I got mooned the other night. It was a cloudy, chilly and dreary night out, after a windy, nasty day. And on TV in the house, there was screaming about waving the white flag of surrender all over the news…so I turned the TV off. The quiet was sounding just fine. Then all of a sudden, I got mooned. A brilliant full moon burst out of a break in the clouds, and poured into the skylight over my big, comfortable, manly, black leather poppa chair and into our living room. It actually startled my Lady Wonder Wench. She was sitting across the room from me on the couch. She must have felt that cool moonlight touch her soft, lovely face…she said oohh. And smiled.
Then that moonlight slipped into her eyes, and the whole world sparkled, and turned blue. Well…my whole world did anyway. I don’t know why whoever is running the universe suddenly decided to moon me. But it was one brilliant instant that I’m planning on taking into eternity with me.
I’ve always wondered why our moon doesn’t have a name. “Moon” isn’t a name. It’s a description of a satellite orbiting a planet. All the other planet’s moons have names. Why can’t our moon have a name. Let’s figure this out. Who does the moon remind you of? It stays out all night, every night. It’s slightly tilted and all pockmarked…always mooning people. It ought to have a name. Then we could say things like, “Hey, there’s a full Dick out tonight”,,, well…given our level of political correctness…maybe not. But how about “There’s just a little sliver of Barbara showing tonight.” That would work. Instead of Moonshine, all the guys up in the mountains with their homemade liquor stills would be making Barbara shine gin.
Like most Louie Louie generation guys, I have a tendency to wonder about things like that. For example, I’ve often wondered why we’re not allowed to sing at the table. Maybe it’s because there are no eating songs. There are drinking songs, so why aren’t there eating songs. When I was just a kid. I remember I was singing a little tune at dinner one night, and it must have been annoying my dad, probably because I was singing, and he was a musician…and he finally said “Dickie, shut up and eat.” I made the mistake of trying to explain how impossible it was to eat with my mouth shut. He started talking very fast in German. Something about “du bist ein Dumerasel.”
I have always tried to explain things logically even in the face of great agony and danger. I had my face removed at the dentist’s office the other day, because Dr. Drillgrinder keeps wanting to scrape what he calls plaque off my teeth. In the interest of trying to be logical, and a bit distracting if possible, I tried explaining to him that Big Louie, the Chief Mustard Cutter of my Louie Louie generation says that “Nature puts plaque on our teeth for a reason. It’s there so we can keep an eye on it. That’s why we have eye teeth.” But all he said was, “Open wide.”
I told him, “I’m concerned. If you dentists scrape all the plaque off our teeth and release it into the waterways, it will settle and harden there. Eventually, our sewers and rivers will fill with our plaque. And only you dentists can remove plaque with those little metal hooks and that nasty drill. Then you send a bill. That’s going to get pretty expensive. It seems to me that a little bad breath is a small price to pay for keeping down the out of control dental costs to our state and federal governments.” I thought I had him. But he wasn’t going to wave the white flag of surrender like those guys on the TV news. He just said, “Sir, please shut up and open wide.” I passed on the opportunity to tell him that you can’t shut up and open wide at the same time, because I figured he was the guy with the mask and the dangerous weapons in his hands.
Dick’s details Quiz. All answers are in the current podcast.
1- What does DNA tell us about the people in our Congress ?
2- What do you call a flightless bird found in Iceland ?
3- What romantic advantage do frogs have over every other animal ?
Dick’s Details. They take your mind off your mind.
If you hear a small plane flying late at night under a full moon it’s probably a single engine prop driven plane, flown by an over worked and under paid pilot. He’s more than likely delivering checks believe it or not. It’s a long story. And it’s a tough life, not just because of the hours, and the danger and the difficulty of flying single pilot at night. It does awful things to a guy’s personal life too.
Been there, done what that pilot was doing in my own small plane. You’ve got to be careful flying in the middle of the night, alone with your thoughts, in a small plane…looking down at the lights in the homes, and the cars…wondering what the people are doing with each other’s lives down there. Remembering how it felt when you were a part of someone’s life too. You’ve got to be very careful.
The story in the Podcast is called Night Flight. It’s from my Love Comes When You Least Expect It Personal Audio CD. If you like it, you can just keep the current podcast. Or if you want a fresh copy, check out the Love Comes When You Least Expect It icon on the home page.
Big Louie his own bad self has come up with some interesting statistics about TV’s impact on the love lives of today’s couples. He says, 19% of all couples turn on the TV after sex. 55% of Pimple People turn it on during sex. 11% of couples have sex mainly to keep from arguing about money. 83% of couples don’t have enough money to argue about, but they have sex anyway, because it’s the American way. 16% of partners wish they were with somebody else. 18% of partners ARE with somebody else. And an awful lot of people just wish they had a partner.
The clueless idiots on the TV newscasts screaming about raising the white flag of surrender are supposed to be reporting on the important things that are really happening in our lives and around the world. Genuine reality. And I guess they are to some extent. But there are other genuine realities too. Quiet ones. Gentle ones. Cool moonlight touching warm skin realities.
I didn’t expect to get mooned like that the other night. But as Big Louie always says, “You can never tell when something wonderful is going to happen.”