I’m not sure how everyone else was raised to celebrate Christmas but for me it entailed much more religion than anything else. My late Mother was Catholic through-and-through which translated into sending religious Christmas cards, attending midnight masses, and donating time to local organizations involved with decorating town areas. Being a kid, I was unceremoniously volunteered to help with almost everything she did whether I liked it or not.
As we age things tend to change a little and my approach to Christmas certainly did. I was never all that interested in the religious portion of Christmas, but I went begrudgingly along just to please my mom until I reached the ripe old age of 13. Then I became what some people might call, difficult. I must have been way ahead of my time if what I’ve learned in recent years is any indication.
A few years ago, my three-year-old grandson came to make his annual Christmas visit. It was the first time he’d actually seen our decorated tree and all the trimmings. We’d been very busy wrapping gifts and there was a pile of them under the tree. I was sitting on the floor next to him when he quietly whispered to me “Are those our prizes?” I told him they were presents for everyone brought here a little early by a busy Santa. He gave me a long sideways glance while he thought about what I’d said. He must have decided Santa was still a real possibility, so the conversation turned right back around to the presents under the tree. I was again corrected by the little guy with “Grandpa those are prizes not presents” and “can we open just one.” I told him they couldn’t be opened until Christmas day but he insisted one of them had to be for him so we should open that one right now. Being chastised by a three-year-old takes some getting used to but I persevered and again refused his request.
Gifts and Presents are Really Prizes
My first thought was who put the word “prize” into his head. Neither my better-half nor I would do it and I’m certain his parents wouldn’t do it either. That leaves just his friends at the daycare center that he attends almost every day. That small herd of little people who have nothing better to do all day than to play, fight, wrestle, nap, and tell each other the facts of life as translated from what they’ve heard at home. Somewhere along the way someone slipped in the word “prizes”, and it seems to have stuck.
There was no mention of Jesus, his birthday, the Magi, church or religion. It’s taken less than two generations to wean the kids from religion at Christmas to a more secular and materialistic outlook. I suppose in another few years we’ll be calling Christmas “Prize Day”. If you’re a good little boy/girl, you win a prize but if you’re a bad little girl/boy you’ll get one anyway. We wouldn’t want you to feel like a loser.
Having Christmas as a religious holiday gave me a fun and interesting childhood. It’s sad to see society steal away some of the youngster’s fantasies at such a young age. I’m not religious now but the memories I have of my family when I was young still make me happy. Christmas is a holiday for the little children and not so much for the adults. It took me a number of years before I made the decision for myself that Christmas wasn’t for me. Let’s let the tots have their fun, they’ll be plenty of time in the future for society to screw with their heads.
I finally rolled out of bed today and headed directly for the coffee maker. I found the badly needed coffee and also a small surprise. My better-half left me a very old kid’s book filled with fun questions and answers circa 1957. Let’s start your weekend with a laugh or two.
What dog cannot bark? Answer: The basenji. It makes sharp little cries that sound like yodeling.
What bird can whistle with its wings? Answer: The hornbill. Its wings make a sharp whistling sound when it flies.
What bird has no wings or tail? Answer: The Kiwi.
How much would a 150-pound man weigh on the moon? Answer: Approximately 25 pounds.
Where are the largest coins in the world used? Answer: On the Pacific Island of Yap. They are made of stone and measure from 2-12 feet across.
Is it possible to step across the Mississippi River? Answer: Yes, near Lake Itasca, Minnesota.
Is all asparagus edible? Answer: No, only the common garden variety.
What animal picks fruit from trees with its tail? Answer: The kinkajou.
What is a guanaco? Answer: It is a wild llama from South America.
How much raw material would be needed to obtain one pound of radium? Answer: No less than 2,680 tons.
Thanks to my better-half and the Giant Little Golden Book – QUIZ FUN. I’m fairly certain that the kid books these days aren’t quite as informative.
This will be a short and sweet posting today. Spring/Summer has arrived with a huge bang now that the weather has turned warmer. Family obligations come first since they’re mostly about the grand kids anyway. Last evening my better-half and I attended our first little league ballgame to support our grandson. This is a league for 7–9-year-old future all-stars and it’s a real hoot to watch these kids as they try to figure the game out. Most barely know how to swing a bat, let alone having enough arm strength to throw a ball to a base. It’s getting them on the field and teaching them the beginnings of playing as part of a team. This is baseball at its absolute best. There were about 20 kids in their fabulous new T-Shirts, a host of moms and dads and brothers and sisters, and about ten million effing mosquitos to drive us all insane. That visit will keep us both in the good graces of grandson #2.
Grandson #1 will be taking the field in a day or so in a league of older kids. I can’t wait to see him at bat since I was his unofficial batting coach in his younger days. More fun baseball, more black flies, and more mosquitos. Being a baseball fan and a grandparent is almost a full-time job and we both love it.
Unfortunately, the blog will suffer a bit. I may miss a few days here and there but hopefully not too many.
Every guy loves ogling women. It’s been that way forever and I don’t see it changing anytime soon. Women always claim to dislike being stared at but do they really mean it? I’ve had them try to tell me that they wear makeup, sexy lingerie, and revealing clothing just to look good for other women, not for men. Not a chance that’s true. They want to be stared at, whistled at, and ogled just as much as the men enjoy doing it. It’s that famous dance that the sexes do in this age-old mating ritual. If you look good your choices of acceptable mates increases exponentially.
Over the course of my life I’ve had many relationships. I’ve watched women try to walk that fine line with some difficulty. If you get too revealing you look like a slut. While many guys say they wouldn’t mind that, they’re in the minority. If you dress down too much you won’t attract those potential mating partners. So as a public service I’m going to supply you with my relationship tips and advice for women. Hold your applause until you’ve read them all.
Rule 1 – Look good but not too good. Just slutty enough to make his mouth water and to make his fantasies more interesting.
Rule 2 – Be flirty but not too dirty or off color. Just a hint of “bad girl’ is usually enough to drive most men over the edge.
Rule 3 – Drink enough but don’t get sloppy drunk. No one wants to have the woman they’re going to have sex with throwing up on them. Don’t laugh, it happens!
Rule 4 – Lay off the bad language except for during sex. Be coy at first and then turn into that bedroom slut he’s been hoping for.
Rule 5 – You may be more sexually experienced that he is so don’t show off. Save some of your better moves for later when he’ll think he motivated you to do them.
I can already hear you ladies out there mumbling under your breath about my opinions. Take a deep breath and relax, I’m just trying to help, that’s all. Who would know better about what men want than a man.
I’ve always been partial to women who look good but not too good. I’ve always fantasized about a woman who wears her long hair in a bun and only lets it fall as she’s walking towards the bed (in a non-slutty way) to have her way with me. It’s an old Victorian fantasy of mine where I spend a great deal of time peeling off layers of clothing, petticoats, bustles, and slips. After all that work she finally lets down her hair and I’m on my way. It still gives me shivers after all these years just thinking about it. Let me calm down for just a second while I recuperate.
Okay, I’m much better now but I did get a little flushed there for a moment. Lets get back to the topic. I’ve had dealings with a few women in my life and they fallen into any number of different categories. Beautiful, not so beautiful, and all points in between. Each one was a totally different experience, some good and some really bad. They can try and deny their innate desire to attract men but down deep in their hearts they know it’s the truth. They want a good man in a good relationship with kids, a dog, and a white picket fence. After all of that they also need and want to be the biggest slut they can be in the bedroom.
In my last post I took you on a tour of Old Orchard Beach, Maine. You got to see the beaches full of people, a friendly bar to hangout in, and a cute bikini clad girl buried in sand. I hope you didn’t think that covered our entire visit because there was much more to it. Today I’ll take you along on our continuing tour that includes my better-half’s favorite spot. Welcome to the Amusement Park.
Doesn’t look like much from the outside but . . .
The Arcade while not my favorite place is always interesting. Tourists from just about anywhere flock to this place to throw their money away or to just drop off their kids for a few hours. Where else can you win tickets for doing just about anything and at the end of your day you’d have spent forty bucks to win enough tickets to buy a pack of gum. My better-half is for some reason a Skee Ball addict. She insists on throwing her money away, winning a fistful of tickets, that she ends up giving to some kid who happens to be standing around picking his nose. It’s always puzzled me and I fear it will continue to do so.
Who can resist all of this fine looking merchandise?
Never let it be said that I’m immune to the attractions of this park. I was once again drawn to a booth where I was permitted to spend five bucks to throw two tiny bean bags at some under inflated balloons. Being a former Little League baseball player I was stunned when I actually broke two of those stupid balloons and won my honey this glorious and somewhat ridiculous prize.
Who doesn’t love a cuddly little frog?
Once again I became a willing victim of all the hype that’s constantly spewed by this park. It seems to happen every time I visit here and stranger still, I don’t mind at all.
I’m so excited by all the hubbub in an amusement park I actually feel kind of bad that I’m not permitted to ride these stupid rides. As a young kid I was too short to ride them and now all these years later I’m too tall and plump to fit in them. There’s just no justice in this world.
Now that I have grandchildren running through the house occasionally I’ve been forced to curb my use of all cusswords. I’ve always loved cursing and swearing but stopping cold-turkey has been tough. I have no doubt they’ll be picking up a few dozen new cuss words at home and especially at daycare. We can only hope they don’t pick up too many of the really good ones for a while yet.
I decided to do a little research into cussing as it applies to what will be their daily lives soon enough. Before I do that I thought I’d give you a short history lesson too. Here’s a few retro cusswords from back in the good old days.
Old School Cussing
Heavens to Betsy
Jumpin’ Jahosafat
Yikes
Gadzooks
Holy cow
Sugar
Dagnabit
flippin’
Geez Louise
Jeez oh man,
Fudge
Eat it … RAW
Hell’s bells
Oh Shoot
Great Caesar’s Ghost
Jiminy Cricket
Holy Mary-Mother of God
They sound so lame to us now but back in the day they got the job done with us kids. My Mom knew all of these and a few more modern words as well. Now lets take a look at cusswords in use in the USA today. Some fool took the time to do a study to determine what states used certain cusswords the most. Here are the results.
Asshole – New England, Nevada, Oregon, Utah, Arizona
Bitch – Texas through the Carolinas – Along the coast.
Darn – Most of the Great Plains states.
Shit – Texas to Delaware along the coast.
Fuck – All coastal states, East, West, and South.
Motherfucker – Southwestern states and Maine’s
Before too long our grandchildren will on the Web and getting introduced to Facebook and Twitter and all of the associated idiots who roam there. Here is some information and usage on both of those sites.
Twitter
Detailed work by researchers at Wright State University in Ohio has found that 34.7% of all the swearwords in their sample of 51m tweets were "fuck" or one of its long list of cognates.
In comparison, the second and third most popular swearwords – "shit" and "ass" – accounted for 15.0% and 14.5% respectively, while other highlights included "bitch" (10.3%), "hell" (4.5%), "whore" (1.8%), "dick" (1.7%), "piss" (1.5%) and "pussy" (1.2%). Between them, the top seven make up 90.6% of all the swearing on Twitter.
Facebook
Someday, when aliens are sifting through Facebook data to find out what 21st-century humans thought and cared about, they’re going to see a lot of shit. That’s the most popular swear word on Facebook, according to an analysis by Slate. In the three-day period queried, shit appeared in 10.5 million U.S. Facebook interactions, fuck in 9.5 million, damn in 6.3 million, bitch in 4.5 million, and crap in 2 million.
This next section applies directly to Rap Music. It’s always been known for bad language and we find out now that criticism was totally justified. I feel bad for the fool that had to sit through this terrible music to complete this study. It must have been brutal.
Rap Music
217.7 cuss words-per-album average.
One song from the study had, on average, 13.76 instances of profanity.
Too $hort’s 1985 album Raw, Uncut & X-Rated was the most profane album, clocking 49.8 curse words per song.
The most profane artists per song were The Geto Boys, as they uttered cuss words on average 46.4 times per song. The second-most vulgar artist? Geto Boys’ Scarface, with 33.3 cuss words per song.
Bun B’s song “Some Hoes” had the most instances of profanity in its lyrics with over 113 cuss words. The words “nigga” (51 times) and “ho” (46) make up the majority. However, the study qualifies that Lil Jon’s “Roll Call” is perhaps the most vulgar with 329 cuss words but it was not used in the study.
The most profane year in Hip-Hop from the study was 2001 with 22.66 cuss words per song.
If both grandson’s can last more than fifteen minutes in this cuss filled society without becoming cussing experts it will be nothing short of a miracle. Since I believe that “turn-about is fair play” I’ll just wait until they start cussing on their own then I’ll step in and add a few of mine.
SHIT ! ! !
IF IT’S GOOD ENOUGH FOR FACEBOOK, IT’S GOOD ENOUGH FOR ME.
It’s a Saturday morning in Maine in July. It’s rained through the night and everything is wet and bright green as you’d might expect. The downside is that it’s 6:00 am and my better-half has awakened me because of our planned trip to a nearby church festival. I was informed that it’s critically important that we arrive before 8:00 am before all of the good stuff is gone at the Flea Market. Just as a point of information the “Flea Market” is nothing more than the basement of the church filled to the rafters with crap. If I chose to be politically correct it could be called antique, vintage or preowned but that would be stretching the meaning of those words to the limit. Imagine thousands and thousands of objects discarded by hundreds and hundreds of people scattered across forty of fifty tables, in side rooms, and even outside in tents. The great majority of the items are priced at a dollar or less and even then it’s a rip-off (in my humble opinion). I understand it’s money raised for a church charity so overcharging for crap is accepted and expected.
It was so crowded with crazy people I could barely move around. I felt pressured and obligated to buy something because this flea market was being run by a friend and former co-worker. I dug down deep into my moth infested pocket where I found two one dollar bills. I decided on a purchase which I would present to my better-half on her birthday. I imagine every women in the world wants, needs, and desires a beautiful yet tacky Betty Boop toilet paper roller.
After that purchase I fled the scene and returned to the fair for some greasy and unhealthy fair food. There was plenty to go around.
‘Salted, greasy, unhealthy, and almost delicious.’
‘Hot sausage sandwich, peppers, onions, and a butt load of cholesterol.’
‘Chicken anyone?’
With my belly full I made a bee line for the tent where the books were being sold. I try to buy a sufficient number to carry me through the upcoming winter but the selection wasn’t as good as in previous years. I purchased a few but disappointed there weren’t more.
No real fair or festival fails to have the obligatory Disney presence with Mickey and Minnie posing for pictures with the kids. I asked cute little Minnie to sit on my lap for a picture but she adamantly refused. Nobody likes a prudish and fake mouse and she was really mean too!
My better-half made a number of trips to the car with her arms loaded with just about everything. She bought food, toys, raffle tickets, and enough other crap to fill my trunk and backseat. I was more than a little happy to see that church in my rear view mirror as we pulled away.
Another three and a half hours of my life I’ll never get back.
Even though it’s been raining off and on for a week we here in Maine must make the best of it. It’s always been my policy that if I don’t have to shovel it, I’ll just sit back, relax, and enjoy it.
My better-half arrived home from work all excited about something. I was then coerced into changing clothes and rushing out the door with a promise of a free meal at a restaurant later in the day. I really didn’t feel much like going out but if I can scrounge a free meal, what the hell. We were on our way to meet with her daughter and grandsons to pick strawberries. Control yourself, it’s not as exciting as it sounds. This is one of those summer time activities that seem to be mandatory here in Maine. We also have apple picking, blueberry picking, and occasionally nose picking.
My better-half the bargain hunter attempted to explain to me just how much money we’d be saving rather than buying the berries from a food store. Instead of paying $3.00 a quart at a store we could spend our time driving to a distant farm (my car of course), picking the berries in our own little containers, and returning home. All of those thrills and we only had to pay $2.60 a quart. On top of that we were being helped (I use this term loosely) by a two year old who ate more than he picked. Yeah we saved money alright. . . . NOT.
The farm was a little crowded and the skies were threatening rain again. No sooner did we arrive when the daughter-in-law scooped up the kids and headed home. I think she may have been way over her fun limit for the day. Since the primary reason for our outing was to see the kids we were left with nothing to do but pick berries. For me that was a Lose-Lose situation.
We managed to pick three quarts of berries, paid the money-saving price and escaped just as the rain began. This jam the better-half will be making tomorrow had better be the best damn jam she’s ever made. On top of everything else I was screwed out of my promised free meal. You just can’t trust anyone these days I guess.
It’s early and I’m still snuggled up in this warm bed and I never ever want to leave it. My better-half is a person who isn’t entirely sure how to relax and just a few minutes ago she left this cozy bed to begin her endless list of chores. She’s driven by her imaginary To-Do list that instantly becomes her number one priority as soon as her feet hit the floor. I’m a goal oriented person myself but luckily I know when to just lay back, block out the world, and relax. Any minute now she’ll be delivering me a steaming hot cup of hazelnut coffee and then she’ll disappear into own little world of Christmas stuff and loud annoying music.
I don’t dislike Christmas as many people think but I also have no great love for it. As a kid It was much more of a religious holiday thanks mostly to my mother. As I grew older and lost my interest in organized religion I also lost most of my interest in Christmas. I really enjoy sharing gifts with friends and family and I actually enjoy the giving more than the receiving. My better-half is Christmas crazy and it’s gotten progressively worse since the birth of her grandson. With another child expected in March I can only assume next Christmas will be totally out of control.
There’s nine shopping days left until the big day and I’m actually looking forward to having the grandson under the tree and up to his neck in wrapping paper and gifts. He doesn’t realize yet because of his young age that this will be this last Christmas as the lone grand child. Next year he’ll have a new sibling to share the limelight with and so it will be forever. I plan on spoiling him a bit this year because I’m really sympathetic to his plight.
I’m even considering sneaking down to his house after dark disguised as Santa to look in the window and scare the crap out of him like my parents and family did to me. It was an odd way to show their love but after a few years of being deathly afraid of Santa I was able to man up and get on with my life. It was really scary.
I was about his age when my sister was born and things were never quite the same after that. I wasn’t too happy with sharing the limelight and neither will he I’m sure. That rivalry will last forever. So our little man is going to have one terrific Christmas which I hope he’ll remember and appreciate someday. I see I’m getting the evil eye from my better-half which means she’ll start bugging me to get the hell out of bed and get busy.
I fully intend to convince her that today I have my own To-Do list to worry about. Then I’ll post the blog, grab my camera, and disappear from the premises. I figure any time I can steal and spend driving around and taking pictures is a win/win. I could also hint that I need to buy her another gift or two and that should do the trick.
I usually find myself posting about my personal life, friends, family, and the crazy things we do, but not today. After having an up close, personal, and distasteful incident with my television I feel the need to vent. This posting will be a tad longer than most but unfortunately for all of you I have a lot to say. Bear with me for a few minutes.
What I’m about to post may piss off a few people. I’m not a card carrying member of any special interest group advocating non-violence on TV or elsewhere. I’m just a regular guy who’s concerned with viewing trends on TV and in the movies. I take my responsibilities as a citizen seriously as accorded by the Bill of Rights which gives me the right and responsibility to voice my displeasure about things I’ve been seeing.
This is the time of Obama’s dysfunctional presidency and more importantly the end of Mad Men, the end of Sons of Anarchy, and worst of all the end of Justified. What will we now do to satisfy our deep, dark, and secret needs for illicit sex, adultery, criminal activities up to and including murder and mayhem?
We may be forced to feed our disturbing need for uncontrolled violence with the next generation of those gritty, realistic, murderous, and graphic programs like Hell on Wheels. Who doesn’t want to sit at home after a hard days work to watch rape, murder, and worse on their 60” big screen HD TV. Fortunately we still have our old list of favorites to fall back on if we can’t find enough blood and guts to satisfy us. That’s what Hulu Plus and Netflix are for, don’t you know.
We now have Dexter the serial killer who spends his off-time killing other serial killers. How much more graphic killing do we really require on TV before we begin to realize that our kids and ourselves are being desensitized to all this death and destruction. Watch a few seasons of Criminal Minds where the ever increasing number of serial killers justifies the continued ridiculous story lines that include everything up to and including cannibalism. We can’t see enough blood and guts I guess and there seems to be no limits of decency any longer. Anything is acceptable as long as it keeps the ratings where they need to be and the revenues flowing.
The politicians certainly did their part by making the famous "V" chip mandatory for manufactures. Just another politically correct gimmick used to quiet the critics and maintain the status quo. Do you know anyone who’s actually ever used a "V" chip or even knew there was such a thing?
Let’s watch more of that continuous stream of murderous zombie programing that seems to be the latest fad. There you can fill your need to smash someone’s skull and splatter their brains and blood everywhere. If all else fails we’ll always have those thousands of werewolves out there to rip out some throats or tear some hearts from chests for our viewing pleasure. It’s just so damn exciting. Also, there’s nothing hotter than a graphic sex scene between a human and one of those romantic and super sexy killing machines. It’s just so freaking cool. Start shining up those pretty trophies to prepare for next years round of award shows where we applaud and award the stars and producers of this nonsense.
I guess I’m old-school enough to appreciate television when it was just entertainment. The need for censors was minimal and the programming was easily watched by everyone, children included. I liked it better when the good guys won and the bad guys lost. No gray area that required the good guys to be recovering drug addicts or alcoholics who’d been rehabilitated and continued to fight that good fight. I didn’t need the bad guys to be portrayed as good guys who were mistreated and abused throughout their entire lives giving justification to their inappropriate and criminal activities. Good is good, bad is bad, it’s that simple.
It wasn’t until “reality TV” arrived on the scene that things started really going to hell. I for one like to see bad guys pay for their sins. If it happens that they’re shot fighting with the good guys, I can live with that. What I can’t live with is the perverted need to see the slow motion bullet flying through the air, entering the body, and sending blood and guts flying in all direction.
I also refuse to watch as attempts are made to convince viewers that the good guys were at fault and shouldn’t have shot the bad guys in the first place. They should have handled him with kid gloves, shown empathy for their terrible childhood, and then set them up in a comfortable jail cell with cable TV, Internet access, a gymnasium, conjugal visits, and an attorney to file an endless list of appeals.
To me it’s all interconnected and as always a steady stream of propaganda works. I hope some of you agree but I hold little hope for that as well. As in the book 1984, when Big Brother controls the Media, we are screwed.
I’m done with this. I’ll be back to writing about my semi-boring life tomorrow.
everyuselessthing.com 