An Ugly Tableu

Getting home form a hard day at work. I get out of my car and see two neighbors having a conversation. I think nothing of it at first.

It’s only as I’m opening my car passenger door to get my backpack that I clearly hear the woman in the conversation fairly shrieking “You touched your penis!

Some part of my exhausted brain went, “Huh? What?”

The conversation that I heard after that went something like;

You touched your penis, you were in my apartment. You’re a piece of filth! No wonder your wife left you, no wonder your son doesn’t want to live with you. I hope everyone figures out what a peice of trashy filth you are!

The man who was the object of this tirade is using a cane to walk, he moves slowly and uncertainly, due to severe spinal damage. In other words, this guy is probably zero threat to a woman. And God only knows that he may have adjusted himself because of something to do with the injuries.  

I honestly don’t know, I wasn’t there. I can say that occasionally this guy when I’ve spoken to him outside the apartments. I have noticed that sometimes (clearly unconsciously he adjusts himself). Honestly it looks like he’s in pain when he does it.

As I focused on the “Conversation” I could see that he was genuinely ashamed. I could also see that the woman was quite enraged.

Then I really took a look at her and the first thought I had was she looked like Jabba the Hut.

Hell, I’d have been adjusting myself to prevent my penis from crawling up inside.

But then I realized I was downwind. I couldn’t help but notice the fetid odor of unwashed human, with just a touch of yeasty vagina. Yeah, I could smell all this from about 10 feet away.


Now I have a conundrum, I can ignore this insanity. Or I can say what I really think, which is;

Damn lady if this broken old man is getting wood because of your fat stinky ass, you should count yourself lucky. I’d imagine there’s been nothing twix your legs that didn’t run on batteries for decades. I’d bet your vibrators are so stinky that you have to replace them every month because some stink just never goes away. I’d never punish my dick by putting it in you. Hell, seeing you naked would make me want to suck cock for free, on the street, in Iran! At least then my torment would be ended quickly by a fall from a tall building.

But I weighed my options, decided that I was too tired and that this was not my battle.

After all for me, very few people I encounter would be worth my energy.

I evaluated the situation for a moment more…

I closed the passenger door to the car, shook my head and walked away.

Neither of these people were my concern. 

In retrospect, I think that it was the shrillness of the harridan, and how closely she was mimicking, so closely the “Group Think” of the feminist movement today. Obviously she thought all men were scum but wasn’t pretty enough or gutsy enough to simply declare she was a lesbian.

Some gay men who never fully embrace their gayness get really weird and very hostile to women and other gay men. Perhaps this was the female version of the phenomenon.

Remotely interesting… Still not interesting enough for me to engage. Perhaps it was simple penis envy… Nope, not interesting enough.

I climbed the stairs to my apartment, unlocked and opened the door, closed it behind me and was immediately cloaked in silence.


I guess that I’m just over all the politics, victimhood, and insanity. 

I did feel kinda bad for the guy. 

But like most men, I figured if he wouldn’t defend himself then I wasn’t going to do it for him. 

Yep, the peace of my apartment was a lot better than listening to a shrill bitch badmouthing men simply because we have external plumbing.

One of those things that goes through my mind…

Saw an article on The Huffington Post the other day. It was a puff piece that was entertaining.

Then I noticed the masthead

Okay, I thought, then I wondered if there was a “HUFFPOST MEN”

Guess what? There isn’t!

WTF? That’s exclusionary of 50% of the population. It’s sexist! Where is the justice? Are we looking at another gamer gate situation? I cry FOUL! Men have issues and need places online where they feel safe and where issues of specific interest to men can be discussed.

Yeah, yeah, I know it sounds silly when I say it, but why isn’t it silly on it’s face?

Look at the selections offered under “Voices”. Notice anything?

Think about who’s missing?

Men, and Asians. It occurs to me that generally those two groups are not prone to bitching about much of anything. All the other groups pretty much bitch or scream about some perceived discrimination or slight at the drop of a hat.

To their credit, the “Religion” section does a pretty good job of representing everyone. I went there because another group missing from the “Voices” subheading is Muslims. They are represented under “Religion” with an interesting balance.

So Huffington Post, where are the Men and people from Asia? Why aren’t they receiving fair representation?

Yeah, I know I’m weird. I have this perverse sense that if you demand equality and claim to stand for equality then you should truly be, well…


Huffington Post editors and writers, If you don’t know what that word means, I have two comments for you. 1) You paid too much for your education. 2) You need to go buy a Webster’s Dictionary.

The cold from hell is finally abating

For those of you that have The Cold. I give you hope. The light you see glimmering at the end of the tunnel is not necessarily an oncoming train or “The Light” you’re supposed to go into when you die.

After two weeks of misery, today I’m finally feeling more like my old self.

This has been the worst cold or flu I’ve had in many years. And to add a little spice and variety to the wonder that the virus brought into my life. The damn thing was morphing as it progressed. It’s a tease too, I’d start to feel better, then wham! A whole new set of symptoms. Then about the time my body would get a handle on those symptoms, pow! Something completely new.

Over the past two weeks, I’ve been chilled to the bone with my teeth chattering in a sleeping bag, while the ambient temp in the house was 70° F. I spent a couple of days where I was too hot with the temp in the house at 65° F. I’ve had my joints ache so bad it was agony to move my legs. That was followed up with body wide cramping of all my muscles. Through it all, my sinuses were producing all manner of gothic horrors (I had a club handy just in case the kleenex started moving!) and the coughing and hacking left my already painful ribcage feeling like I’d been in a violent car accident.

How do I know I’m on the mend? The same way every man knows they’re getting over something… I’m thinking really dirty thoughts and want to just get NASTY.

Ladies, that’s the way we work… As we get sick we want to screw because we know we’ll feel better for a little while and if whatever we’re coming down with kills us, well at least we went out on a good note.

All men want to have an unseemly grin on our faces in our caskets. I personally want to have a dirty smirk so locked on my face that my mother would blush and my spouse can’t have it jackhammered off. I want my last hurrah to be etched on my face and so dirty that folks seriously consider a closed casket. For the sake of the children, don’t ya know.

Once we survive the disease, we want to screw to declare to the world that we’re awesome, victorious, and our genes are worthy. Besides it makes us feel better. ( are you seein a theme here?) Ya just have to picture a big silver back gorilla and you’ve got a snapshot of us and what makes us tick.

So, I’m off to pound my chest, or whatever else seems appealing.

Don’t give up hope, The Cold doesn’t last forever.

It just seems that way.


Also known as, “The Soul’s Midnight” 

It’s that time of night (morning) that can either be a whole lot of fun if you’re fucking around with someone or a group of someones, and a good time is being had by all or when you’re heading home from somewhere you shouldn’t have been. (To paraphrase Garth Brooks)

Luckily in my life I’ve had both of those situations. I’ve been toying with a book of rules to observe if you’re involved with the latter.  

Not my Brand

Helpful hint: Shower, YES! Make sure you bring your own brand of soap and don’t scrub your pits. You can scrub the skank off your nether regions and body leaving them fresh as a daisy, don’t bother with your hair or pits because after a hard day at work you aren’t supposed to smell like you just stepped out of a shower.

On the other hand you don’t want the smell of someone else’s perfume on you when you snuggle into bed with your spouse. This method splits the difference leaving you smelling just about like you should.

If you forget, and scrub all over, all is not lost. Have a nice long J/O session in your car, after you get off, relax a few minutes and let your natural smell develop. Just don’t get caught by the local cops looking for perverts.

If on the other hand you’ve forgotten your normal brand of soap… Brother, You’re on your own and may God have mercy on your soul.

Angel of Death

The Urban dictionary defines Soul’s Midnight a bit differently than I do.

Soul’s Midnight

3AM; more specifically when clubs close and everyone eating at 24-hour diners should vacate lest they be subjected to the deluge of belligerent glitter-covered drunkards and party girls exiting said clubs.
If it’s 2:58, you’re fine. If it’s 2:59, start running. You don’t want to be in the Denny’s parking lot for Soul’s Midnight.

My primary definition has an older, darker, meaning. This was the time of night when hospital staff noticed more people died.

There are other possibilities for why you might be up at this hour.


You could be a bartender coming home from a your shift.  <— Count your money AFTER you’ve gotten home.

You could be awakened by a dog who needs to go out <— Not so bad, way better than waking up to a mess.

You could wake up from a nightmare and decide after tossing & turning from the adrenaline hit that you might as well just get up. Not so much from the adrenaline but because your brain rebooted in the full ON position and you’re unable to stop thinking about the shit that has you worried.

Sadly, it’s a combination of 2 and 3 on tonite’s agenda.


I’d woken up from a slight nightmare, and I think because a music playlist finished. I was just settling back to sleep when I realized the dog was at the side of the bed looking at me.

Okay pup, let me get something on; Dog has gone down the hall at a good clip; OR NOT. I haul my carcass out of bed, my naughty bits pulling up tight from the cold.

“Damn! what the hell is the temp in this place, 50 below?”

I open the door, the dog trots down the stairs into the backyard.  I wait for a minute or two but when the dog is heard ralphing I figure he’s going to be a while.

I close the door, I’m officially awake! 

I crank the thermostat to warm the house to something slightly warmer than the surface temperature of Pluto.

After trying the usual distractions, Here I sit.


On the plus side I rediscovered a 3 hour long porn I’d forgotten about. I guess I should wander through the porn collection more often. This film has some fun scenes, and I think I’m going to dig out the DVD and re-rip it so that the scene markers are preserved. As it is now, all you can do with the file is fast forward. It might be nice to be able to use the “Next” scene function.

I like switching on porn at this hour because there’s nothing more celebratory of life, than ropey jets of cum shooting across a room. (paraphrasing that line, with thanks to Henry Rollins.) 

I popped out to some “On-line” hangouts some acquaintances are on late at night. No-one was up, or if they were they were, they were in private chats or fooling around in real life instead. So much for the live show and conversation.

I’d fire off the re-ripping of the DVD right now but I’d wake the rest of the household trying to find the thing, then I’d be listening for the drive to spin down signaling that the machine was finished.

I’m a little OCD about that kind of thing. I guess that the fear of the computer actually cooking while “cooking” on the task I set it keeps me cat napping instead of sleeping.

Nah, I’ll start that process tomorrow. 

So what to do now?


Work at making ropey jets of cum??  I know as soon as I get into it, there will be a scratch at the door. Speaking of which, the dog should have been back by now. Ahh and of course the other dog wants out. 


Oh Thanks #2 dog! Leaving poo neatly centered in the dirt right off the back stair, while qualifying as doing your business in the yard, means that I have to do Poo patrol before #1 dog comes back in and steps in it.  #1 doesn’t see very well at night anymore.

Not my preferred method of spending the hour between 3am and 4am but at least now I am looking forward to getting back into my nice warm bed and falling asleep.

Finish poo patrol. Turn off the lights. Lock the door. Head for bedroom.

#1 & #2 dogs are on their cushions asleep already. They’re snoring and as I step over them to get to my bed, they both give me the “Oh, you’re still up?” look.

Ya know Dogs…

Sometimes you guys are real jackasses!

I see a treat shortage in your immediate future.

I do a fair bit of self censoring

Hard to believe isn’t it?

Lately I’ve been censoring myself far more than usual for reasons that I’m not going into.

Suffice it to say that I’m going to try to break out of that habit and get back to having fun with this blog.

After all this blog for me is about fun, not giving a damn, and it’s one place where I can just say what I think with a bit of a devil may care attitude.


This has been a weird year for me. 

The past few years have been rough, but this one more than most.  24 years ago, I lost my Father. This year, I’ve been the same age as my Father when he died. That really messed with my head. I expected to be in my 80s before that happened. It’s been hard for me to shake the weirdness of it.

 I guess subconsciously, I was expecting to just start falling apart like that first “Engineer” in Prometheus.  It even looked like I was falling apart at the beginning of the year. Test after test kept showing oddball results that were indicative of a serious problem.

Luckily, the issue wasn’t what it could have been and it turns out, I’m “healthy” but the timing couldn’t have been worse. 

I learned the hard way, that I have to be very careful with all RX drugs and that even the “common, safe, and well known,” drugs may produce wholly undesired results. Worse, is the possibility that due to the commonness of many of these drugs and the margin for safety they have, oddball toxic reactions are the last thing that even the best doctors will look at.


Thankfully I was able to ask the right questions, and my Doctor is a guy who actually listens when I ask questions. Yeah, I’m a pain in his ass, but he’s lucky I don’t see him that often. My Doc brightened my day the last time I saw him, with the happy reminder, “Your warranty has expired”. Gee, “Thanks Doc!”

As my odometer clicks over another year. I’m seeing hopeful signs that my long underemployment is coming to an end, and I know that will brighten my world considerably. More income is a good thing!

When I was younger I’d get really wound up about getting another year older, Now well obviously I still mark the event but not with the soul searching introspection of the past. “Where am I? Have I accomplished anything? Am I a good guy? What is my purpose? Have I lived up to my potential?”


This year I’m past all that bullshit. The only question I’ve asked is “Am I happy?”  The answer is generally, “Yes” and the shit I’m not too thrilled about I can change.  My warranty may be expired, I’m nowhere near doing so.

Now if I could only figure out how to do that Dr. Who regeneration thing. Some mornings around here look like the Dawn of the Dead!

Have a great week everyone.

Musing on calling to make a doctors appointment


I have repeatedly been reminded that I’m “Less Young” over the past two months and I’ve had just about enough!

This is the shit that goes on in my head while I’m working myself up to subject myself to yet more tests.

Threw my back out… WAYYYY out about 3 weeks ago. I spent almost a week in bed because laying flat was the only position that didn’t cause excruciating pain. The kind of pain that makes you yelp with each move. The kind of pain Torquemada would have been proud to inflict.


Had some abnormal results in a routine physical prior to the end of the year. That was fun then because my old insurance would pay for the tests, ordered by a doctor that was no longer in their network, but they wouldn’t pay the doctor himself. Holy shit! what a screwed up system.

I changed insurance carriers and fully expected to do routine checkups and generally not see the doctor for the rest of the year.  That apparently is not to be, after several more abnormal test results the doctor wants me to go in for an ultrasound of my abdomen.

Yippeee! Reading the web site for the ultrasound people about the prep for an abdominal ultrasound, Oh lovely! I’ll have to not eat and only have clear liquids. Thrilling!

Wait… Clear liquids? This is an ultrasound, what the fuck does the color of the liquid have to do with the price of tea in China? Humm, I guess the particulates in tea or coffee might cause a shadowy reading if the sensor has high enough resolution but I find it hard to believe that a handheld probe would have that kind of sensitivity.


Reading down the menu of services… Throat ultrasounds, abdominal ultrasounds, chest ultrasounds ( I had one of those a while back), prenatal ultasounds, What the fuck is a penis ultrasound? Oh, just what it says on the tin… 

I know the doctor is just trying to find the source of the abnormal results of the blood work, I get that he’s trying to see if there’s damage to a critical internal organ. Based on the results over the past months I’m seriously doubting that the results of the last test are valid but I’m not sure what’s causing the abnormal readings. 


I need to do more research on the abnormal results, and see if I can’t narrow it down to something logical that I’m doing. It makes no sense that the results are varying from normal to abnormal month to month if we’re looking at a disease process. 

My concern is that I don’t want to be gullible and I don’t want to become a science project. At the same time, I’m not at all ready to kiss Death on the lips. I got stuff to do and places to be. Heck I still haven’t had sex with twins!


Near the end of my father’s life he said to me once that he didn’t want to travel out here because he didn’t want to get too far away from his doctors. I don’t know how much of that was and excuse designed to cover the fact that he was too weak to travel, or if he was trying to spare my feelings because he didn’t want to come out here.

I tend to think it was the former rather than the latter. However, I never want to feel like I can’t be too far from my doctor. Unless we’re sleeping together and I get a nice car & condo on the beach out of it… (Yeah, so I’m a whore what of it? At least I KNOW what my price is and accept it.) I’d just as soon not feel or be tethered because of some health issue. 

There’s a quality of life versus quantity of life equation in my head which says, “If you’re feeling pretty good keep going and enjoy yourself. Death will find you when it’s damn good and ready so don’t worry about it and don’t go looking for trouble.


The quantity part of that equation is something like; “If you can do what a doctor says and feel better, last longer, and keep one step ahead of death then it’s probably worth it.

The problem is balancing the two sides of that equation. I always did SUCK at differential equations!

I’m not ill, I’m nowhere near having to run that Quality of Life calculation yet.

Recently however, I have been confronted with reminders that at some point I will have to run that equation and that I’ll have to live & die according to my answer.

I’ve been thinking about it because of my annoying issues, and the issues of my Mom who’s been in and out of the hospital a lot since Sept.


Recently, her health has improved and it looks like another month or so in the hospital and she’ll be back to her normal self. She’s probably going to be a medical success, much like an old friend who is still kicking in the Pacific Northwest.

As I’ve said before I’m older now, than my father was when he died. There’s a part of me that wonders, “Did something happen to Dad that shortened my brother & my expiration dates? If so, how much intervention am I personally willing to accept and how the hell do I calculate the ROI?


My friend up North went FULL MONTY with folks seeing parts of him that no other human being had ever seen, so that he could hang around on this strange little world filled with psychotic apes (borrowing loosely from Douglass Adams).

My Mom has had 5 hips and god only knows how much blood in the form of transfusions. Both of these folks have good years left in them so hands down the procedures they’ve endured were probably worth it.

Then I think about my Dad, so sick in his hospital bed. He’d chosen to figuratively fire a flare to get Death’s attention, a “Hey asshole! I’m ready, come and get me.” Even then Death wasn’t quick to show up. I guess Death doesn’t take kindly to orders or demands.


I find myself wondering if Dad could have gotten up from that bed and had a few more days of puttering around seeing the sunrise & hearing the crickets at dusk without being in agonizing pain, would he have taken those days? Yeah, without a doubt, he would have even knowing he on his way out.

What might he have done with them? A last awesome mind bending no holds barred fuck @ some crazy upscale whorehouse, one last night at a bar with his friends playing pool, a last trip to the beach to watch the sunrise, more time with his sons doing any and all of the above with him, to the disapproving tut-tut of grandma?


I guess as a man, I don’t really want to know. I want to be happy, enjoy myself, and just drop dead one day. I’d like it to be a surprise. I’d like my appearance at the pearly gates to be heralded by me loudly exclaiming, “WHAT THE FUCK?” Followed by the disapproving tut-tuts of all the grandmas waiting to speak to St Peter.

I think that’s why men in general don’t go to the doctor unless and until something is falling off or we’re dizzy from blood loss.


I like seeing my doctor when I see him, he’s a good guy.

I really hate the yearly exam. There’s always something “wrong” at this stage in my life, “you need to loose weight, I want you to start taking this pill, you shouldn’t be eating this or that, when was the last time you had a drink (I swear one of these days I’m going to tell him two minutes ago… in your lobby!), I don’t like the looks of that, when did you see a dermatologist last, blah blah blah!” 

I preferred it when he just said, “you’re good to go play and call me if you need me.”


As I’ve put on the years it’s less likely that I’m going to hear that anymore. I could simply not go see the Doc until something is falling off or I’m dizzy from blood loss.

I could simply not continue spending money trying to find out why there’s an abnormal result, but I’d never hear the end of it from the other half, and my Mother, and all the rest of the females in my family and life.

There are times when I wish I needed hearing aids… SO I COULD TURN THEM OFF! That would make it a lot easier to ignore all those voices and trundle happily toward just dropping in the garden one spring day.

Well, the ultrasound is non-invasive. I suppose it’s worth it to find out what’s going on, get the Doc off my back and not have to listen to all the whinging  from the family.


I swear though, if anyone starts talking about poking me with large bore needles or comes at me with a scalpel it’s going to get nasty.

…They inject something into your penis, force an erection, ultrasound your member, then may inject you with something else to make you soft again? That’s seriously fucked up! They oughta have a room where you and your other half can pound it out.

At least then it might conceivably be worth it. Hell, all the men in the waiting room would have hard-ons in anticipation of that particular ultrasound procedure.  

There’d be guys coming out of the cardiac ward signing up for it. Oh, I guess that might not actually be a good thing… I suppose the hospital would have a problem explaining why all the male corpses had grins the undertaker had to jackhammer off.

Alright I gotta make that phone call.