Archive for the ‘Just Saying’ Category
I spend a lot of my time watching and listening to people. It’s my most favorite of activities to be sure. I’ve recently began to see unusual patterns occurring in others which trouble me a great deal. It seems we as a people are loosing the ability to insult others with tact or sarcasm. I know, I was as stunned as you are. What is this country coming to if we lose that important ability. That’s one of the losses we suffer from too much political correctness.
"Your mother wears combat boots." was a good way for me to get my ass kicked in grade school. It was almost as bad as "Your mother dresses you funny." or "If my dog looked like your mother, I’d shave his ass and make him walk backward." Mother insults were always a good way to insult someone and be absolutely sure to get the proper reaction.
These days you can’t even call someone a liar, you must say “he’s diligently avoiding the truth”. That’s pussy talk in my opinion. Give me the good old days when someone wasn’t "educationally challenged" he was a moron or a dumb ass. It is said that the WW II generation was the greatest and I completely agree. They knew how to deliver an good insult that was polite, sarcastic, and devastating. No pussy talk for those guys or gals. Here are some classic insults by famous people of that era. Enjoy.
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“He has all the virtues I dislike and none of the vices I admire.” – Winston Churchill
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“I have never killed a man, but I have read many obituaries with great pleasure.” – Clarence Darrow
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“I’ve had a perfectly wonderful evening. But this wasn’t it.” – Groucho Marx
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“I didn’t attend the funeral, but I sent a nice letter saying I approved of it.” – Mark Twain
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“He has no enemies, but is intensely disliked by his friends.” – Oscar Wilde
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“I am enclosing two tickets to the first night of my new play; bring a friend… if you have one.” – George Bernard Shaw to Winston Churchill
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“Cannot possibly attend first night; will attend second, if there is one.” – Winston Churchill’s response to George Bernard Shaw
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“His mother should have thrown him away and kept the stork.” – Mae West
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“Winston, if you were my husband, I would poison your coffee!” – Lady Astor to Winston Churchill
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“Madam, if I were your husband, I would drink it!” – Winston Churchill’s response to Lady Astor
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"There’s nothing wrong with you that reincarnation won’t cure." – Jack E. Leonard
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"He has Van Gogh’s ear for music." – Billy Wilder
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“Some cause happiness wherever they go; others, whenever they go.” – Oscar Wilde
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"A modest little person, with much to be modest about." – Winston Churchill
Three of my all time favorites, Mae West, Mark Twain, and Winston Churchill. They just don’t make them like that anymore and it’s a damn shame (In my humble opinion).
Before I start to write this posting I’m required to put on my cowboy hat, my boots, and my big ugly belt buckle. Don’t misunderstand me, I am not a Country & Western fan in any sense of the word. Unfortunately my born and bred Texan better-half has been a life long fan of the genre. She roams from room to room through the house every day, turning on multiple radios to blare that good old down home music every effing minute. It keeps me out of the house doing fifty percent more yard work than I would normally do. Maybe that’s her sneaky Texas way of making me work harder. If I’ve learned nothing from our years together I have learned to keep a close watch on her, Texans are sneaky!
I had a wonderful day off today because my crazy better-half and her even crazier daughter are off on another adventure. They left early today to attend the Country-fest Concert at Gillette Stadium in Foxboro, Massachusetts. I’m sure they were cheering all the way to Mass but what they didn’t know was just how loud I was cheering to see them go. An entire day without listening to music that makes me cringe. I worked in the yard for a good part of the day with my IPod blasting a wide variety of Blues, Rock, and NO C&W.
I was receiving text messages and photos for most of the day telling me just what I was missing. I was missing endless traffic, Country music fans by the thousands, and an endless number of drunken bums wearing their boots and cowboy hats. I’ll just bet that ninety percent of those crazies have never been on a ranch or had a close and personal conversation with a horse. A whole lot of wannabes trying to impress a few young ladies with their swagger and y’all’s.
I had a great day until eleven pm when I was awakened from my blissful sleep by two tipsy cowgirls making their way home from Boston. My better-half was so horse I could barely understand her and all of the laughing and screaming in the background didn’t help either. She called to let me know when she’d be arriving and that she was going to "wake my ass up" whether I liked it or not. I mildly threatened to end her life, said goodnight, and went back to sleep. She arrived home in the wee hours, fell into bed, and barely woke me at all.
Waking up this morning I opened one eye to see if she was prowling around. Next to me under a huge pile of blankets and pillows I found what was left of my better-half. She was snoring like a truck driver, smelled like beer, and was dreaming about Kenny Chesney I’ll bet. Ya, I know at least one cowboy crooner’s name. Please don’t hold that against me, my survival instinct requires I know enough Country names and trivia to keep her happy.
Yee haw y’all !
This has been one helluva week. One more fact that will help you understand what I mean by that statement is I hate doctors, hospitals, blood tests, and personal examinations. I can put up with a nurse every once in while but only as potential dating material. If past history tells me anything it’s stay away from nurses. The last nurse I dated (SLEPT WITH) had a tank of nitrous oxide next to her bed and spent every other stroke huffing on it with a face mask.
This week began with my blood tests. Normally it’s just one tube of blood used to check whatever. Because of Obamacare my doctor of ten years has given up his practice and now I’m once again "fresh meat" for the "new guy". He needs four tubes of blood so he knows where I’m coming from. That’s his statement not mine. My previous doctor had a lab as part of his practice where I could easily get blood drawn but not this "new guy". I was forced to get out of bed much earlier than I like, drive forty minutes to the hospital, to stand in line behind thirty other idiots. I felt like a freaking day laborer. A young lady called me into her room, sat me down, stuck me in the arm, sucked out the blood, and walked away shouting "Next!" at the top her lungs. Nothing like personal service.
Four days later I returned to the doctors office for my annual physical. The "new guy" arrived forty minutes late as I sat in this telephone booth sized room in my hospital gown freezing my nuts off. He looks about twenty-five years old and he’s from Peru. His accent was minimal, thank God, and I could understand almost everything he had to say. One handshake and he opens his laptop and begins to take notes. My computer file covers more than twelve years, two surgeries, and four colonoscopies but he has additional questions. I felt like I was on Jeopardy and I’m sure Alex Trebek would have been more fun.
He first tells me that prostate exams are for the most part unnecessary and then bends me over the table and shoves his ever so long latex covered finger right up my ass. No dinner, no chit chat, no wine, just "wham bang, thank you man". For such a little guy he has quite the large digits.
An hour later and we’re still doing paperwork so I can have another colonoscopy in December (MY FIRST XMAS GIFT) and an introduction to my new mandatory diet. I found out in short order that going forward I’m only permitted to eat rabbit food and drink black coffee. Read the labels he tells me, no fat, no calories, no dairy, no candy, no sugar, no soda, no flavored water, and no smoothies. The translation to that line of BS is I will never be permitted to eat anything that tastes good or even has flavor of any kind ever again.
A pat on the head, a "nice to meet ya"’ and he scampers away. A nurse hands me the date for my next appointment and I’m out the door and back on the street. That hour and a half probably will cost me upwards of $500.00 including the blood work up and a hundred of that will be out of pocket. Isn’t life just freaking wonderful?
Now I get to wait six more months for another hour of quality time with the "new guy" which will probably consist of stepping onto a scale to measure my weight loss. Really, can’t I just call it in? That would then only cost $495.00.
Shoot me now!
I was standing in a line at a nearby Subway Shop yesterday and listened to three young ladies chitchatting about this and that almost nonstop. They discussed a few friends, made a derogatory comment or two about a certain person they disliked, and then complained about starting school in a week or two. As I stood in line behind them I couldn’t help but overhear their conversation intermixed with the receiving and sending of text messages from other friends.
I had to smile thinking how different things are these days for our younger generations. The one thing that held my interest today was their use or misuse of the language. Almost every child learns early on how to have a little fun at the expense of the adults in their life. These newer generations have adopted the never-ending use of the word "Like". As I stood in that long line behind these young girls I was able to count no less than twenty-five uses of the word "Like". It actually made me grin a little.
I could make fun of them or quote some of their silly comments but that isn’t at all what I was thinking at the time. I agree that their use of the word was cute and possibly funny but it seemed to bother the older women standing to my left a great deal more than it did me. She was shuffling her feet and rolling her eyes the entire time which I’m sure was the effect they were shooting for. Growing up these days still requires those developing children to irritate the older generations just enough to show them their newly found desire for independence. It’s where they begin to carve out their own niche as soon-to-be adults and push and shove to take their place with the rest of us. They were giggling and chatting like kids do and it was fun to watch.
Every generation has certain words and phrases they over-use and I have no idea how that happens with almost every generation. When I was growing up the word "Okay" was overused constantly and later “Cool” was the word of choice. After a little research I discovered the following information on the word "Okay" since that was my generation’s word choice.
As tends to be the case with the origins of sayings or words, the starting point of OK is a matter of contention. Many explanations have been offered and here are three samples of which none are believable.
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The wood out of which British ships were built, oak, which is a durable wood gave rise to the saying that such wood was “oak-a”.
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US military records stating that there were no casualties – that is, zero killed (OK).
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The ancient Greek schooling practice of marking the letters on exceptional papers, indicating that they were ola kala (literally “it is good”).
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The most favored derivation, however, probably because it is supported by documentary evidence, is that the word OK stems from a phrase used in the 19th century. It was a fad during the 1830’s in Boston for newspapers to use comical expressions such as KY for “know yuse”, OW for “oll wright”, NS for “nuff said”, and notably, OK for “oll korrect”. OK became more popular in 1840 when the supporters of the Democratic politician, Martin Van Buren formed the OK Club. In this case, the letters stood for “Old Kinderhook” (Kinderhook, New York being Van Buren’s place of birth), and it’s thought that it was through this use of the letters that brought OK into mainstream usage.
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I’m sure that in the day I was able to make my parents cringe every time I used the term “OK” sarcastically just as “Like and Whatever” are accomplishing these days. Rule #1 for kids: As always, find an adult’s annoyance button and then push it over and over again. I wonder what the next generation will come up in a few years to irritate these three young ladies. That’s makes me grin too!
Well we returned home at 9pm last night from our day and a half road trip to Rhode Island. I was never so glad to be home. Road trips in and of themselves can be fun but only if you have enough time to stop and smell the roses. Anyone who tries to squeeze four or five days of activities into one day is out of their effing mind.
I can tell you from my experience yesterday that the last place you want to be on a hot summer Sunday in August is Newport, Rhode Island. Thousands of people jamming the streets and every business and building. You’d better not be the least bit claustrophobic because if you are you’re royally and supremely screwed.
There were so many pedestrians on the streets it was difficult to even drive a city block without issues. If you do somehow find yourself kidnaped by your spouse and her family members and taken there against your will, you have my sincerest sympathies. If you go there voluntarily then you have some issues of your own to deal with.
Make sure you have plenty of cash with you as well. Things are a little pricy and you’ll pay top price for everything. Parking fees are utterly outrageous and insulting. Restaurants will serve you huge portions of food that you’ll never be able to finish just so they have justification to jack the prices up as high as possible.
Do I sound angry? If I don’t then I’m not getting my point across. My last visit to Newport was twenty years ago and I guarantee there will never be another. The entire place offends my sensibilities and going back again is just out of the question.
There, I feel a little better after getting that off my chest. Now I can allow my life to return to what I think is normal. No more unorganized, hit or more miss, expensive, and un-fun outings. I promise!
One other thing, any members of my better-half’s family who may read this, don’t take anything I’ve written too personally. If you do, so be it.
I’ve written many a post over the years about sex, relationships, and especially women. I ‘m the same as most men, we really don’t have a complete grasp on what women want or expect before, during, and after sex. Some times we get lucky and do things just right but as a woman changes so does her desires during sex. Lick an ear lobe one day and your just so damn sexy. Wait a week, lick the same ear lobe and get a somewhat tepid response. Women?
I decided that a thorough search on the Web might help me clarify a few things if I could find a few females willing to help me. I think the following list of things women like or love might be helpful to all of you inept men out there. It reminds me an episode of Friends where Monica and Rachel attempt to educate Chandler about various female erogenous zones. It was funny and sad at the same time.
Let’s get started. For all of you women out there who feel the need to respond to these facts, please be kind and keep the profanity to a minimum.
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Stay in Shape: This becomes increasingly difficult as we age. Older men have the proverbial pot belly and it can be difficult to stop Mother Nature from intruding into your bedroom. Let change this category to Stay in the Best Shape You Can. Start doing exercises and other techniques to help you improve. She’ll be begging for much more sex once you do!
Take Your Time: More extended foreplay. Think about it, by delaying the penetration and enjoying the foreplay, she’d feel more wet and will enjoy sex a lot more.
Emotional Connection. To enjoy sex better, women need to feel connected to the man emotionally. Well, this doesn’t make one night stands less sexy but in a relationship where you’ve had sex a few times, you always need to focus on making her feel loved and emotionally connected to you.
Raise Her Self esteem. For a woman, self esteem is one of the most important things to help her feel sexy about herself when she’s in bed with a man. When you’re making love with your women, make her feel loved and comfortable, and compliment her body or any other specific regions that you find sexy. Women love a man who boosts their ego in bed.
Talking Dirty: Yes, I’ve been a dirty talker for years. It’s a type of oral sex that I found quite satisfying once I discovered that women love it too. Not every woman loves it but more do than I ever thought possible.
More Experimentation: Women crave new things more than men. Keep a drawer full of gadgets, extra batteries, and a copy of the Kama Sutra nearby. A six pack or two of various flavored lubricants won’t hurt either.
A Little Danger: Dare to take a chance or two. Sex in unusual places can be thrilling. I’ve ben known to try storerooms, closets, park benches, restroom stalls, and even cars upon occasion. Use your imagination, and you’ll be surprised at just how much risk many women are willing to take.
Satisfy her: Can you really enjoy sex if you don’t finish yourself off? Of course, you can’t. And for women, it works the same way. Don’t focus only on your own needs. Take it slow and warm her up, and don’t ejaculate until your woman has orgasmed first.
Give All of Her Your Attention: If you really want your woman to have a wild time in bed, don’t isolate yourself to just a place or two on her body. Focus on all of her, kiss her hands, lick her navel, kiss her toes, the back of her neck and everywhere else. If she moans you know you’re doing the right thing.
End It With Love: Afterplay is just as important as foreplay for a woman. Cuddle after sex and talk to each other for a few minutes. Add in a few kisses and compliments and she’ll love you for the great guy you are.
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You’ll notice I didn’t address the size and shape of male and female genitalia at all. I just didn’t see the need. Size can be important to some but in general I think it’s overrated. Big breasts, little breasts, big penis little penis . . . . So what! If you can successfully learn half of the items on the above list you’re likely to be a better lover regardless of size.
It’s time for another one of my boring journal entries. Today was the day I was to spend some real quality time with my better-half and a host of smarmy, smooth talking, used car salesmen. We spent the day driving from car dealership to car dealership, test driving, and sitting in way too many vehicles.
I’ve never been much of a car person. I never found it necessary as a young man to base my self-worth on the newness or expensiveness of a car. I’ve always had decent enough cars but never concerned myself with what others thought about the color, size, or coolness. Cars to me are just tools to be purchased, used, maintained and after a reasonable time, scrapped.
I’ve had so many different vehicles over the years I have a hard time remembering them all. So when assisting my better-half in obtaining another vehicle I’m what you might call, unemotional. Cars are either, poor, good, or very good based solely on mileage, comfort, and of course, cost. Not so for her though.
My better-half has an ability to fall into an immediate emotional relationship not just with cars but any inanimate object she comes in contact with. It drives me absolutely crazy. We first made a trip the body shop where the corpse of “her baby” was being stored. We were there to retrieve the license plates and to remove any of her remaining possessions. It was a short and silent ride to the lot and I jumped out immediately to begin the process. I began removing the plates and looking for other stuff as fast as I could. I wanted to get in, get the job done, and get out before she broke down and started crying. She did better than I expected but she was really hurting as we drove away for the final time. She actually rescued the cigarette lighter and stuffed it in her purse. Just another crazy keepsake for her Woman Cave.
Just after the accident she actually considered refusing the settlement from the insurance company, bringing the car home, and spending a great deal of money to repair it. It took me quite some time to explain that she was thinking about spending almost twice what the car was worth to repair it. Then we would have a ten year old partially rusted POS. I was on the verge of losing my freaking mind.
Thank God she finally was able to think it through and make the decision to move on with her life without “her baby”. Our day with the car dealerships was just as you would imagine, a lot of smooth talking BS mixed in with a few semi-truthful facts to help confuse the issue. We found a couple of possible candidates and hopefully within a week she’ll make her final decision. The accident was bad enough but another day of car hunting and car salesmen could persuade me to violence.
OMG
I decided to write a few things about the never ending homeless issue not just in this country but around the world. I’ll offer no personal opinions either way and let you figure it out on your own. Most of the available data on the homeless is published by organizations created just to supplying them with food and shelter. They seem a bit slanted to me but you can decide for yourselves. Let’s start with this:
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A fifth of all homeless people have committed a crime to get off the streets.
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A survey also finds that 28% of homeless women have taken an ‘unwanted sexual partner’ in order to find shelter.
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One in five of those surveyed said they had committed ‘an imprisonable offense with the express purpose of receiving a custodial sentence as a means of solving their housing problems.
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Unwanted sex has become a way out of homelessness for many. One in seven men and 28% of women had spent a night – or longer – with an unwanted sexual partner to "accommodate themselves".
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Others have ventured into prostitution, with almost a fifth of women taking up "sex work" because this offered an opportunity to spend the night off the streets.
Do you feel more like opening your heart’s and your wallets to save these poor wretches? If not keep reading.
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While it is a common belief that people who end up being homeless do so because of their lack of interest in keeping a steady job, the truth is that many homeless people were actually working at the time they lost their homes.
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A lack of affordable housing has been a primary reason for homelessness for the last two decades. This is especially true in large cities, where the cost of rent has increased to the point where people making minimum wage are no longer able to afford rent, especially if living on their own.
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There are an estimated 5 million homeless in the United States, of which about 56 percent have some sort of shelter, such as a car or the ability to pay for a motel room, at least part of the time. Of the total number of homeless, 66 percent are single white males. Women, families and teenagers follow close behind. There is an equal number of whites and African American homeless but only a small percentage of Hispanics (11 percent) and Native Americans (8 percent) without a roof over their heads.
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A high percentage (up to 25 percent) of people living on the streets suffer from some type of mental illness, with bipolar disorder and schizophrenia being the most common. Public-funded health benefits designed to help those with mental illness are in short supply, and many people who are not deemed a danger to others are left on the streets because there is no enough space for them in state clinics.
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One common myth regarding homeless people is that they have been living in the streets forever. The truth is that a large percentage of homeless people are without a roof only temporarily.
I can only ask the questions I want answers to. Who was responsible for the closing of mental facilities across the country? Who decided to dump thousands of mentally ill people onto the streets? Who is responsible for the continuing lobbying in Washington for tax money that is to be used to help them? How much of each dollar of that tax money actually trickles it’s way down to the homeless. It can’t be much since they all seem to be panhandling with a vengeance.
My last little tidbit is the story about one Gary Thompson. Read it and weep. I’m not sure who is more stupid, Thompson or the morons who are slowly making him a millionaire.
He’s in a wheelchair, and gets his money by making you feel sorry for him. Gary Thompson, says he rakes in 60,000 to 100,000 dollars a year begging. He is in a wheelchair, because he has difficulty walking, but his speech isn’t slurred and his arms are fully functioning. Thompson is not the man he makes himself out to be.
"I appreciate you guys busting me," Thompson says as he laughs. "Yeah, I’m really good at it, really good. I clear about 100,000 dollars a year doing this." Thompson goes on to tell us, "I am normal, it just helps to be mentally handicapped." Thompson is banking on the fact you’ll feel sorry for him, enough to give him your hard-earned money.
Thompson has now been exposed, but he doesn’t seem worried, or remorseful. He was caught him on camera trying his act again, after he was arrested, right outside police headquarters. It doesn’t look like he’s going to stop this anytime soon: "Hey I love y’all!" Thompson says, looking right into the camera. "Keep paying me! I’ll see you on the street!"
On another note, Thompson used to be a millionaire. His mother sued Honda in 1993 after he was injured in a motorcycle accident. He got 2.4 million dollars, money he says he blew.
Remember all this information and also remember my cynical position the next time your approached and guilted or intimidated into giving them your money.
Political correctness (adjectivally, politically correct; both forms commonly abbreviated to PC) is a term which denotes language and ideas, policies, and behavior seen as seeking to minimize social and institutional offense in occupational, gender, racial, cultural, sexual orientation, disability, and age-related contexts. In current usage, the term is primarily pejorative. Pejoratives are words or grammatical forms which denote a negative effect; that is, they express the contempt or distaste of the speaker.
I’ve stated for years that political correctness was a real and present danger to the welfare of this country. I guess I was somewhat mistaken because since the rise of Obama and his minions to power it has progressively gotten worse. You may or may not be a fan of this president but either way you can’t argue with my last statement. I even read recently that polls show that race relations have been seriously eroded as well.
It’s always good to get a second or third opinion of political correctness to verify my own findings and opinions. The above definition was obtained from an encyclopedia and is very formal and vanilla. My definition is a bit more hostile and more detailed.
Political correctness has been the ongoing downfall of our society for more than thirty years. It all started in the counter culture of the sixties and the “free love” generation. Be kind, be nice, never say anything that will upset anyone, smoke a little dope, and move on down the road. It has finally returned to bite us in the ass with all of the bleeding hearts denying law enforcement the right to profile after the attacks of 9/11.
Do you find it preferable for TSA to man-handle, search, pat down, and feel up totally innocent citizens at every airport in the country. I find it disheartening how all of us just go along. Pat down the old lady with the walker, she must be a Muslim terrorist. Dump that old man out of that wheelchair and pat his ass down, he may have a nuke hidden in his Depends.
Enough time has now passed to allow the extremists to have infiltrated the country and to begin recruitment at their local mosques of some of our blue eyed and blond haired morons to take up their fight.
It seems the only way to short-circuit political correctness in this country is to suffer such a massive disaster that the public anger will override political correctness once and for all. Just let someone set off a dirty bomb or a small nuke in one of our cities. Political correctness has become such a part of our way of thinking it should only take two or three months for our people to forgive those poor misunderstood terrorists.
On top of that we’ve permitted a new organization to be formed that has become more dangerous than some of the terrorists. HOMELAND SECURITY! The name itself reeks of George Orwell’s 1984. Land of the free? I’m not so sure anymore.
Today turned into a real adventure quite by accident. The sun was shining and I had no plans of any kind for a change. My only chore was to deliver my better-half to work and to pick her up later in the afternoon. I suppose I could have just worked around the house or even cut the grass but I wanted something a little more interesting.
I purchased a new Nikon SLR two weeks ago and I really needed to spend a little time learning how to use it. I packed up my camera and the rest of my equipment and made my way to the marshland located along the coast. I arrived there in short order and made my preparations to enter the swamp. I was there primarily to photograph dragonflies but I had a small problem. If I doused myself in Off then the dragonflies were sure not to come near me but if I didn’t use the Off I was sure to be eaten alive by thousands of mosquitos. I used a moderate amount of the spray, picked up my camera and monopod and trekked into the swamps.
Photographing insects requires the use of a macro lens that then requires the use of a monopod to steady the camera to get that perfectly clear shot. I have to say it sounds much easier than it actually is. I sat crouched in that damn swamp for two hours because I’ve been told that patience is always necessary for any photographer. It was close to eighty-five degrees with no breeze of any kind. I began to sweat like I’d just run the Boston marathon. Unfortunately bugs just love sweaty humans to buzz around and bother and then to sting when they’re swatted away. It became quite difficult to sit quietly while surrounded by a few hundred of my newest friends. Photography Tip #1: Use as much bug spray as you can. Take a damn bath in it if you must.
I managed between bites to take a number of shots but even the dragonflies were being difficult. Due to my constant swatting of bugs I was apparently scaring them off as well. Everything was just freaking perfect. Oh yeah, did I mention there are also snakes in that swamp. As I squatted there I must have seen six or seven slithering in the waters around me. Photography Tip #2: Never wear sneakers when working in a swamp, it bothers the snakes.
I lasted as long as I could and actually was able to take a few dozen pictures and a few of them appear to be pretty good. I’m really happy with the new camera and I’m sure we’ll have a long and happy relationship together. It felt good to get out in the wild for a bit but it will probably take a few days for all of these bug bites to heal. I can’t wait to get these photo’s onto my computer later so I can really see if there as good as I think they are.
All in all it was a fun day and I look forward to many more just like it before the snow flies. The downside to any really good day is returning to reality which always kind of sucks. I’ll pick up my better-half in a few minutes and then head home for dinner and a quiet night.
everyuselessthing.com 