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The fundamental frequency of guy thought

From Monica Jackson’s blog, The Way There:

“Okay, tell me the truth. Do you ever go to the grocery store or somewhere like that, and count the guys you’d possibly sleep with in a ratio to the ones who are ick, and work it out mathematically—and figure out when is the highest likelihood of the greatest concentration of fuckable men at particular grocery store at any one time?”

Thank you for asking this question, Monica. Why? Cuz I never would have guessed that women think this way. Guys, yes. Beginning at puberty, sex never leaves our brains (except for a thirty minute interval after each orgasm).

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Quien es mas lindo?

One Saturday afternoon in 1982, I watched The Sting with Karen and her two roommates, Kira and Suzie.

“So,” I said, “who is cuter, Newman or Redford?”

Take a moment to answer that one for yourself. Even if you’re a guy. Especially if you’re a guy, cuz the point of this exercise . . . well, hell, let’s not get too pedantic just yet. Guys? Ask your wife this question. Try to predict what she’ll answer.

I figured it had to be Newman. Those blue eyes, that chiseled facial bone structure. (Great bones do it for me every time. I still have wood with Lauren Bacall’s name on it.) But, no. All three picked Redford.

Even then, twenty-two years ago, Redford had a white raisin thing going. And now look at the two of them.

Newman first.

That was taken last year. Still looks damned good, don’t you think?And now get a load of Redford.

Tragic. He really should have stayed out of the sun. Not so cute now, is he?Back to Karen, Kira, and Suzie. I asked them what they found so attractive in Redford, and learned something that shocked me. Words like boyish, innocent, and vulnerable were bandied about. Truth was, they all wanted to mother him.Over the years, I’ve asked many women the Redford vs. Newman question. For every woman who says Newman, I’ll get about three who say Redford. Is it possible that Newman’s success is due to his sex appeal to men? Or am I hanging out with women who have unnaturally strong maternal impulses?

It still baffles me, this question of what women find attractive or unattractive in certain men. Miss Snark has femwood for George Clooney. Maureen’s nipples go stiff over Al Pacino. Meanwhile, the Bitches keep ripping on poor Fabio. (See, Beth? I worked in a Fabio reference!)

This question is important to me, since I enjoy writing strong female characters. These female leads have been mutant parakeets and giant spiders, but eventually I mean to get back to Homo sapiens. When I do, I’d better have a grip on the feminine mystique.

So, help me out, y’all. Here are some pairings of famous duos. Tell me who is cuter and why. To keep from prejudicing things, I’ll save my opinions until the end.

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Other kinds of donations

My thanks go to Beth for the idea of sending much needed supplies to aid the refugees. I did some web surfing and found this website for the Baton Rouge Area Foundation. A moment ago, I spoke with a woman there, who told me the following items are much needed (in no particular order):

Toothbrush, toothpaste
Soap
Water
Deodorant
Diapers
Feminine hygiene products
Baby formula
Underwear
Towels
Blankets

Contributions should be clearly marked “Katrina Disaster Relief”. Here’s the address and phone number:

Salvation Army
7361 Airline Highway
Baton Rouge, LA 70805
(225) 355-4483

The link above (to BRAF) has information for a number of other agencies who are accepting material donations. I would encourage you to call first and find out what they need.

Nothing wrong with monetary donations, of course (we contributed to the National Food Bank), but somehow this feels more helpful. Probably an irrational impulse, but it wouldn’t be my first.

D.

Quick AM followup to that last story

If you trust the New York Times, AP really did misreport the story on the first release. The police didn’t kill any of the Army contractors:

The convoy, which included officials from the Army Corps of Engineers and was being escorted by a group of police officers on an anti-looting detail, was crossing the Danziger Bridge, 10 miles northeast of the French Quarter, when the shots were fired.

W. J. Riley, the assistant superintendent of police in New Orleans, said a gunfight ensued between the police and a group of six men.

“All our officers said the assailants all had guns,” Mr. Riley said. Later, he said all the assailants were “neighborhood thugs.”

“Five of the subjects were shot,” he said. “Two were killed, three were wounded.” The sixth gunman was arrested and charged with attempted murder of a police officer, but none of the gunmen were identified.

Okay, that’s it for the news. Not even 8 AM and, thanks to Kate’s link to this story about Americans not holding Boosh accountable, I’m already depressed.

Back to creating funny business.

D.

Can it get much worse?

Police kill army contractors

The army corps of engineers says the five or six people shot dead by police in New Orleans were contractors on their way to repair a canal.

***

I’m not sure why this is showing up first in the South African media, but I’ll wager it’s not a hoax.

No, I’m afraid it’s not a hoax. Here’s another link, this one from ABC news.

Update

The story circling the blogiverse is: AP rushed to report the wrong story. Someone was shooting at the contractors; the police fired back, killing five of the shooters; none of the contractors was shot. Here’s the alternate story. Hopefully by tomorrow, we’ll have some sense of the facts.

P.S.: Thanks, Kate, for shouting out my bleached anus story. Personally, I think bleached assholes are a fine metaphor for the flock of ignorant Americans content with The Way Things Are. (Wasn’t that in Babe — “the way things are is the way things are”? And if a pig didn’t buy that logic, why should we? Ah, right. Babe was a smart pig.)

D.

My ferret has fleas

Debi’s busy blogging about her dog, which made me think: You know, there’s no way a dog can be as much trouble as my ferret, Charlotte.

Her sister Emily ran off one day. I’d stupidly left the screen door open while cleaning their cage, and she made a mad dash. Ferrets are so damned domesticated that they can’t forage on their own, so I knew right away she had zero chance of survival. Hateful creature that she was, I knew she wouldn’t come back out of any feeling of affection.

Charlotte’s attitude improved with Emily’s absence. That’s not supposed to happen, by the way. Ferrets are social creatures, so the pet store owner advised us not to buy just one. Nevertheless, Charlotte has been much more pleasant, playful, and less inclined to nip since Emily left.

I noticed today that her back looked red. When I picked her up, I saw her skin move. Crawl — that’s a better word.

She’d become infested with fleas, and I had never noticed. I’ve never seen her biting or scratching, not once, so how would I know? I have noticed that our house is crawling with fleas, but I assumed the cats were bringing them in. Little did I know that Charlotte had become a vector.

I sprayed her with flea spray and took her into the bathroom. For the next twenty minutes, Karen and I shampooed her repeatedly and picked fleas from everywhere. Easily, she had over a hundred fleas. We even picked one out of her mouth.

I’ve showered since, but my skin is still crawling.

This is not a fun three-day weekend.

***

Blog-pal Rae Alexander is the new kid on my blogroll. She’s head honcho of the North Coast Nature Center, which Karen and I support (with critter donations, naturally). Rae, if you’re reading this, pay attention to my flea story. Do you still think the Nature Center needs a mammal?

D.

Pucker up, pale face

So Lara Flynn Boyle got her anus bleached, and anal bleaching is all the rage in SoCal.

Let’s get back to that. My cortex still sizzles with political indignation over New Orleans, and anal bleaching figures prominently into this picture. First, let’s talk about Faux News, where Geraldo Rivera and Shepard Smith handed Sean Hannity’s head back to him when he tried to right-spin the disaster relief situation. What does it tell you when Big Brother’s Mouth spits vitriol in Big Brother’s face? (Yes, that is possible, given a stiff head wind. I’d say we have one, wouldn’t you?)

Last night, Karen and I talked about this, and she reminded me of the Wally George Show. George had one of the original right-wing-rage TV programs in the 80s. I think they continued to show reruns on into the 90s. Imagine O’Reilly with even fewer brain cells. George was a hideously ugly, feral subhuman with platinum blond helmut hair and a bile-bag for a brain.

Anyway. One day, he took a break from his usual parade of guests (transvestites, atheists, Planned Parenthood proponents, etc.) to interview a pair of women mud wrestlers. His all-male audience of Orange County cretins went wild. These gals came out in bikinis, oiled up from forehead to big toe, and they dished it back to George with humor and style. George initially did his usual schtick, spewing them with hatred, calling them wicked sluts and whatever else the censors would let him get away with, but they were unflappable. In a matter of minutes, they’d won over the audience. George’s face fell apart. He knew he was licked.

And he joined the other side.

He kidded those two women, did whatever he could to ingratiate himself, all because he couldn’t afford to lose his audience of Deliverance-era sycophants. And that, my friends, is the story at Faux News. What happens when a demagogue loses his audience? He changes his tune. How long before O’Reilly becomes openly critical of Mister Bush?

With the rats at Faux jumping ship, I know the end is near.

*

Speaking of ends.

Okay, so I can’t claim ownership of that asterisk-as-anus joke. Kurt Vonnegut beat me to it by several decades. Still, man. Still. Some jokes never get stale.

Why are women in Los Angeles getting their anuses bleached for $75 a treatment, and what connection does it have to the State of the Union? What photo-ops are these women expecting? And what other bits of precognition did Monty Python possess? (“Ano-Gum. To keep that OTHER smile white and bright.”)

I pride myself that I can get my head into just about any perversion imaginable. Not share that perversion, mind you, but understand it. And, yes, I can grasp the appeal of a bleached anus. If you’re engaged in sexual practices that require you to look at the blessed starfish, you don’t want to be reminded of its primary function. Dratted brown pigmentation! Isn’t there something you can do about it, doc?

Nevertheless, anal bleaching took me by surprise. I noticed a one-liner mention of it in this month’s Harper’s Magazine. Suspicious of a hoax, I googled ‘anal bleaching’. I invite you all to do the same. Go on, you know you want to. I’ll wait right here.

See? Satisfied?

Even though I can understand this latest thing, I can’t stop wondering what this implies for us as a civilization. Time for another detour.

*

I heard yesterday that doctors at Charity Hospital in New Orleans are having to decide who lives and who dies at the most fundamental level: apportionment of food and water. Despite what you might think of doctors, we really don’t want that kind of responsibility. My heart goes out to them, and I’ve done little but think (and fume) over their plight.

I also heard yesterday that evacuations were proceeding at New Orleans’ private hospitals, but had stalled for Charity. I’ve looked for recent news, and this report from Tuscaloosa’s WVUA is the best I can do. Admittedly, there may be a wealth of factors and problems here to which I’m not privy. But as best I can tell from this article, “patients, staff and family and guests” have been evacuated from Children’s Hospital and University Hospital, while “Charity Hospital’s evacuation stopped. [President and CEO of Acadian Ambulance Service Inc.’s Richard] Zuschlag said his pilots were afraid to land at the Superdome.”

Will someone please explain this to me? I can’t make heads nor tails from the WVUA article, but the mental picture I’m forming is mighty ugly.

Meanwhile, actresses in Los Angeles are getting their anuses bleached.

*

This morning, I had a long talk with my nurse anesthetist about this. (Yes, I’m working on a Saturday.) Dee had a great point. What happens when the upper crust of society has everything? Every wrinkle is collagen-injected or botoxed away; every food whim is satisfied; every sexual quirk can be begged for or bought; and we have a theopolitical government that says WE’RE NUMBER ONE militarily, religiously, culturally. (Sorry, Dee. Paraphrasing.) What does it say that we’re getting our anuses bleached at $75 a treatment while folks are dying by the thousands in New Orleans, and much of that suffering was preventable?

It says that our priorities, and our heads, are firmly up our puckered, bleached-white assholes.

D.

Because Steve says it a hell of a lot better than I can

I can’t be funny about the mess this country is in, and I can’t rant about it half as well as Steve Gilliard can.

While you’re at it, check out the masterful coverage Jeff Huber has provided today.

Karen, thank heavens, handles the political thinnin’ around here, so I don’t have to.

If you are in the ever-shrinking minority that thinks Mister Bush is doing a fine job, don’t bother following these links. Just keep your head in the sand.

D.

A great little ear wax story

Hey, this one is clean enough for Reader’s Digest.

My patient, an older lady, told me about her daughter’s recent wedding. When the minister asked, “Who gives away the bride?” her husband didn’t respond. My patient realized in horror that he hadn’t gotten his ear wax cleaned in a while. She spoke up: “He does!”

D.

Aid for New Orleans

If I get started on a rant, I’m going to stroke out. I’ve tried to keep my mouth shut about this because (A) this isn’t a political blog, and (B) I’ve never been very good at expressing political opinions.

I’ll focus on what matters. Here’s where we made our donation:

America’s Second Harvest, the Nation’s Food Bank Network

They promise that 100% of your donation will go to disaster relief efforts. The American Red Cross, of course, is another worthy agency.

At least I’m not alone in my fury. Over at Daily Kos, there’s a pertinent article concerning the President’s approval rating with respect to his handling of the disaster. Guess what: he’s tanking.

Impeachment, anyone?

D.

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