I’m So Not Jealous of Taylor Swift’s New Beau

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.

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.  

Why The Relationship Is Such A Big Deal

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 ‘students’. 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!)

An Interesting Story about the Taylor Swift Blog Post

Shortly after my post in May 2013, "I Dated Tyler Swift and She Wrote A Song About Me", 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.

Does Travis Kelce Play Better With Taylor at the Stadium?

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.

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.

My Catch For My Catch

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.

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.

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.

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.

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.

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.

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?”

What Happens Next?

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.

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.

And when this does end, I just want to say, “Taylor, I’m still here for you. I’m still here, Honey.

 

The Last Big Diet, Part 2 - Hot Blonde Motivation

 Because the first post about ‘My Last Big Diet’ generated so many questions, Ferd DeBerg from TMZZ interviewed me: 

Ferd: Don, our investigation has revealed that you have hired someone to help you lose weight. Do you confirm or deny? 

Me: Investigation? Well, yes, I am using a nutritionist, and she has been great. 

Ferd: A nutritionist? You? You expect us to believe you are taking advice from someone about your food! That’s almost laughable. 

Me: Babette is a professional, and she has been very beneficial. 

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? 

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?

Ferd: A professional, young, hot blonde? I see. 

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? 

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? 

Me: Well, yes, that smoothie was delicious. It contained some goji, mango, and chia seeds – and it was all organic! 

Ferd: No, I was talking about that tasty, young, hot blonde who you seem to go-ji places with. 

Me: Like I said, Babette is not a young, hot blonde. She happens to be in her 50s. 

Ferd: So, she is a hot, older blonde? 

Me: Okay, so she’s a smokin’ hot blonde. Many nutritionists are in great shape due to their profession. 

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? 

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! 

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!” 

Ferd: So, her blonde hotness has no impact whatsoever on your professional relationship? 

Me: No, I never said that. Having a hot, blonde nutritionist does help me lose weight. 

Ferd: How so?!! 

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. 

Ferd: That’s ridiculous! How does that work? 

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. 

Ferd: Your man-brain is that stupid? 

Me: All man-brains are that stupid. That’s what causes all men to think like idiots most of the time. 

Ferd: And this Hot Blonde Motivation helps you lose weight? 

Me: Sure it does!  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!" 

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. 

Ferd: Well then, what would motivate you to lose the most weight? 

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.

Ferd: Yeah, like that is going to happen! 

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. 

Ferd: Working out, yes, I almost forgot. There is still another rumor that you are considering hiring a personal trainer. 

Me: Yes, my friend Candy does that, and we have been discussing it. 

Ferd: She’s a young, hot blonde, isn’t she? I bet she is. 

Me: Look at the time! I gotta run. 

Take It Off 

Got so much on my plate

I’m snacking way too late

That’s what people claim

That’s what people claim

 

I eat too many scones

Got issues with big bones

 At least that’s what people claim

That’s what people claim

 

But I keep losin’

Lean foods I am choosin’

It’s like I got this message

In my head sayin’, You’re going to be so light

 

Cause the eaters gonna eat, eat, eat, eat, eat

And milk-shakers gonna shake, shake, shake, shake, shake

Baby, I’m just gonna take, take, take, take, take

Take it off, take it off

 

Snack-breakers gonna break, break, break, break, break

And the bakers gonna bake, bake, bake, bake, bake

Baby, I’m just gonna take, take, take, take, take

Take it off, take it off

 

…. But I will not be taking off that European man-thong in the video!

 

The Last Big Diet – Part 1

I recently embarked on what I refer to as ‘My Last Big Diet’. 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. 

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. 

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."

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.

The Last Big Diet

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.

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.   

But I Couldn’t Resist This One

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".

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.

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.

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.

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.

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.

 

 

Not a French Kiss - Just A Friendly Spanish One

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.

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.

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.

Here is why I believe Luis’ actions were negligible, and even understandable under the circumstances.   

1.    The Kiss Was Not Premeditated

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.) 

2.    The Kiss Was Not Sexual in Nature 

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.

3.    “Consent” is Very Nebulous for Kisses 

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. 

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.” 

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. 

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. 

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.  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. 

4.    She Ain’t That Hot 

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.

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. 

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. 

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. 

My Experience With This 

My experience in this situation is why I am defending Luis so intently …. 

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.

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. 

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!” 

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)

The Final Word 

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.

The Amish Are Hot! - Literally

It’s been a painfully slow news-summer, but I was still shocked to see this headline in my local paper*:

Amish Cope With Heat Without Air Conditioning –

My first thought is they should have added the sub-headline: As they have for almost 500 years.

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. (As, of course, they have for almost 500 years).

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.

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.”*   

But Now For The Sage Advice

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. *

The Advice:

1.    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.

2.    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.

3.    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:

 Amish Women Have Breasts – and some are even impressive 

4.    Keep a Cool Bucket of Water and Towel Handy – This type of advice is only possible from experts with college degrees.

5.    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! 

My Personal Experience

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.

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.

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!

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.

* This is actual content from the article

 

Ladies – That’s No Bonus Hole!

I never, ever thought that I would write a blog post about that private part of a woman, her, uh, that uh,  -- 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.

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.

Mass Confusion?

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.

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.

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.

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.

 

A New Modern Term

But now, in our gender-bender world, there is a new term for that thing: Bonus Hole - 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. 

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:

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.

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.

Poking a Hole in the Logic

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.

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).

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.

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?

Let’s Respect and Value the V-Word 

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.

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.

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.

Boys Just Wanna Have Fun

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.

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 bull$h!t and called it out repeatedly.

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-$h!t  strategy. I was always joking and kidding people even during serious meetings. And I called out that bull$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! 

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.

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.

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.

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.

For example:

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.

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.

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.

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.

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!

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.

I get to work when the sun is bright

The boss man says, “When you gonna start acting right?”

Oh boss man dude, I’m not the usual one

And boys, they wanna have fun

Oh boys just wanna have fun