As my little 11 year old Cake Boss would say when I would light up a cigar, “Ewwww, Papa! That’s gross!”
Well, you have no idea of “ewww” or “gross” until now.
Unfortunately, I used the last of the soap yesterday… It was too late when I stepped into the shower that I had forgotten to buy soap.
I was confronted with not washing at all…or…
…use my little Cake Boss’ soap… Excuuuuse me. Shower gel.
I now smell of Cranberry Twinkle.
No, I reek.
And the smell won’t go away.
Gotta light up a stogie to mask this wretched girlie odor.
Wait a minute.
I can’t. It’s 1:30 AM.
Not that anyone should notice but my attention had been diverted away from WordPress the past month or so. I decided to try and build a small (potential) income stream by (possibly) selling my photographs on websites. You know. Like for prints, greeting cards, cell phone cases and the like. Frankly, I don’t know why anyone would want to buy a photograph versus a painting but what the heck.
So my days outside of dealing with the ex-wife – who thrives on interfering during my supposed time with my kids – has been focused on setting up a (cheap) studio and shooting macros of flowers and the like. Plus having been an amateur FILM photographer in my youth, all this “photo editing” stuff has been a huge challenge. I’m up against young(er) pros who all they know is digital photography. You know. Fred Flintstone meets Captain Kirk. Oh well.
I also don’t know why I focused on macro photography for a niche market since I never had attempted it before… and the only thing I know about flowers is how to kill them. Certainly, other niche markets like patriotism, sports and pets would be broader but macros would be doable and without much expense. Besides, nothing would have to die.
Anyways, here’s a few of my recent snapshots:
And for a finale… Isn’t this a face only a mother could love? It is an actual flower called a Cuphea, or a “purpurea Firecracker”. Aren’t you impressed with this old former mechanic?
Mr. President, I take exception to your leadership. I feel it is flawed.
You are supposed to be MY president.
My fellow Mustang buddy’s president. He’s Black and has a doctorate. Oh. He’s married to a Middle Eastern lady – who screams while sitting shotgun in his grossly overpowered car.
My neighbor’s president. He’s Hispanic, an American citizen and is in the USAF (and who got his pay cut due to The (Dumb) Sequester.)
My blogging friend’s president. She is Irish with blazing red hair.
Yes, even #41 and #43’s president. They are Caucasian and BOTH served in the Armed Forces. Hell, #41 was shot down and lost his two crew members. Like Old Man Jack, even he must’ve had nightmares for the rest of his life.
You are the elected person to represent ALL of us…together.
But do you?
Yes, I voted for the other guy. Glad that’s out in the open. Whew. Now hate me.
But all through your campaigns and years in office, you have made it a point to distinguish (imply?) yourself to be Black…and rarely or never infer that you are “White”.
How can that be, Mr. President? Your mother was White. Your father was Black.
To me, that’s 50%-50%.
It’s simple math. The same simple math taught in school. Well, pardon me. Not too many folks recall seeing you in class.
Perhaps you ditched classes, Mr. President, just like my angelic oldest daughter..? But my oldest daughter got straight A’s. I’ll let you see her report card if you’ll show me your transcripts.
So I excuse you on your mathematical error.
Trayvon Martin died on February 26, 2012.
On March 23, 2012, you said on national TV:
“But my main message is to the parents of Trayvon Martin. If I had a son, he’d look like Trayvon. And I think they are right to expect that all of us as Americans are going to take this with the seriousness it deserves, and that we’re going to get to the bottom of exactly what happened.” (Note: President Obama, the LOCAL authorities and DA DID get to the bottom of exactly what happened shortly after the shooting, right?)
After the verdict was read, you made another statement. On July 20, 2013, you said:
“When Trayvon Martin was first shot, I said that this could have been my son,” Obama said. “Another way of saying that is Trayvon Martin could have been me 35 years ago.”
The Zimmerman/Martin fight took place in a smaller township called Sanford, FL. The local – LOCAL – authorities concluded there was not enough evidence to hold or charge Zimmerman under their STATE laws.
But alas… The MEDIA was a huge contributor. In my opinion, it was primarily CNN who started a fire where there should have been none. Day after day, they tried to “stir the pot”, as they say. RACE came into the limelight thanks to CNN fueling the self-grown fire.
Then Obama’s ill-advised comment… RACE again. He’s HALF-WHITE.
Race is one thing contributing to the deepening divide amongst our citizens.
In his first speech, he fueled the frenzy with those words, “…and that we’re going to get to the bottom of exactly what happened.”
Who is “we’re”? Him? The Feds? It fell under state and LOCAL jurisdiction. And the local law enforcement and DA – closest to the case and evidence – had closed its case.
Obama and CNN was pouring copious amounts of salt onto a festering wound.
By the way… How does CNN pick which murder to sensationalize? Why didn’t CNN sensationalize this more recent one – of four Blacks killing an unarmed White college student:
I am curious why you did not come out in front of our nation and say, “If I had a son, he’d look like Joshua Proutey.”
In closing, how DARE Obama distinguish himself from me implying Trayvon Martin could have been his son – for whatever reason – in front of our country.
You are supposed to be MY president.
You are to lead us… represent all of us… and not imply “favoring” one race over another.
How do you bring this together instead of dividing it?
Simple. Like this:
Face it. There are racists.
White people who hate other races. Blacks who hate other races. Asians who hate other races.
Lead us. Tell us citizens to quell this lunacy…and get off the minority soap box at the same time.
ps PLEASE PAY MY USAF BUDDY. HE IS IN HARM’S WAY AND WORKING TO PROTECT US. HE IS NOT HOLDING HIS HAND OUT LIKE 47 MILLION OTHERS ARE.
There. I wrote the words. After all, this is WordPress.
Marge and Carol from the Greatest Generation would be so dismayed that I would be searching online for a gal. Marge met Mr. Johnson at a USO dance in WWII. Carol met Old Man Jack at his mom’s house in Eagle Rock during one of his two furloughs from warring on those “stinkin’ islands”. The commonality? They met face-to-face and it wasn’t at a bar. And it wasn’t at 2:30 AM before they were to ship out to war. (Clicking on the highlighted links will take you to one of their stories.)
Online dating began for me last month…I mean, online searching. Duh.
Dating comes later – if at all.
Unbelievable – an old fart like me is using the internet to “shop” for a lady. I’m now a (nearly) 60 year old rookie up against lady pros who reportedly have been picking and choosing “online” for their PERFECT man…for the last three years some of them write. Gee, think of the tricks they must have up their sleeves against old geezers like us.
Frightening…especially since they have the upper hand. A royal flush, ace high. Why is it that the woman always has the right to pick and choose and not the man?
The thought of online dating really repulsed me; it still does. A last resort for social misfits unsuitable for mainstream society, I thought. I also envisioned it as a “meat market” of sorts. You know, pick out the best side of beef by looking at your screen then bid on it. The highest bid wins and it is just that in substance.
Well, I haven’t learned enough during my years on this planet so I was ignorant enough to have tried it out…mostly because I knew I would likely end up in a “Why did I do that?” moment if you found your “soul mate” at a bar half-drunk out of your wits. That would also include her, too. The other reason was that I don’t like to mix with large crowds for one reason or another. So where would I meet my Disney princess of dreams, I thought?
Ergo, online dating. Old Man Jack and Mr. Johnson must be shaking their heads at me from above.
Well, this is what I’ve found out so far… and it’s my view only:
Because of “PC”, women do have the upper hand. Delete or reply. One sweetheart of a gal told me she gets over a hundred emails a day from interested men. Over a HUNDRED.
Nearly all of the women say on their “profile” that LOOKS are certainly “a plus” BUT they are “truly” looking for HONEST and loyal men…not players. However, nearly all of the ladies post photos of themselves taken years earlier or they are blurred. Many also understate their age – a few by ten years! Honesty starts with oneself, ladies. Practice what you are looking for. 🙂
Nearly all of the women – even little 5’1” Asian women – seek Caucasian men a bazillion feet tall and who look like this famous wounded Marine amputee and poster boy (above). Me? I’m but 5’7”. (Kinda like the actor who said, “Look! Zee plane! Zee plane!”)
Nearly all of the more “attractive” women expect to be taken to the Maldives, Paris, Sedona, sailing, a winter ski vacation in the Swiss Alps…on a regular basis. Well, you get the message. With me, they’ll be lucky to be taken to Chuck-e-Cheese.
Some women state in their profile their ideal man must earn over $150,000.
One story that was told to me was that one attractive woman told a man at their first meeting that she wants $3,000 month (starting now), a luxury car, and an $18,000 wedding ring for the opportunity to “date” her. You get the message on this one, too.
Nearly all of the women are of Christian/Catholic faith. I’m not. That’s understandable.
Nearly all of the women are divorced as well but their kids are now adults. I can’t blame any of them they don’t wish to live with a man with two teens even if get A’s and B’s… Well, most of the time. They’ve had their share of stress already.
In essence, online dating isn’t working for me. Perhaps I’m more towards the Walmartian level than I choose to believe or many ladies are not including “Asian” in their search criteria. Tripped up at the starting gate even before the “race” started… Yes, that’s supposed to be a pun.
I even added a couple of links to some of my short stories here on WordPress. Perhaps six ladies actually went so far as to click on the links.
Old Man Jack and Mr. Johnson were right in shaking their heads from above.
Oh. Forgot. If I did get an email from an “interested” female, they were likely from the Philippines or were most definitely specialists in “night activities” – call girls. That was how I got “conned” into purchasing membership to be honest. You were alerted “someone” was interested in you but you could only see them if you paid up. How fortunate for the internet site!
So in summary, if you, as a male my age is wanting to seek a lady via online dating, you will have great success if:
You are Caucasian;
You are a bazillion feet tall (i.e., a few feet taller than ‘Zee Plane’ dude);
Built like Superman and look like him (body suit and cape optional.);
You are a Powerball winner and will take your lady traipsing all over the globe (on your dime);
Earn over $150,000;
And your own kids do not live with you.
But in summary and in logical thought, online dating is very similar to what Old Man Jack and Mr. Johnson did 70 years ago.
The only difference back then was the eligible lady is there in front of you. No fake profile pic or dishonesty of body type. You didn’t ask a gal to dance if she didn’t strike your fancy. And your chances for a girl increased exponentially if you were the varsity football team’s quarterback, had a hot car (I do) and moolah (I don’t). And Mr. Johnson cheated, by the way. He wore the dashing uniform of a United States Marine.
On the positive side, you don’t have to feel the rejection when the gal tells you “no” when asked to dance. They just don’t reply to your emails now.
Perhaps I should be dishonest and classify myself as Caucasian. Nah. That’s as bad as ladies using photos of themselves from 20 years ago.
Maybe I should realize I’m a Walmartian in the eyes of eligible women.
Or perhaps I should go back to the tried and true Japanese method that’s worked for centuries – contract (arranged) marriage, or お見合い. Just exchange pictures and you’re set. Both sets of grandparents met that way.
Oh, dang. I did something similar to that the last time.
True stories about World War II – One war. Two Countries. One Family