Alarming News: I like Morgan Freeberg. A lot.
American Digest: And I like this from "The Blog That Nobody Reads", because it is -- mostly -- about me. What can I say? I'm on an ego trip today. It won't last.
Anti-Idiotarian Rottweiler: We were following a trackback and thinking "hmmm... this is a bloody excellent post!", and then we realized that it was just part III of, well, three...Damn. I wish I'd written those.
Anti-Idiotarian Rottweiler: ...I just remembered that I found a new blog a short while ago, House of Eratosthenes, that I really like. I like his common sense approach and his curiosity when it comes to why people believe what they believe rather than just what they believe.
Brutally Honest: Morgan Freeberg is brilliant.
Dr. Melissa Clouthier: Morgan Freeberg at House of Eratosthenes (pftthats a mouthful) honors big boned women in skimpy clothing. The picture there is priceless--keep scrolling down.
Exile in Portales: Via Gerard: Morgan Freeberg, a guy with a lot to say. And he speaks The Truth...and it's fascinating stuff. Worth a read, or three. Or six.
Just Muttering: Two nice pieces at House of Eratosthenes, one about a perhaps unintended effect of the Enron mess, and one on the Gore-y environ-movie.
Mein Blogovault: Make "the Blog that No One Reads" one of your daily reads.
The Virginian: I know this post will offend some people, but the author makes some good points.
Poetic Justice: Cletus! Ah gots a laiv one fer yew...
Rancid Termagant
I really miss this show. But on the other hand, this is why I don’t have television; my “guilty pleasures,” it turns out, are all “constant drumbeat” type shows. Same thing, episode after episode, season after season. So to plunk down at the end of a day that’s four or five hours longer than I can comfortably manage, anesthetizing the awkward surplus for virtual amputation with the same intoxicating elixir year after year, remote in hand…sixty dollars a month for the privilege…it just doesn’t fit my personality.
But damn, this kind of stuff is funny. And there’s some truth to it. There are a lot of women who are golden sweethearts, but on the whole, if you compare our generation of available females with their mothers and their grandmothers…I dunno. It’s like, they used to be the fairer sex, and a large number amongst their constituents have grown tired of the role. They appreciate the respect that comes from being held to a higher standard than men, but they don’t want the work. Or they don’t even like being respected. Or they don’t respect themselves. Or they want to make damn sure, for every single bad habit men have, they themselves have an equally bad habit.
Like after six thousand years, they’re in a process of taking the apple back again.
I guess you shouldn’t generalize, especially based on dating situations…even if the generalization endures the testimony of lots of straight mens’ dating experiences. It’s dating. It’s a process of screening available people — who are available for a reason. I was available once, for about ten months…out of the last, um, what…sixteen years. I, too, was available for a reason. But a lot of the ladies I dated, boy howdee, did it ever show sometimes that they were available for a reason too. One of the problems I saw come up most frequently, was that the lady had her own idea of who her partner should be…and one way or another, the sedan of this vision came to rest on the train tracks of reality, and it got smooshed. Live-in boyfriend gave her “The Speech,” or husband cheated on her…whatever.
And so, reality dictated the lady was available again.
But there’s something about the female mind, it appears, that is a little on the slow side in accepting reality. And so the brittle ones would saturate the market of available ladies, by classifying themselves as being available, but at the same time, being determined not to act that way. Because, after all, being “available” implies being worth less than someone who is not. Not very appealing to the feminine mindset, at all.
And there are simpler factors, too. Thanks to feminism, a polite women is thought, by many, to be a subjugated, dominated woman. The simple logical extension of this is that a powerful woman must be a cantankerous bitch — and, of course, there’s some high betrayal to The Sisterhood if any woman fails to sieze “power.”
And so, out of those ten months, I saw some of the most reprehensible behavior. Perhaps, what it is, is I deliver such a high octane of carnal pleasure in bed, that women simply can’t keep a rational focus on the events at hand — I bring out the wild beast in them. Sure, I’d like to think that, it would make both of us look good. Massive ego stroke for me, desperately needed excuse for them.
But it’s far more likely, that the pool is polluted. There is something going on in dating-land. The harpie ratio is a little on the high side out there. A lot of little girls are being raised to adulthood with no manners — children of both sexes, I notice, develop the gifts they have need to develop to meet life’s challenges day-to-day, and very few others — and once these newly-minted adults swim through life like sharks, grabbing all they can…their relationships don’t last. And so the selfish ones are released into the dating scene.
And it looks to me like the women have the far bigger problem. But I know that’s an issue of perspective. A rude woman, for all of us, packs so much more “shock value” than a rude man, and is therefore more likely to be noticed, and remembered. Plus, when I date, I date women…I’m rather inexperienced going on dates with men, and therefore not in a position to notice their poor behavior on dates. I’m more than confident that if/when a woman trips across this post, she’ll comment on some equally boorish behavior she’s seen from my brethren in her dating experiences. And she’ll be right.
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Hey MK!
How the heck are ya? I pass by here almost every weekday but seldom have the time to comment.
Enjoyed this post so much that I decided to share something I wrote a couple years back when I was in the N.Y. City dating scene.
A bit of poetry called “A Date With A Younger Woman”
Eyes flair, blood boils.
Curse of generations past.
Can young suitors turn eyes
From me, from my grasp?
Believe they can entice
My young lady so well won?
With words aptly chosen
Practiced. Yes, so well done.
My presence as it shines
Melting in my hand,
As jealously imagined
Mutes the notes from the band.
Embers grow hot
An inferno blinds me.
�Let�s dance!� I order
Not inviting kindly.
All you young suitors
Put your wishes to rest.
I have no match.
At ease… I�m the best.
Then sing with the piano man
Songs of love, by request.
Bring tears to her eyes
Warmth to her breast.
In the grip of self denial
Have I lost hold of reality?
Only to want, only to have
Sad echoes of familiarity.
Too young and too old,
Who cares she is mine!
For tonight at the least
My blood boils sublime.
Regards, JCC
- RunningRoach | 09/14/2006 @ 11:48