this has nothing to do with discrimination or bias. Bucky,
the goat, has only one job, and he can’t do it if he is climbing up the wrong
hill. <o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-family: "Arial",sans-serif; font-size: 14.0pt; line-height: 107%;">I want my goat to be the horniest goat that ever lived — the
H-GOAT as it were. I want him to knock up the goat he was paired with, then
roam around the village, getting as much goat-pie as he can. Of course, now I
have a vested interest in goat sex, so it’s on to the Internet for information
on this fascinating topic.<o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-family: "Arial",sans-serif; font-size: 14.0pt; line-height: 107%;">On average, every 21 days, the female goat enters this
thing called estrus – not to be confused with the character on Gunsmoke, or
people in the Bible. She stands in the ready position for up to 36 hours, waiting
for the male to mount her from behind. And then, in the time it takes to say
“Wham, bam, thank you maaaam”, it’s all over. Yes, he finishes the deed in just
a few seconds. She doesn’t even know who did it, and you can bet he’s not going
to text her in the morning. This explains why there is no porn for goats; if
they blink at the wrong time, they miss the whole thing.<o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-family: "Arial",sans-serif; font-size: 14.0pt; line-height: 107%;">But guys, this does give you an out the next time you are
premat … uh, you can’t hold ah, there’s a fast finish. Just tell her, “Hey, I
lasted longer than a goat!”. Please let me know if that one works.<o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-family: "Arial",sans-serif; font-size: 14.0pt; line-height: 107%;">Therefore, this year I am experiencing the joy of Christmas
by sharing the joy of goat sex. I hope my stud goat soon arrives in Africa and
gives her what she needs, if only for a few seconds. Because Christmas is all
about giving – and this year, also about fantastic goat sex. <span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span><o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-family: "Arial",sans-serif; font-size: 14.0pt; line-height: 107%;"><o:p> </o:p></span></p>Don Akehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/06268533664760244722noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4563305759142927554.post-65084093542471053572022-12-07T16:55:00.000-08:002022-12-07T16:55:18.082-08:00Lots of Sex, Lies, and Monopoly Money<p><span style="font-family: Arial, sans-serif; font-size: 14pt;">Welcome to another edition of Don Explains It All</span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-family: "Arial",sans-serif; font-size: 14.0pt; line-height: 107%;">Today’s Topic: Cryptocurrency<o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-family: "Arial",sans-serif; font-size: 14.0pt; line-height: 107%;">Yes, today we are going to plunge into the exciting and
complex world of what is called cryptocurrency! Well, they say it’s complex,
but it’s really quite simple.<o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-family: "Arial",sans-serif; font-size: 14.0pt; line-height: 107%;">All this cryptocurrency is digital Monopoly money. It’s
fake money, people! It ain’t real money. But somebody figured out a way to get
people to accept this Monopoly money as if it was real money. And then a bunch techies
and millennials actually started to buy stuff and invest using this digital Monopoly
money. <o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-family: "Arial",sans-serif; font-size: 14.0pt; line-height: 107%;">Only, this stuff is even faker than Monopoly money. At
least you can hold those gold $500 bills in your hands. But these crypto coins
are allegedly mined out of the air and only exist in digital hyperspace. And
what’s worse, once the first dude started digitally “mining” his Monopoly
money, other people decided to create their own version of Monopoly money. So,
now you have different versions of the fake cash.<o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-family: "Arial",sans-serif; font-size: 14.0pt; line-height: 107%;">Now, of course, those crypto maniacs will dismiss my
assessment as coming from a “boomer” who just doesn’t understand the new cool,
whiz-bang method of commerce. Well, at least I know better than try to use
Monopoly money to buy goods at the 5-and-10, uh, I mean Costco. <o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-family: "Arial",sans-serif; font-size: 14.0pt; line-height: 107%;">Now I admit cryptocurrency could work. But there is one
huge problem: You gotta use real money to buy the fake money. Now let me get
this straight. You guys are using real money to buy fake money so you can have
fun spending and trading the phony money. But what happens when people realize
that the emperor has no cash?<span style="color: red;"> </span>I think it’s call
crypto because it buries your common sense in a crypt. A better name is gypto,
because, eventually, you’ll get gypped.</span><span style="font-family: Arial, sans-serif; font-size: 14pt;"> </span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal"><b><span style="font-family: "Arial",sans-serif; font-size: 14.0pt; line-height: 107%;">Gypped By A Modern Day Gypsy<o:p></o:p></span></b></p>
<p class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-family: "Arial",sans-serif; font-size: 14.0pt; line-height: 107%;">Which brings us to the modern gypsy, Sam Bankman-Friend,
founder of FTX. The FTX’s $32 billion in Monopoly money just went poof! And
then the real money at the firm disappeared – well, not literally – someone ran
off with it.<o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-family: "Arial",sans-serif; font-size: 14.0pt; line-height: 107%;">What happened? Well, Sammy blames his girlfriend. Now it's
been reported that it was his “on and off” girlfriend. Now that’s true – he was
on her – then he was off her. But then he was on another woman. Reportedly the
FTX office was a polyamorous playground where people were all playing a variety
of holes – kinda like a sexual golf course. So this particular woman was his
“girlfriend” on Tuesday/Thursday, but the rest of the week he was out swinging
his club at other holes.<o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-family: Arial, sans-serif; font-size: 14pt;">Sammie recently said that the company failed because he got
cocky. So FTX resembled a hippie commune with everybody at the office boinking
each other when they weren’t trading Monopoly money. Now realize a lot of the
boinking was taking place in the actual office. So, you would suppose some of the
conference rooms had beds instead of tables. This would also impact
productivity. I can’t meet at ten, I’m boinking Carol. Let’s make it three, I’m
free after boinking Monica.</span><span style="font-family: Arial, sans-serif; font-size: 14pt;"> </span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-family: "Arial",sans-serif; font-size: 14.0pt; line-height: 107%;">Now Sam put, ah,
let’s call her Miss Tuesday/Thursday (I heard Miss Wednesday was into goth and
kinda spooky) in charge of an essential division of FTX. This was a smooth move
because by the looks of her, she was the smartest woman in the harem. But I
have to guess, the other <span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>women getting
boinked there may have been a tad better looking than Tuesday-Thursday. As
appearances go, if you have seen pictures of Sammy, you know these women were
only boinking him for the crypto. <table cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="float: right;"><tbody><tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEioj5btPgGqHq2OBfNb7hYumSLHx2gjbnXMebpEAtCGmhFKlOyu28nAITn95goQ70fkzz7k3n7B4p1CFPzw1Ks6Bt0SWVnz7YA_w2Hl_zfWu6aplY0nWztJVidfE2VSDqVPQzMBsJAWOSsEV_YrsvoQ6C8Ol5BiqAEBYfzpAs-x094EJg3LF7aYhDL5/s1200/sam%20b%20f-1.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" data-original-height="799" data-original-width="1200" height="155" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEioj5btPgGqHq2OBfNb7hYumSLHx2gjbnXMebpEAtCGmhFKlOyu28nAITn95goQ70fkzz7k3n7B4p1CFPzw1Ks6Bt0SWVnz7YA_w2Hl_zfWu6aplY0nWztJVidfE2VSDqVPQzMBsJAWOSsEV_YrsvoQ6C8Ol5BiqAEBYfzpAs-x094EJg3LF7aYhDL5/w233-h155/sam%20b%20f-1.jpg" width="233" /></a></td></tr><tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Sammy</td></tr></tbody></table><br /><o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-family: "Arial",sans-serif; font-size: 14.0pt; line-height: 107%;">And mixing all this sex, especially hippie sex will business,
jealousy and $32 billion of crypto together was sure to cause big problems. It
was very lame for Sammy to blame Tuesday/Thursday for the company's collapse.
You set the thing up. You were in charge. You were the CBO – chief boinking
officer. <o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-family: "Arial",sans-serif; font-size: 14.0pt; line-height: 107%;">Who’s to say that Sam decided to boink the big-breasted
Jennifer in accounting on Tuesday, allured by her tight jeans and plunging
neckline that day? In response, Miss Tuesday/Thursday may have said, “Bite me
bitecoin boy! I’m crashing your company, and now poor Jennifer has nothing to
count!”<o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-family: "Arial",sans-serif; font-size: 14.0pt; line-height: 107%;">In a recent interview, Sammy said, “I think I got a little
cocky — I mean, more than a little bit.” Well duh! You got cocky all right! You
were cocking every woman in the office, at the office. It was a literal
cockfest. Instead of having your head in that $32 billion business, your head
was buried deep in, ah, deep in …. Well let's say it wasn’t quite buried in the
sand, but you were completely distracted, as it were.<o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-family: "Arial",sans-serif; font-size: 14.0pt; line-height: 107%;">You just can’t be boinking all the women in the company,
especially if some of them are in critical positions, uh, I mean jobs. You
don’t want any of them blowing job responsibilities, do you? Sammy, don’t you
know anything about women? Of course, you don’t! You’re only thirty years old.<o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal"><b><span style="font-family: "Arial",sans-serif; font-size: 14.0pt; line-height: 107%;">A Bad Combination<o:p></o:p></span></b></p>
<p class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-family: "Arial",sans-serif; font-size: 14.0pt; line-height: 107%;">You mix billions of dollars, hippie commune sex, and
Monopoly money together, and this all unraveled like a cheap sweater. And no
one is boinking Sammy anymore since his crypto shrank. Even Cher could have
seen this one coming, as you ended up with gypsies, tramps, and thieves. If you
trusted this chubby 30-year-old to be your banker – even if his name is
“Bankman”, you deserve to lose all your money.<o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-family: "Arial",sans-serif; font-size: 14.0pt; line-height: 107%;">Oh, and Don, you were a wise enough investor not to lose
all your money in this scheme, right? Absolutely, I wanted to play investments with
all the cool kids, so I only invested in what they said was the “safe way to
invest in crypto.” So I didn’t lose it all. I’m only down 83% on my investment!
I just need that banker guy from the Monopoly game to start printing some more
money, and I will be well again. <o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal"><o:p> </o:p></p>
<p class="MsoNormal"><span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span><o:p></o:p></p>
<p class="MsoNormal"><o:p> </o:p></p>
<p class="MsoNormal"><o:p> </o:p></p>
<p class="MsoNormal"><o:p> </o:p></p>Don Akehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/06268533664760244722noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4563305759142927554.post-33749157098077187752022-11-23T08:07:00.002-08:002022-11-23T08:07:23.313-08:00Cat-Like Reflexes on the Internet<p><span style="font-family: Arial, sans-serif; font-size: 12pt;">Isn’t it great to live in this high-tech era?!!! Modern
technology is by far the most advanced in the history of the world. And that
makes us the most sophisticated, refined, intellectual culture ever! Right? Oh,
ahhhh, wait a minute on that one.</span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-family: "Arial",sans-serif; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 107%;">Well, the problem is that we remain homo sapiens, and
despite all the new wired technology, and even wireless technology, we are all
still wired as humans. Humans with natural reactions, obsessions, behaviors,
and emotions. And sometimes bad things happen when the new world suddenly
encounters the ancient world. <o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-family: "Arial",sans-serif; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 107%;">For example, we revert to being cavemen on Twitter (and
sometimes Facebook), throwing all sorts of rocks at our perceived enemies when
they disagree with us. Sometimes the conflicts escalate, and combatants start
figurately clubbing each other as hard as they can.<o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-family: "Arial",sans-serif; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 107%;">On Instagram, women compete for “loves” (hearts) by posing
in various sexual contortions and adornments. I’m not slut-shaming, but they
resemble “bitches in heat” from the animal kingdom. Forgive my ignorance, but I
learned everything about animal mating from a guy named Marlin Perkins.<o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal"><i><span style="font-family: "Arial",sans-serif; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 107%;">Marlin: Oh, look! The female wildebeest has
laid down in the middle of the field with her legs spread up in the air. The
male wildebeest emerges from the brush and spots the female. What will happen
next, children? But wait, it’s now time for a word from our sponsors, Mutual of
Omaha.<o:p></o:p></span></i></p>
<p class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-family: "Arial",sans-serif; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 107%;">On Facebook, we get a psychological boost when our posts
get a lot of “Likes”. Some psychologists claim the feeling of collecting
“likes” is similar to winning money. This, of course, feeds our primal need to
be liked. This need exists either to cause us to treat our fellow man better, or
to keep us from getting killed – probably a combination of both.<o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-family: "Arial",sans-serif; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 107%;">But one thing on the Internet has turned everyone into
cats. Cats are easily distracted by funny objects. It’s something out of place,
something hanging in the air, something foreign spotted in the vicinity shiny
objects, laser pointers, and even balls of yarn. The cats feel the need to
examine the item, bat it, bite it, hiss at it, and explore it. Yes, they are
curious creatures, and sometimes curiosity indeed kills the cat.<o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal"><b><span style="font-family: "Arial",sans-serif; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 107%;">We Are All Cats Now<o:p></o:p></span></b></p>
<p class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-family: "Arial",sans-serif; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 107%;">You go on the Internet for a specific reason, but you may
never get there – because of clickbait. The funny object – the headline - piques
your curiosity – and you become as curious as that proverbial cat. You need to
send that important email but ….. </span></p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgs98fpZapfd8CynkYK7vCwo2FYvPclSJ0GwolOufdY9dTg1DvGJY_Z91OmJ7KReu9U9emdMYjVklJAYYA7v2nocKtcJuhpWdPGOMr1GkY1LSkSTTa8R0T_syKrjQJFYRPqgNAKWdrp3D6_-8tq0cQl6lYd6uZBhH8RiWfB_ArF1nfCVlLnTede31Xt/s1601/cat%20toy.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; float: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1601" data-original-width="1601" height="228" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgs98fpZapfd8CynkYK7vCwo2FYvPclSJ0GwolOufdY9dTg1DvGJY_Z91OmJ7KReu9U9emdMYjVklJAYYA7v2nocKtcJuhpWdPGOMr1GkY1LSkSTTa8R0T_syKrjQJFYRPqgNAKWdrp3D6_-8tq0cQl6lYd6uZBhH8RiWfB_ArF1nfCVlLnTede31Xt/w228-h228/cat%20toy.jpg" width="228" /></a></div><br /><o:p></o:p><p></p>
<p class="MsoNormal"><i><span style="font-family: "Arial",sans-serif; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 107%;">Dakota Johnson Just Wore a Sheer Gown Showing
Off Her Sculpted Legs and Butt!<o:p></o:p></span></i></p>
<p class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-family: "Arial",sans-serif; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 107%;">Well, maybe that email can wait because I’ve never seen a
sculpted butt before. And just how sheer is that gown anyway?<o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-family: "Arial",sans-serif; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 107%;">Okay, where was I? Oh yes, the email … and boom!<o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal"><i><span style="font-family: "Arial",sans-serif; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 107%;">Shakira Attacked by Wild Boars While Visting
Park With 8-Year-Old Son<o:p></o:p></span></i></p>
<p class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-family: "Arial",sans-serif; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 107%;">Crickey! I hope she’s okay. How did the boars get there,
and what about the kid?<o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal"><i><span style="font-family: "Arial",sans-serif; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 107%;">Woman With Humongous Breasts Has Trouble
Sleeping and Getting Through Doorways!<o:p></o:p></span></i></p>
<p class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-family: "Arial",sans-serif; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 107%;">Poor Woman! I wonder how big they are?<o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal"><i><span style="font-family: "Arial",sans-serif; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 107%;">Kaley Cuoco Shows Off Her Super Toned Legs in a
Gorgeous Mini Dress<o:p></o:p></span></i></p>
<p class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-family: "Arial",sans-serif; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 107%;">I wonder how toned is super toned, and how can the dress be
gorgeous if it contains so little fabric?<o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal"><i><span style="font-family: "Arial",sans-serif; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 107%;">Dupa Lipa Wore a See-Through Fishnet Dress with
a Pink Thong and Patrick Star Pasties<o:p></o:p></span></i></p>
<p class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-family: "Arial",sans-serif; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 107%;">Fishnets, thongs, and pasties! It’s a trifecta!!!!!!!<o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal"><b><span style="font-family: "Arial",sans-serif; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 107%;">Ya Gotta Show Some Restraint<o:p></o:p></span></b></p>
<p class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-family: "Arial",sans-serif; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 107%;">Unless you show some restraint, you can log on in the
morning, and before you know it - you<o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-family: "Arial",sans-serif; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 107%;">CLICK, CLICK, CLICK your way into the afternoon.<o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-family: "Arial",sans-serif; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 107%;">I will admit it was a distraction when I worked at home.
Let’s say I was writing a report and had to look up the current GDP figures. I
log on, and right on the landing page is:<o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal"><i><span style="font-family: "Arial",sans-serif; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 107%;">Iggy Azalea Flaunts Her Show-Stopping Derriere
on Stage in San Diego<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span><o:p></o:p></span></i></p>
<p class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-family: "Arial",sans-serif; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 107%;">If that derriere can stop a whole show, how can it not stop
my work?<o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-family: "Arial",sans-serif; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 107%;">GDP or derriere?<o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-family: "Arial",sans-serif; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 107%;">GDP or derriere?<o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-family: "Arial",sans-serif; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 107%;">GDP or derriere?<o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-family: "Arial",sans-serif; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 107%;">Am I a respected industry analyst or a cat? I should not
have to make this choice!<o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-family: "Arial",sans-serif; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 107%;">To click, or not to click? – that is the 21<sup>st</sup>-century
question.<o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal"><b><span style="font-family: "Arial",sans-serif; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 107%;">Resisting the Cat-like Reflexes<o:p></o:p></span></b></p>
<p class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-family: "Arial",sans-serif; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 107%;">The cat can’t resist the weird objects – it’s a biological
response. But we, being much more intelligent than a cat, can surely realize
that those clickbait headlines are always way overexaggerated and stop clicking
on them so much, right? Meooooooow!<o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-family: "Arial",sans-serif; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 107%;">I must have been able to resist most of those feline
temptations since I always got my work in before the deadline. Although they
know how to get you to take the bait ….<o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal"><i><span style="font-family: "Arial",sans-serif; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 107%;">Study Shows Gorgeous Women Think Bald Guys Are
The Sexiest! <o:p></o:p></span></i></p>
<p class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-family: "Arial",sans-serif; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 107%;">Okay, I’m reasonably sure that I clicked on that one. <o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-family: "Arial",sans-serif; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 107%;">But I have much more to write about on this subject, for
example .. Whoa, whoa, whoaaaaa!!!!!<o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal"><i><span style="font-family: "Arial",sans-serif; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 107%;">Research Indicates Eating Large Amounts of Tuna
Cures Cancer!<o:p></o:p></span></i></p>
<p class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-family: "Arial",sans-serif; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 107%;"><o:p> </o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-family: "Arial",sans-serif; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 107%;"><o:p> </o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-family: "Arial",sans-serif; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 107%;"><o:p> </o:p></span></p>Don Akehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/06268533664760244722noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4563305759142927554.post-90302562579665603862022-11-09T11:26:00.003-08:002022-11-09T11:26:45.270-08:00Tom Brady’s Ego Isn’t the Only Thing That’s Deflated<p><span style="font-family: Arial, sans-serif; font-size: 14pt;">Everyone is heartbroken over the recent divorce of Gisele
Bundchen and Tom Brady. This was the grown-up equivalent of the high school
quarterback paired with the homecoming queen, except unlike then, where that
coupling was doomed to fail, they actually made it work for 13 years,</span><span style="font-family: Arial, sans-serif; font-size: 14pt;"> </span><span style="font-family: Arial, sans-serif; font-size: 14pt;">producing two offspring.</span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal"><b><span style="font-family: "Arial",sans-serif; font-size: 14.0pt; line-height: 107%;">Don – The Relationship Expert – Explains It All<o:p></o:p></span></b></p>
<p class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-family: "Arial",sans-serif; font-size: 14.0pt; line-height: 107%;">There has been much speculation about why the marriage
ended. Of course, being an expert in male-female relationships, I know the real
reason for the break-up.<o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-family: "Arial",sans-serif; font-size: 14.0pt; line-height: 107%;">It was all a result of Tom losing at the game of: <a name="_Hlk118830773">How Mad Will She Get? </a>All husbands play this game,
some more than others. Frequently a husband will want to do something, buy
something, go somewhere, etc., that his wife disapproves of. Then the husband
has to decide if he is going to do the action anyway, based on how fizzed his
wife will get.<o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-family: "Arial",sans-serif; font-size: 14.0pt; line-height: 107%;">Now at this point, you women out there will think this is
the dumbest thing ever – “Why would anyone ever play a game that leads to your
wife getting upset? That is so stupid!” Well, remember, ladies, we are men –
with man-brains – and we actually enjoy doing foolish stuff. And besides that,
if we didn’t do anything our wives disapproved of, we would have no fun at all.<o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-family: "Arial",sans-serif; font-size: 14.0pt; line-height: 107%;">So, when we are told we can’t do something, we calculate
how much heat we will get if we disregard our wives' wishes and do it anyway.
In the advanced version of the game, the husband tries to figure out what
action he might take to mollify his wife’s resultant anger. Maybe a nice
dinner, some flowers, or some extended time “between the sheets”- which is
usually just wishful thinking. Yes, the game, and the big question is: How Mad
Will She Get?<o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-family: "Arial",sans-serif; font-size: 14.0pt; line-height: 107%;">Here is an example: A husband is excited because a college
friend is visiting from out of town, and two other local college chums want him
to play golf on Sunday afternoon. But then his wife reminds him there is a
get-together with her side of the family that same day. The guy would so much like
to play golf with his buddies rather than waste a perfect golfing afternoon
spending time with his wife’s crazy aunt Zelda cackling on about her inflamed
bunions. Of course, his wife fully expects him to attend the party because it
is the polite, respectable, and civilized thing to do.<o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-family: "Arial",sans-serif; font-size: 14.0pt; line-height: 107%;">But now the husband must predict his wife’s anger level if
he golfs with the guys. Of course, being the conniving male he is, he will
ALWAYS underestimate her level of anger and overestimate his ability to balance
it out. He may even think she will “forget it even happened” at some point. –
Bawaaah, bawaaaaaaaaaaaah, ba-double-waaaaaaaaaa!<o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-family: "Arial",sans-serif; font-size: 14.0pt; line-height: 107%;">So, the guy will make the mental calculation and go golfing.
What he doesn’t, and never understands, is this is much more than just a family
event to his wife. There are all sorts of emotions, feelings, bonding, and
female stuff that go into this that will be greatly diminished if he’s not
there. Also, everyone at the party will end up hating him. The women there will
resent the implication that he would rather golf than be with them – which is actually
true. And the men will hate him more because he is out having fun while they
are stuck at the boring get-together listening to stories about bunions and
other family dribble. The women are also upset because they empathize with the
wife’s feeling of abandonment. Ahh, so sad.<o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-family: "Arial",sans-serif; font-size: 14.0pt; line-height: 107%;">Now, if the husband didn’t golf, he would be forced to tell
his friends that his wife wouldn’t let him go. Of course, he has a good reason.
But he would still wonder if they would laugh at him, or even call him a pu$$y on
the golf course. Decline enough of these invitations, and you could lose your
“man-card” and maybe even stop getting invited to these “guy” events. So no,
ladies, declining the invitation is not an “easy choice”. </span></p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhl2W0NmDT-4W40f5kZmZlTq9c8-ZIopVRBsMzcSskyAWfduFV8kh4CnsGduKPKEtOgH33jdwsDhSnjIgrhg5Rxgssstrx6zFTOz_9KjrKil78Ck5ySyd0OrZ4XgKIR6b_6bx4lWeWbSwlmYrmL_qHVHOvFLp4z8RCgrWrZSX665SJ2LX0ROj34M9e3/s1500/Tom-Brady-.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; float: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1000" data-original-width="1500" height="158" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhl2W0NmDT-4W40f5kZmZlTq9c8-ZIopVRBsMzcSskyAWfduFV8kh4CnsGduKPKEtOgH33jdwsDhSnjIgrhg5Rxgssstrx6zFTOz_9KjrKil78Ck5ySyd0OrZ4XgKIR6b_6bx4lWeWbSwlmYrmL_qHVHOvFLp4z8RCgrWrZSX665SJ2LX0ROj34M9e3/w237-h158/Tom-Brady-.jpg" width="237" /></a></div><br /><o:p></o:p><p></p>
<p class="MsoNormal"><b><span style="font-family: "Arial",sans-serif; font-size: 14.0pt; line-height: 107%;">Brady Loses At This Game<o:p></o:p></span></b></p>
<p class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-family: "Arial",sans-serif; font-size: 14.0pt; line-height: 107%;">Apparently, Gisele had been hounding Brady for years to
retire and spend more time with the family. She was delighted when Brady
retired at the end of last season, but was enraged when he unretired just a few
weeks later.<o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-family: "Arial",sans-serif; font-size: 14.0pt; line-height: 107%;">It appears Brady severely underestimated Gisele’s level of
anger, and lost at the game of: How Mad Will She Get? I mean, yes, your wife will
get mad, but you never want to make her mad enough to leave you. <o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-family: "Arial",sans-serif; font-size: 14.0pt; line-height: 107%;">Don, are you telling me that a guy with seven Super Bowl rings,
the greatest quarterback ever, someone that can figure out how to defeat the
Tampa 2 defensive scheme with an extra safety in the slot, just lost the How
Mad Will She Get? game because he can’t figure out his wife? Yeah, because it
doesn’t matter how experienced, intelligent and observant you are, you still
can’t figure out your wife.<o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal"><b><span style="font-family: "Arial",sans-serif; font-size: 14.0pt; line-height: 107%;">Brady Loses A Second Time<o:p></o:p></span></b></p>
<p class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-family: "Arial",sans-serif; font-size: 14.0pt; line-height: 107%;">The other miscalculation Brady made was not accepting the
fact that his skills had diminished. No true guy will admit they that can’t
perform like they used to. They will believe in their man-brains that they are
still 25 years-old but fail miserably and embarrassingly. It’s never pretty,
always disappointing, and keeps orthopedic clinics in business. Brady is 45
years old and well past his prime. Gisele was correct, he should have stayed
retired.<o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-family: "Arial",sans-serif; font-size: 14.0pt; line-height: 107%;">If you doubt this, Brady is rated the 16th best quarterback
in the league, which is pathetic compared to his glory years. Of course, there
is another important factor besides just age affecting things here. You see,
Brady was married to Gisele for 13 years, and was accustomed to getting some,
uh smokin’ hot … ah, some wet, @$$ … uh … some wang, dang, sweet, uh. Let’s
just say he was used to getting some “Gisele”. Talk about having deflated
balls! They were deflated and blue at the same time! When are used to getting
some “Gisele” and then suddenly you are not getting any “Gisele” you ain’t
going to be able to throw straight. It’s a wonder he can even throw at all! Too
old and not getting any “Gisele”; Brady was doomed before he started his
comeback.<o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal"><b><span style="font-family: "Arial",sans-serif; font-size: 14.0pt; line-height: 107%;">Don Simply Explains It All<o:p></o:p></span></b></p>
<p class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-family: "Arial",sans-serif; font-size: 14.0pt; line-height: 107%;">So there you have it, people. The divorce resulted from
losing the: How Mad Will She Get? Game, which all husbands play. And Brady’s
disappointing performance on the field is being caused by his age and having to
play with severely deflated balls.<o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-family: "Arial",sans-serif; font-size: 14.0pt; line-height: 107%;"><o:p> </o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-family: "Arial",sans-serif; font-size: 14.0pt; line-height: 107%;"><o:p> </o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="margin-left: .5in; text-indent: -.5in;"><span style="font-family: "Arial",sans-serif; font-size: 14.0pt; line-height: 107%;"><o:p> </o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal"><o:p> </o:p></p>Don Akehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/06268533664760244722noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4563305759142927554.post-21265976153638708712022-10-31T11:34:00.000-07:002022-10-31T11:34:15.420-07:00Working Hard On Retirement<p><span style="font-family: Arial, sans-serif; font-size: 12pt;">My friend Don, the same name and age as me, didn’t feel
like going to work one Monday, so he called off sick. The next day, he still
didn’t feel like going to work, so he called off “retired”. Yep, just up and
left. Wham, bam, thank you mammoth corporation, I’m outta here. Good for him!</span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-family: "Arial",sans-serif; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 107%;">He was not being irresponsible. He had just suffered a
traumatic life event, and the nature of his job and the company was such that
he would be missed as a person, but his quick departure did not put his company
in a bind. And I envy him. I envy him so very, very much. Because retirement
shouldn’t be complicated. It should be so simple, and it is for most people.
But if you’ve been reading this blog for a while, you know I ain’t most people.<o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal"><b><span style="font-family: "Arial",sans-serif; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 107%;">February 2020 <o:p></o:p></span></b></p>
<p class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-family: "Arial",sans-serif; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 107%;">I have a video meeting with the company president and the
HR manager (they're located in Indiana) and inform them of my plan to retire on
April 30, 2021. I intend to retire two years early to write full-time and
publish more books. This retirement date was previously negotiated with my
wife, who was initially afraid that I wanted to lounge around watching Netflix
and eating Cheetos all day while she continued to work. But the plan was
workable and fit perfectly with our personal situation. It was a great plan.
Such a great plan. </span></p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjw4YgidBcjbN0wIlNhC8DhGdaj55I5XEOnsk_rXp42one2RE6c0O0gP3qXloWppzxZGJyOJTDzCP-wE2z3xH4AIerbTMu4zp0l7tgHgTjMpml95VMOB5TweZH90psigcijOgYXtSatz8ynxamIwpekbyzjRbFcwNtTLwDMvoj2KzeQESCTFvwfg5Ig/s860/cheetos.png" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; float: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="573" data-original-width="860" height="129" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjw4YgidBcjbN0wIlNhC8DhGdaj55I5XEOnsk_rXp42one2RE6c0O0gP3qXloWppzxZGJyOJTDzCP-wE2z3xH4AIerbTMu4zp0l7tgHgTjMpml95VMOB5TweZH90psigcijOgYXtSatz8ynxamIwpekbyzjRbFcwNtTLwDMvoj2KzeQESCTFvwfg5Ig/w193-h129/cheetos.png" width="193" /></a></div><br /><o:p></o:p><p></p>
<p class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-family: "Arial",sans-serif; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 107%;">The people on the call were disappointed to hear the news
but understood why I wanted to write full-time. In effect, I was giving them 14
months’ notice. Because my job involves specialized skills, they would take time
to recruit, followed by several months of training. I gave them extended time
so they would not be pressured and the transition would be smooth. I repeated
several times during the meeting that the timeline was “very flexible” and
could be easily changed if needed. Yes, flexible. Highly flexible. As flexible
as a Russian gymnast! This was such a great plan. One of the best plans I have
ever created.<o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal"><b><span style="font-family: "Arial",sans-serif; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 107%;">March 2020 <o:p></o:p></span></b></p>
<p class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-family: "Arial",sans-serif; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 107%;">On Friday the 13<sup>th </sup>, that things came to a stop
in Ohio, and soon the entire nation. We done got coron-ned. Everything got shut
down, and we masked up, sheltered in place, and wondered if we were all gonna
die. It was hectic and stressful at work, and as the economy shut down, we had
to put out economic and sales forecasts with virtually no reliable data. We
expected that the virus would dissipate quickly – 15 Days To Slow The Spread! –
but it just kept going and going, and the personal and work stress kept
intensifying.<o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal"><b><span style="font-family: "Arial",sans-serif; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 107%;">October 2020<o:p></o:p></span></b></p>
<p class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-family: "Arial",sans-serif; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 107%;">Now it was October, I’m supposed to retire in six months,
and with everything happening, I’m stressing big time. My company had banned corporate
travel, and everyone in the home office was working from home. This meant the
company couldn't recruit for my position nationwide. I realized there was a
problem, so I called the HR manager and said I would be willing to extend my
retirement, eight months, to December 31, 2021. The company was relieved they
had more time to replace me and quickly agreed to my proposal. <o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-family: "Arial",sans-serif; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 107%;">Some of my friends thought I was a fool to do this, arguing
that it was the company’s issue to deal with. Others said I did the right
thing. I have been friends with my boss for 21 years, which includes 12 years
before I went to work with him. So, this wasn’t just a business decision, and
what would I do with more free time during a pandemic anyway?<o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal"><b><span style="font-family: "Arial",sans-serif; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 107%;">December 2020</span></b></p>
<p class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-family: "Arial",sans-serif; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 107%;">I get COVID so there was a chance I could die before I had
a chance to retire. But it is a mild case which means I can keep moving toward
by goal.<o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-family: "Arial",sans-serif; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 107%;">I’m still feeling lousy, when I get a call from the chief
douchebag officer (the only douchebag who worked for the company, by the way)
to give me my year-end work review. During the call he says condescending
douchebagian voice, “Now, I don’t mind if you work until the end of 2021.” This
angered me and I almost replied, “Oh yeah, well I just moved up, to let’s say
NOW!” A variation of my friend Don’s technique. I just held my tongue and
thought, “what an utter douchbag he is!”. Fortunately, the company disposed of
the douchebag several months later (flushed him right out of the company), and
surprisingly, I didn’t have a problem with that!<o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal"><b><span style="font-family: "Arial",sans-serif; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 107%;">June 2021<o:p></o:p></span></b></p>
<p class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-family: "Arial",sans-serif; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 107%;">It looked like the pandemic was ending and I was so
excited! The company president announced to everyone that I was planning to
retire at the end of the year. He told them the recruiting process would
commence soon. Yes! It was public, baby! I was getting to retirement! I could
see the light. Freedom was right there for the taking. Whooo! Whooo! Post that
job, interview those candidates, extend that offer and soon – I’m outta
here!!!! Do I want to retire? Indeed I do!<o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal"><b><span style="font-family: "Arial",sans-serif; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 107%;">September 2021<o:p></o:p></span></b></p>
<p class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-family: "Arial",sans-serif; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 107%;">In August, before the recruiting process gained any
traction, we got coron-ned once again. Our big freight conference, which I thought
would be my last big presentation, got canceled for the second year in a row.
The company travel ban, which had been rescinded in May, was reactivated.<o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-family: "Arial",sans-serif; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 107%;">What to do now? Not an easy call. After much thought, I
called the HR Manager and told her that the December 31, 2021 date was now a
soft deadline. Yes, they could meet it if they wanted, but I knew they
couldn’t. Once again, I expected the virus to fade and to end up retiring
around March 31, 2022. The various COVID variants just kept making people sick,
which meant recruiting for my replacement didn’t begin until January 2022. <span style="color: red;"><o:p></o:p></span></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal"><b><span style="font-family: "Arial",sans-serif; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 107%;">April 2022<o:p></o:p></span></b></p>
<p class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-family: "Arial",sans-serif; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 107%;">They hire my replacement, and training begins. Because we
are this far into 2022, it makes sense for the company and me to have me do the
presentations at our big conference in September and retire at the end of that
month. <o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-family: "Arial",sans-serif; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 107%;">My replacement is a millennial. Now I know you have read
about the work habits of this group and probably believe the claims have been
greatly exaggerated. All I will say is that when the millennials are old enough
to start taking positions of authority in the business world – YOU ARE ALL SO
SCREWED. I say you because I am now retired and fortunately, I probably won’t
live long enough to watch them muck it all up.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;">
</span><o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal"><b><span style="font-family: "Arial",sans-serif; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 107%;">September 2022<o:p></o:p></span></b></p>
<p class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-family: "Arial",sans-serif; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 107%;">I gave my final presentations at the conference and said my
painful goodbyes. I wrapped up everything in the last two weeks of the month
and actually edited a report on my final day. Yes, I was able to retire on
September 30, 2022. Just 17 months late, after two delays. I’m not sure if I
would have been ready to retire in April 2021, but I am really ready now! <o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal"><b><span style="font-family: "Arial",sans-serif; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 107%;">Now<o:p></o:p></span></b></p>
<p class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-family: "Arial",sans-serif; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 107%;">Yes, it feels good to be retired. Fortunately, my blood
pressure dropped significantly soon after I stopped having to train the
millennial. And I am so glad I was able to retire when the stock market is
doing so well. I am not lounging around doing nothing as my wife once feared,
however, I must say that those new Cheetos flavors are rather tasty, I do
admire the wisdom of Judge Judy, and some of those Netflix documentaries are
very educational. <o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-family: "Arial",sans-serif; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 107%;"><o:p> </o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-family: "Arial",sans-serif; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 107%;"><o:p> </o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal"><b><span style="font-family: "Arial",sans-serif; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 107%;"><o:p> </o:p></span></b></p>Don Akehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/06268533664760244722noreply@blogger.com5tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4563305759142927554.post-42811375474038312732022-09-28T05:36:00.000-07:002022-09-28T05:36:32.409-07:00Don't Get Caught Napping When Fate Intervenes<p><span face="Arial, sans-serif" style="font-size: 14pt;">My alma mater, the University of Akron, made front-page
news (yes, really) by purchasing four “nap-pods”. The nap-pods provide a calm,
dark, relaxing environment so students can relieve stress by napping at three
locations around campus. The nap-pods are a cross between a dental chair and a
privacy dome, with soft music and soothing messages piped in to enhance the napping
experience.</span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal"><span face=""Arial",sans-serif" style="font-size: 14pt; line-height: 107%;">While millennials think this “so Gucci” and “lit”, my
generation surprisingly has a different take. The comments on social media
bemoaned that the soft kids of today even need a safe-space to take a nap. A
few germaphobes also objected to the pods not being sanitary.<o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal"><span face=""Arial",sans-serif" style="font-size: 14pt; line-height: 107%;">My complaint is the pods cost $13,000 each, which for you
math-challenged millennials out there, is $52,000 total. When I posted this
information on the discussion thread, several alums were concerned their
donations to the university paid for the ridiculous contraptions. I quickly
assured them this was not the case. “Excess Covid-relief funds paid for the pods.
So, your donations were not wasted on this, just your tax dollars.”<o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal"><span face=""Arial",sans-serif" style="font-size: 14pt; line-height: 107%;">Seems to me, you could have taken some excess classrooms, bought
some cots, and provided scores of nap stations for much less than $52,000. Now,
you may have to pay for “room monitors”. Setting up “sleep opportunities” on a
campus filled with horny college students does have its drawbacks. Maybe buy some
really flimsy cots and put some type of alarm devise underneath. So, if these
cots collapsed for any unknown “sleeping-related” reason, the room monitor
could be alerted that students were literally “sleeping together”. “All right!
Break it up! And put that thing back in your pants!”<o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal"><span face=""Arial",sans-serif" style="font-size: 14pt; line-height: 107%;">Of course, I will bet you a year’s salary that eventually,
two students will attempt to “rock the pod” so to speak. So, that’s going to be
a problem regardless.<o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal"><b><span face=""Arial",sans-serif" style="font-size: 14pt; line-height: 107%;">Old-School Alternatives<o:p></o:p></span></b></p>
<p class="MsoNormal"><span face=""Arial",sans-serif" style="font-size: 14pt; line-height: 107%;">The “old-timers” pointed out in the thread that “in their
day”, students would nap in the library and a place called Summit Lounge. I
remember during my days there, students would curl up in the corners of the
library using their book bag as a pillow or sleep face down in the carrels. I
guess that’s where the rest of the students will continue to nap when all four
sleep pods are occupied. </span></p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><span face=""Arial",sans-serif" style="font-size: 14pt; line-height: 107%;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhVZjlpAI8Nt664ON9VPsLfkJpLuxYl63mja-dVTULJewP3NgRGzBoPGAjiGRzquNDLLaWg0saLq5_lV2TpgKM_N85Y_jiL8VUyKOIYz8wfoeFQektx4FlJpLAhoDDL_iOW1fnJx_6QPShoaB7Lpz7n7MukZG22q1FE9eJGkPoJWHPhhUcdl_qfDYPd/s1443/summit%20lounge_o.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; float: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1181" data-original-width="1443" height="262" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhVZjlpAI8Nt664ON9VPsLfkJpLuxYl63mja-dVTULJewP3NgRGzBoPGAjiGRzquNDLLaWg0saLq5_lV2TpgKM_N85Y_jiL8VUyKOIYz8wfoeFQektx4FlJpLAhoDDL_iOW1fnJx_6QPShoaB7Lpz7n7MukZG22q1FE9eJGkPoJWHPhhUcdl_qfDYPd/s320/summit%20lounge_o.jpg" width="320" /></a></span></div><span face=""Arial",sans-serif" style="font-size: 14pt; line-height: 107%;"><br /><o:p></o:p></span><p></p>
<p class="MsoNormal"><span face=""Arial",sans-serif" style="font-size: 14pt; line-height: 107%;">But alas, Summit Lounge is long gone. The large room was
originally built in the 1950’s as part of a new addition to the existing
student center. It was used as an auditorium and stage. When they built a new
student center they connected it to the most recent addition and the room
became <span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>“Summit Lounge”. It contained one
and two-person upholstered red chairs, as well as a few round tables for
gathering or studying. <o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal"><span face=""Arial",sans-serif" style="font-size: 14pt; line-height: 107%;">The lighting was dim, and students talked in hushed tones,
so there were always students curling up in the more extended seats to take
naps. Some couples even used the far corners of the room for “making out”,
resulting in the place getting the nickname “Smut Lounge”. And I doubt if those
chairs had been cleaned since the 1950’s, so I guess we didn’t care about the
germs as much as people today. Well, we survived, so I guess the boomers are
tougher in that regard, also.<o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal"><span face=""Arial",sans-serif" style="font-size: 14pt; line-height: 107%;">So them sleep pods are one of those whiz-bang, doo-hickeys
that the older generation just doesn’t understand. And paying $13,000 for a
high-tech cot? It really doesn’t cost anything because it was government money
that always appears magically out of the air.<o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal"><b><span face=""Arial",sans-serif" style="font-size: 14pt; line-height: 107%;">But One More Thing About Summit Lounge<o:p></o:p></span></b></p>
<p class="MsoNormal"><span face=""Arial",sans-serif" style="font-size: 14pt; line-height: 107%;">The offices for the Buchtelite (University of Akron student
newspaper) were also in what was then the old part of the student center,
connected to the east end of Summit Lounge. During the spring of 1977, I was
News Editor and also wrote my Ake’s Pains humor column, so I spent most of my
free time in the Buchtelite office. The nearest restroom and dining were in the
new part of the student center, so I frequently had to cut through the center
of Summit Lounge. <span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span><o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal"><span face=""Arial",sans-serif" style="font-size: 14pt; line-height: 107%;">One day in mid-April, I was dashing through Summit Lounge to
the student center when a co-ed seated at a table on the aisle motioned me
over. I had seen her several times before. She worked on the yearbook staff,
and that office was directly across the hall from the newspaper. I would visit
the yearbook office occasionally because several attractive young women were on
that staff. I was interested in all of them, except for the one now calling me
over. “Definitely, not my type – no interest in her at all.”<o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal"><span face=""Arial",sans-serif" style="font-size: 14pt; line-height: 107%;">What followed was one of the strangest conversations of my
life. She invited me to sit down and said she thought we should be a couple and
waited for my response. I had never even spoken to her before, and the request
was outrageous, like something happening on the third-grade playground.<o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal"><span face=""Arial",sans-serif" style="font-size: 14pt; line-height: 107%;">I’m sitting down, so I can’t run away as I would have done
on the schoolyard. But three things influenced my response: <span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span><o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoListParagraphCxSpFirst" style="mso-list: l0 level1 lfo1; text-indent: -0.25in;"><!--[if !supportLists]--><span face=""Arial",sans-serif" style="font-size: 14pt; line-height: 107%; mso-fareast-font-family: Arial;"><span style="mso-list: Ignore;">1.<span style="font: 7pt "Times New Roman";"> </span></span></span><!--[endif]--><span face=""Arial",sans-serif" style="font-size: 14pt; line-height: 107%;">I am
not rude, and it would have been rude to reject the offer out of hand.<o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoListParagraphCxSpMiddle" style="mso-list: l0 level1 lfo1; text-indent: -0.25in;"><!--[if !supportLists]--><span face=""Arial",sans-serif" style="font-size: 14pt; line-height: 107%; mso-fareast-font-family: Arial;"><span style="mso-list: Ignore;">2.<span style="font: 7pt "Times New Roman";"> </span></span></span><!--[endif]--><span face=""Arial",sans-serif" style="font-size: 14pt; line-height: 107%;">I am
ridiculous, and I like ridiculous. So, I was entertained and amused by the
offer.<o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoListParagraphCxSpLast" style="mso-list: l0 level1 lfo1; text-indent: -0.25in;"><!--[if !supportLists]--><span face=""Arial",sans-serif" style="font-size: 14pt; line-height: 107%; mso-fareast-font-family: Arial;"><span style="mso-list: Ignore;">3.<span style="font: 7pt "Times New Roman";"> </span></span></span><!--[endif]--><span face=""Arial",sans-serif" style="font-size: 14pt; line-height: 107%;">Her
timing was impeccable. I was so busy that quarter, my social life was
nonexistent. I had no reason or excuse for declining the offer. Except for she
is “not my type,” and I had no interest at all.<o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="margin-left: 0.25in;"><span face=""Arial",sans-serif" style="font-size: 14pt; line-height: 107%;">“Sure, I’ll be your boyfriend,”
I replied. But with that, I jumped out of the chair and bolted for the door. On
my return, I didn’t cut through Summit Lounge, taking the longer route by going
outside and entering from the back door.<o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="margin-left: 0.25in;"><span face=""Arial",sans-serif" style="font-size: 14pt; line-height: 107%;">I had not been serious with my
reply, but technically I had just agreed to enter a relationship with someone I
had no interest in. And the most outrageous part is I didn’t even know her
name. Now I will say, I was at least amused and flattered by her request. I was
failing miserably at getting the attention of all of the co-eds that I was
interested in, and here this one wants to date me, and she doesn’t even know
me.<o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="margin-left: 0.25in;"><span face=""Arial",sans-serif" style="font-size: 14pt; line-height: 107%;">There was no contact between
us for the next week. I skedaddled before phone numbers were exchanged. I
wasn’t necessarily avoiding her, but I thought this was all a joke and would
disappear quickly. But as I cut through Summit Lounge a week later, there she
was, same table, same beckoning, same chair for me.<o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="margin-left: 0.25in;"><span face=""Arial",sans-serif" style="font-size: 14pt; line-height: 107%;">And she started talking as if
we were an actual couple. I said very little in my highly anxious state. She
suggested we exchange numbers, which I didn’t want to do since I couldn’t
really call her if I wanted to because I still didn’t know her name. But when
she reached into her bag to find her pen, I could lean over and read her name
and address on the class scheduling form on the table. After we traded phone
numbers, I dashed for the door again. Well, I now have a girlfriend, and I know
her name! Sounds like a great title for a country music song.<o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="margin-left: 0.25in;"><span face=""Arial",sans-serif" style="font-size: 14pt; line-height: 107%;">I can’t remember much about what
happened right after that, but soon she suggested we go on a date. This was a
reasonable request since a couple dating, should indeed go on dates. But I’m
not going to plan something because I’m still not committed to anything. So, of
course, she tells me we are going to a high-school musical because her brother
has a leading role in it.<o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="margin-left: 0.25in;"><span face=""Arial",sans-serif" style="font-size: 14pt; line-height: 107%;">Now, if you would have told me
I would be attending a high-school musical with this young woman a few weeks
prior, it would have been laughable. But there I was, out on a date, dining
with her before going to her old high school.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;">
</span><o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="margin-left: 0.25in;"><span face=""Arial",sans-serif" style="font-size: 14pt; line-height: 107%;">The musical is “Guys and
Dolls” and I of course am bored out of my mind. The room is dark and I’m not
paying much attention to what’s happening. But I’m thinking I’m getting through
this evening unscathed. The musical is almost over when they hit the 27<sup>th</sup>
song out of 30. It is titled “Marry the Man Today”. During this song, she grabs
and squeezes my arm. I look at her, and it is one of those desirous stares a
woman gives when she really wants something. Suddenly, the fun and games were
over. This just got real – much too real. Got too real – really fast.<o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="margin-left: 0.25in;"><span face=""Arial",sans-serif" style="font-size: 14pt; line-height: 107%;">Oh, no. Oh, HECK no. I didn’t
sign up for any of this nonsense. Implying you want to marry me on the first
date when we basically just met. Way, way, too much. This has got to end now.
Right now.<o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="margin-left: 0.25in;"><span face=""Arial",sans-serif" style="font-size: 14pt; line-height: 107%;">So, how did this ridiculous,
bizarre relationship end? Well, life and love are funny things, aren’t they?
Sometimes both spin out of your control, and you just have to go where they
lead, no matter if you have other plans. Oh yeah, the woman’s name happens to
be Dawn, and that relationship is on year 44. I tried to break up with her
once, but she wouldn’t let me. And I have very fond memories of Summit Lounge.<o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="margin-left: 0.25in;"><i><span face=""Arial",sans-serif" style="font-size: 14pt; line-height: 107%;">Hey, Don! – Did you just say
you “dated” your wife-to-be for a whole week before you knew her name? huh </span></i><span face=""Arial",sans-serif" style="font-size: 14pt; line-height: 107%;">???????<o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="margin-left: 0.25in;"><span face=""Arial",sans-serif" style="font-size: 14pt; line-height: 107%;">“Yes, I guess I did – I’m such
a putz ….”<o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal"><span face=""Arial",sans-serif" style="font-size: 14pt; line-height: 107%;"><o:p> </o:p></span></p>Don Akehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/06268533664760244722noreply@blogger.com4tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4563305759142927554.post-83335261889269572232022-06-20T10:54:00.000-07:002022-06-20T10:54:09.550-07:00Turn Your Head And Cough<p><span style="font-family: Arial, sans-serif; font-size: 14pt;">I’m having more and more trouble deciphering current events
because I’m “old school”. It sounds a lot better than saying “I’m just old” and
when you throw in the school part, it makes your opinions sound much more educated.
But I went to school when they stuck to educating you on real stuff, and when
there were only two genders.</span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-family: "Arial",sans-serif; font-size: 14.0pt; line-height: 107%;">The latest source of confusion comes from the desire of
some guys to play on female sports teams. Which except for the locker room
showering privileges, makes no sense to me at all. But this topic is so
relevant that the Ohio legislature had to propose a bill to prevent high school
and college guys from competing in female sports. <o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-family: "Arial",sans-serif; font-size: 14.0pt; line-height: 107%;">Of course, to enforce this law, “questionable” athletes
could be subject to inspection, which may or may not involve “probing”. Some
people protested, claiming such practices would be “too intrusive”. <o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-family: "Arial",sans-serif; font-size: 14.0pt; line-height: 107%;">Too Intrusive? Really? Let me tell you something from my
old school days about intrusion. To play sports in the ’70s, you had to pass a
physical. This consisted of an alleged doctor who would look at you to make
sure you were breathing, had no broken limbs, and appeared healthy enough to
compete in that sport. However, the final step of the procedure involved dropping
your pants, and the doctor pressed two fingers tight against your gonads, and
you were then instructed to turn your head and cough.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span><o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-family: Arial, sans-serif; line-height: 107%;"><span style="font-size: 14pt;">This supposedly was done to make sure you didn’t have a
hernia. Now we had no idea what a hernia was, but we speculated that if you had
one, you could die if you played sports, or it wouldn’t be necessary to have a
total stranger pushing hard on your nuts. The procedure was embarrassing and
unpleasant. And it was more challenging to accomplish than it seems. It is
difficult to breathe, let alone cough, with that much pressure on your nutsack.
Unfortunately, if your first cough wasn’t strong enough, you had to cough
again, and this time the pressure against your balls was increased. Trust me;
your second cough was robust </span></span></p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; font-size: 14pt; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhayPKTbD8yfxgeaRbhqWZv4R0fKE7Jf_EGSaIt7ixiQLkd5qnCdUfMO1-6vpRmLfgc0evLbARmY4FLMcu_J-fHJDABnOqCbiSdQSv1IXlUtN9SiRYbAJhwTN5bMLNIZ3_Ih9cCl0_Eflzto35qjc9CHCOvjYOEaz-NbWpIuRFZ2VDSRusdkgvyXru5/s1200/cough.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; float: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="900" data-original-width="1200" height="151" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhayPKTbD8yfxgeaRbhqWZv4R0fKE7Jf_EGSaIt7ixiQLkd5qnCdUfMO1-6vpRmLfgc0evLbARmY4FLMcu_J-fHJDABnOqCbiSdQSv1IXlUtN9SiRYbAJhwTN5bMLNIZ3_Ih9cCl0_Eflzto35qjc9CHCOvjYOEaz-NbWpIuRFZ2VDSRusdkgvyXru5/w202-h151/cough.jpg" width="202" /></a></div><br /><span style="font-size: large;">because you believed your manhood, and perhaps
your life was in danger.</span><span style="font-size: 14pt;"><o:p></o:p></span><p></p>
<p class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-family: "Arial",sans-serif; font-size: 14.0pt; line-height: 107%;">To my knowledge, no one ever failed this test. I don’t even
know if it’s truly legitimate. I certainly hope the doctor administering this
procedure didn’t volunteer for this assignment and wasn’t some wacko like the
quacks at Ohio and Michigan State. No, you should not enjoy holding the
schweddy balls of teen boys. And you certainly didn’t want this procedure done
to you either. I think they had you turn your head because if you looked
straight down and saw some guy pressing your nuts, you probably would turn and
run, and never be heard from again. <o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-family: "Arial",sans-serif; font-size: 14.0pt; line-height: 107%;">If someone had failed the hernia test, they would have been
viciously ridiculed by the other guys. It would have been perceived that their
man parts were not substantial enough to play male sports. We would have
laughed and told them to try out for the girl’s team! What an insult!
Ironically, today, we are talking about this very subject because some
biological guys actually <i>want</i> to play on the girl’s team. My, my, my –
how far we have gone.<o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-family: "Arial",sans-serif; font-size: 14.0pt; line-height: 107%;">So unfortunately, I have no sympathy for those females who
must be verified. I don’t believe that any probing of organs is necessary. A
visual inspection should be sufficient. Instead of junk in the trunk, you are
looking for man-junk under the hood. It’s so easy; I could do it. I’ve had a
penis all my life and am confident I could identify one, even if it were
attached to a long-haired blonde named Sally. <o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-family: "Arial",sans-serif; font-size: 14.0pt; line-height: 107%;">Not that I am volunteering. There was a time when me and my
adolescent friends, including you Freddy, would have tried to sneak into the girl’s
locker room to catch a glimpse of some nakedness. But I am much more mature
now. Infinitely more mature. Alright, I’d probably still take the job if they
offered it to me. But they are not going to, so it’s a moot point.<o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-family: "Arial",sans-serif; font-size: 14.0pt; line-height: 107%;">So, I hope they just decide that a visual check is fine.
But if they do catch someone with original guy parts trying to sneak onto the
girl’s/woman’s team, I hope the doctor puts two fingers firmly on the nutsack
and tells them to turn their head and cough. They might have a hernia, and you
want to be sure to catch it now before they play sports and die.<o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal"><b><span style="font-family: "Arial",sans-serif; font-size: 14.0pt; line-height: 107%;">A related story from high school</span></b><span style="font-family: "Arial",sans-serif; font-size: 14.0pt; line-height: 107%;">…. <o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-family: "Arial",sans-serif; font-size: 14.0pt; line-height: 107%;">Naddine was an exchange student from Germany. She was
pleasant, but not much to look at, with her boyish figure. Some even said she
had excessive body hair. But the girl was a natural athlete, and she sure could
swim. She was the best swimmer the school ever had, and her times were the fastest
in the entire state.</span><span style="font-size: 14.0pt; line-height: 107%;"> </span><span style="font-family: "Arial",sans-serif; font-size: 14.0pt; line-height: 107%;">Even
though she was a foreigner, the community embraced her. Huge crowds attended
the swim meets, and we all would yell: Go Nadds! Go Nadds! Go Nadds! Go! <o:p></o:p></span></p>Don Akehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/06268533664760244722noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4563305759142927554.post-12895548020907319862022-04-07T17:07:00.000-07:002022-04-07T17:07:14.883-07:00Reece’s Pieces (Breaking Up Is Hard To Do)<p> <i><span style="font-family: "Arial",sans-serif; font-size: 14.0pt;">Think
of all that we've been through</span></i></p><p><i><span style="font-family: "Arial",sans-serif; font-size: 14.0pt;">And
breaking up is hard to do</span></i></p>
<p class="MsoNoSpacing"><i><span style="font-family: "Arial",sans-serif; font-size: 14.0pt;">They
say that breaking up is hard to do*<o:p></o:p></span></i></p>
<p class="MsoNoSpacing"><span style="font-family: Arial, sans-serif; font-size: 14pt;">Relationships are difficult to keep going. You’ve got the
guy, and the gal,and all these differences and expectations. It’s no wonder
that most couplings don’t last. In this world of online dating, the forming of
relationships speeds up, and the breakups are usually quick and relatively
painless. But the longer the relationship goes, the harder the breakup, and
unfortunately, some of these are “bad breakups,” which can hurt deeply for an
extended time.</span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-family: "Arial",sans-serif; font-size: 14.0pt; line-height: 107%;">Naturally, most of these bad breakups are the guy’s fault.
I know this from extensive scientific research studies. When asked who’s
responsible for bad breakups, 100% of female respondents said “the guy”. When
guys are asked that question, most respond, “Uh, don’t know. Really don’t want
to talk about it”. Which I will point out is NOT an admonish of guilt. But
these answers explain a lot about why relationships don’t work.<o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-family: "Arial",sans-serif; font-size: 14.0pt; line-height: 107%;">So, based on that scientific research, I will concede that
it’s the guy's fault in most cases. It might be because he is not attentive, too
rude, unkind, watches too much sports, drinks too much beer, is not romantic
enough, doesn’t listen often, etc. While women expect all these things, to be
fair, it just seems like an awful lot of work, especially if the Lakers game is
on. Guys also have certain urges and sometimes allow their wiener dog to run
loose and not be confined to his own pen. This is a major cause of bad
breakups. <o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-family: "Arial",sans-serif; font-size: 14.0pt; line-height: 107%;">But men should be more concerned about the consequences of
bad breakups. Even though you may consider them the fairer, weaker sex. A woman
scorned, by let’s say a “bad breakup”, is capable of some extraordinary bad
behavior. <o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-family: "Arial",sans-serif; font-size: 14.0pt; line-height: 107%;">This brings us to a disturbingly true story of a young
Wisconsin couple, we’ll call them Reece and Jackie, and probably the worst bad
breakup of all time. We’ll just assume that Reece was at fault here. I’m not
sure what he did, but trust me, it wasn’t good.<o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-family: "Arial",sans-serif; font-size: 14.0pt; line-height: 107%;">Because Jackie was broken to pieces emotionally, they found
Reese in pieces literally. His upper torso was found in a storage tote. A box
in Jackie’s van contained other body parts, including legs. And Reese’s head
was found first, at the scene of the crime, in a bucket. That’s right, he not
only kicked the bucket, but he also filled it up. Jackie started to get hacky,
and the result was Reese’s pieces. <o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-family: "Arial",sans-serif; font-size: 14.0pt; line-height: 107%;">When the police asked Jackie what happened, she replied,
“That is a good question.” A better question is how Jackie dismembered the body
using just a bread knife with a serrated blade. But then again, women are
supposed to be skilled in using kitchen utensils. </span></p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjYkbOVRLh3fdmRnGqcMiEm9sS7jZY_OS3tel8eaHUuImVWrc9Xw5MaXadIlCYz-0IXew3Szf--enTHcVdFibHQMbj-qNuTxqfSoHGLppR1jfSSmCDUIkcteOBdHSZVPpgKsKzwwZrLYI9VyKkYQtkcFUBdpER7TQ3z2mE1UaXKigSOPysIk2TWkGya/s500/bucket_.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; float: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="500" data-original-width="408" height="207" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjYkbOVRLh3fdmRnGqcMiEm9sS7jZY_OS3tel8eaHUuImVWrc9Xw5MaXadIlCYz-0IXew3Szf--enTHcVdFibHQMbj-qNuTxqfSoHGLppR1jfSSmCDUIkcteOBdHSZVPpgKsKzwwZrLYI9VyKkYQtkcFUBdpER7TQ3z2mE1UaXKigSOPysIk2TWkGya/w169-h207/bucket_.jpg" width="169" /></a></div><br /><o:p></o:p><p></p>
<p class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-family: "Arial",sans-serif; font-size: 14.0pt; line-height: 107%;">Jackie could have gotten away with this hack job, but she
forgot to take the head with her. “I can’t believe I left the head”, she lamented.
Love is a matter of the head and the heart, so if you happen to cut up both,
you should always keep them together. And one significant contributing factor,
Jackie is a meth-head and had smoked some strong methamphetamine before
breaking up with Reece and then breaking him up.<o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal"><b><span style="font-family: "Arial",sans-serif; font-size: 14.0pt; line-height: 107%;">The Lesson<o:p></o:p></span></b></p>
<p class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-family: "Arial",sans-serif; font-size: 14.0pt; line-height: 107%;">Guys, we can all learn something from Reece. That would be
nice, because then he wouldn’t have died in vain and had all his pieces-parts
and organs strewn around Wisconsin. The lesson here is to be much kinder, gentler,
and more civil to your woman. Because if you really fizz her off and she is as
skilled with a serrated bread knife as Jackie, you may truly find out that
breaking up is hard to do. Also, if you happen to be an organ donor, it will
take a search party, including some hounds, for your donation to be collected.<o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-family: "Arial",sans-serif; font-size: 14.0pt; line-height: 107%;">Also, based on this story, you might want to avoid women
who are meth-heads for dating partners. It seems that meth-fueled rage is a
little over the top, and you could find, we’ll <i>they</i> could find, your
head in a bucket. Now I know you think you can spot a meth-head by her
appearance, but you cannot. The mug shot of Jackie is quite attractive. Wayne
and Garth might describe her as “babelicious”.<o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-family: "Arial",sans-serif; font-size: 14.0pt; line-height: 107%;">So guys, good luck with those relationships! Remember,
kinder, gentler, more respectful, more attentive, etc. And maybe keep the bread
knives, and buckets, for that matter, out of sight.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span><o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNoSpacing"><i><span style="font-family: "Arial",sans-serif; font-size: 14.0pt;">Don't
put your knife inside my jaw<o:p></o:p></span></i></p>
<p class="MsoNoSpacing"><i><span style="font-family: "Arial",sans-serif; font-size: 14.0pt;">Don't
you leave my heart in Waukesha<o:p></o:p></span></i></p>
<p class="MsoNoSpacing"><i><span style="font-family: "Arial",sans-serif; font-size: 14.0pt;">If
I’m dead then I'll be blue<o:p></o:p></span></i></p>
<p class="MsoNoSpacing"><i><span style="font-family: "Arial",sans-serif; font-size: 14.0pt;">'Cause
breaking up is hard to do*<o:p></o:p></span></i></p>
<p class="MsoNoSpacing"><i><span style="font-family: "Arial",sans-serif; font-size: 14.0pt;"><o:p> </o:p></span></i></p>
<p class="MsoNoSpacing"><i><span style="font-family: "Arial",sans-serif;">‘* Lyrics
by Neil Sedaka<o:p></o:p></span></i></p>Don Akehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/06268533664760244722noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4563305759142927554.post-80527372558839626142022-03-02T16:49:00.004-08:002022-03-02T16:49:40.487-08:00Do I Look Like A Felon?<p><span style="font-family: Arial, sans-serif; font-size: 14pt;">It seems they are repairing all of Akron expressway system at
the same time. So, I was disappointed but not surprised to find the entrance
ramp near the basketball arena closed one night after the game. The next best ramp
is almost three miles south through the city. It’s not the best part of town at
night, but it’s not the worst. And there is usually a police presence. But that
night, the police were a bit to presency.</span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-family: "Arial",sans-serif; font-size: 14.0pt; line-height: 107%;">I was about a half-mile into my detour when I noticed a
police car sitting on the side street to my left. A car went past that
intersection, coming towards me. Suddenly, the flashing lights appeared, and
the police car moved ahead and began to turn right following that car. I slowed
down when the lights flashed. As soon as the police car began to turn right, I
returned to normal speed, in what is probably a 35-mph zone.<o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-family: "Arial",sans-serif; font-size: 14.0pt; line-height: 107%;">However, I was startled seconds later when the flashing
lights blinded me in my rear-view mirror. I pull over and stop, bewildered by
this turn of events. I’m thinking that maybe I have a burned-out headlight or
something. </span></p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/a/AVvXsEh5SLWMS5N3suLY5dCsJIT9Um5an2_He-Mhqey2FC3JqyEUbRS_rABM0r0Niqd-nFaqNbif0lnBcutDR_yG2jg2n8ZJqu4qVThvuoAf5e13kPd-Jkva2Q7_9dMg7UdN9HlskrETXgr6VlQ8IGVFMaVurDtY6AjP1Sv4D7XxcfAZuOnXJvI4ACDBegP8=s600" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; float: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="600" data-original-width="400" height="214" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/a/AVvXsEh5SLWMS5N3suLY5dCsJIT9Um5an2_He-Mhqey2FC3JqyEUbRS_rABM0r0Niqd-nFaqNbif0lnBcutDR_yG2jg2n8ZJqu4qVThvuoAf5e13kPd-Jkva2Q7_9dMg7UdN9HlskrETXgr6VlQ8IGVFMaVurDtY6AjP1Sv4D7XxcfAZuOnXJvI4ACDBegP8=w143-h214" width="143" /></a></div><br /><o:p></o:p><p></p>
<p class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-family: "Arial",sans-serif; font-size: 14.0pt; line-height: 107%;">I lower my window as Officer Dekveed, (I’m being as polite
as possible) approached:<o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-family: "Arial",sans-serif; font-size: 14.0pt; line-height: 107%;">Me: Yes, officer?<o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-family: "Arial",sans-serif; font-size: 14.0pt; line-height: 107%;">Officer Dekveed: MY LIGHTS ARE FLASHING. YOU ARE SUPPOSED
TO STOP. DID YOU SEE MY LIGHTS FLASHING?<o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-family: "Arial",sans-serif; font-size: 14.0pt; line-height: 107%;">(Whoa, this young mid-20s police-kid was out of control)<o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-family: "Arial",sans-serif; font-size: 14.0pt; line-height: 107%;">Me: Yes<o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-family: "Arial",sans-serif; font-size: 14.0pt; line-height: 107%;">Officer Dekveed: THEN WHY DID YOU NOT STOP?<o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-family: "Arial",sans-serif; font-size: 14.0pt; line-height: 107%;">Me: I saw the car go right past you before your lights came
on, and I assumed you were stopping that car for some reason. (Keeping my voice
calm, even, and respectful)<o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal"><a name="_Hlk96168121"><span style="font-family: "Arial",sans-serif; font-size: 14.0pt; line-height: 107%;">Officer Dekveed</span></a><span style="font-family: "Arial",sans-serif; font-size: 14.0pt; line-height: 107%;">:
NOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOO! THAT IS WRONG!!!!!! WHEN MY LIGHTS ARE FLASHING, YOU STOP,
AND YOU STOP NOW!<o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-family: "Arial",sans-serif; font-size: 14.0pt; line-height: 107%;">At this point, I realized this was a serious situation. I
had done nothing wrong, yet this police officer was furious with me. I then had
to remove all emotion from my face and speech. Do you know how difficult being
non-emotive is for me? I’ve written a post on how I naturally smirk when I
think something is bull$h!+. And this was a major pile of bull$h!+. I am also very
expressive in my speech; it’s woven tightly in my DNA. But from this point
forward, every word was delivered robotically with a straight face. I am
naturally so expressive that it physically hurts me to show no emotion. And it hurt,
it hurt so much!<o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-family: "Arial",sans-serif; font-size: 14.0pt; line-height: 107%;">Officer Dekveed: DO YOU HAVE A VALID DRIVER’S LICENSE? <o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-family: "Arial",sans-serif; font-size: 14.0pt; line-height: 107%;">I gave him my license. He examined it, AND THEN he took it
back to the patrol car to investigate me. Yes, he was actually running my
license through the system. I did smirk when I imagined him staring at the
blank screen, perhaps refreshing it when he saw no points, no priors, no
violations, nothing.<o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-family: "Arial",sans-serif; font-size: 14.0pt; line-height: 107%;">But as I waited for him to return, I noted that he was highly
sarcastic when asking if I had a “valid” license. It might be the tone you
would use when asking that question to a 10-year old. Or perhaps to someone
that had caused a 9-car pileup after doing 110 mph. It was strange that he
would be so cynical in his attitude.<o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-family: "Arial",sans-serif; font-size: 14.0pt; line-height: 107%;">And then my light came on. He was baiting me. From the
moment he approached my car and began berating me, he was trying to elicit a negative
response. He wanted me to yell back. He wanted me to argue about stopping when
the lights are flashing. He wanted me to lose my cool and say or do something
stupid. Then, I guess, he would order me out of the car, and I would be charged
with whatever.<o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-family: "Arial",sans-serif; font-size: 14.0pt; line-height: 107%;">But I instinctively did not take the bait. You see, this
guy was a good baiter. He kept trying to bait me and he failed. Why? Well, he
was trying to bait a baiter. Throughout my business career, I would bait the
jack@$$es I worked with into overreacting in a inappropriate, yet humorous way.
It’s how I got my kicks. My favorite technique was to ask a question that I (and
other people present) already knew the answer to and then try to keep a
straight face when the person lied or bull$h!tted when answering.<o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-family: "Arial",sans-serif; font-size: 14.0pt; line-height: 107%;">You see, Officer Dekveed may be a skilled baiter, but I am
a master baiter. I am the best master baiter there is! You can’t find a better
master baiter than me. And best yet, I can turn into a huge master baiter on a
moment's notice. Yep, <a name="_Hlk96277561">Officer Dekveed </a>had tried to
beat (off) a master baiter at his own game and came up flaccid.<o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-family: "Arial",sans-serif; font-size: 14.0pt; line-height: 107%;">Finally, yes FINALLY, Officer Dekveed returned with my
license. It took him long enough. After coming up blank, perhaps he Googled me.<o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-family: "Arial",sans-serif; font-size: 14.0pt; line-height: 107%;">I would have expected Officer Dekveed to have calmed down
at some point, but he was abrasive and belligerent the entire time. He treated
me like I’m a felon. Do I look like a felon, dressed for a basketball game, out
with my wife, and driving an SUV?<o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-family: "Arial",sans-serif; font-size: 14.0pt; line-height: 107%;">And so, the baiting continued …<o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-family: "Arial",sans-serif; font-size: 14.0pt; line-height: 107%;">Officer Dekveed: YOU ARE SUPPOSED TO STOP WHEN YOU SEE THE
FLASHING LIGHTS, CORRECT? <o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-family: "Arial",sans-serif; font-size: 14.0pt; line-height: 107%;">Me: Yes<o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-family: "Arial",sans-serif; font-size: 14.0pt; line-height: 107%;">Officer Dekveed: I WANT YOU TO SAY IT NOW! WHAT ARE YOU
SUPPOSED TO DO?<o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-family: "Arial",sans-serif; font-size: 14.0pt; line-height: 107%;">Me: (In the most robotic voice possible) When I see the
flashing lights, I am supposed to stop.<o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-family: "Arial",sans-serif; font-size: 14.0pt; line-height: 107%;">At that, he quickly left and returned to his cruiser.<o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-family: "Arial",sans-serif; font-size: 14.0pt; line-height: 107%;">I noted that he never asked me about anything else. This
means there was no reason for him to activate his flashers as I approached. I was
driving the speed limit and certainly didn’t look suspicious – I drive a Subaru, for Pete’s sake! Okay, maybe a Subaru in that neighborhood at night is
suspect. I so wanted to ask him why he had put on his flashers in the first
place, but of course, that’s what he wanted me to do, and I was too much of a
master baiter to fall for that trap. If I wanted more evidence that this detainment
was totally bogus, he sped away fast – too fast for me to get the cruiser
number, unfortunately.<o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal"><b><span style="font-family: "Arial",sans-serif; font-size: 14.0pt; line-height: 107%;">And Now For The Serious Part <o:p></o:p></span></b></p>
<p class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-family: "Arial",sans-serif; font-size: 14.0pt; line-height: 107%;">I was stopped at night, for no reason, miles from my home.
The policeman had a belligerent attitude. Was I scared? Of course, I was. And
scared people say stupid stuff and do stupid stuff. And this is what the police
officer wanted to happen for some unknown reason, but it didn’t because I was
able to keep my composure. Now imagine if I were black. My level of fear would
have been off the charts. We suburbanites tend to dismiss those problems because
they seldom happen near our homes.<o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-family: "Arial",sans-serif; font-size: 14.0pt; line-height: 107%;">I’m all about “Backing the Blue” but we need to recognize
that some police officers do sometimes behave badly, and everyone would benefit,
no matter our color, if this behavior can be improved. This is the real reform
that is needed to improve our society and should not be political in any way. <o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-family: "Arial",sans-serif; font-size: 14.0pt; line-height: 107%;">I do not want the overzealous young gun who stopped me to
be fired. However, I would welcome the opportunity to explain to him why his
behavior was improper and the possible adverse outcomes which could occur. <o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-family: "Arial",sans-serif; font-size: 14.0pt; line-height: 107%;">And that’s all I got to say about that ……<o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-family: "Arial",sans-serif; font-size: 14.0pt; line-height: 107%;"><span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span><o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-family: "Arial",sans-serif; font-size: 14.0pt; line-height: 107%;"><span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span><span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span><o:p></o:p></span></p>Don Akehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/06268533664760244722noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4563305759142927554.post-84142041867689256512021-12-27T12:27:00.000-08:002021-12-27T12:27:07.110-08:00The Worst Christmas Party Ever<p><span style="font-family: Arial, sans-serif; font-size: 14pt;">I lead a local card-playing group but we couldn’t play for
over a year due to the virus. When we reassembled, we lost some people,
including the group founder, so I stepped in.</span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-family: "Arial",sans-serif; font-size: 14.0pt; line-height: 107%;">It’s not a difficult job. I post the game nights on
Facebook and am responsible for bringing the cards and accessories to the restaurant
where we play. I also make sure we treat the staff with respect and that no one
grabs the waitress’s @$$.<o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal"><i><span style="font-family: "Arial",sans-serif; font-size: 14.0pt; line-height: 107%;">But Don, isn’t that like assigning the fox to
guard the hen house?</span></i><span style="font-family: "Arial",sans-serif; font-size: 14.0pt; line-height: 107%;"> Well, maybe. But the one time it may have
happened, I’m still claiming she backed up into my hand – and there was no
squeeze. There is no video of this alleged infraction, so everybody just chill.
<o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-family: "Arial",sans-serif; font-size: 14.0pt; line-height: 107%;">However, pre-pandemic, one of the things the group immensely
enjoyed was a Christmas party. As leader, I was expected to plan this gala
event. But I am not a party planner - not one of my skills. First of all, I
don’t have the legs for it. Most party planners are vivacious, energetic
females. They run around tirelessly, making sure everything is perfect, which
typically gives them great legs. On the other hand, I prefer to sit a lot and
enjoy the party, while someone else does all the flittering. This not only
doesn’t provide me with shapely legs, it enlarges my @$$.<o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-family: "Arial",sans-serif; font-size: 14.0pt; line-height: 107%;">I’m not a party planner, so I came up with a simple but brilliant
plan. We would meet an hour early at the restaurant, eat dinner together and
then play cards. This plan was judged to be totally unacceptable by almost all group
members. The last Christmas party was an elaborate event at the former leader’s
house and was greatly enjoyed by all.<o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-family: "Arial",sans-serif; font-size: 14.0pt; line-height: 107%;">“Why can’t we have the party at your house, Don?” they
asked with faces resembling expectant children on Christmas Eve.<o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-family: "Arial",sans-serif; font-size: 14.0pt; line-height: 107%;">This was a non-starter. My wife would never agree to this
because she knows she would be doing all the work while I sat on my @$$. I
wasn’t even going to ask her because it’s one of those questions that after you
receive the obvious “NO” – you pay for it dearly, as your wife is upset with
you for at least a <span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>week. (“Gee, all I
did was ask a simple question” – husbands, do you hear me?)<o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-family: "Arial",sans-serif; font-size: 14.0pt; line-height: 107%;">The group members then attempted to plan a better party, at
a better venue. Since I’m not a party planner and could continue to sit on my
@ss, this was fine by me.<o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-family: "Arial",sans-serif; font-size: 14.0pt; line-height: 107%;">But they couldn’t come up with a better plan than mine.
Time was running out, so I announced my initial plan would prevail. I felt
rather smug that we were going with the plan I had developed. Maybe I am a good
party planner! Perhaps just sitting on your @$$ has some benefits. Perhaps I
should shave my legs -- well, no. Yes, I was a man with a plan, and I could not
be stopped!<o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-family: "Arial",sans-serif; font-size: 14.0pt; line-height: 107%;">We had a plan, but now people wanted to know if we would be
having our traditional “White Elephant” gift exchange. I protested, arguing
that this is 2021 and appropriating another race onto an elephant of color is
racist. But they persisted, so I agreed. <table cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="float: right;"><tbody><tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/a/AVvXsEi9T_W_VMKiMivDnSZzKTJQEBx8iRyvQg8-xQoAFZrUOXgp0MSZE-b93tXPIZMOJz9rtTlDkPNbZxnsAaNGNIkjq3avZYewGS-yJ6dmDTku1aZjggVLh8dEP8kUN6T530JrjBUmSHXZDExc-qPChSQOppcYsR2e_bzrqT_3q2s0h55vF06jfUM-ald2=s1068" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1068" data-original-width="616" height="309" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/a/AVvXsEi9T_W_VMKiMivDnSZzKTJQEBx8iRyvQg8-xQoAFZrUOXgp0MSZE-b93tXPIZMOJz9rtTlDkPNbZxnsAaNGNIkjq3avZYewGS-yJ6dmDTku1aZjggVLh8dEP8kUN6T530JrjBUmSHXZDExc-qPChSQOppcYsR2e_bzrqT_3q2s0h55vF06jfUM-ald2=w179-h309" width="179" /></a></td></tr><tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Life of the Party?</td></tr></tbody></table><br /><o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-family: "Arial",sans-serif; font-size: 14.0pt; line-height: 107%;">“Well, what are the rules? What are the rules? !!!!!!!!!!”
they demanded. They actually expected me to quote the rules on the spot.<o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-family: "Arial",sans-serif; font-size: 14.0pt; line-height: 107%;">I’m sure party planners know all the white elephant rules.
But I’m not a party planner. And my butt cheeks held their position firmly, as
I suggested someone consult the Internet <span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span><o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-family: "Arial",sans-serif; font-size: 14.0pt; line-height: 107%;">The day of the big, festive party finally arrived. When I
got to the restaurant, I was in the holiday spirit, but that didn’t last long.
About ten minutes before, the cook had left. Just up and left for no reason. No
warning, just gone. My excellent master plan was suddenly in shambles.<o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-family: "Arial",sans-serif; font-size: 14.0pt; line-height: 107%;">Now I have 14 hungry people staring at me, the party
planner, looking for some crisis leadership. I imagine them saying:<o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-family: "Arial",sans-serif; font-size: 14.0pt; line-height: 107%;">“We are so hungry, Master Don. Perhaps they have some gruel
back in the kitchen that we might eat so we don’t starve at your awful
Christmas Party.”<o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-family: "Arial",sans-serif; font-size: 14.0pt; line-height: 107%;">I have a problem handling crises. My blood pressure spikes,
and it shuts down my brain. Fortunately, some group members jumped right in. We
ordered food from a local pizza joint. One woman was a former waitress and took
all the orders, and we sent Carlos to pick up the food. Oh, I know what you’re
thinking --- No, we did not send a Mexican immigrant to pick up our food. That
would be wrong. Carlos happens to be a Brazilian businessman.<o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-family: "Arial",sans-serif; font-size: 14.0pt; line-height: 107%;">The food was good. The white elephant gift game went well,
and we also enjoyed homemade desserts. However, it was still the worst
Christmas party ever. I, of course, blame it on poor planning. Did I mention
that I’m not a party planner?<o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-family: "Arial",sans-serif; font-size: 14.0pt; line-height: 107%;">And the cook magically returned after his “two-hour break”
still with no explanation, after we no longer needed him. He’s fortunate that
it is the holiday season, because, in the spirit of Christmas, I did not go
into the kitchen and kick him square in the oompa loompas, even though I wanted
to. I so wanted to. And even though I’m not a party planner, I still have the
legs for that.<o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-family: "Arial",sans-serif; font-size: 14.0pt; line-height: 107%;"><o:p> </o:p></span></p>Don Akehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/06268533664760244722noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4563305759142927554.post-91652831685076679892021-11-10T17:56:00.000-08:002021-11-10T17:56:41.257-08:00A Presidential Fart Worth Talking About<p><span style="font-family: Arial, sans-serif; font-size: 14pt;">Last week's news included a Presidential fart at the
climate conference in Europe. And I am not using presidential as an adjective.
Apparently, President Joe broke wind during a break in the talks. (This really
happened)</span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-family: "Arial",sans-serif; font-size: 14.0pt; line-height: 107%;">And there was no leak … Okay, there was a leak, but not a
news leak. He unloaded while he was talking to Camilla Parker Bowles, otherwise
known as the Duchess of Cornwall. And we have it straight from the horse’s
mouth, which in Camilla’s case is more literal than it should be, that old Joe released
a fart described as “It was long and loud and impossible to ignore.” Reportedly,
the fart was so prestigious that Camilla hasn’t stopped talking about it.<o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-family: "Arial",sans-serif; font-size: 14.0pt; line-height: 107%;">She talked about it so much, it is now known as “the fart
heard round the world”. It is a major social faux pas to fart in the presence
of royals. The Brits consider her a Duchess and a lady, and in the words of
Helen Reddy, “That ain’t no way to treat a lady, no way …”. So far, the royal
family has not raised a stink about it because although the fart was long and
loud, it was not pungent.<o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-family: "Arial",sans-serif; font-size: 14.0pt; line-height: 107%;">In President Joe’s defense, he may just have been reminding
the Duchess that we won the Revolutionary War and was displaying our country’s
continuing dominance. Or maybe he was just showing respect by offering the
royal a blast of his trumpet. And there is a chance that the whole incident was
overblown because Camilla, a royal, has not been exposed to any farts because
reportedly, the royal family is so pristine that they never fart. </span></p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjV4Mo7XolRt4drFcBZdQropAvbKV5B-u41128nH9HAsVcl1_JsNYGo2JoKnpykj-yzSRaa_m_kcm61sRQlW4q5qU4N3LGM_EgHM8ik4WWW9L1Mab7tVb_ouRATDAiHfxiOfTI7J478h88/s522/camilla.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; float: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="522" data-original-width="458" height="224" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjV4Mo7XolRt4drFcBZdQropAvbKV5B-u41128nH9HAsVcl1_JsNYGo2JoKnpykj-yzSRaa_m_kcm61sRQlW4q5qU4N3LGM_EgHM8ik4WWW9L1Mab7tVb_ouRATDAiHfxiOfTI7J478h88/w197-h224/camilla.jpg" width="197" /></a></div><br /><o:p></o:p><p></p>
<p class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-family: "Arial",sans-serif; font-size: 14.0pt; line-height: 107%;">On the other hand, there are rumors that Joe’s Secret
Service code name is “Fart Face”. And it seems that the agents at his rear, stand
a full three feet further back, four if downwind, than they did with previous
presidents.<o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-family: "Arial",sans-serif; font-size: 14.0pt; line-height: 107%;">Regardless, this is not a good look for our leader. You are
at a world climate conference, and you decide to emit a greenhouse gas into the
environment, the local environment. The people there are all concerned about
cow farts, and you fart like a cow. <o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-family: "Arial",sans-serif; font-size: 14.0pt; line-height: 107%;">Furthermore, President Joe has worked to restrict gas
production in this country, yet he has no problem cutting the cheese himself. Joe
has closed some pipelines, but his pipeline remains fully functional, and
active.<o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-family: "Arial",sans-serif; font-size: 14.0pt; line-height: 107%;">Some people have criticized President Joe for being unable
to control inflation, the border, COVID, etc. And now we learn he can’t control
his sphincter either.<o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-family: "Arial",sans-serif; font-size: 14.0pt; line-height: 107%;">President Joe’s biggest mistake was letting loose in front
of a woman, a woman who just can’t deal with farts. If he had emitted when he
was talking with a guy, any guy from any country, the universal guy response
would have been to crack a goofy grin, and laugh extensively like Beavis and
Butthead. Yes ladies, that is what we males do in that situation. We don’t go
on talking about it so that it makes the news. <o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-family: "Arial",sans-serif; font-size: 14.0pt; line-height: 107%;">We Americans may be embarrassed about it, but we have no
recourse. We elected an old man as president, and now we must endure old man
problems, as unpleasant as they may be. Camilla is the Duchess of Cornwall and
now she has been exposed to our version of the Great Cornholio.<o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-family: "Arial",sans-serif; font-size: 14.0pt; line-height: 107%;">But Joe, c’mon man! Next time you are with Camilla Parker
Bowles -- Joey Park-Yer Bowels!<o:p></o:p></span></p>Don Akehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/06268533664760244722noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4563305759142927554.post-12230768073947069492021-10-05T16:50:00.001-07:002021-10-05T16:50:52.994-07:00Robbing For Dollars<p><span style="font-family: Arial, sans-serif; font-size: 14pt;">Recently residents were all up in arms when a Dollar Store
(I will use this term to describe all stores with “Dollar” in their name)
wanted to open in their small, quaint, rural township. Their concerns included:
a loss of green space, an increase in traffic, big trucks delivering fresh
produce, and the potential for more crime.</span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-family: "Arial",sans-serif; font-size: 14.0pt; line-height: 107%;">Now I don’t know the situation, but these concerns sound a
bit contrived. This community is basically all green space. There is green
space everywhere. So, yes, you would have less green space, but you have plenty
to spare. There would be marginally more traffic. Most likely, people would
stop at the store on their way to somewhere else. It is unlikely that people
would converge upon the store in droves since Dollar Stores don’t have sales;
that’s the point of having low prices all the time. And oh, the horror of
having fresh produce readily available in your town! Yeah, and refrigerated
trucks come in all sizes now.<o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-family: "Arial",sans-serif; font-size: 14.0pt; line-height: 107%;">But the most ridiculous argument is “potential for
increased crime”. Now, it is true that Dollar Stores are popular targets for
robbers in urban areas. But I doubt that hooligans from the city will drive by
the ten dollar stores closest to them to rob this store. And it is doubtful
that having a dollar store in town will turn young Timmy into a criminal.<o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal"><i><span style="font-family: "Arial",sans-serif; font-size: 14.0pt; line-height: 107%;">“I had heard about people robbing Dollar
Stores. Then one opened up in our village across from my house. It was so
tempting that I just had to rob it. I had to!”<o:p></o:p></span></i></p>
<p class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-family: "Arial",sans-serif; font-size: 14.0pt; line-height: 107%;">Now it’s well known that Dollar Stores get robbed a lot,
and we chuckle when we hear this news because we think it’s stupid to steal
from a place that sells stuff for just a dollar, or in some cases, a few
dollars. How much money could you steal? But upon further examination, it makes
sense. Just as Willie Sutton robbed banks “Because that’s where the money is”
--. thieves hit the dollar store <i>because that’s where the dollars are</i>.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>In the days of debit cards and phone pay,
Dollar Stores and convenience stores are the typical places where many people
still pay in cash. I mean, the place is called the Dollar Store. If you’re
looking for dollars, it’s the place to rob. </span></p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgKkcxjF_pG0moISHVYRhkGGlRWFCbd4CIi4Zl38RbBGe_h-pAW1of-bC6Y3HGWM0gkKfzBOqM2RiZi7PCYO6SfxU7q0CwHkqf6-kWGczTCM_H5bfbxlNxJn9x0QUVSMt7xFz4VzY-dlS0/s1600/Dollar-Stores.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; float: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1066" data-original-width="1600" height="181" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgKkcxjF_pG0moISHVYRhkGGlRWFCbd4CIi4Zl38RbBGe_h-pAW1of-bC6Y3HGWM0gkKfzBOqM2RiZi7PCYO6SfxU7q0CwHkqf6-kWGczTCM_H5bfbxlNxJn9x0QUVSMt7xFz4VzY-dlS0/w272-h181/Dollar-Stores.jpg" width="272" /></a></div><br /><o:p></o:p><p></p>
<p class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-family: "Arial",sans-serif; font-size: 14.0pt; line-height: 107%;">Still, if would significantly improve things if schools
taught a class in real-life skills. It could include a section on “Why Robbing
the Dollar Store is a Dumb Idea”. Other subjects could consist of “Obeying the Police
After Getting Arrested”, “Why Opiates are Bad For You” and “How Many Baby-Mommas/Baby-Daddies
are Too Many?”. <o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-family: "Arial",sans-serif; font-size: 14.0pt; line-height: 107%;">But the robbers are not the only dimwits in this story.
What about the corporations who own the stores? These places have been getting
robbed forever, yet the suits have not instituted enough security measures to
deter the thefts. It puts their employees at risk and corrupts innocent youths
like young Timmy into a life of crime. Personally, I would have put massive
casings over the security cameras to make them look like 1950s television
cameras so that the densest robber would know he’s on camera. And there must be
a way to manage the cash so only a small amount is available for
pilferage.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span><o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-family: "Arial",sans-serif; font-size: 14.0pt; line-height: 107%;">Your stores are just sitting there saying, “we gots lots of
dollars, please rob us!” Maybe, they have made great strides in security. I
don’t notice the security features when I’m shopping in a Dollar Store because
I’m not planning on robbing the place. And friends, when you shop there, please
use your debit card. You will be doing your part to reduce theft or at least
reduce the robbers’ take.<o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-family: "Arial",sans-serif; font-size: 14.0pt; line-height: 107%;">The Dollar Store needs to increase security because they
will soon be taking in way more dollars. Because of rising costs, one Dollar
Store that sold only items costing $1 is raising prices on some things from
$1.25 to $1.50. A $1.50! A $1.50! <o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-family: "Arial",sans-serif; font-size: 14.0pt; line-height: 107%;">Question: How do you know inflation is too high?<o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-family: "Arial",sans-serif; font-size: 14.0pt; line-height: 107%;">Answer: When things at the Dollar Store cost $1.50<o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-family: "Arial",sans-serif; font-size: 14.0pt; line-height: 107%;">I doubt if this particular Dollar Store will change the
store sign to “Dollar-Fifty Cent Store” Maybe they could ease the pain by
hiring the rapper “50 Cent” as a spokesperson. Hey, we’re adding 50 Cent to our
Dollar Store”. <o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-family: "Arial",sans-serif; font-size: 14.0pt; line-height: 107%;">But alas, the village does not have to worry about the
blight of having one of those awful Dollar Stores in their community since
under pressure, the trustees rejected a zoning request needed for construction.<o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-family: "Arial",sans-serif; font-size: 14.0pt; line-height: 107%;">Hurray! Now you can enjoy all that extra green space,
traffic keeps flowing smoothly, and you can continue to munch on moldy carrots
and brown lettuce.<o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-family: "Arial",sans-serif; font-size: 14.0pt; line-height: 107%;">And the community can rest easy now because a new crime
wave is not imminent. Of course, the last armed robbery in the village involved
a Colt 45 and a horse.<o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-family: "Arial",sans-serif; font-size: 14.0pt; line-height: 107%;"><o:p> </o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-family: "Arial",sans-serif; font-size: 14.0pt; line-height: 107%;"><o:p> </o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-family: "Arial",sans-serif; font-size: 14.0pt; line-height: 107%;"><o:p> </o:p></span></p>Don Akehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/06268533664760244722noreply@blogger.com1