The Effects of Evolution

Since the dawn of time man has recognized that the opposable thumb was a step in evolution that allowed us to create what we now have. But where has it gone from there?

It seems that since our modern age affords us ease and not the same need to work with our hands as much as we once did, our left hands have become much weaker. This is evidenced by the inability of drivers to use their turn signal.

We don’t have to yell and scream at predators or to get the attention of our tribe, which has resulted in the weakening of our throat muscles. That is why it’s very difficult to say “excuse me” when reaching for something in front of someone at the grocery store.

We don’t have the same need we once had for having a wide gaze and being aware of predators, and are primarily focused on the screens in front of us. So we can only see the traffic in front of us and not the people about to enter the crosswalk as we make a turn.

We don’t have the same need to walk lightly and sneak up on our prey so we can only walk barely lifting our feet and clomping or shuffling along lazily.

We also don’t have to hear oncoming redactors and therefore our hearing has diminished and we must yell into our cell phones.

We don’t have to run from approaching enemies, we don’t have to hunt and gather, we don’t have to walk to move our homes…that’s why we’re all SO FREAKIN’ FAT!


Olympics Bring out the Nasty

Olympic Rings


The Olympics bring out both the fitness enthusiast and the patriot in me every four years. But it also brings out the nasty in me;  that of my lust for the female gymnasts and divers.

Now one might say, especially if one were male and called themselves “one”, “dude, what about the beach volleyball players, they’re wearing the skimpiest of bikinis and there’s always great shots of their butts when they’re bent over waiting for a serve?”  I would respond by saying, “don’t call me dude.”

Also, the simple fact is, they’re taller than me. At 5’7″ and most of them being closer to six feet, I just never want a woman who can pat me on the top of the head. And no matter how gorgeous a taller woman can be, my interest just never develops. I have had guys punch me and point at a girl, the universal symbol since caveman days, to check her out. I turn, survey her height, then turn right back. Nothing, not a single synapse of lust fires in my brain. Because no matter how unattainable a woman is because of celebrity or wealth, I find it a waste of time to fantasize about anyone taller; I just wouldn’t want it anyways.


And so that brings us to the opposite: the female gymnast. They hardly ever pass 5’4″, so even if they wore heels, we’re good. And they have my two favorite features: great legs and great butts. And they can do all kinds of bendy and flexible things that make me say huherssooooyeeeeh. Plus they almost always have ponytails and I totally dig ponytails. (As opposed to my disdain for pigtails in anyone over the age of twelve.)

Which brings me to the major problem. Every four years I get older and further away from these gorgeous young women. Well, girls for the most part. So my nasty thoughts are truly confined to just a quick “wow”, I promise, and I am not sitting in my sweatpants making lewd comments at the TV in the voice of Bill Murray from Caddyshack. I don’t own a TV.


In a close second are the divers. They still have amazing bodies and they can quite often have the flexibility and strength of the gymnasts, as well as the legs; and they look really great wet. They’re also often older, so even though they’re still far too young for me I don’t worry so much about having a morsel of a dirty thought before I discover their age.

The only reason the gymnasts win out is that I did, and still do, some gymnastics and I love the sport. I did dive off the ten meter platform as a kid but now I would totally get vertigo.

All the athletes are beautiful, dedicated, courageous and strong individuals and I wish them all the best in their pursuit of their dream for Olympic gold.

A Conversation Between Angels IX

“And this is where you’ll be. Is there anything you need.”


“Where’s the TV?”

“Sorry, no television up here.”


“What about my laptop?”


“No, there’s no Wi-Fi.”


“And my cell phone?”


“No, you’re supposed to talk to each other. Believe me, communication is very very different here.”


“So what am I supposed to do?”




“God….I want to go back.”

Scenes From A Bus

For some reason everyone on the bus stinks this morning. Now I don’t have an overly sensitive nasal machine. I’ve walked hand in hand with girls who then literally wanted to stop and smell the rises and I’d be like “whatever.”. But these aren’t bus smells. This is definitely BO.

Can’t people tell? Don’t they have friends or family that might be able to gently suggest, I.e. get them a gift bag from Bath and Body Works?

I don’t think it’s one person because it’s strong. As a performer I’m really sensitive to body odor for fear it would send some negative publicity out there. Do these people have nowhere to go and it doesn’t matter how they smell? Are they simply going to SA (Smellys Anonymous) meetings and they’re getting support for their problem, after all it is noon and that’s a common time for support meetings?

Is that part of their culture? I know that in some cultures it is different.

Is it their way of making a statement?

Are they fed up with society and government and the wealthy and the 1% and they want to piss off all they can?

Oh my, are they in financial trouble and the water was turned off in their building without advanced notice?

Everyone looks nice. I can’t figure out who it would be.

Oh wait.


I think it might be me.

That’s Just Not Her


Yesterday’s post I wrote about my beloved Macbook Pro having been returned to me, but I realized I’d never named her. And I named her Joy. But that’s just not her.


Not that Joy isn’t a great name. And joy is one of my favorite words. My favorite magician, Doug Henning, had a great quote: “When we live with a sense of wonder, out lives become filled with joy.”


Man how true. Joy has become a bigger word to me than even magic, even though it has less letters. But it encompasses everything. And let’s face it, this computer has used it’s warranty three times over in visits to the Apple Store. So if I call her Joy then they’ll be no Joy in my life when the geniuses have her. Although after these last twelve days, I’m not so sure about the “genius” part.


So what to call her? Like I said, Mac is probably already taken. And MB just seems too lazy and unimaginative. I do always say puter instead of computer. Maybe just P. Ha! I said pee.


How about PT? Nah, makes it sound military. What about Put? What about little Pooter? I like that. I think that’s what Mork called Mindy. Little Pooter. And Mork and Mindy is why I got into being a comedian.


That’s it! Pooter. Now if you’ll excuse me, I’m going to close her up and seal the new arrangement with a light little stroke. Happy surfing everyone!


She’s Back!

I missed her. So much. My days were not the same without her and twelve days was just too long! But she’s back. My MacBook Pro.


Now just in case, I do have a reason to call her a she. I do remember older men that called their cars a she, but they seemed to do it when they broke down. And even as a young kid I didn’t think that made sense. And I don’t have any homophobia that is preventing calling it a he. It’s just that, well, I like to kiss and touch girls. And I touch my computer. There I admit. I’ll close the lid and lightly stroke it, because as a  writer and web designer, I’ve shared a part of myself. OH ALL RIGHT. I kissed it when it came back! And no, I don’t care if anyone saw me! But I did wait until I got home so no one really did.


But I’m not the same without…oh my, I’ve never given her a name. Hmm. wow this is big. This is important. I can’t just call her Mac, that’s probably taken. What about Minnie? Hmm. Not bad. But Disney might want money. Let’s see, what does she mean to me. Well, last night we lay in bed while Hulu played in the background, her soft sweet glow making me fall asleep while she was still awake.  This morning I didn’t even get out of bed, I couldn’t, I had to touch her. And, oh my, did her keys feel good. The iPhone has been a godsend but it just doesn’t feel the same.


Oh and how we played this morning. Just being together, taking care of the chores: email, getting invoices out and of course she always opens up the world to me through Safari. She is my inspiration, my imagination, my joy.


That’s it. I’ll call her Joy.