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.