Sugar and Spice, My Ass!


Yes, this is a relationship column. The relationship question is: Do you really want there to be no secrets between you? Should some things be kept to ourselves?

But first (no pun intended), this trip down memory lane.

Five Christmases ago I purchased an electronic, remote controlled fart machine for my youngest. The women in the family immediately expressed their disgust with the toy. My son and I, and his grandfather too, all had a blast. More accurately we enjoyed a variety of blasts, as we played with the device.

We ran through all of the sounds, rating each on a scale of one to ten. (Fartrogen Dioxide = “1.” Case of Swamp Ass = “10.” )

We compared combinations of sounds for effect. We even speculated as to the most creative uses for the gadget. (“Hide it under the pulpit, and when the preacher runs long, trigger the Triple Ass Flapper.”)
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The Worst Thing to Hear During Sex.


I suspect the Ex’s (She Who’s Name Must Never Be Spoken) favorite saying during the act was “Hurry up and get it over with.” Trust me, there are few things less inspiring. Unless, of course, it’s getting caught saying “I love you Diana” when you’re with Joan.

Has it happened to you? Your partner says something that totally ruins the mood?

Worse yet, have you been the offender?

If only there was a central clearing house for statements guaranteed to spoil the mood.  Then we could simply check to see of a casual comment is acceptable, or not.

So a public service, (and for your reading enjoyment) I’ve compiled a far from comprehensive list of thoughts best left unvoiced.
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Science Explains Sexual Bonding


Don’t'cha just love it when science tells us something we already know?  For instance, there’s a new study among identical twins that indicates the presence of a specific gene can predict how good of a husband a guy is likely to be.

In an article titled “Bonding Gene Could Help Men Stay Married ,” Hasse Walum, of the department of medical epidemiology and biostatistics at the Karolinska Institute in Stockholm admitted that he had been studying rodents (voles) when he first determined that bonding among males was worth studying in humans, too.

Studies in voles have shown that the hormone vasopressin is released in the brain of males during mating ,” Walum explained. “Vasopressin activates the brain’s reward system, and you could say that mating-induced vasopressin release motivates male voles to interact with females they have mated with .”

Walum continues: “This is not a sexual motivation, but rather a sort of prolonged social motivation.” In other words, the more vasopressin in the brain, the more male voles want to stick around and mingle with the female after copulation is through. This effect “is more pronounced in the monogamous voles,” Walum noted.

I think they’re missing the point.
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We Used to Call Them “Lonely”


Political correctness isn’t a new concept. It’s just the current set of buzzwords.

The real estate industry has used them for years. “Charming” is code for “tiny.” “Rustic” translates as “needs repairs.”

Why do people insist on the use of euphemisms? To make them feel better about their purchases, of course. If all I can afford is “charming and rustic,” don’t rub my nose in it. Make me feel good about deciding to purchase my second, or even third choice.

In much the same way as real estate professionals, other groups have come up with their own code to make what they sell more palatable. In used cars, “mechanically sound” means “ugly.” And when discussing less attractive people, “lonely” also means “ugly.”
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Money and Sex.


They appeared perfectly happy together. The Feminist Blonde and her partner. I had the pleasure of their company at dinner. He was innocuous. She was delightful to look at. (Yes, I can be the classic MCP*). Unfortunately, I didn’t just get to look. She also felt compelled to share her opinions.

Please don’t think I find it unfortunate that an attractive woman has opinions. The misfortune is the obvious flaw in her education: lack of knowledge of mathematics.

Let’s examine two percentages: one out of one hundred million, and one hundred out of one hundred million. The first is 0.0001 percent. The second is 0.001 percent. Now, with those odds of success, tell me how much money you’d be willing to bet. Not much? Me, either.

With those odds of success, how hard would you be willing to work to become one of the .001 percent of executives who’ve “made it?” Would you forgo family, work round the clock, and never lose site of your focus on success? Most of us wouldn’t, but a minuscule portion of the workforce will. And most of those highly-driven execs are men.

But logic is lost on the Feminist Blonde. According to her theory she doesn’t make as much money as Bill Gates, or Warren Buffet, or Richard Branson because of the “good ole boys club” keeps women out. She apparently feels that these gentlemens’ successes have nothing to do with the infinitesimally tiny number of truly exceptional people who are willing to work longer, and harder, and perhaps more ruthlessly, and thus become heads of great companies. Nope. It’s a conspiracy.
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