My reputation as something of a history buff distinguishes me from very few men in the critical 51-110 year old age group that history advertisers target. And yet I tend to train my lens less on major world events, like wars and tsunamis, than on the mundane and commonplace.
For instance, what about urinals? There must be history there. It’s not like God gave us urinal-producing trees to pluck our urinals from. (Yes, I’m aware, if urinals grew, they would do so on the ground, like cabbage or watermelon, not in trees!).
Well, with the internet allowing any old fool to publish anything he wants, the blogger can quickly pivot from a treatment of the history of urinals, the bait so to speak, to an anecdote about this one time when, en route to the west branch of the Penobscot River in Maine, he stopped at a brew pub for his last bit of sustenance before heading into the wild, and the men’s room urinal was actually a repurposed beer keg!
What a hoot.
There is some synergy here, as beer makes the average blogger (not me) need to pee, and also I’m going to be in the woods, where basically everything is a urinal.
As the world inches ever closer to being ruled by women, I was thinking that I, as man, could take solace in the fact that we men still do certain things better than women.
For example, it’s clear to me that men are far more determined, laser-focused, and uncompromising when it comes to drinking beer. I’m not saying that we’re “better” beer drinkers; just that we put more time and effort into thinking about, making plans around, and ultimately executing on the consumption of beer.
Meanwhile, what are women focused on? Talking about reproductive rights, equal pay for equal work, gun control – that sort of thing. Like that’s going to get you anywhere! Don’t these women understand that far more people drink beer than vote? If you want to get people to the polls to swing the vote in your favor, maybe you should be drinking more beer with the voters. That’s what we men are doing.
Of course, with a World Cup Final that pits the US v. The Netherlands, many women are going to be taking time off from their work trying to save humanity from doom to watch the event. We men aren’t going to slack off! Let me say unequivocally that as I and many of my male friends watch the game, we will continue to maintain our focus by watching with tankards of ale an arms-length away.
I’ve decided to make use of props at my job to keep my co-workers off balance. If I show up now and again with, say, a stethoscope slung around my neck, they might assume I’m a doctor on the side and rethink their opinion of me.
Not that I worry about their opinion of me. Heh heh. They all love me, my co-workers: the way I arrive for work via helicopter and parachute; the way I use my office to hang my damp clothes (“better for the environment”); the way I adopt stray cats and build play areas for them beside my executive suite conference table.
The Board of Directors doesn’t know what to make of me, because sometimes I come to board meetings dressed in a lab coat. I’m always sure to have a few test tubes in my lab coat pocket, sealed off at the top so I can shake one every now and again and eye it over my glasses, saying “Very interesting” as my co-board members look upon me with a mixture of admiration and bemusement. I’ll get food coloring too, so that all the test tubes glow.
Instead of going to meetings like I usually do, I’ll be purposely late, arriving with a level, carpenter’s square, and some kind of wall-mounting task ahead. “Someone told me to install this floating shelf in here. Please, go ahead with your meeting, don’t bother with me.” Occasionally, I’ll chime into the conversation, as I was invited to the meeting anyway and am only hanging the floating shelf to play a part. The part of the guy hanging the floating shelf during the meeting. Like, what, there is no other time to hang the floating shelf? Give me a break.
I don’t know what I’m talking about.
Except, wouldn’t it be cool to have an acetylene torch and welding mask on hand when you attend your next meeting about your company’s finances? What, like you can’t comment on finances if you’re donning a welding mask and have an acetelene torch in one hand? That’s weak!
Lots to think about when it comes to how to dress for work.
How is it that it’s 2019 and I’m just hearing about the Mountain Goats? You’d think this essential information would have been in one of the email loops I’m included in. “Maybe you missed it in a debriefing.”
OK, first of all my debriefings have been a little thin on content lately. Sorry to have to air that dirty laundry in such a widely-read forum as this blog, but eventually you get fed up with not being told about things, like really clever rock bands you probably should see, such as the Mountain Goats, or the nuclear launch codes. What if the Mountain Goats came to town, or someone said launch the nukes? How could I know to see the show and/or destroy the planet?
I shouldn’t have to rely on WMBR’s Breakfast of Champions for all my rock and roll information. Shouldn’t my government have a Rock Czar? And for that matter, why should I have to contact the Russians to find out what numbers to punch in such that we can finally have our long awaited Armageddeon?
From my informal survey of people around me, I’ve come to learn that others in my midst have not been adequately informed about the Mountain Goats either. Seems to be an epidemic of poor communication.
From what I can gather (via their tour schedule), it's clear to me that hey have something against Massachusetts. On the other hand, I'll bet they're going to Georgia.