I Taste Bad

I must taste bad. Especially to mosquitos. They simply don’t bother me. My Lady Wonder Wench is in the bathroom applying itch ointment to a mountain of mosquito bites to surprisingly personal places. She obviously tastes good. Which figures when you look at her. But that makes her a human salad bar for mosquitoes.

 There is a difference between tasting bad, and bad taste. Tasting bad makes you mosquito proof, keeps you from sucking your thumb when it’s time to write a check for your income tax, and keeps elderly aunt kisses at a minimum when you are a child. Bad taste is wearing a nose ring with bi-focals, spiked hair and a bald spot, and short shorts with varicose veins. Big Louie, his own bad self, The Chief Mustard Cutter of the Louie-Louie Generation always says, “Don’t sweat that stuff. Just wear what ever you can still button that doesn’t itch, and can still pass the sniff test.” You like to wear a thong with your depends… go for it. 

 There are some things that are more important than good taste. That’s a lesson I learned a long time ago at a friend’s funeral, of all places. I’ll tell you about that in a minute.

 I think the words used in most advertising for Louie-Louie Generation people are certainly in bad taste. Regularity, insomnia, dentures, arthritis, indigestion, erectile dysfunction. That last one is not only in bad taste, it’s confusing. If you watch the commercial, it seems to be about a guy who went to see Alice, his girl friend, and certain of his bodily parts fell asleep while they were supposed to be paying attention, so he and Alice spent the evening together soaking in separate bath tubs. Makes no sense to me.  

 When is the last time you saw advertising for us Louie-Louie Generation folks with words like designer jeans, beer, health club, casino, skiing, sexy beaches…fun for the whole family. Actually…the truth is…nothing in life is fun for the whole family. I think that’s why some guys never have families. Priests for example. But what kind of life is that ? You give up your sex life, then every Saturday night people come and tell you about theirs in confession. Must drive priests nuts.

 I could never figure out why some things are considered in bad taste. Sticking your tongue out at somebody for example. Your tongue is a very intimate part of your body. Some people use it to add a significant level of eroticism to their kisses. It seems to me that showing someone such an intimate part of your body should be considered kind of sexy. Guys should be telling their buddies,  “Hey, my girlfriend Alice let me see her tongue last night. She started rubbing it around on the tips of her teeth, then she tossed her head back and stuck it right out at me.”

 Passing wind is considered to be in such bad taste that you can’t even discuss it in polite company. Which is silly for several reasons. I mean a fart has no taste at all. It just smells bad. But lord it feels so good. It’s even better than sneezing. My Lady Wonder Wench doesn’t like to sneeze. But I do. I don’t like coughing, but I sometimes sneak peeks at a bright light just to make myself sneeze.

 Picking your teeth is considered to be in bad taste. But brushing your teeth gets you a gold star. Singing at the table is out. Why ? There are great drinking songs, but there are no eating songs. “No…mustn’t sing at the table. Just shut your mouth and eat.” How are we supposed to do that? “Don’t eat with your mouth open, and for God’s sake don’t blow on the soup either.”

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

1- Why should women never hook up with a stinker ?

2- What does the average Congressman do much better than the average American?

3- Why aren’t there any trees in New York’s Times Square?

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

 Just as there is a difference between tasting bad and bad taste, there is a difference between bad taste and something that can get really nasty. For example, if a guy forgets his wife’s birthday you could say he’s showing bad taste. If that same guy forgets he has a wife, that could get really nasty. There’s a story about that in the current podcast. It’s from the Night Connections 2 personal audio cd. It’s called…A Temporary Friend.

 That happened to a friend of mine. He’s a hard working guy…a nice guy. He’s always got time to listen to your feelings. He’s comfortable around guys, and women say they feel safe when he’s around. He thought he was just being a friend. Then she walked into the kitchen, brushing her hair, and something…just…happened. 

 A Temporary Friend is from the Night Connections 2 personal audio cd. If you like it, you can just keep the current podcast. Or if you want a fresh copy, just down load it from the Night Connections 2 icon on the home page.

 There’s a time and a place for good taste. But sometimes there’s something much more important. Good taste is never more strictly observed than at a military funeral. I have a friend by the name of Joe, who now rests in peace in the Calverton, New York military cemetery. Joe was a very well known writer, a real friend, and a bit of a rascal. He liked doing weird things. Things that were in terribly bad taste. For example, one night he loaded a water pistol with warm water, put it in his pocket, and stumbled into a bar pretending he was drunk. He leaned against one of the other guys at the bar and pulled the trigger on the water pistol, sending warm water down his pants. I’m not sure how he got out of there alive. But that was Joe.

On the very sad day when he was laid to rest, my Lady Wonder Wench and I took part in something that some people would say was in terribly bad taste. But I learned something far more important than that.

 There was an honor guard rifle salute. When the last shots were fired, a shaft of sunlight reflected from a bugle’s brass flicked across our faces at the grave site, as another soldier…standing tall, at attention… played…taps. Such a lonely sound. Precise. Respectful. Tearfully Final. The flag was folded, and presented to Joe’s widow. White gloves…good taste.

 But then, when the coffin was lowered into the ground, as Joe had requested in his will, the bugler added a few bars of Joe’s favorite song. It was in terribly bad taste. But we sang along…as Joe wanted us to do. We stood together there…in the bright sunlight…three of his ex wives and a small group of his friends…all kind of sad and huddled together…and we sang: MIC…we’ll see you again pretty soon…KEY…why? Because we loved you. MOUSE.

 And under the tears…there were a few quiet smiles.

One Response to “I Taste Bad”

  1. Sheri says:

    I don’t think doing what Joe wanted at his funeral was in bad taste at all… I think it’s great. My daughter as already told me that when I pass, at my graveside… she will have them play T-R-O-U-B -L- E by Travis Tritt because that is a song that is very special to both of us, and there is no way she’s letting me go out on a sad note.. which is just what I want!! I want to totally forbid anyone from crying… I know that it is not possible, but I don’t want tears… I want smiles because of what I meant to them, laughs because of the fun times we had and the silly things I did…. there is no reason to be sad.. I’m going to a better place, and we all will only be apart for what, in truth, is a very short time