Observations on a Snowy Day

I really don’t care for TV shows that take you (literally) into the guts of the matter, showing the most intimate medical details of various medical procedures.

Quite frankly, if I wanted to get this close to the action, I would have gone to med school. Feel free to pan away to the furrowed brow of the worried surgeon anytime.

I know I risk being labelled a homophobe, but the few people who truly know me know what horseshit that statement is.

I think advertisers are over-compensating.

Not every family in this country (or any country) is multi-cultural, multi-ethnic, multi-gender confused, or multi anything.

They are just families, like MOST families. Now, every ad features at least one gay couple kissing. I mean, pre-all this gender questioning, they didn’t show straight people kissing, but now…



You cannot choose your gender.

God did that.

You CAN choose which gender you want to emulate, and what is wrong with that?

Perfectly harmless. If you don’t like how it looks, don’t look.

I am starting to fall out of love with the TV show New Amsterdam because they are starting to try needless gratuitous gay sex scenes in a desperate attempt to stem the waning ratings, no doubt.

There is a classy way to integrate gay sex seamlessly into storylines.

This isn’t it.

Now, back in the day (read alcohol and eight-balls), sex between two hot women would have been money.

Red hot.

I’ll toast you with an Elephant Beer on that one.

Before I met the Domestic Despot and fell hopelessly head-over-heels, I dated this rich girl who was a prominent fundraiser for the United States Men’s Olympic Volleyball team. As a VIP she (we) had access to all the goodies: press conferences, banquets, locker room visits, and we got to shoot the breeze with the members of the team.

Karch Kiraly was one guy I spoke with.

Life must have really sucked for him.

He was this drop-dead gorgeous Adonis blonde-haired, blue-eyed Santa Barbara pretty boy son of a prominent doctor. Admired by men for his Olympian feats of athletic prowess, and adored by women for all the obvious reasons. (I can relate)

Plus, ready for this?

He was the nicest guy.

No pretenses.

The boys won the gold in 1984, the year we followed them, and I wish I would have kept the memorabilia I got, but alas, my breakup did not go exactly as planned.

The guys are here to start our bathroom remodels.

They still need to put up the backyard fence, and then I must decide on pool, spa, or what for the backyard. With the pool  season so short, an inground pool doesn’t seem to make as much sense.

The doggies loved the snow this morning.

Kind of surprising since they only saw a dusting of snow up in the San Francisco Peaks above Flagstaff, Arizona.

So far, so good with me and the cold. It is a balmy 75 as I sit here in my office dreaming of golf in the spring.

I wrote this song in 1980:

Cantina Lady

Stay well.

Published by maddogg09

I am an unmotivated genius with an extreme love for anything that moves the emotional needles of our lives.

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