As the lost Lenore has gotten uber-busy with her Free Range Kids project, I have noticed that Rosemary B. has begun writing intriguing stories out of the Lenore-vein for the New York Daily News. Most recently, she posted a request for experts to comment on a report that indicated that "one out of every three men would rather play video games than have sex." So, as a former relationship/dating columnist, "Single in the City," for the now defunct BALTIMORE EXAMINER newspaper, I felt obligated to reply...
My thought on this is to look at it from the other angle, i.e. this also means that TWO out of every THREE guys would indeed rather have sex than play video games. So who are these obstinate abstinents? The geeks, nerds, uncool, less than attractive (at least by society's current standards), the living-in-their-parents'-basement types as described in William Shatner's famous SNL tirade, the guys coming out of bad relationships, divorces, guys who have had bad experiences in the sexual realm (i.e. just one too many criticisms about inadequate performance, inability to secure a prescription for Viagra, those recovering from STDs), guys who wouldn't have any interest in sex whether there were video games or not (shout outs to you both, Percy and Ulysses!), and those guys who prefer StoveTop stuffing. You add all that up, it's probably MORE than a third. So that covers it
Friday, April 3, 2009
Wednesday, February 4, 2009
The Un-EXAMINER Life Not Worth Living?
I had the great good fortune to write for the BALTIMORE EXAMINER for the nearly three years of it's life here in Mobtown and thoroughly enjoyed the experience. In fact, I had visions of retiring in 20 years from my full time gig in PR and spending my days writing for the EXAMINER, continuing my reviews of local theater (which now has lost its chief forum), talking about relationships (though youth readers probably wouldn't want to read the ramblings of a 65 year old single guy...if I'm still single by then...though I probably will be) and generally being recognized as Baltimore's favorite bon vivant. Well, kiss all that goodbye, sister. Still, it was a good run, I had fun, made some bucks, made some friends, and hope, as they say, that as this door closes, another one will open...hopefully not in front of an empty elevator shaft...
Nothing lately from Lenore, hopefully she'll have something weird for me to talk about again soon!
Nothing lately from Lenore, hopefully she'll have something weird for me to talk about again soon!
Tuesday, January 6, 2009
It's 2009. And???
Since the Lost Lenore has been so uberbusy preparing for the debut of her book on FREE RANGE KIDS her requests for insights regards anything else have dwindled like the value of my condo, leaving long stretches of nothingness between my blog entries, so I decided I'd post an entry because, like nature, the internet abhors a vacuum and who doesn't love a good Hoover?
It's 2009 and the year, at least for me, is sucking like the proverbial black hole in space. I can't find Stephen Hawking to remedy the situation and have become even more depressed watching ARMAGEDDON WEEK on the History Channel. Anybody notice the fact that all SEVEN SEALS OF THE APOCALYPSE are upon us, 7 seals we can't club? Is the giant super volcano which is Yellowstone National Park about to go KA-BLEWEE, sending humanity, Yogi, Booboo and the Forest Ranger into the after life? Around me, friends have lost loved ones, are dealing with serious illness, legal matters, and economic doom and gloom. Fortunately, CHANGE IS AT HAND and we are all hoping...praying...President Obama will guide us into the light. Even though I voted for "the old man," I'm pullin' for The Big O. Anything has to be better than the neofascist government (let's be straight on this, the last 8 years have NOT been Republican, or Democrat, or anything else we're used to...Whigs, Federalists, whathaveya) we've had messing things up. I'll be camping out in front of my mailbox, waiting for my stimulus check...of course I didn't get one last time, whazzupwiddat?
Well, that's it. Nothing more to say. Not going to wallow in a pool of self pity. Best advice: suck it up, keep working hard, keep putting money in your 401K so when the stocks rebound, we'll all be in the gravy. Well, it's a theory. Beyond that, am hoping the Orioles sign somebody who wasn't playing in the Italian Softball Beer League last winter. Oh, and GO RAVENS, tame the Titans!
It's 2009 and the year, at least for me, is sucking like the proverbial black hole in space. I can't find Stephen Hawking to remedy the situation and have become even more depressed watching ARMAGEDDON WEEK on the History Channel. Anybody notice the fact that all SEVEN SEALS OF THE APOCALYPSE are upon us, 7 seals we can't club? Is the giant super volcano which is Yellowstone National Park about to go KA-BLEWEE, sending humanity, Yogi, Booboo and the Forest Ranger into the after life? Around me, friends have lost loved ones, are dealing with serious illness, legal matters, and economic doom and gloom. Fortunately, CHANGE IS AT HAND and we are all hoping...praying...President Obama will guide us into the light. Even though I voted for "the old man," I'm pullin' for The Big O. Anything has to be better than the neofascist government (let's be straight on this, the last 8 years have NOT been Republican, or Democrat, or anything else we're used to...Whigs, Federalists, whathaveya) we've had messing things up. I'll be camping out in front of my mailbox, waiting for my stimulus check...of course I didn't get one last time, whazzupwiddat?
Well, that's it. Nothing more to say. Not going to wallow in a pool of self pity. Best advice: suck it up, keep working hard, keep putting money in your 401K so when the stocks rebound, we'll all be in the gravy. Well, it's a theory. Beyond that, am hoping the Orioles sign somebody who wasn't playing in the Italian Softball Beer League last winter. Oh, and GO RAVENS, tame the Titans!
Thursday, November 13, 2008
Shame, Shame, Shame!
The lost Lenore continues her search for childhood failure stories, as well as moments of prepubescent humiliation, so naturally I'm happy to chime in...
"When I was a wee lad, since I had very low self-esteem and was afraid of everything, the result of both nature and nurture, I rarely would speak for myself. My poor social skills were noted on my kindergarten report card as I had this habit of speaking through my friend, Markie. Now Markie wasn't an imaginary friend, he was flesh and blood, but if I had to give an opinion, it was usually prefaced by "Markie says," a defense mechanism to turn attention from myself and on to another target, i.e. Markie. To give you a sense of my inner fragility, when asked as part of some class exercise to "be a tree," I refused, as I was terrified that, should I surrender myself to the concept of becoming an oak, I might never be "Dan" again. Speaking through or "behind" others became a habit, but the tide may have turned one day in grade school during a "Parents Day" event when I was asked a solution to some odd numbers problem. Afraid to give the wrong answer, I said, "I agree with (insert name of kid who had been asked previously and didn't have the right answer either)," which struck the parents in the room as being incredibly funny. Nothing like being laughed at by adults in front of your peers and your own parents to make you feel so small you wouldn't be picked up by an electron microscope. As I recall, my father took some action at this point and got me focused on my arithmetic, but the real result I think was my realization that this strategy of hiding behind others was doomed to failure, particularly if you choose people who are bad at math. Today, I am a self-actualized, confident, bon vivant and writer who never met a camera he didn't like, so yes, one can face shame and humiliation as a youngster and yet still rise to celebrity heights...at least in his own mind!"
"When I was a wee lad, since I had very low self-esteem and was afraid of everything, the result of both nature and nurture, I rarely would speak for myself. My poor social skills were noted on my kindergarten report card as I had this habit of speaking through my friend, Markie. Now Markie wasn't an imaginary friend, he was flesh and blood, but if I had to give an opinion, it was usually prefaced by "Markie says," a defense mechanism to turn attention from myself and on to another target, i.e. Markie. To give you a sense of my inner fragility, when asked as part of some class exercise to "be a tree," I refused, as I was terrified that, should I surrender myself to the concept of becoming an oak, I might never be "Dan" again. Speaking through or "behind" others became a habit, but the tide may have turned one day in grade school during a "Parents Day" event when I was asked a solution to some odd numbers problem. Afraid to give the wrong answer, I said, "I agree with (insert name of kid who had been asked previously and didn't have the right answer either)," which struck the parents in the room as being incredibly funny. Nothing like being laughed at by adults in front of your peers and your own parents to make you feel so small you wouldn't be picked up by an electron microscope. As I recall, my father took some action at this point and got me focused on my arithmetic, but the real result I think was my realization that this strategy of hiding behind others was doomed to failure, particularly if you choose people who are bad at math. Today, I am a self-actualized, confident, bon vivant and writer who never met a camera he didn't like, so yes, one can face shame and humiliation as a youngster and yet still rise to celebrity heights...at least in his own mind!"
Wednesday, November 12, 2008
Fail Safe
The Lost Lenore seems to have been lost from the pages of the New York Sun as she's been so dang busy with her new book, FREE RANGE KIDS, soon to be hitting shelves o'er the land from the good people at Wiley publishing. Anyway, her most recent query asked for anecdotes about failure...the point being that yes, little Jimmy can fail a quiz or strike out in his Little League game and it doesn't mean he needs to have a private tutor and a sports psychologist. You can fail and still learn something and turn out fine. So, here's what I had to say on the subject (she loved it, as per usual...!)
"When I was in the fourth grade, one quarter, I got a "D" in a particular class. You have to understand, I didn't (don't) get "Ds." I was the fat kid/last kid-picked-for-dodge ball, so I had no self-worth whatsoever, since it became clear to me, from watching the daily vignettes from LORD OF THE FLIES in public grade school, that a person was deemed worthy based on either their physical prowess (I had none) or their mental prowess (good grades). To be fat AND stupid, well, I should just jump off the roof of the school and be done with it. So I was thoroughly upset, panicked, etc. I talked to my Dad about it, and seeing that it was of a concern to me, we both met with Mrs. Hunt, the teacher, and the culprit seemed to be my lack of understanding of how a battery works. To this day, I remain mechanically uninclined (I've been a competitive fencer for 22 years and still have NO idea how to rewire my electrical weapons, nor do I want to learn), but anyway, I was assured that this poor grade was not the end of the world and if I gave this battery thing another shot, I'd be fine. I did, somehow managed to get my mind around the idea of volts and currents or whatever, and got a better grade. Evidently, it must have had an impact on me as I still remember this 37 years later. I learned that I could "fail," or at least get a bad grade and (1) still have worth (2) still be loved by my parents (3) and that there is, in fact, something I could do about my situation. I think as children, we think that if we make a mistake it is irrevocable, that there's no hope, all is lost, woe is me (at least kids who grew up in the 60s and 70s; today's kids are likely to contact their lawyer and start a class action suit against the teacher who gave them the poor grade, but anyway...). You might say my failure taught me EMPOWERMENT. Like Alfred told Bruce Wayne, "We fall, so we that we learn to pick ourselves up." And there it is...
"When I was in the fourth grade, one quarter, I got a "D" in a particular class. You have to understand, I didn't (don't) get "Ds." I was the fat kid/last kid-picked-for-dodge ball, so I had no self-worth whatsoever, since it became clear to me, from watching the daily vignettes from LORD OF THE FLIES in public grade school, that a person was deemed worthy based on either their physical prowess (I had none) or their mental prowess (good grades). To be fat AND stupid, well, I should just jump off the roof of the school and be done with it. So I was thoroughly upset, panicked, etc. I talked to my Dad about it, and seeing that it was of a concern to me, we both met with Mrs. Hunt, the teacher, and the culprit seemed to be my lack of understanding of how a battery works. To this day, I remain mechanically uninclined (I've been a competitive fencer for 22 years and still have NO idea how to rewire my electrical weapons, nor do I want to learn), but anyway, I was assured that this poor grade was not the end of the world and if I gave this battery thing another shot, I'd be fine. I did, somehow managed to get my mind around the idea of volts and currents or whatever, and got a better grade. Evidently, it must have had an impact on me as I still remember this 37 years later. I learned that I could "fail," or at least get a bad grade and (1) still have worth (2) still be loved by my parents (3) and that there is, in fact, something I could do about my situation. I think as children, we think that if we make a mistake it is irrevocable, that there's no hope, all is lost, woe is me (at least kids who grew up in the 60s and 70s; today's kids are likely to contact their lawyer and start a class action suit against the teacher who gave them the poor grade, but anyway...). You might say my failure taught me EMPOWERMENT. Like Alfred told Bruce Wayne, "We fall, so we that we learn to pick ourselves up." And there it is...
Thursday, September 25, 2008
Why do women DO that?
The Lost Lenore and her pal, Lance, are writing an article for Reader's Digest looking at why women do some of the very odd things that they do...I was asked to give my erudite and experienced input into the cobwebby labryinth which is the mind of the Typical Female...Read, chuckle, and nod in silent approval...
- Why do so many women own so many pairs of shoes in general?
I've asked women this question. They stare blankly into space for a moment as the gerbil gets a claw caught in the spinning wheel in their heads, and the response is usually one of three theories: (1) I don't know (2) Because I'm a woman and (3) It has something to do with SEX AND THE CITY.
- Why do so many women watch the Lifetime channel? I know very intelligent women who watch some of the sappiest movies I've ever seen. Is it a guilty pleasure?
I believe women watch the LIFETIME Channel because they want to make sure that Valerie Bertinelli and Victoria Principal stay gainfully employed and don't end up homeless.
- Why do so many women like Oprah?
Because all women want to BE Oprah. Rich, the center of attention (there's something odd about a woman who has her own magazine and puts herself on every single cover), a medical staff the size of Sloan-Kettering's at their beckon call, uberempowered, and at the same time, sensitive to the needy (let's give everyone in Ethiopia a new Pontiac!) generous to a fault (let's give everyone in the studio audience a new Pontiac!), but business savvy (let's get a new advertising contract going with Pontiac!)
- Why do so many women defend egotistical men, claiming they're
"insecure"?
Because women are insecure. If women admitted that the men they were attracted to were egotistical louts it would make them appear either shallow, stupid, or inherently defective (i.e. do women have a natural tendency to be attracted to egotistical louts), so they must defend these men so they themselves don't look bad.
- What's up with those twenty-pound purses? Do you really need all that stuff? I've taken less stuff camping for a weekend than many women take to work every day.
A woman is creature that wants what it wants when it wants it. And wants to look GOOOOOOOOD doing it. So that requires either a contract with Local 360 Teamsters Union to come out and do facial/body reparations every 15 minutes or an arsenal of assorted cosmetic and feminine products and devices (that thing they use on their eyelashes looks like some form of medieval torture device to me) which must be kept in complete disarray in a leather sack the size of a cow's udder and worth twice the GNP of Somalia.
- What do so many women have against beer?
Beer is masculine. It involves things like "hops" which women haven't a clue about, and usually sports as the vast majority of beer is consumed while watching Monday Night Football and just about anything on ESPN. Wine on the other hand is French, and therefore, feminine.
- Why do women ask so many questions? Maybe it's just me, but it
seems like many relationships have dialogues like this: "What time
does the party start?" "I don't know." "Will Joe and Jill be
there?" "I don't know." "Will there be food?" "I don't know." Are
you just naturally curious, or is there some higher
purpose/ulterior motive to all those questions?
Women are constantly afraid of being judged and found LACKING. Lacking in terms of their physical appeal, their mental prowess, whatever. It's a Western Society thing. Women are made to feel from the time they begin to toddle about that their main appeal is their appearance and one gets one's sense of beauty not from within, but from without. What do my friends and colleagues think about my new hairstyle? My new shoes? My new clothes? My new boyfriend? This puts a great deal of pressure on the typical female who therefore requires as much intelligence and reconnaissance as possible about every outing and venture in which they may take part. This allows them to prepare. WHAT TIME DOES THE PARTY START gives them the information they need regards how many hours, minutes, seconds, they have to shower, do their makeup, call in Local 360 of the Teamsters union, etc. WILL JOE AND JILL BE THERE? This may be her favorite couple...or likely, least favorite, the ones who are most likely to be in judgment about her, about her husband, etc. WILL THERE BE FOOD? Women are always interested in food so they can be sure to avoid it. It's their eternal hope, but it is never fulfilled as ultimately no woman has any defense against anything that contains chocolate, sugar, and carbohydrates.
- Why do so many women own so many pairs of shoes in general?
I've asked women this question. They stare blankly into space for a moment as the gerbil gets a claw caught in the spinning wheel in their heads, and the response is usually one of three theories: (1) I don't know (2) Because I'm a woman and (3) It has something to do with SEX AND THE CITY.
- Why do so many women watch the Lifetime channel? I know very intelligent women who watch some of the sappiest movies I've ever seen. Is it a guilty pleasure?
I believe women watch the LIFETIME Channel because they want to make sure that Valerie Bertinelli and Victoria Principal stay gainfully employed and don't end up homeless.
- Why do so many women like Oprah?
Because all women want to BE Oprah. Rich, the center of attention (there's something odd about a woman who has her own magazine and puts herself on every single cover), a medical staff the size of Sloan-Kettering's at their beckon call, uberempowered, and at the same time, sensitive to the needy (let's give everyone in Ethiopia a new Pontiac!) generous to a fault (let's give everyone in the studio audience a new Pontiac!), but business savvy (let's get a new advertising contract going with Pontiac!)
- Why do so many women defend egotistical men, claiming they're
"insecure"?
Because women are insecure. If women admitted that the men they were attracted to were egotistical louts it would make them appear either shallow, stupid, or inherently defective (i.e. do women have a natural tendency to be attracted to egotistical louts), so they must defend these men so they themselves don't look bad.
- What's up with those twenty-pound purses? Do you really need all that stuff? I've taken less stuff camping for a weekend than many women take to work every day.
A woman is creature that wants what it wants when it wants it. And wants to look GOOOOOOOOD doing it. So that requires either a contract with Local 360 Teamsters Union to come out and do facial/body reparations every 15 minutes or an arsenal of assorted cosmetic and feminine products and devices (that thing they use on their eyelashes looks like some form of medieval torture device to me) which must be kept in complete disarray in a leather sack the size of a cow's udder and worth twice the GNP of Somalia.
- What do so many women have against beer?
Beer is masculine. It involves things like "hops" which women haven't a clue about, and usually sports as the vast majority of beer is consumed while watching Monday Night Football and just about anything on ESPN. Wine on the other hand is French, and therefore, feminine.
- Why do women ask so many questions? Maybe it's just me, but it
seems like many relationships have dialogues like this: "What time
does the party start?" "I don't know." "Will Joe and Jill be
there?" "I don't know." "Will there be food?" "I don't know." Are
you just naturally curious, or is there some higher
purpose/ulterior motive to all those questions?
Women are constantly afraid of being judged and found LACKING. Lacking in terms of their physical appeal, their mental prowess, whatever. It's a Western Society thing. Women are made to feel from the time they begin to toddle about that their main appeal is their appearance and one gets one's sense of beauty not from within, but from without. What do my friends and colleagues think about my new hairstyle? My new shoes? My new clothes? My new boyfriend? This puts a great deal of pressure on the typical female who therefore requires as much intelligence and reconnaissance as possible about every outing and venture in which they may take part. This allows them to prepare. WHAT TIME DOES THE PARTY START gives them the information they need regards how many hours, minutes, seconds, they have to shower, do their makeup, call in Local 360 of the Teamsters union, etc. WILL JOE AND JILL BE THERE? This may be her favorite couple...or likely, least favorite, the ones who are most likely to be in judgment about her, about her husband, etc. WILL THERE BE FOOD? Women are always interested in food so they can be sure to avoid it. It's their eternal hope, but it is never fulfilled as ultimately no woman has any defense against anything that contains chocolate, sugar, and carbohydrates.
Tuesday, July 8, 2008
A-Rod, Madonna & Me
This time, Lenore solicited me for my thoughts about the whole A-Rod, Madonna, has-she-brainwashed-him-with-Kabalah (which isn't a Jewish laundry detergent btw) scenario. So first, here's my full response, followed by a link to Lenore's article in the NEW YORK SUN:
"Lenore: Deep A-Rod/Kabalah/Madonna thoughts? Isn't that a contradiction in terms? First off, I knew nothing about this, but did a google search, read some people's blog comments and have come to the conclusion that that this all a pathetic attempt at getting attention (whose attempt you ask? All of'em) and for C-Rod to lay the groundwork for any divorce or court proceedings. Beyond that, the real culprit here, the one that set the stage for this fiasco, is, of course....
George Steinbrenner.
A-Rod was a nice guy playing for Texas until he was seduced by Darth Sidious, I mean, George Steinbrenner, and joined the Evil Empire, and I'm not talking the former Soviet Union or WAL-MART. A few seasons of playing in pinstripes, and the guy is shirking his fatherly duties to hang out with a woman who receives AARP magazine and takes Centrum Silver. He's clearly been brainwashed, but not by Kabalah, which he probably thinks is some kind of kosher cereal.
There's really only one thing to do--an Intervention, whereby A-Rod can be turned from the dark side and embrace the sanity of another baseball team, like, I don't know...the Orioles. I mean, we need some help here. Any team that has Kevin Millar batting cleanup is in TROUBLE."
http://www.nysun.com/opinion/like-a-prayer-a-rod/81417/
"Lenore: Deep A-Rod/Kabalah/Madonna thoughts? Isn't that a contradiction in terms? First off, I knew nothing about this, but did a google search, read some people's blog comments and have come to the conclusion that that this all a pathetic attempt at getting attention (whose attempt you ask? All of'em) and for C-Rod to lay the groundwork for any divorce or court proceedings. Beyond that, the real culprit here, the one that set the stage for this fiasco, is, of course....
George Steinbrenner.
A-Rod was a nice guy playing for Texas until he was seduced by Darth Sidious, I mean, George Steinbrenner, and joined the Evil Empire, and I'm not talking the former Soviet Union or WAL-MART. A few seasons of playing in pinstripes, and the guy is shirking his fatherly duties to hang out with a woman who receives AARP magazine and takes Centrum Silver. He's clearly been brainwashed, but not by Kabalah, which he probably thinks is some kind of kosher cereal.
There's really only one thing to do--an Intervention, whereby A-Rod can be turned from the dark side and embrace the sanity of another baseball team, like, I don't know...the Orioles. I mean, we need some help here. Any team that has Kevin Millar batting cleanup is in TROUBLE."
http://www.nysun.com/opinion/like-a-prayer-a-rod/81417/
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