Unnoticed in Clever Worlds

The clearest description I have managed so far about my blog is that it is not about cats. In general, I find predators pretty predictable while prey on the other-hand, because they live in universes of anxiety, develop more textured personalities. I also have as a writer a deft hand when it comes to making matters worse, so of course , the already panicky are ready made for me. I will try to grow this blog into an assortment of laughs, because that is what my life has mostly taught me to do. I will use the famous people I have known to get your attention and then tell you small but many times wonderful things about them. I will never name the ones I say ugly things about but I hope you will guess who they are.

Month: April, 2017

What do gay men call their cars?

Women are always pretty, auto mechanics never are.
Garage mechanics are nomadic. They leave like women beaten once too often. When they do, men limp back to their dealership, prodigal, apprehensive and bruised.
Guys can get through life with one best friend and a mechanic. A woman can’t be a man’s best friend, and neither can a dog. If this reality ruffles women and disappoints dogs, well, they need to suck it up.
Most of us, deep down, wish women were more like cars. We never refer to our cars as “he,” it is always “she.”
I wonder how gay men handle this? I will check Car and Driver Magazine for clarification.
My dad did not load me with advice, but he made this point to me strictly and often as I grew up. “At fifty-thousand miles, you must trade your car in for a new one,” he said. He knew that ruin was built into all cars.
We boys of the fifties and sixties, all had “planned obsolescence,” stuffed into our pockets by our dads.
I think it led inexorably to the high divorce rate of that era. We naturally applied the laws of our fathers to what we loved most, cars and women. Nobody ever explained the difference to us.
Cars and marriages are not complicated if you understand their warranties. At 100,000 miles, you find a good mechanic if you want it to last. At the twentieth wedding anniversary mark in a marriage, you break out the humor that only you two can understand.

Influx

I have always found that the best way to handle an influx of strange new people is to remind yourself how much you despise the people who are already here.

Plucking facial hair while you drive

I am well aware of the surging hubbub over women who text and drive. Women are inferior drivers. While men, in fairness, are not a match for any woman when it comes to texting.
Most woman can continue a conversation regardless the loss of any appendage. Women talk to insist that they are alive. Men are mostly silent around women in hopes that the stillness will kill them. It is, I think, is a poor plan.
So I want to urge women to continue to text, at even higher and higher velocities. We men should embrace their pursuit to find additional non-steering activities to help keep them busy on the road, like shopping online and the careful plucking of facial hair.

Goodness: Net or Gross?

I am secretive about good deeds. I never donate to charities when contacted by them. I don’t give a dollar at the supermarket or movie theater. I only offer help unseen. I never expect a thank you.
I grew up in a simple Methodist Church. The Church said that tithing is “the minimum goal of giving”. It did not specify net or gross. Some people tithed out of their gross income and​ many from their adjusted gross. The most religiously​ heroic committed from after-tax income. God can always work on the details later.” To us, He was more an accountant than Deity.

The Child to touch

The child to touch is the one
who never laughs.
The child to kiss is the one
who recoils from your lips.
The child to hug is the one
who is holding them self

This is Catholic

I grew up next door to an Italian family. They, all of them, put ketchup on hotdogs, made sugar and butter sandwiches and painted their stucco house a different color every year. My father thought this Catholic.

Burning ants

I would spend hours chasing ants, on my hands and knees, trying to burn them with a large magnifying glass angled perfectly to the summer sun’ rays. I had built fires this way in Boy Scouts. I used twigs, not ants, for that.
The ants often adopted a “clump together” stratagem in their insect terror, and this was a bad move.
In retrospect, there is a cruelty in children that blends agreeably with innocence.

What we Did

What We Did to Black People
by Regis Boff
I am not sure which is sadder, that we can’t remember what we did to black people or them still wanting us to do so.

Sexy Legs

The only truly personal hero I have is the guy who figured out how to make the black seam in woman’s nylons run all the way up the back of her legs.

Signs of Enlightenment

The very first sign of Enlightenment is that your enemies disappear.
The last is that your friends do too.

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