Julitis 9, 41 A.B.


This journal has applied to join the NATO alliance.
Once it is accepted, your failure to smile sadly at it while shaking your head will be considered a failure to smile sadly and shake your head at all 19 NATO members.  Even silly little Luxembourg.  Do you really want that on your conscience?  Are you really prepared to suffer the consequences?

If we were you, we'd be smiling sadly and shaking 
our heads right now, just to get in practice before the threat of nuclear retaliation forces us to shake our heads after months of passively allowing our eyes to glaze over and our necks snap under the sudden strain....

Watching TV Without The Sound On

     I've been WTVWTSO again.  Or "doing more with less" as I call it.  After all, no need to waste ear space on David Letterman when I more or less know what he's doing and saying just from the picture alone.  I mean, he's been doing and saying the same damn thing for the last 15 years.  To have to actually hear it as well as see it before figuring out what's going on would make me a pretty slow learner, wouldn't it?  Well, I'm ALREADY a pretty slow learner, so let's just skip it and move on.
     Watching the CBS Evening News tonight without the sound on resulted in even less loss of information.  More grim Israelis and Palestinian faces.  More marching in Ireland.  Emaciated bodies in Africa.  A smiling Prince William.  A preaching Pope.  If anything actually new happened in the world today, it was well-hidden from those CBS cameras....

     So - why do I watch at all?  Because I don't have a fire in the fireplace to stare at and ponder instead.
     After all, it's summer.
     And I don't even have a fireplace.
     And staring into the cold air duct leading to my central air conditioning unit just isn't the same thing.
     I know.  I've put that cold air duct to the test many times and it just doesn't work no matter how many pictures of Prince William and the Pope I cut out of  magazines and throw down it....

     On the other hand, having the house all closed up with the central air conditioning on allows me to sit here at my office desk and occasionally look out my office window at a wind-blown lilac bush and the birds in it with the window closed and the sounds of the wind and the birds kept out.  In other words, it's virtually as good as the TV with the sound turned off, except I don't have babes appearing every few minutes to tell me in pantomime why they'd sleep with me if only I'd drink the right beverage or change deodorants.  I kinda miss those babes, but on the other hand, I'm saving a fortune on deodorant.
     Yin and yang.  Plus and minus.  It all balances out, so long as I can remember not to lean too far back in my chair....

Post-Game Jitters & Permanent PMS

     Which is not to say that my life is perfect.  Although you might never have guessed it, I actually have lots of problems.
     Like post-game jitters, for one thing.
     I don't follow any sport, and I don't read the sports pages (unless suckered in by a headline like "Rocker Caught With Foot In Mouth" that seems to herald an interesting story).  But I know sports are out there, and I know some sports were played somewhere today.  And that makes me jittery.  Why?  Because it means that someone or some team probably has to travel back home afterwards, and I know that they won't call me just to let me know they made it back ok.  And because someone or some team probably lost, and I wonder how bad that's making them feel.  And because someone or some team is probably going to go to the bank tomorrow to cash a huge paycheck for trying to put a ball somewhere or other and failing.  And even though they failed, that someone or team is probably gonna have to do it all again next week, if not sooner, even though there are emaciated bodies in Africa and how in the world can they possibly live with the knowledge that instead of doing anything to remotely help with that situation, they're spending their lives trying to put a ball somewhere or other and often failing to do even that?
     My fingers are jittering so bad thinking of all this, it's a wonder I can even type....

     It doesn't help, of course, that I have a permanent case of PMS.  You know - Pre-Menstrual Syndrome.  And it's permanent, of course, because I'm a guy.  And - try as we might - we guys just can't menstruate.  Instead, we rely on other guys to come along and punch, stab, or shoot us so that the blood inside doesn't build up and do permanent damage to our sense of manhood.  Only I don't like to be punched, stabbed, or shot, so I signed up for this correspondence course entitled "How To Menstruate As If Your Life Depended On It."  Alas, it's not helping me any more than last year's "How To Succeed At Menstruation Without Really Trying."  
     I think I need a government voucher to go to a private menstruation school, that's what I think.
     Does anyone know where Bush and Gore stand on this issue?

What Else I Need

     And you know what else I need?  I need more clothing-optional circuses, that's what I need.
     I mean, I've never had any, while a friend of mine seems to have had several.
     Maybe if I had had several myself by now, my post-game jitters would be nothing more than a memory to throw at the elephants and watch as they attempted to peel it with their trunks....

     At this point, I'd just settle for another clothing-optional funeral - I really would.
     Not that I've ever really been to one of those, either.  But I have been to my uncle's funeral, and that was the next best thing.
     My uncle, you see, insisted on being buried naked.  
     And he insisted on there being an open casket service before that.
     Because he wanted to be sure that people were actually mourning and crying about his passing away and not merely over the waste of a perfectly good suit.
     Ahhh, my uncle - how I miss him!
     If only he had had the sense to wear the right deodorant, I'm sure he'd be with one hot babe or another right now.
     Maybe even one who made menstruation look easy....

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