From Taki’s Magazine:
“These days, Scotland can only aspire to Third World hellhole. Bonnie Alba has become Jessica Alba—beautiful a long time ago, still decent from afar, but up close, a craggy wasteland with a fried brain.”
All you have to do is follow their politics to see how true that is.
Longtime Friend&Reader Dave L. shares this tale from his youth:
I left Uncle Sam’s Navy in July of 1974. The economy was a little shaky back in those days and I was struggling to find bean and beer money. I picked up a part time gig in a local photo store. We sold some fairly high end new and used hardware – Nikons, Leicas etc and did the usual photo processing back in the days before digital photography. I might share some of those stories with you but that’s for another time. The point of today’s note is to talk about the music that played in the store.
Our Jewish boss wanted to create a “festive” Christmas atmosphere and he played a continuous loop of holiday music over the PA system. Unfortunately, his play list was only about 45 minutes long so we got to hear the same songs about 8 to 10 times during the course of a work day. You know me as a person of faith and I really love Christmas and the music associated with the holiday, but my love and patience were sorely tested by hearing “The Little Drummer Boy” ten times a day six days a week. If I hadn’t needed the money I would have run screaming out of the shop at chorus number eight or nine of “Pa rum pum pum pum”.
Even today, almost fifty years later, hearing the Little Drummer Boy will make me sweat and shout out “D-Day. Normandy. June Sixth. Eisenhower!”
Wait: Eisenhower?
[exit, giggling helpessly]
“Dear Dr. Kim,
“My wife, 64, is a kind woman but never enjoyed sex. To her, it was an unpleasant task, necessary for procreating. Once our children — now 34 and 32 — had been born, our sex life disappeared to nothing.
“I love my wife, and we get along as friends, so I accepted this as my lot in life. But I missed intimacy and feeling loved, the warmth of a woman’s body against mine.
“Then I met a much younger woman (31) at a work conference. At first, I couldn’t believe a beautiful young woman would be interested in an old man like me (I’m 64), and we began a passionate affair.
“The love-making is so incredible that I’m desperate to leave home and marry my lover — but I’m old enough to be her father. Despite being 30 years my junior, she has taught me so much about sex — positions I’d never imagined trying, using sex toys and talking dirty. These are things my wife wouldn’t have dreamed of doing and I can’t get enough of it.
“We have been sleeping together for almost a year. After three decades without a sex life, I am finally feeling fulfilled.
“I thought she was scamming me or using me for money. But she said she found my intellect a huge turn-on.
“I am sure my wife suspects that I am having an affair but I don’t think she cares.
“Would it be wrong of me to leave her and seek some happiness with my lover?”
— Drowning In Sex
Dear Drowning,
Yes, it would, and here’s why.
From what I can see, what’s holding you and Miss Hotty Totty together is lust and (in her case) being with someone more mature than the snowflakes of her own age group. This is not altogether a Bad Thing, of course (many relationships are based on far flimsier a foundation), but there are some realities you need to face.
In a couple-three years’ time, your dick is going to stop working. Not your fault, it’s just a sad consequence of male physiology. You can pop the Blessed Woody Pill all you want, but after a while it too will no longer be able to coax any interest from your drooping phallus, and you’ll be left with Custer’s Last Stand, so to speak.
In ten years’ time, you’ll be 74 — and if you’re like most other men, decrepitude will have set in, your brain will start to slow and you’ll be spending most of your time shouting at seagulls.
At this point in time, Miss Hotty Totty will be 40. Here’s a sample picture of a 40-year-old woman:
That’s actress Ruth Wilson. Do you think a woman like that will be wanting to push you around in a wheelchair for the next five or so years? And that’s not even the worst part; this is:
Ruth Wilson ‘thinks about having a baby every day’.
Yup. Unless Miss Hotty Totty has already popped a sprog or two (you didn’t say, but I’m guessing not), her little breeding clock is going to start clanging in her ears (and therefore yours too) like the bells of St. Mary’s. Do you really want to be a daddy again at age 67?
Okay, here’s my advice.
Do all those things, and when it all ends, as it will, at least it won’t end catastrophically. Unless your wife stabs you to death.
From a commenter at Kenny’s back porch comes a profound observation:
“Sharks, snakes & switchblades always look bigger in the wild for some reason.”
This, my friends, is a man who has seen the world.
Still, it could be worse…
…I mean, drink the beer, feed the dog, stab the woman — sheesh.
And our motivational message for the week:
She’s not that self-assured: she’s wearing a bra. I don’t know what that means. My head hurts. It’s Monday.
Sent to me by Reader Gerald F., here’s Diana Rigg doing her Mrs. Peel thing.
All I have to say that Mr. Peel was a total idiot, letting her leave the house dressed like that — or letting her out of the house at all, come to think of it.
Best legs, ever.