Being something of an internet rat I’ve been watching a host of websites recently. The ones I’d like to discuss today are the endless groups of young and attractive millennial women who spend most of their time whining about men. They claim men are no longer interested in marrying them which is sad but once you hear what they have to say you’ll have the answer as to why. They want a tall, handsome man who earns at least a $100,000.00 a year, has a nice car, and who will spend his entire existence kissing their asses. When asked what they bring to the table the most frequent answer is “he’s getting me”. They offer nothing that would convince any man to put his entire life at risk. Since statistics reveal that most marriage breakups are initiated by the women, I say “why are they so surprised?” These women have had at least three generations of feminists telling them that men are worthless and untrustworthy. It seems they’re looking for a free ride and offer very little in return. As everyone knows, a pretty face and nice body will only get you so far. With all of that being said, here are a number of quotes from a few feminists who spewed their propaganda for decades and now these millennial women are paying the price.
“Women are oppressed as women, Blacks as Blacks, Jews as Jews. But men are never oppressed.” Marilyn Frye
Man inflicts injury upon woman, unspeakable injury in placing her intellectual and moral nature in the background, and woman injures herself by submitting to be regarded only as a female.” Abby H. Price
“I require only three things of a man. He must be handsome, ruthless, and stupid” Dorothy Parker
“Sometimes I think if there was a third sex men wouldn’t get so much as a glance from me.” Amanda Vail
“Some of us are becoming the men we wanted to marry” Gloria Steinem
“When he is late for dinner, and I know he must be either having an affair or lying dead in the street. I always hope he’s dead.” Judith Viorst
There is, of course, no reason for the existence of the male sex except that one sometimes needs help moving the piano. Rebecca West”
“Most women set out to try and change a man, and when they have changed him, they do not like him.” Marlene Dietrich
“Men are monopolists of “stars, garters, buttons and other shining baubles” – unfit to be the guardians of another person’s happiness.” Maryanne Moore
“All men are rapists and that’s all they are. They rape us with their eyes, their laws, and their codes.” Marilyn French
Now that the new year has begun and the obligatory resolutions have been posted, I thought it would be nice to return to one of the mainstays of this blog, LIMERICKS! I have a large and varied collection but today I’ll be reaching way back to 1979 for some inspiration. I hope you enjoy them.
Well, it’s 2025 and I’m off to a good start. I’ve completed my New Year’s resolutions and thrown a little poetry your way. Not too bad for the first week of a new year. Since it’s freezing cold here in Maine and I’m stuck in the house and becoming a little disgruntled with this winter weather, I thought some morbid historical celebrity trivia was needed. Here ‘s the quiz . . .
What colonial patriot, author and inventor is buried at Christ Church in Philadelphia? Ben Franklin
What twentieth century president was born, raised, and buried in Hyde Park, NY? FDR
What famous pioneer and scout has his home and grave located in Taos, New Mexico? Christopher “Kit” Carson
What much loved western comedian’s home, birthplace, and grave can be visited in Claremore, Oklahoma? Will Rogers
Samuel Wilson’s grave is in Troy, NY. What U.S. symbol was he the original of? Uncle Sam
What is unusual about the large bust of Abraham Lincoln located near his grave? His bronze nose is very shiny because so many visitors rub it for luck.
What nickname for an Iowan resident honors the Sauk Indian chief Black Hawk? Hawkeye
What notable achievement of Thomas Jefferson’s life did he not mention when he created his own tombstone? President of the United States
Who is buried in Grants Tomb in Manhattan? Mrs. U.S. Grant and her husband.
I was really disappointed with my terrible showing on the 2024 New Years resolutions. Barring any unforeseen catastrophes I hope to do much better in 2025. I admit that my bout of laziness during those warm summer months didn’t help. I just had too many distractions!
*** HERE THEY ARE FOR 2025***
Read at least 100 books by years end(more if possible).
Complete at least four illustrations for use as gifts for next Christmas.
Complete one sculpture using a technique I haven’t used before.
Show more patience to my better-half’s retirement adjustments.
Attempt to write some serious poetry that’s worth reading.
Continued monitoring of the grandsons for new and exciting cuss words. (Minimum of 1)
Continue to ignore all of the weird and bizzare health tips from the Internet. (This one is too easy.)
I plan on being more serious about completing the resolutions this year. I’ve always set goals for myself for most of my life with a great deal of success. This will be a lot more fun because the only person looking over my shoulder these days will be ME!
There are times that self-reflection can be a dangerous and disappointing endeavor. As you get older you will tend to spend a great deal of time reviewing your life. If you’re a truthful person (at least to yourself) you may discover a number of things that aren’t all that wonderful. I thought for most of my life that I was quite the romantic. I was never going to be a Don Juan, but I thought I was able to hold my own in that department. I’ve finally came to the realization that I may have been mistaken. After all my years of reading, writing, and talking with thousands of people, it finally became clear that I was somewhat lacking in that area. Today’s post is a short collection of poetry by some well-known people whose romantic writings put mine to shame.
By Franz Kafka, “From A Letter to Milena Jesenska”
I am just walking around here between
the line (of my letter), under the light
of your eyes, in the breath of your
mouth as in a beautiful happy day.
❤️❤️❤️
By Lorrie Moore, 1957
Need: Something to lift you from your boots
out into the sky, something to make you like
little things again, to whirl around the
curves of your ears and muss up your hair
and call you every day.
❤️❤️❤️
By Elizabeth Jennings, 1916, from “Absence”.
It was because the place was just the same
that made your absence seem a savage force.
For under all the gentleness there came
an earthquake tremor: fountains, birds
and grass were shaken by my thinking
of your name.
❤️❤️❤️
By Ralph Waldo Emerson, from “Thine Eyes Still Shined.”
I’m a lover of all things historical. I’m always on the lookout for books and reference material concerning not just the history of the United States, but of the world. Like it or not the history of the world in its entirety is much worse than this country ever has been. Here are a few examples of that history.
The Olympic Games of 1916, scheduled to be held in Berlin, were cancelled due to “global unpleasantness.” Thats just another world for WWI.
The medical officer at the Birmingham prison in 1918 recommended that any condemned men be supplied with at least a dozen cigarettes a day.
In 1920, King Alexander of Greece, uncle of the Duke of Edinburgh, died after being bitten by a pet monkey.
In 1921 in Russia, while reporting on the famine, Arthur Ransome found an old woman so desperate for food she was reduced to cooking horse dung in a broken saucepan.
In 1923, Coco Chanel set the trend for tanning when, on a Mediterranean cruise, she inadvertently allowed herself to go brown in the sun. The fashion world immediately assumed it was the chic thing to do.
In 1927 during a London run at the Little Theatre, an adaption of Dracula, caused 29 people to faint requiring a nurse to be on hand at all showings.
In 1936 during his brief period as king, Edward VIII once avoided an awkward interview by jumping out a window in Buckingham Palace and running away to hide in the garden.
In 1938 having just returned from Munich and bringing “peace for our time”, Prime Minister Neville Chamberlain requested an update on the long-tailed tits nesting in the Treasury building.
Well, it’s New Years Eve once again. This was a fun holiday when I was in my teens and twenties but these days not so much. I never really understood what the big deal was and still don’t. It’s just a day and night made for drinking, carousing, and avoiding sobriety check points. I hope none of you become victims of that stupidity and cause an accident that may harm yourself and others by drinking and driving. In my years as a police officer, I made a point of not working on this holiday. I took the day off and then occasionally drank too much, caroused too much, and got really stupid. I managed to survive but only just.
This year I’m housebound and safe from the fits of holiday stupidity. Please be safe . . . and not too stupid. I wouldn’t want to be reading about any of you on “the day after”. Let me bring a few smiles to your lips before you decide to begin your celebration by taking a little trip to the 1980’s for some occasionally rude and hilarious humor.
If the shrimps come in on a shrimp boat, how do the crabs come in? On the captain’s dinghy.
Why did Miss Piggy miss her last concert? She had a frog in her throat.
What happens when you moon in bumper-to-bumper traffic? You wind up with your ass in a jam.
What’s the difference between a counterfeit dollar bill and a skinny girl? The counterfeit bill is a phony buck.
What’s the definition of a real lady? Someone who doesn’t smoke, doesn’t drink, and only curses if it slips out.
Why did they name the new feminine hygiene spray SSY? Because it takes the PU out of pussy.
What happens when a guaranteed condom breaks? The guarantee runs out.
What’s 138? Dinner for four.
When do you know you’ve had the world’s best head? You have to pull the sheet out of your ass.
What’s the difference between frustration and panic? Frustration is the first time you find out you can’t do it the second time, and panic is the second time you found out you couldn’t do it the first time.
Don’t get me wrong, I don’t really dislike Christmas, but I certainly dislike the never-ending and relentless commercialization of what is supposed to be a religious celebration. I have to credit Amazon for doubling down on the holidays like never before because they’ve made it entirely too easy for people to overspend which in turn requires me to discipline myself like never before. Just too many gadgets, too many commercials and an endless supply of scammers who may be the hardest workers of all during the holidays. For every email I get from friends and family members, I get 100 from scammers and spammers. I’ve slowly been turned into a paranoid person like never before. It feels good to have the holiday over so I can get back to what I call normal (and I use that term loosely).
The post today will be taking a sharp left turn from the holidays to celebrate three things I love: poetry, young children, and Winter. Here are a few samples of great poetry by a few up-and-coming young poets.
The following story took place in Korea in 1967. It was my first Christmas without family and friends, and I really felt that loss. Here’s my story of how a few Korean friends helped make that Christmas one to remember . . .
I’ve talked a great deal over the years about my experiences while serving in the Army. As with any young man or woman serving outside of this country, being away from home and family during the Christmas season for the first time is difficult. In my case I was not only away from family, but I was also in a non-Christian country that seemed to be more than a little primitive to me.
Their religion was primarily Buddhist, and the Christmas holiday meant very little to them. They at times pretended to understand but that was motivated entirely by their desire to make money from visiting Americans.
At the time I was stationed in an area that was primarily populated by rice farmers living in small villages that dotted the northern countryside. There were no paved roads and most villages only had electric power for a few hours a day. For those of us from the United States it was like traveling back in time a hundred years.
I was living almost full time in a local village and actually had my laundry taken by a local woman to a nearby river where it was beaten on the rocks with wooden paddles and soap. That certainly took some getting used to for me. My Korean friends seemed totally befuddled by the entire Christmas holiday bro-ha-ha and sat politely and silently as I tried to explain it to them. They were interested in my stories of Christ and the Magi, but the virgin birth story had them all giggling a little.
Regardless I was determined to have a Christmas celebration so I asked a few of my them for their help in putting up a Christmas tree. They agreed to help but weren’t exactly sure what I was up to. As that project was progressing I had a little old mama-san ask me through an interpreter why would any sane person put a tree inside their home. I was hard pressed to answer her because I didn’t know the reason either. They continued to humor me as I explained other peculiarities that they couldn’t quite grasp.
A week or so later with two Korean friends I hiked up a nearby mountain near a small Buddhist temple to find a tree. We ended up dragging back the sorriest looking bush you could ever imagine, set it up in my hooch, and started to decorate it as best we could. There was a hand-made star on top of the tree (my doing) and a number of pieces of charcoal tied to the branches with twine (their doing). I never had that fully explained to me, but it was what they wanted to do. It had something to do with good luck or good pregnancy or something. Since we had no electricity, they suggested placing candles in and around the tree, but I nixed that idea immediately. The last thing I needed was to burn down my hooch and a portion of the village when my little, dry, and nasty looking tree, burst into flames.
I had some GI decorations I made from C-rations that looked stupid as hell, but the villagers loved it. Later we ate most of the decorations and drank a bottle of really cheap brandy that I’d brought along for the occasion. I presented them each with a small gift of candy and got a little kiss on the cheek from everyone.
It wasn’t pretty and it wasn’t sophisticated, but it was heartfelt. Looking back over the years it remains one of the best Christmases I’ve ever had. It also helped endear me to the villagers and them to me. The following Christmas they even arrived with a strange collection of ornaments for my tree and couldn’t wait to once again hear my holiday stories.
I’ve been a homebrewer for more than thirty years. I’ve made thousands of bottles of wine over the years because I’m just not a big fan of beer. My few attempts at making beer were miserable failures or that’s what I’ve been told by the “Beer” people. It was a fun hobby and mostly kept me at home and out of trouble for years. When I notice something related to home brewing, I always save it for later use. This post has been in my files for a lot of years, and I can’t even remember where it came from, so I dusted it off, and here it is. Maybe next Christmas it might motivate some of you “Beer” people give it a try.
“TWAS THE HOMEBREWER’S NIGHT BEFORE CHRISTMAS”
Twas the night before Christmas, and all through the house, Every creature was thirsty, including the mouse… The steins were empty, and the bottles were too The beer had been drunk with no time to brew.
My family was nestled all snug in their beds While visions of Christmas Ale foamed in their heads. Mama in her kerchief lamented the drought, She craved a pilsner and I, a large stout.
When out on the lawn, there arose such a clatter, I sprang from my chair to see what was the matter. Away to the kitchen, I flew like a flash, Opening the door with a loud bang and crash!
I threw on the switch and the lights, all aglow, Gave a luster of mid-day to the brew-pot below. When, what to my wondering eyes should appear But Gambrinus himself, the patron of beer.
With a look in his eye, so lively and quick, He said, “You want beer? Well, here, take your pick.” More rapid than eagles, his recipes came As he whistled and shouted and called them by name.
“Now, Pilsener! Now, Porter! Now, Stout and Now Maerzen! On, Bitter! On, Lager! On, Bock and On Weizen!” “To the top of the bottles, the short and the tall, Now brew away, brew away, and fill them all!”
As dried hops before a wild hurricane fly, And then, without warning, settle down with a sigh, So towards the brew-pot, the ingredients flew, Malt extract, roasted barley and crystal malt, too.
And then in a twinkling, I heard it quite plain, The cracking open of each barley grain. As I drew in my head and was turning around, Into the kitchen, he came with a bound.
He was dressed like a knight, from his head to his toes, With an old family crest adorning his clothes. A bundle of hops, he had flung on his back, And the brewing began when he opened his pack.
His hops were so fragrant! His barley, how sweet! The adjuncts included Munich malt and some wheat. The malted barley was mashed in the tun, Then boiled with hops in the brew-pot ’till done.
Excitement had me gnashing my teeth, As the sweet smell encircled my head like a wreath. Beer yeast was pitched, both lager and ale, The wort quickly fermented; not once did it fail.
It was then krausened, or with sugar primed, And just being bottled when midnight had chimed. A wink of his eye and a twist of his head, Soon gave me to know, I’d be shortly in bed.
He spoke not a word but kept on with his work, And capped all the bottles, then turned with a jerk. And laying a finger alongside his nose, He belched (quite a burp!) before he arose.
Clean-up was easy, with only a whistle, And away the mess flew, like the down on a thistle. And I heard him exclaim, ‘ere he left me the beer, “Merry Christmas to all and a HOPPY New Year!”
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