A recent article in “The Oregonian” newspaper brought up the fact that male chimpanzees like older females as mates. They say this shows a big difference between chimps and people. I don’t believe that as in the last few years, I think we’ve been catching up to the chimps. Just look at what has been going on recently with people that we know and love such as Ashton and Demi, Harold and Maude, and Tim and Susan.

It goes on to say that men usually prefer young women as mates because of the fertility thing, but we all know that men will mate with anyone who’s handy. They may not marry all of them, but neither do the chimps. Studies done in Kibale National Park in Uganda showed the same results . . . male chimps preferred older females.

During my research of the subject, I found an article written by Valerie Gibson, a sex columnist. She says women who date men more than 8 years younger are called “Cougars,” a term that began in British Columbia. Those were the older women who would pick up anything left in a bar at the end of the night. But that has all changed. This is a trend that’s coming “off the screen and out of the bedroom.” Valerie is single but has been married 5 times, and the last one was 15 years younger than she, so I’m sure she knows what she’s talking about.

During my extensive research on Google for older women and younger men, my screen was suddenly covered by a pop-up that informed me I was now a member of the Cheating Wives Club here in my city, and there were even photos of many women along with their resumes. I was very surprised, to say the least, when that happened but didn’t take the time to pursue it. What’s going on inside my computer anyway? Every time I Google something, am I put on some kind of list for the government to see? And does the government think I’m looking for a younger man, or possibly a chimp, and what are they going to do about it? I checked with Tiffany and Amber who had this to say:

Tiffany: What do you think of older women going with younger men like the chimps do?
Amber: Do I have to?
Tiffany: No, I just want to know what you think.
Amber: I don’t want to think about it.
Tiffany: Why not?
Amber: BECAUSE I DON’T WANT TO DATE A CHIMP, EVEN IF HE IS
YOUNGER!

As usual, Tiffany and Amber were no help at all, and I think this entire study was just another example of how closely related we are to chimps. They may even be a step ahead of us.

My brother visited me the other day and brought me a book. The title of this book is “WHITE TRASH ETIQUETTE, The Definitive Guide To Upscale Trailer Park Manners.” The author is Dr. Verne Edstrom, ESQ. who graduated in just eleven years from the White Trash Studies program at the University of Wisconsin in Green Bay. In real life, as I like to say, he is Pete Kotz and lives in Cleveland where he edits the “Cleveland Scene,” one of the Midwest’s best alternative weeklies. Whoever he is, the book is hilarious. I don’t think my brother gave it to me because he thought I needed a little help in the etiquette department, although that could be the case. I think he is just as crazy as I and knew I would love it.

There are many chapters covering any situation you could imagine. A few are: “I’m getting married; can I still wear white if I’m a tramp?” “Can chicks ever really respect an accountant?” “How do I pick a good bail bondsman?” “How can I get my 14-year old cousin unpregnant?”

One chapter is “The Ten Hottest White Trash Career Opportunities,” with the downside and upside of each one listed, one of which was a Crack Whore. The upside for a Crack Whore was you get to travel to exotic places like the bus station, while the downside was company headquarters was in the men’s room of a Phillips 66. And there’s no pay. Another was Bar Hag with the upside being you sit at the bar, sweet-talk toothless guys who couldn’t buy a decent woman with profit sharing check, and be ugly. Downside was shifts last from 6am to 2am with nothing but cocktail wieners from happy hour. Another one was the Congressman whose job is essentially the same as a bar hag: sit around, blab and mooch stuff.

There’s a chapter on picking the right business to rob for a hostage situation. You never want to go into a yuppie neighborhood. The author’s friend once robbed a Starbuck’s by mistake. There was no liquor there and the hostages just wanted to have a book discussion. After listening to them reading Maya Angelou for a while, his friend had to surrender as he just couldn’t stand it.

Dr. Edstrom writes that sports is the religion of White Trash. He lists many sports, and one is baseball – the most drunk-friendly game. He says: “Since nothing ever happens, you can get hammered, fall out of the bleachers, crack your melon open, go to the emergency room, get twenty-three stitches, bar hop your way back to the stadium and not miss a batter.”

The author has a chapter on different models of cars for White Trash. The station wagon is the most underrated vehicle for several reasons, one of which is that they’ll score you sympathy points. For example: say a cop sees a sport utility vehicle swerving, he usually says, “That man is compensating for a very small penis and is probably snorting coke. Let’s pull him over, Mel.” But when that cop sees a swerving station wagon, he says, “Poor schmuck. His wife probably jacked him in the divorce and all he can afford is a goddamned station wagon. Whattaya say we let this one go, Mel?”

Dr. Edstrom ends with the White Trash Ten Commandments. I’ll list just a few of them:
1. “You shall have no other Gods before me—except for cable TV.” 4. “Remember the Sabbath day, keep it holy. If God wanted you to work, He would have made football on Tuesdays. Any moron knows that.” 7. “You shall not commit adultery at the same motel where your sister-in-law works.” 8. “You shall not steal. (Only applies in Utah and France.)

There is so much more information in this book that I was considering taking it to our family Christmas gathering and have each one of us read a chapter aloud. I know they would love the book as do I, but I don’t think that will happen.

“Crazy Things”

When I awoke Friday morning, I was happy that my electricity had stayed on during the storm in the night and was feeling quite good about everything. Then I looked in my laundry room and noticed water all over the floor coming from my water heater. I was pissed, to say the least, but I called Stan, the water heater man, who said he would be over pretty soon. I started looking through a junk drawer where I keep some receipts and papers to try and find the receipt from when I last replaced the water heater. Surprisingly, I found it and also found a little envelope with “Crazy Things” written on it in my handwriting. I have always put funny, goofy articles and jokes on my fridge, and then after a while I replace them with new ones. These were old ones I’d saved, but the best thing was, I thought I had found the long-lost ugly brides that I wrote about earlier!
But it was not to be. These were brides and grooms, and they weren’t bad looking, but some weren’t all that good looking either. They just had unusual ceremonies such as:

One couple was married on a beach at the Oregon coast with their dog as ring bearer; another married at a ranch where the groomsmen created an archway of fishing poles;
a border collie was the flower girl for another couple; one couple had the bridegroom’s dog “sing” at the ceremony; one couple cut their wedding cake with a chain saw; one bride played congas with the band at the reception until the police stopped it at midnight;
and another couple married in the jungles of Peru, with the bride’s mother parachuting in.

There were some funny newspaper ads such as:

For sale: An antique desk suitable for lady with thick legs and large drawers.
For sale: Modular sofa for only $299. For rest or fore play.
For sale: quilted high chair that can be made into a table, potty chair, rocking horse,
refrigerator, spring coat, size 8, and fur collar.

There were newspaper articles that struck me funny:

One told about Peter Lawford becoming very ill after his stay at Betty Ford. When he came home he continued drinking, and, “He vacuumed constantly between snorting lines of cocaine in the bathroom.” I can understand the drinking and cocaine, but what’s the deal with vacuuming? I HATE to vacuum, but then I’ve never tried it Peter’s way.

Newspaper headline: Boring elk hunter found dead after pickup dives 200 feet.

Article: A bank clerk in Buenos Aires sneezed and banged her head on her computer
keyboard instantly sending more than $1 million into an untraceable foreign
account.

My favorite is an article about a prom, and the headline is a quote from one of the girls attending:

“Getting him to come, that was an accomplishment in itself. I wanted to see what
it was like. It’s an experience. It’s your prom.”

There’s nothing I can say to add to that.

RENO 911

The other day I was on my treadmill and looking for something to watch on TV while I worked out. I came up with “Reno 911” which is a hilarious show about a fictitious Reno sheriff’s department – at least I hope it’s fictitious -- and the time just whizzed by. My only complaint is that so much is bleeped out that it’s sometimes hard to keep up with the story . . . if there actually is one. It started with a motivational speaker doing his thing at the deputies’ morning meeting. He became extremely excited and tried to tell them how they should act, what they should do and on and on, but none of it made sense. When he finally left the room, the deputies were very puzzled by what had just happened. One of them said, “I have no fucking idea what to do!” Of course, that was bleeped out, but I could tell what he said.

Then they talked about how they could make extra money. The lieutenant, who always wears short shorts, told them they would be doing the community a service and making a little extra money if they would donate at the local sperm bank. He didn’t realize they all knew about it already. One said they always had orange juice, another said they were given pretty cups to “do it” in, another said they made $25 but another one said it was really $31. Apparently they all were making extra money already. I don’t know why the lieutenant wears short shorts all the time. There must be a reasonable explanation, but then again, maybe not.

A couple of the deputies talked to a guy they accused of doing income taxes without a CPA license. The guy thought CPA was something like CPR. So he told the deputies if they didn’t want him doing taxes anymore, he would go back to being a doctor. He used to take pap smears out of the back of his truck. He wasn’t a real doctor – he wasn’t a real anything.

Two of the deputies were getting ready to question a suspect. One deputy was white and the other was black. So the white deputy said, “Let’s go in there and do the good cop, black cop routine.” And the black deputy says, “It’s good cop, BAD cop, not black cop.” So they start arguing and eventually end up physically fighting while the suspect sneaks out of the interrogation room.

One of the deputies was standing in the hallway when a blond, floozy-haired hooker came in. She tells him how nice he was to her when he counseled her and helped her start a new life. She said all of her scabs had cleared up! The deputy is smiling and appreciating what she’s saying, when all of a sudden she grabs the coffee pot and throws the coffee in his face. She then grabs the phone and runs out.

There was much more, but my time on the treadmill was done. That show is one of the craziest I’ve seen. I’ve seen it before, but I’ve never done the treadmill while watching it. It made my workout time just fly by!

Sheep Experimentation

There was an article in “The Oregonian” on 11/4/06 that was quite disturbing concerning the ongoing gay sheep experimentation at Oregon State University. It seems that Martina Navratilova has sent letters to the presidents of OSU and OHSU asking them to end these “homophobic and cruel experiments.” She says it is very offensive to gays and lesbians. I say it is offensive to everyone!

These experiments have been conducted for years in apparent obscurity. I can see why they wouldn’t broadcast it to the general public. Could it be they might be too embarrassed to admit what they were doing? This apparently is being done to find out why some rams prefer other rams rather than ewes. Do we really care? I know I don’t.

All this work was hidden in the “academic closet of ovine endocrinology,” whatever that is, until 2005 when an OSU football player was pulled over for drunken driving, and he just happened to have one of the study’s rams in the bed of his pickup! It didn’t say what the ram was doing there, and I don’t think I want to know. PETA is calling for an end to these experiments as it is cruel and ethically questionable. Some of the animals are killed so their brains can be studied. During the experiment, the rams and ewes are securely fastened to something in a room – each one separate from the other. Then another ram is let into the room and gets to pick the one he wants. Do the researchers take bets on which way the ram will go? How much money is involved? PETA says this is like rape, and it’s being done under the guise of helping ranchers avoid spending much money on rams that won’t breed. PETA thinks this science will eventually be used on people. Of course both OSU and OHSU vehemently deny these accusations. I’m wondering why it’s been going on for so long and why even study it? What do they think about other animals that hump anything . . . what about dogs that hump your leg? Should they be put into an experimental group? If that were the case, I know a lot of dogs that would be locked up someplace at OSU right now.

I thought about checking in with Tiffany and Amber but decided this subject might just be too confusing for them to handle.

Here’s an idea . . . why don’t these researchers direct their efforts toward finding a cure for cancer? That’s just my idea.

The other evening I was sitting on the floor, looking through old photo albums, and I became very nostalgic and sad which, I guess, was a double whammy. I’ve been doing this every year, and I don’t like it. People are expected to get on a “holiday high” right after Halloween and stay that way until January. But that is impossible and many end up in a state of depression which is not good. I remember Christmas at my grandparents when I was a child. Santa Claus came, and it was exciting and beautiful. My dad came from a family of nine, and everyone was always there with their kids. One Christmas I was sick and couldn’t go up the road to grandfather’s house, so Santa Claus came to my house - - upstairs to my bedroom and delivered my presents! I’ll never forget that. In those days no one was divorced, and people didn’t talk about diseases or when they had their last BM. People did die, but there weren’t doctor visits all the time like there are these days, probably because some of the diseases weren’t even known yet. Maybe the adults talked about those things, but I didn’t know about it. So as a child, I felt very loved, safe and secure.

When I grew up and married and moved to the city, we always came back for Christmas with our girls to my parents. We then went to grandfather’s house and Santa Claus came with presents, but by then it was their great grandfather’s house. The pictures above are of two different Christmas times there, and I’m so happy my girls were able to enjoy what I had years earlier.

Now my girls have their own kids and live in different cities, so there is no “grandfather’s house” waiting for us. But we all will be together. Much has happened to us over the years, but we’ve managed to survive it all. I think the nostalgia kicks in when I think of those times when I was a child and had loving parents that always made me feel safe. I miss them and that feeling. I just hope their dad and I made our girls feel loved and safe when they were young. But I’m no longer a child with parents and supposedly I’m all grown up now, so I think I better quit sitting on the floor and looking through old photo albums. Maybe I’ll do something really grown-up and get the “Wall Street Journal” and read it cover to cover. On second thought, I think I’ll see if there just might be a re-run of “Law & Order” someplace on TV. Now what could be more grown up than that?