“Dear Dr. Kim”

“Dear Dr. Kim:
“A couple weeks ago, I was out riding my bicycle (as part of my fitness regime). I was wearing a T-shirt and shorts because the weather was hot, and I didn’t want to sweat too much. I was about five miles from home, riding pretty fast when I took a corner on the gravel trail and my back wheel went out from under me. I hit the ground pretty hard and although I wasn’t seriously injured, I still got a massive case of “road rash” on my shoulder, biceps, forearm and calf muscle, all on the left side. I managed to limp home (the bike was pretty mangled) and cleaned up, then put antibiotic gel on the scrapes and covered each of them with a sterile dressing.
“The stinging and burning lasted for several days, and one evening I was lying there unable to sleep, when a thought came to me: I needed something to take my mind off the pain. The problem was that I couldn’t move much without pulling off the dressing, and I realized that I needed some mothering: not to be too graphic — and I hope you’ll forgive me for saying this — I wanted something like a blowjob to get the proper level of distraction.
“So I put out a couple of calls to some lady friends and outlined my need for a little nursing, some… shall we say “advanced” mothering. To cut a long story short [too late — Dr.K] , not ONE of these friends was the slightest bit interested in helping me out.
“Now my question: was I asking too much of my lady friends?”
— Road Rash, Atlanta

Dear Mr. Rash (Swedish, is it?):
Let me give you more than one answer, because you have some bigger issues than frigid girl friends.

In the first place: unless you’re training for a serious athletic event like the Tour de France, I see absolutely no need for anyone to ride a bicycle outdoors — especially when there are any number of stationary bikes to be had on eBay. Outside, there lies sunburn, heatstroke, traffic collisions, bugs, bitey pit bulls, excessive sweating and, as you discovered, a real possibility of injury from a simple fall.

Stop that shit. God invented air-conditioning — or maybe it was Westinghouse, I don’t remember — but regardless, you can get all the exercise you need without going outdoors and exposing yourself to the elements and/or automobile accidents, bitey pit bulls etc. You got off easy this time, so take it as a warning.

Now for your second issue, that of your so-called “lady friends” who won’t help you get through your pain. I find it a difficult one to address because back in my day, most men had any number of female acquaintances — let alone actual female friends — who would be only too willing to pop over for a little impromptu nursing if a man were to be ill or injured. Hell, I remember one time when even my cousin Stephanie… ah, never mind.

Your problem, you will be either glad or saddened to note, is not an uncommon one these days. Modern young women seem to have lost all sense of maternal feelings, probably because they’re “building careers”, “finding themselves” or else spending all their spare time looking at their bloody cell phones. Then when they reach the age of oh, thirty-two, they suddenly rediscover their maternal instinct, only it’s not for a wounded friend like yourself, but for an actual baby — which means you’ve lost out not just once (as a young man) but twice (as an older one).

Personally, I blame the godless feministicals, who have poisoned the minds of these young women and made them feel as though a blowjob is a privilege, to be grudgingly (if at all) doled out only as a reward for “good behavior” on a man’s part, e.g. buying them a diamond necklace for Valentine’s Day or paying to have their kitchen remodeled. This, when we all know that a BJ is more of a friendly gesture, carrying as it does no fear of pregnancy nor even excessive emotional attachment (if properly positioned).

What you need to do is to cut these women out of your life, ASAP. I have no idea where one finds a “normal” woman with mothering/nursing instincts — like I said, this seems to be a recent phenomenon and one outside my experience and expertise — but one thing’s for sure: the lady “friends” that you have are not true friends at all. (Although you can be sure that if they needed your ummm muscles, e.g. to help them move house or put up a heavy shelf, they’d be all over you like syrup on a pancake.) Ditch ’em, and good riddance.

Good luck with your recovery, and don’t forget to sell your bike — if it’s not too badly damaged, that is — and start exercising responsibly, indoors. That’s the important lesson, here.
— Dr. Kim

Don’t Go There, Lefty Fuckwits

Apparently, this latest round in the saga of Leftists’ desire for general citizen disarmament has them yucking it up about gun owners’ “cold dead hands” mantra, as seen in this revolting video.

Just to make it perfectly clear:  we’re not joking.  And if your response is, “Nor are we,” then I guess I need to buy some more ammo, and your storm troopers will have to buy more body bags. Assuming you’d have enough storm troopers, by the way. (Because we all know that you’d never try to take away our guns yourselves, you braying cowards.)

This is no joking matter; this is deadly serious stuff we’re talking about. Too many Americans have died defending our Constitution for the rest of us to submit meekly to this kind of subversion. And all your bleating that “20% of Americans support our gun confiscation agenda” simply means that 80% of us don’t, which is why the Second Amendment will never be repealed.

Choke on it. And watch as our numbers grow.

“Dear Dr. Kim”

“Dear Dr. Kim,
I recently read this article written by a relationship expert who claims that men have to do these five things in order to get some action from their ladies. Here’s the list:

  • Take away the stress
  • Stay connected
  • Surprise her
  • Give her space
  • Make her feel special

What do you think?”
— Desperate, Melbourne

Dear Desperate,

It’s a load of old bollocks. I didn’t even have to see the picture of this “relationship expert” to know it was a woman — there’s wishful thinking written all over each of those pathetic suggestions. Let me address each of them before I offer up my own tried-and-tested, guaranteed-not-to-fail suggestions that will have your lady at your complete priapic command.

  • Take away the stress — if the thought of bonking you is stressful, I’d suggest taking away all the stress by bonking someone else who isn’t stressed-out by the prospect
  • Stay connected — considering that you’re offering her the ultimate in “connectedness”, I have no idea what she means by this
  • Surprise her — yeah, and don’t you be surprised if she reacts negatively, followed by having you arrested for “spousal rape” (which is apparently some New Thing advocated by Teh Feministicals)
  • Give her space — in all likelihood, she already takes up most of the marital bed anyway; so give her even more space by getting into someone else’s bed (see above)
  • Make her feel special — if she’s refusing to have sex with you, that’s all the “special” she’s entitled to; so feel free to make someone else feel special (see above, again).

My own no-fail suggestions are quite simple, albeit costly:

  • pay to have her kitchen remodeled
  • buy her diamonds
  • buy her mother a new house (in another city — you don’t have to be stupid about this, after all)

If you’re unwilling to spend this much just for a roll in the old, familiar hay (and nobody can blame you for that), but you’re okay with spending some money just to get laid, send me a private email and I’ll send you the phone number for Madame Fifi’s House Of Carnal Delight. If you don’t want to spend any money at all to get your rocks off, you need to grow up, my son: sex is never free. Even when you’re married.
–Dr. Kim

Words To The Wise

Not having been a frequent visitor to Lucky Gunner, I was unaware that they don’t just sell ammo — and in case there are others like me, allow me to introduce you to their excellent shooting-for-beginners series, Shooting 101. Then look at the next series (which is equally good): Start Shooting Better.

And the website is chock full of such articles. Prepare to spend quite some time getting through all of them.

There’s a German idiom “Immer werder lernen“, which roughly translated means “There always something to learn”. Such is the case with the two Lucky Gunner series — I’m kicking myself at discovering a couple of bad habits I’ve picked up over the years — and in this age of smaller “pocket” pistols, their “How To Shoot Small Pistols Better” is an absolute gem.

And Chris Baker gets off some memorable lines, e.g. when talking about shooting revolvers:

“What it comes down to is that the long double action trigger press forces the shooter to maintain correct technique 100% of the time in order to not completely suck.”

Here’s a gratuitous picture of a beautiful gun, just because. It’s a S&W Model 24 “Heritage”, chambered in .44 Special.

And now, if you’ll excuse me, I’m off to the range… to work on eliminating some of those bad habits I discovered. And to make sure that I don’t completely suck.

 

Airport Confusion

This article (via Insty, as usual) made me chuckle.

Having three airports in Washington is great. Until you go to the wrong one.

Having a super-abundance of airports is considered a big-city perk in Washington, as in New York, London and other major hubs. But with greater choice comes a greater chance that you will find yourself at, say, National Airport while your flight is boarding at one of the other two, Washington Dulles International or Baltimore-Washington International Marshall.

Online search engines are making the confusion worse. Shoppers using the airport code WAS often get a mix-and-match low-fare flight that sends them out via one airport and returns them to another. Cars get stranded and, sometimes, so do fliers.
“We see people getting deals on the Internet and having no idea that DCA and IAD are two different airports 35 miles apart.”

That hasn’t happened to me, yet, with our Dallas-Fort Worth and Love Field airports, but it’s only a question of time. Their airport codes are DFW and DAL respectively, so there are any number of possibilities for someone to screw up eventually. And even though they’re relatively close together — 20 miles or so — the highways connecting them are among the busiest in the U.S. even without any road construction: and there’s always some construction going on somewhere.

With DFW, you absolutely have to have the correct terminal information — the gate number within the terminal is helpful, but you can get by without too much hassle if you don’t. I did have one airhead woman from New York ask me to take her to DFW, and when I asked her which terminal — sometimes that will determine whether you take the North or South entrances to the airport, even — she said brightly, “Oh, just drop me off anywhere in the airport; I’ll figure it out.”

Now let’s be honest: Evil Kim might just have dumped her at Terminal E (the most remote and also least-patronized of the terminals) and gone on his merry way, but this time the old rascal stayed in the background while I explained to Miss Upper East Side that this wasn’t LaGuardia (which is small because it’s squeezed into an island and against the sea), there is no pedestrian connection between terminals, and it could take her up to a quarter of an hour to get from one terminal to another at the far end of the place, if the inter-terminal rail- or bus service was working at its maximum efficiency. (Frequent visitors to DFW can stop laughing, now.)

And she had a large suitcase and carry-on bag. I could have sold tickets just for the entertainment value. Anyway, she looked it up and lo! Terminal A. So all ended well.

I myself have made the mistake (in my private, non-Uber capacity) of going to pick up people at DFW when they were in fact coming into Love Field — and only my memory saved it from being a total disaster, when I remembered, too late, that Virgin Atlantic doesn’t fly into DFW, only into Love Field. (They were relatives, so I didn’t get spit-roasted or impaled on a spike.) That said, I did make it from DFW to Love in record time…

One last funny story about the Dallas airports. Last week I arrived at a near-downtown hotel to pick up an older woman, and asked, “Love?” whereupon she smiled and said, “Maybe. You offering?”

I haven’t blushed like that since I was a teenager.


Afterthought for my International Readers:  if you’re arriving in DFW and flying on to another U.S. destination, always make sure that you flying into DFW and out of DFW (and not out of DAL). Also, when you book your ticket into DFW, make sure that your outbound flight is at least three hours after your scheduled arrival, because while international flights all land in Terminal D, your connecting flight can leave from just about any terminal in the airport. And you have to go through Immigration (a long wait), get your luggage off the carousel (an even longer wait) and then stand in a long line to re-check it for the domestic flight. Also, DFW has some of the worst signage of any Western international airport I’ve ever flown through, and their public “service” announcements in Baggage Claim usually sound as though someone’s gargling raw eggs through a fast-revolving tennis racquet, delivered (usually) by someone who sounds retarded, speaking with an incomprehensible Hispanic- or Ebonics accent because diversity.

My advice is to connect through Atlanta’s Hartsfield (ATL), as long as you know that Delta flies into both DFW and Love Field. I hope this helped.

“Dear Dr. Kim”

“Dear Dr. Kim:

“What do I do?” — #MillennialProblems

Dear Problems,
Switch to Cascade. FFS, can’t your generation figure out anything for yourselves?

–Dr. Kim

Looks like I’m not the only one who is enraptured by this new Millennial activity. Try this comment (marked with the red arrow):