Posts Tagged ‘men’

Update 2: 

I missed this but I found out from the wife…  Girlhead saw a few of the older vets in the Memorial Day parade and asked Cruel Wife “Mom, were those guys in the Army?”

“Well, they were in the Armed Services, all vets were.”

She said “Can I go thank them?”

“You sure can – let’s go.”

And so she did – walked up to one of them and said “Thank you.”

He smiled and said “You’re welcome.”

I would have said something deep and profound to Cruel Wife about that but at that moment something really huge flew in my eye.


My five year old son, missing all his front teeth as part of the “Planned Obsolescence of Childhood Schedule” (AKA “POCS” or just pronounced POX) just ran in and said lispingly “Girlhead is trying to give me a Texas Wedgie!”

I goggled at him.  “Not an atomic wedgie but… A… A… A Texas Wedgie?  That sounds like a really big wedgie!”

He said “Yeah!” and then he ran away.

Aggie, or some other Texas person… what is a Texas Wedgie?


After a few discussions about the age that women claim to be I’ve done a bit of research.

This is an area of investigation fraught with peril and is like tapdancing in a minefield full of twisted metal, broken glass, angry rabid rodents, and… well… mines.

But for the sake of science I will publish my conclusions.  Men!  Who will stand with me?  Men?

Hang on, I must catch up with the others, for I am their leader.


Thank you Fark, for recognizing this for what it really is:  NOT A CATASTROPHE THAT NEEDS FIXING.

Report: Over a third of students entering college need remedial help

Fark’s headline?

Report shows over a third of incoming college students need remedial help. Back in subby’s day, they used to say those people weren’t college material, not treat them like snowflakes and patronize them

At what point do you finally say “No the system didn’t fail the children, perhaps they just aren’t cut out for it”?

Put another way:  Not everyone is cut out to be an astronaut, a doctor, or a SEAL.  Suck on that Disney.


Wow.  Someone in Missouri is on the lookout for the exploited strippers.

But Dick Bryant, a lawyer for Kansas City’s adult entertainment industry, said the clubs are following the law, in part because he claimed the dancers only appear to be topless. The exposed breasts, he said, are actually covered by a thin layer of opaque latex.

“Once they’re covered, none of the rest of the law applies,” Bryant argued.

Remember Blade Runner?

Deckard:    Excuse me, Miss Salomé, can I talk to you for a minute? I’m from the American Federation of Variety Artists.
Zhora:       Oh, yeah?
Deckard:    I’m not here to make you join. No ma’am. That’s not my department. Actually, uh. I’m from the, uh, Confidential Committee on Moral Abuses.
Zhora:        Committee of Moral Abuses?
Deckard:    Yes, ma’am. There’s been some reports that the management has been taking liberties with the artists in this place.
Zhora:        I don’t know nothing about it.
Deckard:    Have you felt yourself to be exploited in any way?
Zhora:        How do you mean, exploited?
Deckard:    Well, like to get this job. I mean, did you do, or- or were you asked to do anything lewd or unsavory or otherwise, uh, repulsive to your person, huh?
Zhora:        Ha. Are you for real?
Deckard:    Oh yeah. I’d like to check your dressing room if I may.
Zhora:         For what?
Deckard:    For, uh, for holes.
Zhora:         Holes?
Deckard:    You’d be surprised what a guy’d go through to get a glimpse of a beautiful body.
Zhora:        No, I wouldn’t.
Deckard:    Little, uh, dirty holes they uh, drill in the wall so they can watch a lady undress. — Is this a real snake?
Zhora:        Of course it’s not real. Do you think I’d be working in a place like this if I could afford a real snake? — So if somebody does try to exploit me, who do I go to about it?
Deckard:    Me.
Zhora:        You’re a dedicated man.

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Nine boys suspended for having a Fight Club.

The boys were given what are termed emergency expulsions, effective Monday.

Seriously?  When we’re in the middle of the largest emasculation program ever conceived of in the history of the United States they’re going to throw boys out of school for having the cojones to risk some injury in order to have so very much fun pounding the crap out of each other?

Voelpel said Stewart took action based on the videos. He said none of the boys’ parents had reported the incidents to school authorities before the video aired.

Yeah, and you know why?  Because it was boys being boys.  It isn’t expulsion-worthy.

Note:  I am a huge fan of Fight Club.  Some of the quotes are from the book, some from the movie.  They may not be verbatim, even (although my editor can probably quote the movie by heart).

God Damn! We just had a near-life experience, fellas.

We should be congratulating the boys for being boys.  What are their options… hopscotch and homogenized non-gender-specific organized reverse-role-playing?  Getting in touch with our freaking feelings?  Hey, I think everyone is touching themselves quite enough and we need to start giving boys different activities: cap guns, bb guns, GI Joe action figures, bottle rockets, garbage can “shields” and piles of dirt clods (one of my favorites as a boy), tree-climbing contests, no-hands no-helmet bike riding, running with scissors, magnifying glasses on a sunny day,  slingshots…  hell, people, chime in!  Gimme your suggestions for good “stupid” boy activities that BY GOD will build character if they survive it!

Man, I see in fight club the strongest and smartest men who’ve ever lived. I see all this potential, and I see squandering. God damn it, an entire generation pumping gas, waiting tables; slaves with white collars. Advertising has us chasing cars and clothes, working jobs we hate so we can buy shit we don’t need. We’re the middle children of history, man. No purpose or place. We have no Great War. No Great Depression. Our Great War’s a spiritual war… our Great Depression is our lives. We’ve all been raised on television to believe that one day we’d all be millionaires, and movie gods, and rock stars. But we won’t. And we’re slowly learning that fact. And we’re very, very pissed off.

Imagine how pissed off a bunch of future girly-men are going to feel when they finally wake up to the fact that their masculinity was stripped from them by sleeping parents and reprehensible teachers.  And they won’t know what to do about it because they have only been taught things that do guys no good whatsoever.

Sticking feathers up your butt does not make you a chicken.

But back to the rant…  Yes, they will survive it.  I did.  Most guys I know did.  Hell, I plowed a furrow in fresh sharp gravel with my face when I wiped out racing down a steep graveled hill on my ten-speed.   Blood and snot everywhere.  I was streaked with gore from forehead to waist and gashed all over the place.  And somehow I survived.  I leapt off of my parent’s roof using a bedsheet as a parachute (which doesn’t work at all when you’re 12 feet off the ground).  I survived.  You gotta do things that can’t possibly work because those painful lessons make us stronger.

By this time next week, each guy on the Assault Committee has to pick a fight where he won’t come out a hero.  And not in fight club.  This is harder than it sounds.  A man on the street will do anything not to fight.  The idea is to take some Joe on the street who’s never been in a fight and recruit him.  Let him experience winning for the first time in his life.  Get him to explode.  Give him permission to beat the crap out of you.  You can take it.  If you win, you screwed up.  “What we have to do, people,” Tyler told the committee, “is remind these guys what kind of power they still have.”

Share your dumb-boy-stunts, please.  For the sake of tomorrow’s MEN.

I just don’t want to die without a few scars.

Here’s one of my favorite scenes.  Not for the sadism, but for the truth in what Tyler says.  The kid’s life IS going to be changed, he WON’T be taking it for granted (at least he better not).   I think it’s the things we survive that make us appreciate living a bit more.  Think of it as the positive that you explore since you can’t actually sense the negative.

No, I’m not waxing metaphysical.  No, I don’t worship every line in the movie.  I don’t even have the movie in my home collection.  But I think there are some nuggets of insightful observation in it.

[Tyler Durden has told a clerk behind a store to get on his knees, and the conversation takes place with Tyler behind the clerk, gun to his head.]

CLERK: Please… don’t…

TYLER: Give me your wallet.

[The clerk fumbles his wallet out of his pocket and Tyler snatches it. Tyler pulls out the driver’s license.]

TYLER: Raymond K. Hessel. 1320 SE Benning, apartment A.   A small, cramped basement apartment.

RAYMOND: How’d you know?

TYLER: They give basement apartments letters instead of numbers.   Raymond, you’re going to die.

[Tyler rummages through the wallet.]

TYLER: Is this a picture of Mom and Dad?

RAYMOND: Yesssss…

TYLER: Your mom and dad will have to call kindly doctor so-and-so to dig up your dental records, because there won’t be much left of your face.

RAYMOND: Please, God, no…

[Raymond begins to weep, shoulders heaving.]

JACK: Tyler…

TYLER: An expired community college student ID card. What did you used to study, Raymond K. Hessel?


TYLER: “Stuff.” Were the mid-terms hard?

[Tyler rams the gun barrel against Raymond’s temple.]

TYLER: I asked you what you studied.

JACK: Tell him!

RAYMOND: Biology, mostly.


RAYMOND: I… I don’t know…

TYLER: What did you want to be, Raymond K. Hessel?

[Raymond weeps and says nothing. Tyler cocks the gun.  Raymond gasps.]

TYLER: The question, Raymond, was “what did you want to be?”


JACK: Answer him!

RAYMOND: A veterinarian!

TYLER: Animals.

RAYMOND: Yeah … animals and s-s-s —

TYLER: Stuff. That means you have to get more schooling.

RAYMOND: Too much school.

[Tyler shoves Raymond’s wallet back into Raymond’s pocket.]

TYLER: Would you rather be dead? Would you rather die? Here? On your knees? In the back of a convenience store?

RAYMOND: No, please, no, God, no!

[Tyler moves the gun right between Raymond’s eyes.]


[Tyler uncocks the gun, lowers it.]

TYLER: I’m keeping your license. I’m gonna check in on you. I know where you live. If you’re not on your way to becoming a veterinarian in six weeks, you will be dead. Now run on home.

[Tyler throws him his wallet. Raymond takes it, staggers to his feet and runs down the alley]

TYLER: [shouting to Raymond] Run, Forrest, run!

JACK: I feel ill.

TYLER: Imagine how he feels.

JACK: Come on, this isn’t funny! That wasn’t funny! What the fuck was the point of that?

[Tyler brings the gun to his own head, pulls the trigger — CLICK. Empty.]

JACK: I don’t care, that was horrible.

[Tyler walks away.]

TYLER: Tomorrow will be the most beautiful day of Raymond K. Hessell’s life.   His breakfast will taste better than any meal you and I have ever tasted.


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Men really are pigs.

This came from somewhere.  Not me.  But I just love the progression.

It illustrates the lesson I hope to instill in my daughter before she finds out the hard way.


And some men are more pig than others.

You won’t see me use this word in the main post very often, but…

If Obama thinks he fucking fools anyone with what he thinks is subtle manipulation via innocent-sounding broly anecdotes, then he’s not smart like a lot of people keep saying, he’s a fucking idiot.  And awful damned insulting to anyone who actually respects Ron Reagan.  Go bite yourself, Obama.

And then somebody — I don’t remember who it was — turned and said, ‘You know what? What about Gibbs’ tie? What about Gibbs’ tie? That might look good.’ And, frankly, Robert didn’t want to give it up because he thought he looked really good in the tie. But eventually he was willing to take one for the gipper, and so he took off his tie, and I put it on. And that’s the tie that I wore at the national convention.  Obama, once again showing just how slow he thinks everyone else is compared to him.

Real smooth there, sport.  Give it up already.  The only people who think you might possibly be on par with Reagan are mutants, farm animals, and people who have poor enough convictions about anything that they can easily swing back and forth from election to election – but I guess those are the ones you’re hoping to snow, aren’t you?

But a majority of us, on either side of the fence, see you for the scheming schmuck you are.

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Update:  Easily one of the single most disgusting things I’ve seen in a long while.  I can’t believe they found a doctor who would perform the procedure.   They need to reinstate the Hippocratic Oath.

To get that taste out of your mouth – a humongous ginormous frickin’ rabbit.

**** Now on to the regularly scheduled programming****

This breaking news in from the DailyMailOnline…  thank God it made Cruel Wife cringe.

Forget Viagra, scientists develop what women REALLY want, a spray to make their men cuddle more

… it seems the chemical can make a man ‘feel’ like a woman.

God help us all.  They go on in gory detail.

Afterwards the men were shown heart-wrenching photographs including a little girl in tears, a child embracing a cat and a man in mourning, and asked them to describe the level of empathy they felt with those in the pictures.

‘The oxytocin group showed significantly higher emotional empathy levels than those men who had taken the placebo,’ said Dr Rene Hurlemann, of the Friedrich-Wilhelms University of Bonn.

In fact, he added, they reached the ‘levels of sensitivity usually found in females’.

The finding raises the tantalising possibility that women could use oxytocin sprays to help macho boyfriends and husbands get in touch with their feminine side.

Chauvinists could be turned into sensitive souls happy to watch weepy films and critique outfits on shopping trips.

Almost as scary as the idea itself is the crap the Daily Mail is churning out here.  They are peddling mass hysteria and naturally progressing to where we men are going to run away screaming like little girls to avoid losing our masculinity.

THIS is the best Cruel Wife could hope for…

Scott Adams has been way ahead of anybody’s time on these things though.  I tried his site’s autogenerated embed code to hotlink his graphics but I had to truncate the html to get wordpress to show them.  (So, Scott – if I’m doing this wrong, let me know and I’ll fix it, K?)


Inscrutable Half-Breed, a co-worker, sent this on… I quote him here verbatim:

Apparently, Pacific Interpreters felt it necessary to go to the trouble of writing this letter to inform this guy that they would have fired him if he hadn’t already been in the process of being fired.  A beautiful illustration of why I don’t like HR people.  His response is perfect.


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Subtitled:  Bareback Afghans Gone Wild #37

Groundhogs and identity confusion.  No, the two aren’t related.  Oh I’m sure there’s some confused groundhogs out there, but not like these fellas.  Seems that there’s some Afghani men who think physical relationships with other men are good and women are stinky yucky – shunning them socially and sexually.

Remember what I’ve said in the past about how some cultures are wired to fail?  I could care less if a bunch of guys want to be gay and deny it.  But when you treat women like second or third class citizens and start involving kids… I have some serious issues with their ideas.

The report also detailed a disturbing practice in which older “men of status” keep young boys on hand for sexual relationships. One of the country’s favorite sayings, the report said, is “women are for children, boys are for pleasure.”

Borrowed from Amusing Bunni.

I mean, what the HELL is WRONG with you people???  I mean, this is the “next best thing” to NAMBLA.  Now there’s a group of fellas deserving of Hell.

Seriously, this is screwed up…

The U.S. army medic also told members of the research unit that she and her colleagues had to explain to a local man how to get his wife pregnant.

The report said: “When it was explained to him what was necessary, he reacted with disgust and asked, ‘How could one feel desire to be with a woman, who God has made unclean, when one could be with a man, who is clean? Surely this must be wrong.'”

Do ya THINK???


Here’s a re-posting of a funny ad that had me laughing about as hard as I did for the “Polar Bears Falling Out of the Sky” commercial.  Laughed so hard I shot kittens out my nose.

Nope.  I’m definitely not linking “gay” to “sheep-diddling”.  I do put child molesters in the same grouping but still below those who engage in carnal acts with sheep.  If ever there was a no-doubt argument/need for a .45ACP solution to vermin, child predators are it.


Groundhogs… now yes they do have some issues.   But PETA would have you believe that the little bugger Punxsutawny Phil has more issues than the rest of us, namely that he is captive and essentially tortured for ten minutes out of one day of 365 days in a year.  Probably he’s beaten hourly the other 364 days of the year, burned with cigarettes, and deprived of love and attention.

This is shocking stuff, I know… witness Enas Yorl’s response to the article… you can see that he very nearly dropped his knitting.

(Amusing Bunni - if you're around, this is for you as well as Enas)

PETA’s solution is a robot groundhog.



Which brings us… uh… where does it bring us?  Hell if I can remember.  I got up, took a break to go read with Cruel Wife before she went to sleep (she turns in before I do) and I plain fell asleep, clothes and all,  leaving this post unfinished.  Oopsie.

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Construction Worker #1:  … and it makes me feel uncomfortable.

Construction Worker #2:  I feel like an object.

Construction Worker #3:  Me, too.  It’s like they don’t see me for who I really am. It hurts my feelings…

What?  Huh?  What happened?  I missed something…

Confused?  You should be.  Men and women are wired differently. This is not some male plot against femi-nazis everywhere, it’s just a statement of fact. Guys do NOT think like this. Simply put, if you don’t KNOW what I mean, it cannot be explained. Take my word for it. You can trust me…

You should be confused by this.

Officials at West Kent College in Tonbridge, Kent, sent an email to all pupils warning that the behaviour was “totally unacceptable”, and saying any students caught harassing contractors would face disciplinary action.

The email was sent after a demolition team started work on a £94 million, three-year building project at the campus.

The email read: “It has come to the attention of the college that some female students have been making comments to, or whistling at, the builders both whilst on site and as they walk around the campus.

“Although we are sure no offence is meant, this constitutes harassment and is wholly unacceptable

Show me one guy who would be upset at being whistled at by college chicks and I’ll eat your… (thinking, don’t rush me)… your… kimchi and rice.  He has GOT to be mentally damaged.

Whatever happened to the day when girls were girls and men were men?


Just go look at it.  I can’t add anything.

Again. Nothing I can say.  Cool, but I can’t add to it.

If you have kids… this ought to work for ’em.  You’ll have to beat them to get them off your computer.

I can add to this. This engine is way cool for a lot of reasons.  Topmost is it is elegant, with a refreshing approach to design that makes me drool.  I think with a little work, a workable oil system wouldn’t be impossible.  But I’d need to sit and think on it for a bit.


This is the Pièce de résistance of this post.  How to build a lucid dream machine.   You can’t make this stuff up.

I’ve had three lucid dreams in my life, none while on drugs, although one involved a fever.  I could walk through walls and went down to wake up my folks and just stood there while they slept, turned around, found my sister, didn’t want to wake anyone up so I went back and laid down on the couch.  This was with a 105F fever.

The other ties were just normal everyday “holy crap I’m dreaming and I’m in the driver’s seat.

But building a lucid dream machine?  Hmmph.


Bizarre in the sense that people worry themselves about stuff like this. More concern about things that detract from real issues of today.

How English Is Evolving Into a Language We May Not Even Understand

By Michael Erard The targeted offenses: if you are stolen, call the police at once. please omnivorously put the waste in garbage can. deformed man lavatory. For the past 18 months, teams of language police have been scouring Beijing on a mission to wipe out all such traces of bad English signage before the Olympics come to town in August. They’re the type of goofy transgressions that we in the English homelands love to poke fun at, devoting entire Web sites to so-called Chinglish. (By the way, that last phrase means “handicapped bathroom.”)

But what if these sentences aren’t really bad English? What if they are evidence that the English language is happily leading an alternative lifestyle without us? (more…)


Less bizarre…
I would jump on this in a heartbeat. ONLY IF the requirements in the US to get a driver’s license were three times as stringent.

If you find yourself crossing the road in the German town of Bohmte, look both ways – and then perhaps check again.

It has scrapped all its traffic lights and road signs in a radical experiment designed to make the streets safer. Yesterday, the local council said the scheme was a complete success.

In the four weeks since the signs were ripped up, there has not been a single accident.


My buddy, The Dude, is married to a lady that, if she wasn’t sweet, nice, and decidedly sane, you would call her a “crazy cat lady”.  We will from here on out refer to her as Katt LadyKatt Lady and The Dude.  I like it.  Anyway…

She just loves cats.  They own a cat ranch, opting to keep the kitties outside but in nice warm bunks where they can come and go and are taken very good care of.  Their cats are legion.

Kinda cool, actually…  I think he could make this work for him.   Price of energy being what it is, he could offset the cost of Kat Fud.

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Watching “America’s Funniest Home Videos”.

A horse is making all these weird contortions with his mouth, teeth everywhichway, tongue out/over/roll, raspberry, lips everywhere.

Wife says “That’s one way to demonstrate flapping your lips.”

<pregnant pause>

I say, “Well, I’ll have you know that I’m showing hard-earned-wisdom by not responding to what you just said.”

<damn crickets chirp>

According to her… somehow, I have lost points. Am now barricaded in computer room. Send food. (wheat-free, on this new diet thing)

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