Archive for September, 2010

Big Foot Summer

Saturday, September 25th, 2010

I just took off my shoes…ohhh that feels so good. It’s like sneezing three times in a row, or long fingernails scratching your back, or a long…warm shower…releasing a belch that starts right behind your navel, or let’s be honest…there are few feelings as fine as the release of your personal fragrance of a combustible nature. Some would call that a fart.

 From the time I get up in the morning, I look forward to the instant that my shoes come off at night. The smart guys in the white lab coats claim that depression, and irritability tend to be among the causes of flat feet. Seems to me that the  frequent flapping of flat feet might be one of the causes of depression and irritability. And boy are my feet flat. And big. Very uncomfortable when I put them into my mouth…which…given what I have done for a living all my life…is frequently. But the heck with it. Let me do it just this one more time right now. I’ll clean this up as best I can.

 My Lady Wonder Wench and I were walking past a couple of young ladies in the bar at the Applebees down the street, and we couldn’t help but over hear a quick snatch of their conversation…and it caused my Lady Wonder Wench to take a deep breath and then bust out into a very un-lady like shriek of laughter. Which surprised me, because I think of LWW as being pure of heart and soul…and that conversation had implications about  some…very personal bodily organs.

 I sometimes forget that one of the things I love about LWW is her very healthy limbic system…which lights up quite nicely on appropriate personal occasions. For those of you who might have snoozed through brain surgery  school, your limbic system is the part of your brain that puts the go in your go cart…and the ssss in your sexy.

 The part of the conversation we heard went something like this: Young lady number one said…”Yes, and I was so surprised, because he had such big feet.” Young lady number two just about exploded laughing. And so did LWW. I didn’t find it particularly amusing because as you may recall, I also have big feet, and I rather enjoy the boost that gives to my image and ego.

 I was hoping that the young lady who made the statement knew better than to express her surprise to the gentleman involved at the moment. But since she was certainly of Pimple People age, and therefore lacking in the grace for which Louie-Louie Generation ladies are so famous…I’m not so sure.

 As a precaution…Big Louie, his own bad self, the Chief Mustard Cutter of the Louie-Louie Generation has compiled a list of some of the many other things a woman should never say to a man. Louie-Louie Generation ladies don’t need to be told these things, but for those of you who are studying to become Louie-Louie Ladies…listen up. Here are 20 of the most important things a woman should never say to a man:

 #20- Please give me the channel changer. #19- If you don’t dry those dishes properly, they’ll be a mess. 18- Thanks but I can do it myself. 17- I need to talk. 16- Oh…I love it when you do that…right after mentioning some other guy’s name. 15- Do you love me? 14- I’ve seen bigger…(feet…of course.) 13- I can’t live without you. 12- You’re going bald. Look at that spot in the back of your head. Lady WW calls my bald spot, “The solar panel for a love machine.” And she loves my big feet too. 11- Here, let me try it. 10- Why do you always leave the toilet seat up ? 9- If you really loved me you would…take the day off and go with me to visit mother…or fill in your own “you would.” 8- Why didn’t you call me when you knew you were going to be late. 7- You’re not leaving yourself enough time. 6- Don’t eat with your fingers. Use your salad fork. Tuck your napkin in. Women are into that kind of stuff. They call it manners, but I think they’re just not as hungry as we are. 5- Who is more important, your buddies or me ? 4- Stop and ask directions. Turn here. Slow down. Stop. Why don’t you let me drive. 3- Your hair is getting kind of long isn’t it? 2- You shouldn’t have bought that. You already have one. Louie’s  number one thing a woman should never say to a man is so terrible…I don’t know if you’re ready for it.   

 Dick’s Details Quiz. All answers are in the current podcast.

 1- What do people who don’t read books think about TV ?

2- Why would people in some states be glad if they only had one crooked tooth ?

3- What is the real definition of eternity ?

 Dick’s Details. They take your mind off your mind.

 Never underestimate the power of your limbic system. As Big Louie always says, “Sex isn’t everything…but boy…it sure is something.” There’s a story in the brand new Night Connections 3 personal audio album about a lady whose limbic system is beginning to flicker at a very delicate moment in a very logical relationship. It’s called Long Ago Is Far Away.

 The heart can be a lonely hunter. I get the distinct feeling that hers is going to find and track some almost forgotten footprints. She’s a good lady. I hope she finds another strong heart that’s just as lonely as hers.

 “Long Ago Is Far Away” is from the brand new Night Connections 3 personal audio cd. If you like it you can just keep the current podcast. Or if you want a fresh copy, just go back to the home page of this blog, and download it from the Night Connections 3 icon.

 Ok. You’ve proven that you’re tough enough to hear Big Louie’s worst possible thing that a woman can say to a man. So here it is. Numero Uno. The walk off home run. The crusher. The worst thing a woman can say to a man. Quote: I TOLD YOU  SO.  Never, never, never, oh please…never say that. 

 If you’d like to hear Big Louie’s list of the things a man should never say to a woman, drop me a note at , or just add a comment at the bottom of this blog.

 And yes I really do have big feet. For a guy my size. I used to be 5-11. Probably closer to 5-10 now. Louie-Louie Generation Guys do get worn down…in part from the pressures of taking good care of our Louie-Louie ladies. And we do take care of them. Ask my Lady Wonder Wench. She now sometimes says “Size isn’t every thing.” And I like the way she purrs when she says it.

Stealth Stuff

Saturday, September 18th, 2010

Stealth stuff is slowly stalking me…smothering everything in its path. Stealth stuff sneaks in under your radar. That’s why it’s called stealth stuff. Stealth stuff sprouts on smooth flat surfaces…like tables…the tops of dressers…and kitchen counters. Yesterday, when I got back from the store with my nifty new all frequency desk lamp that will give me healthy virtual sunlight during the darker months, my new wi-fi transmitter that will let me use my lap top anywhere within a five mile radius, and my new ten terrabite external hard drive made in China and assembled in Tailand…my stealth stuff signal finally went off…alerting me to the startling scope of the danger I face from the rapidly accelerating level of stealth stuff that has…evidently…for years been stalking me. Sneaking up on me. But it may be too late.

 I work at my day job in my home office. But that deadly stealth stuff has now completely covered my desk…so where am I going to put the brand new stuff I just bought? The nifty all frequency desk lamp that will give me healthy virtual sunlight during the darker months, the new wi-fi transmitter that lets me use my laptop halfway to the next town, and the ten terrabite external hard drive made in China and assembled in Tailand. I found myself standing there yesterday, looking at where I last remembered seeing my desk…with the stuff I just bought in my hands…then… I heard the phone, and it took me ten rings to find it…covered…no, buried… under huge heaps of sinister, stealthy stuff.

 I started thinking that I should be thankful that I could still find MYSELF. I figured I was, at least personally, still one step ahead of the you know what, when I realized I was standing there with more new stuff, sneakily stuffed into both hands. 

 Speaking of stuff…here’s The Dick’s Details Quiz. All answers are in the current podcast.

1-    Why do Chicago’s women drivers have to cut their hair short ?

2-    What do New York City hospitals and muggers have in common?

3-    Why can small apartments be tough on your animal insurance?

 Dick’s Details. They take your mind off your mind.

 Speaking of small apartments, there’s a story about what happened when a couple of apartment building neighbors became quite…neighborly. It’s in the new Night Connections 3 personal audio cd. It’s called…appropriately…”Neighbors.” And it’s in this week’s podcast.

 “Neighbors”  explains how a smile can keep your heart from breaking. Or at least…it can help you keep a breaking heart all to yourself. I think all three of the people in the story are going to be fine. But in the long run, that lovely louie-louie generation lady will be the finest of them all. If you like “Neighbors,” you can just keep the podcast. Or if you want a fresh copy, you can just go back to the  home page and download it from the Night Connections 3 icon.

 If you’re new to this blog and podcast, you should know that they are about us. The Louie-Louie generation. You probably remember the song. It’s a classic that’s been around for a while, and it has tude…attitude… which is the definition of a member of the Louie-Louie Generation. Louie-Louie Generation guys are the bedmates of choice of super models, porn stars, and Catherine Zeta Jones look alikes. That’s because we treat our women with lots of love and lots of lovely lust, we have some pretty good life stories to tell, and we don’t mind telling them, and many of us have paid off our nice cars and private airplanes.

 Louie-Louie Ladies know how to laugh and cry, love and lust, and comfortably cook. I love watching Louie-Louie ladies…cooking comfortably while they’re on the prowl. I saw one last Friday, eyeing some guy sitting alone at a bar. She put some perfume on her little lace hankie, and sliped it into the guys jacket pocket…smiled up at him…and walked away without a word. Naturally, he caught up with her and asked her what that was all about. She just said, “It looks good in your pocket.” Then she started asking if he came here often…and shook her head…and said it’s noisy in here…and leaned over toward him so she could hear his answer. That guy didn’t stand a chance.

 I saw a Louie-Louie lady sitting at a table with a guy…smiling and talking…and she slowly slid her toe under his trouser cuff…nice and easy…and then tucked it back under her chair. The smile just got warmer, and I couldn’t hear the direction the talk was taking. But it was getting very quiet.

 Last Summer, I saw a Louie-Louie Lady sitting on a park bench, reading a magazine, and slowly crossing and un-crossing her legs. She was obviously enjoying herself. Things like that cause some trees to have teeth marks in their bark…from guys bumping into them.

 Sometimes my Lady Wonder Wench just sits over there on the couch, and crosses her legs kind of high up on the thigh, and lets one shoe slip off enough to show the sole of her foot…then she swings her foot back and forth a little. Oh yeah…Louie-Louie ladies are quite comfortable…cooking.

 They do stealthy stuff like that without even thinking about it. Which brings me back to thinking about all this stealth stuff that’s been sneaking up on me over the years.

 A certain Louie-Louie lady says, “throw it out.” What? Throw out my reel to reel tape recorder, my red knit polyester leisure suit, my lava lamp, my Time magazine with the picture of the Apollo moon landing on the cover…she’s got to be kidding. But it would be nice to be able to use my desk again.

What In Blue Blazer(s) ?

Saturday, September 11th, 2010

Her words swirl around in my head, and tug at the sides of my mouth…and I’m trying hard not to smile. Smugly. Nobody likes a smug smile…except maybe the smug smiler. Certainly not the smug smile-ee. And that would be my Lady Wonder Wench. Now…I’m pretty sure my Lady Wonder Wench is watching. The woman was a sales lady, and she said, “My what a nice body.” And she was talking about me. And my Lady Wonder Wench was standing right there. And Lady Wonder Wench is sitting on the couch right across the room from me right now, and from the expression on her face I know she knows what I’m thinking. And she’s thinking, “The woman didn’t mean it, she’s a sales person.” And I’m thinking “Yes she did. But I know from experience I better not smile. Because I know Lady Wonder Wench will roll her eyes, sigh, and put her hand on her hip again. And I hate that.

 I mentioned the other day that I was going to wear my gold lame loin cloth and purple ostrich feather for my dinner date last Friday with Lady Wonder Wench. I saw it start her thinking process…which went something like this: “He really hasn’t bought any clothes since the Clinton administration. I’m going to clear out his closet.”

 The thing most women including my Lady Wonder Wench don’t really understand is that it takes time for a guy to break in his clothing so it’s comfortable. Even Louie-Louie Generation ladies don’t seem to understand that. A guy’s jacket is just getting broken in after a decade or so. As long as I can still zip up a pair of jeans, they’re good to go. A guy wears a shirt for three or four days…as long as it passes the under the arms sniff test, what’s wrong with wearing it one more day?

 But one thing Louie-Louie Generation guys know is we should never argue with a woman when she’s tired…or rested. And we know we have as much chance of winning a clothing argument with a woman as we have of talking her into having sex on a trampoline, in the company of a pair of acrobatic conjoined twins and a dog named Oscar. A guy no sooner brings up the subject, when he gets hit with, “You men…all you think about is sex. Sex isn’t everything.” Well, they’re right. Sex ISN’T everything. But it is really SOMETHING. If God has something better than sex up His sleeve, he’s keeping it all for Himself.

 Big Louie, his own bad self, the Chief Mustard Cutter of the Louie-Louie Generaton has an important statement about that. He says, “If sex isn’t such an important part of a relationship, how come she’d get so upset if you had sex with somebody else?” I think Louie nailed it that time. If sex is no more important than a smile, why can’t I just go and have sex with the next willing woman I meet at the clothing store ? Hey, I’d probably get kicked out of the entire mall for that. But it might be worth a shot.

 That brings us back to the clothing store. My Lady Wonder Wench decided she’s had enough of my gold lame loin cloth and purple ostrich feather. She decided it was time to buy a whole suit. I never wear suits. She said, “You need a suit.” I said, “I hate suits.” And that was a mistake. As Big Louie says, “If you have words with a woman, she’ll have paragraphs with you.”

 So…after a substantial while…we compromised. She took me to the store for a sport jacket. She took me. I have no idea where to go to buy clothes around here because we only moved in 15 years ago. We walked into the store, and this very attractive young lady with a tape measure around her neck, and a clear excess of estrogen all over the rest of her, came over, smiled, and said it. “You have a beautiful body.” I stood up straight and pulled in my chest, which has sunk to a position just behind my belt buckle, ever since I became a certified ice cream whisperer…and gave her my best Clint Eastwood smile…and I did my best Barry White imitation when I said, “Why thank you young lady.”

 My Lady Wonder Wench just put her right hand on her hip, sighed, and rolled her eyes. She’s been down this road before. She explained to the girl that I’m so old that my blood type has been discontinued, gave her that “woman-to-woman look” that said, “We’re both safe. He’s completely lost what was left of his sex drive.”

 And I must admit that’s true. I lost my sex drive once last night and twice this morning. But I’m looking at my Lady Wonder Wench over there on the couch, and I’m pretty sure I’ll find it again in a few minutes. 

 Dick’s Details Quiz. All answers are in the current podcast.

1-    How do boy oysters talk girl oysters into making little oysters?

2-    How was milk delivered before they started using bottles?

3-    What might the aliens among us look like ?

Dick’s Details. They take your mind off your mind.

 She was a Louie-Louie Generation sales Lady. She knew very well the effect saying, “You have a beautiful body” would have on my testosterone levels. And she knew she was perfectly safe, because my Lady Wonder Wench was right there. We all knew when she said “You have a beautiful body” it was just a little flirty fun.

 There’s a big difference between flirting and playing with fire. There’s a story in the brand new Night Connections 3 album about a fire that started when a woman didn’t even have to say a thing. Her body did the talking. It’s called “Taking A Breath.”

 If you ever see what happened…happen…and I have…you will never forget it. A beautiful woman, sitting so slowly…so gracefully…like just an unexpected whisp of very expensive perfume that gets caught in the air of an otherwise empty, candle lit room.

 The story is called, “Taking a Breath.” It’s from the brand new Night Connections 3 personal audio cd. If you like it, you can just keep the podcast. Or if you want a fresh copy, just go back to the opening page, and download it from the Night Connections 3 icon.

So now I have a nice blue blazer jacket. I think it will go nicely with my gold lame loin cloth and purple ostrich feather. I may even add a touch of eyelid glitter. Or maybe not. My Lady Wonder Wench is sitting there on the couch, smiling…because she thinks she knows what I’m thinkig. And I think she may be right. So…I think I’ll just get what’s left of my sex drive in gear, and motor my beautiful body on over to the couch…and get a little closer to that smile.

Tender Tears

Saturday, September 4th, 2010

I am probably the happiest guy you know, because today, I made my Lady Wonder Wench cry. She was crying good tears. I like good tears. Even my own. Most guys are afraid of tears. I’m not, because my dad explained them to me when I was just a kid. He said, “Big boys never cry, but big men sometimes do.” And my dad was the smartest, strongest, toughest guy who ever lived.

 Who ever did the original design for human beings gave us tears for a reason. They’re safety valves. Most women understand that and they’re smart enough, and brave enough, to cry when the pressure inside is threatening to pop something important in their hearts.  Most guys are neither smart enough nor brave enough to cry because most guys are afraid the other guys will laugh at them. That’s a big reason that more men than women have heart attacks. When you’re hurting inside, you’re supposed to cry. If you don’t you’re working against your own chemicals.

 Big Louie, his own bad self, the Chief Mustard Cutter of the Louie-Louie Generation says, “There are things you shouldn’t fake. Don’t fake driving a stick shift car, don’t fake flying an airplane, don’t fake doing electrical work, don’t fake delivering a baby, and don’t fake a smile.”

 If you’re new to this blog/podcast, I should explain that you are a member of the Louie-Louie Generation, if that song has been a significant part of the background music of your life, you have the proper “Tude” and you’ve been knocked down and gotten back up more than a few times in your life. Louie-Louie Generation guys are the bedmates of choice of super models, porn stars and Catherine Zeta Jones wannabees, because we treat women with genuine love, genuine lust and genuine respect, we know some pretty good jokes, and some of us have paid off our nice cars and personal airplanes. Louie-Louie Ladies know how to love, how to cook, and how to laugh, even when they’ve heard our jokes before.

 That’s why Louie-Louie guys sometimes cry. We live by our own rules…our own bill of rights. We really do. I even wrote my Louie-Louie Guy personal bill of rights down. They go like this: 1- I have a right to say no. 2- I have a right to decide how much responsibility, if any, that I’m willing to accept for other people’s behavior. That includes family and friends. 3- I have a right to protect myself without feeling guilty about it. 4- I have a right to enjoy myself. 6- Even though I’ve lived a rather public life, I have a right to some privacy. 7- I have a right to my own heat and passion. And as long as I don’t hurt other people, I have a right to pass to others that heat and passion as best I can, in any way I can, including in public. 8- I have a right to be imperfect. 9- I have a right to change my mind. 10- I have a right to kiss slowly, love long, laugh out loud, cry, and never regret a damn thing that ever made me smile. That’s my personal bill of rights. It works for me.

 Dick’s Details Quiz. All answers are in the current podcast.

1- What has a lady’s rear end got to do with driving safety ?

2- Why are we in danger of being told we should go over ourselves with an art gum eraser and a whisk broom?

3- Name the one thing that’s six and an eighth inches long that causes the most excitement ?

Dick’s Details. They take your mind off your mind.

 I guess I ought to explain why I’m glad I could make my Lady Wonder Wench cry. It’s because I’ve started recording more of the stories I wrote about her…a long, long time ago. The one I recorded this week is in the current podcast. It happened in a little park across the street from the radio station where we both worked…a long time ago. She was wearing a soft blue sweater with white stripes, and a plaid wool skirt, with pleats all around. She walked so elegantly that her skirt didn’t move until a moment after she took a step.

 I didn’t tell her what I was putting in the stereo. When the story started, she put the back of her left hand…with her wedding ring…to her lips…she looked at me like she did all those years ago…and…she cried...such Tender Tears.