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Women are not Ornaments

February 6, 2018 Leave a comment

pri_68161917      Many fans of Formula One auto racing are upset that the iconic ‘grid girls’ are to be discontinued. I am pleased that the girls will be gone, because they should not stand in rows, dressed in identical, sexy outfits. I raced sports cars when I was younger, and I always felt that it was not a good idea to have women in the pit areas unless they were part of a team, working with the crew in a real job.

The grid girls are just a distraction for fans of the sport. Race time is a time of intense focus and concentration, and women in the pits for the sake of ornamentation are clearly out of place. When watching a Formula One event, I have always wondered why the pretty ladies demeaned themselves in that way. They are doing nothing other than perhaps holding a sign with a number on it, or some such thing. They are superfluous.

The smiles are pretty, the legs are lovely, but neither has anything to do with the very serious and expensive event that is a Formula One race. The women are obviously instructed to smile prettily and applaud vigorously as the sweating drivers hurry past them to the cool down rooms. I have never seen any driver even notice the girls. They know that the smiles and applause are just set up for the viewing audience, and have no real meaning to the participants in the event.

I am pleased that I will no longer feel sorry for the girls that were positioned on the grid and in the entrance hall to the cool down room. I am sorry that they are losing whatever small pay they received for that humble occupation. The truth is that only women who are either driving the car or working as part of the crew should be in the pits of any motor race. Just the same as men are not a good fit in a crocheting group. Men should be there if they are fans of crocheting and participating in the craft, but not to be stand-by ornaments.

In this modern age, no job need be gender-specific, but being good looking and standing holding a number sign is not a worthy career goal. Ladies are welders and builders and lawyers and doctors as good as any man can be. They are well-advised to build careers rather than be pretty and hold signs. Any job that can be replaced by a post on a base is not a job for an intelligent person, male or female.

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The Immature Octogenarian

January 29, 2018 Leave a comment

double green

Me at 18 and at 80

Some minds do not age within aging bodies. Some geezers grasp at youthful pursuits with arthritic fingers. While some old guys settle into so called golden years comfortably, others find the pensioner situation abhorrent. I think that most of the men and women that retire comfortably have perhaps always been old in their way. Perhaps they never got up to shenanigans and mischief. What of those who were always naughty and testing the boundaries of behavior? Do they all become sedate before they’re eighty? I think not.

In my mind, I still want to race sports cars as I’ve done in the past. I still want to do stunts on water skis, as I’ve done in the past. I still want to pleasure my wife, as I’ve done in the past. I’d like to have another Doberman pup to raise and walk and teach, as I’ve done in the past. I want my former life, and I’m living my old life – my old man life. It’s a new adventure as have been all the many adventures of my life.

It’s a sad realization for me that attractive women no longer view me as a virile man. I’m just another old guy. I have to intellectually remind myself of that, before I make a fool of myself and flirt with a waitress or a shop girl. I still want to flirt with her, but I have the wisdom to not do it. I imagine what a fool I would appear to be. A woman would have no idea that I was an adventurer and sometimes a dare devil.

My dearest friend is in his mid-seventies. He has been a devoted athlete all his life, and he still races open-wheeled, single seat vintage race cars and is a fervent tennis player in season. He also is a competitive snow boarder during the winter season. He might be still doing it when he’s 80 as well.

Throughout my life I’ve pursued adventure. I’ve enjoyed risks like shooting the rapids in a canoe, handling skittish horses, cross-country skiing in northern forests and riding a motorcycle down country roads. I still have the desire, but don’t have the physical structure to continue. I have no choice but to limit myself to intellectual pursuits, such as this blog.

The Lesser Evil

January 27, 2018 Leave a comment

The lesser evil is still evil. We don’t have to accept the lesser evil as the best we can do. I refer to every endeavors, including highly educated professions and every other level of society down to careless welfare recipients. Facing two plates of food, neither of which we enjoy is a logical case. If one plate is fried chicken skin and the other plate is beef liver, the liver would be chosen by those that don’t hate it and chicken skin would be chosen by those that can’t stand liver, for whatever reason.

The 2016 presidential election in the United States of America might be a case of the lesser evil being the greater evil. Many voters believed that Hilary Clinton is so evil that even Donald J. Trump appeared to be the lesser evil. As time flows on, however, it is revealed that so called President Trump is actually a psychopathic liar, a thief, an oligarch and a traitor. In hindsight, as evil as she is, Clinton would have been a better choice.

I usually watch true police and crime series on television. Most often, there is a police interrogation of a victim, a witness, or a suspect. There comes a time when an individual is asked about his or her relationship.

“It’s fine,” they say. “You know, there are fights and stuff, like every relationship.”

NO! Accepting a relationship in which some scrapping and shouting, and even hitting is not the lesser of any evil. It is an evil-bound relationship. If a person can’t find nearly constant peace and confidence in one’s special relationship, one might be settling for the lesser evil. Don’t do it.

There should be a relationship for you where expressions of love are spoken every day. Where you are put first by the other party and the other party is put first by you. The lesser evil is not good enough. You want the absence of stress, doubt, and evil. Get it!

You Don’t Know Their Burdens

January 26, 2018 Leave a comment

It’s rare to see a person on the street or on public transportation with a pleased or contented expression on his or her face. While observing people personally, we might wonder what our own facial expression is as we look around ourselves. It seems that people in public often do not look at each other.

We move among each other, but we do not encounter each other. I expect that our primitive primate senses govern our behavior. Perhaps eye to eye contact invites conflict, as it might among chimpanzees. Smiling at a person might be seen as a threat if one’s teeth are displayed. Sometimes, a smile at a person in a library or a restaurant can lead to verbal communication. That could lead to almost anything.

The hundreds of faces one might see in a single week are most likely to be sad or blank. We overlook the unwelcoming atmosphere because we know that each individual is carrying the facts of their lives with them. One might be planning what to make for dinner. Another might be concerned about a meeting coming up at their office. Others worry about sick friends, lost dogs, rent increases and anything else.

We move through our days, our faces showing our feelings. When it’s a lovely day and all is well in our own little world, there is peacefulness in our expression. When our own relationship with the significant other is in jeopardy, stress or concern is shown.

If we could master the art of compartmentalizing the matters in our lives, we might be able to always wear a peaceful expression by dwelling on the sweet parts of life.

Survival of the Sickest

January 20, 2018 Leave a comment

Most of us have watched nature programs, where predator and prey each struggle to live on. We’ve seen the lions stalking herds of wildebeest. They are looking for the weak one. Perhaps one has an injured leg, and limps to keep up with the herd. Perhaps a young wildebeest, just a few months old, would be the chosen victim. In any case, the victim is likely to be the weakest animal available.

This is nature’s wonderful sense of balance. Wildebeest and other herbivores proliferate at a rate that fulfills the needs of their carnivorous predators. The predators can proliferate and feed their families because the herbivores are available. Sometimes, there are weak sick animals that predators can more easily capture. This also assures that only the stronger, healthier animals will survive and breed stronger generations.

In most cases, the herd seems to be uninterested in the fate of the captured one. They use the opportunity to move easily away as a pride of lions skirmishes over the meal. Occasionally, a devoted female will try to protect its captured young. In most cases, the mother gives it up and moves off with the herd. They are able to just let it go as part of their life. On the other hand, there is the human species…

The human animal does not turn its back on its weakest. We support the needy and help the disabled. We do this as a society, through our government agencies and through religious and charitable missions.

I have to wonder if we didn’t care for the weaker among us and just carried on without them, would we have a stronger, healthier society? We do ignore some. We can’t easily help the people who insist that they live on the streets, even when offered comfort. They are the mentally and emotionally weaker people. We even help them to survive. The wildebeest would just move on and forget them. Are we weakening our bloodline?

We might feel disdain for the sickest among us, but we also have the power of thought. We can think that if not for the vagaries of life, there go I. Therefore, we help where help is needed.

The Last Brother

January 19, 2018 Leave a comment

I was the first born. When I was about five years old, my first brother was born. When I was about ten years old, my second brother was born. We grew up in an upper-middle class family. Our father was ambitious and capable. Both parents had cars; our city home and country home were both first class. Mom was a devoted mother, wife, and homemaker. The waterfront cottage included motorboats for each member of the family, the size according to the maturity of the boy. There was nothing about which we could complain.

As the oldest brother, it fell to me to teach them things like riding a bicycle, starting an outboard motor, water skiing and many other things. Eventually, the inevitable separations came about. We married; we moved away, we had children and mortgages. We were living varied lives in different parts of the country.

Our middle brother was living in a central city in our country. After many years, his marriage ended and he moved back east. Some years later, he contracted leukemia and it took his life. Then there were two of us; the youngest and the oldest, ten years apart.

We love each other, my youngest brother and I. We live in the same country, but several thousand miles apart. He has his doting family around him. His original wife, his son and daughter and grandson and granddaughter see him almost daily. His retirement is satisfying and fulfilled.

I am more separate from my family, and connected with different family. I’m sure my brother wonders, as I do, which of us will be the last brother. We recently agreed that when one of us passes on, the other will not cross the country to witness the burial. We are both old enough to pass at any time, but our strong gene pool has us continuing to live full lives in our seventies and eighties.

I don’t think I’d like to be the last brother. I’m older and not in the midst of my children. My brother has his caring family around him all the time, so his support system would be large if I passed first. If he passed first, I’d pretty much have to handle it myself. I can do that, but I’d rather it not be required.

The Rise of Swearwords

January 12, 2018 Leave a comment

Swearwords are terrific! They often contain the impact we seek when no other language will suffice. For some time now, I’ve watched standup comedians use, “Fuck this,” Fuckin’ asshole”, and so on. Obviously, we become accustomed to it, and it goes by like any other word. That’s the general public, of course. There are probably a lot of “good as gold” people out there who feel outrage at the “dirty” language.

Now, the so called President of the United States has released “shithole” into the news cycle. I’ve heard men and women saying “shithole” all morning on national television. Again, there might be a lot of fussbudgets that are offended, but I frankly disregard them. Do-gooders most often do bad.

The reality is that foul language is the richest part of the English lexicon. Even little blue-haired church ladies know what “f*ck” means. It instantly conjures the intended word, so why bother? “Pr*ck”, “a**hole”, “f-you” all reads as the intended words, and the communication would be richer if the actual words are used.

Language is communication in its clearest form. If Trump said those predominantly black society countries are “shitholes”, that was an expression of his true feelings. Let’s keep using the strongest words we know, to express what we intend.

For instance: FUCK TRUMP!