July 4, 2004
Kathy spent the night at her mama’s so I had the house to myself last night. Of course she called me this morning and asked if I had walked the dogs and I said, “No, it’s not hot enough yet.”
So, by way of Lutheran guilt and extreme wussiness, I took the damn dogs down to the creek at 9:30 when it was only about 98 out.
Last week when I walked over to the cave I scared up a javelina and a big ol’ screech owl, the latter flying out of his perch in a deep crevice and gliding out over my head. This morning as I approached the former home of the Hohokam (some say Sinaguas), I didn’t see any javelina but as I peered up over a big pile of boulders I heard something flutter behind me. I turned to see the same big, fluffy screech owl, only this time he didn’t fly off, he landed on the ground about ten feet from me. He didn’t look afraid, far from it. At first I wondered if he was faking an injury so I would follow him away from his nest (a typical trick), or was he merely mad from the heat or, and this is the one I came to believe—he was calling me out.
His big eyes blinked as he stared a hole in my forehead. “Come on Punk,” he seemed to say with his eyes. “You want a piece of me? Huh? You lookin’ at me? Well, are you, you ex-Lutheran scum.”
Just then Peaches came running up and I thought, “Oh no! This poor screech owl is exactly the size of a big rooster and Peaches, The Chickenkiller, is going to pounce on this poor, defenseless fowl and kill it in a New York minute.”
As Peaches came close, the screech owl, turned and puffing up, gave out a series of clicking sounds. Peaches made a U-turn on a dime and walked off, “No thanks,” her rear end clearly stated as she disappeared around a clump of prickly pears.
As for myself, I meekly worked my way around the aggressive little booger and fled, like a major wussy. Just don’t tell any of my male friends.
And speaking of male friends:
“Just finished 7-03-04, hurry up with that book, I've been married (to the same woman) for 29 years, as of 6-27-04, but can always use suviablity tips.”
By popular demand:
Chapter Two. A Caring Father: The Four Most Frightening Words In The English Language
“We need to talk.”
As history clearly illustrates, men do not like to talk. From the Plains of Serengetti to Omaha Beach, men who were “chatty” didn’t last long.
And as the Sociologists posit: while men were out on the hunt they had to be very quiet lest they chase away the game or give away their position to some deadly predator (like screech owls!) or mortal enemies. Often, while in enemy territory, they would go for days without uttering a single word.
Women folk, on the other hand, were busy gathering nuts and berries, and talking from the moment they got up to long past cavetime. This often paid big dividends
“Don’t pick those Cane-ella, they’re poisonous. They’ll kill your husband in a New York minute.”
“What’s a New York minute?”
“I have no idea.”
“Well, let’s talk about it until the cows come home.”
“What’s a cow?”
“I have no idea.”
Repeat for 158,000 years.
Men, on the other hand, are bred to shut up, often, and for long periods of time. By now, it’s on the genetic code. Talkers=losers and dead guys.
Of course it’s not true that men never talk. That’s gross hyperbole. But, as my good friend Rich Schneider puts it, “Men only talk if it’s absolutely necessary. You might hear a man say, ‘Hey Darrell, your cap is on fire.” But that’s about it.”
Five Things Men Would Rather Do Than Talk
1. Take a proctologist exam with a rusty car mirror
2. Juggle live hand grenades in a speeding Humvee
3. Twirl Mohave rattlers over their head by the tails
4. Go to a French film festival with subtitles
5. Filet living crocs
So what should Men do when a woman says the dreaded four words?
To be quite honest, there is no known answer to this. It’s a conundrum from Hell. Simply put, you cannot win this game. Remember this, when a woman says “We need to talk,” you are in for a long listen. About the only proven strategy known to man is you can sometimes stall. Here are several proven semi-stallers:
• “Gee Honey, isn’t it time I cleaned the toilets and did all the laundry?”
• “I can’t talk right now, I’m meditating to enhance our relationship.”
• “I’d rather you read to me from one of those Deepak Chopra books.”
Stuff like that. I know it’s weak. Maybe if we men talked more about it we could come up with something better, but it’s all we’ve got at the moment. Just remember, there is no real escape from this other than divorce or death.
I promise other chapters will be more uplifting.
”If I ache, it's because we are apart and yet that can't be because you are inside and a part of me, so we really aren't apart at all. Yet I ache but wouldn't be without the ache, because that would mean being without you and that I can't be because I love you.”
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