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Pastimes : Let's Talk About Our Feelings!!! -- Ignore unavailable to you. Want to Upgrade?

To: Grainne who wrote (27285)	12/27/1998 12:20:00 AM
From: nihil	Read Replies (2) \| Respond to of 108807

<<Nihil, I think football is a mindless way to sit on your butt watching other people get exercise, while ignoring the gentle feelings of non-football addicts in your household, who would love to have some of your actual companionship.>> Christine, darling, your posts deserve the five star treatment. We have not been allowed to watch other people actually kill each other live and in bloody color since the religious fanatics shut down the Colosseum, or maybe we ran out of religious fanatics to feed to the lions in the Colosseum, or maybe Rome ran out of war captives when they stopped winning wars. At least the Roman people got something out of wars and religious persecution in those days. [Remember the old score at the Coliseum: Lions 50 - Christians 0!] Most of the mass murder and torture takes place out of sight of the UN inspectors and even CNN these days. Can't male heads or tales out of the pictures of Tomahawks homing in on emergency hospitals and orphanages. AI manages. Anyway, but the good old days are over. The most blood you can see now is a heart transplant for a German Shepherd on "Emergency Vets" on Animal Planet. The Marines at Georgia Tech in World War II used to put steam houses into the garbage pits and go after the rats with baseball bats. Then we boys began to bring our terriers and play "Rat Pit" and the Marines would watch and bet. My 8-year old Scottie, Susie, was always top dog and earned the lowest odds. The dogowner didn't get to drag the pot, it was just for the honor of the thing. I guess most of the Marines, some of the little boys, and all of the dogs and rats are dead by now so we can't bring that sport back (the best I've ever had!). Too bad. If we did and if there were animal resurrection by sheer force of canine will, Susie would be there. She lived 17 years in increasing pain and suffering, and almost to the end she would kill the giant rats and bury them neatly aligned in my sister's sand box. My sister would put up rows of little crosses until that great getting up morning came and their stinking corpses were hauled away to rat heaven (the big city garbage dump!) When Susie stopped killing rats my father decided it was time to put her down without even bothering to tell us. I came came home from college and found her gone. I've missed her ever since. On the Fourth Night of Guanxi it is said that one gets to visit with all of one's dogs (and birds). I'm looking forward to that. The next best thing would be nude hockey with sharpened skates, but damnall chance of that until we get some black men on the ice. I don't think Jesse has gone to work on the 'Hawks yet. Roller Ball would be good. So would that tilt-table thing with spikes on Flash Gordon. Light Saber dueling could make it, especially in weightlessness. And then there's shooting womprats down at the dump. Please leave football alone alone until we come up with something really good, like asteroid hunting with thermonuclear rifles.

To: Grainne who wrote (27285)	12/27/1998 3:39:00 AM
From: nihil	Read Replies (1) \| Respond to of 108807

**Why is it that football dominates the national imagery so much? I know that at my job the managers and administrators for each department meet every morning in the 9:30 "huddle". Now a woman executive would probably never have come up with a name like that to describe the daily meeting. It is masculine, competitive and combative Christine, My Dear, Alpha males just naturally like to get in a circle and point their butts at lower ranking males and females. Notice that one alpha never points his butt at another alpha's front. That is not dominance but submission and could prove very embarrassing if the buttee took up the implied invitation of the buttor. While very few male butts are nearly as beautiful as a Mandrill's, they serve exactly the same purpose of advertising dominance and impeturbability. The tight nankeen britches stretched over the buttocks of power of the quarterback simply demand a friendly slap as the huddle breaks. You ken that men like to flash their naked heinies at people to put them down. This leaves the victim offenseless. Think of the sexual and sanitary implications of giving your social superior's naked butt a bronx cheer or a raspberry. When the haute nobilite would attend the roi soleil at his morning levee, each noisy decouletage from the royal bowel was attended by polite handclaps until in a rush and a climax of furious applause the royal bowels were completely evacuated, the king have been given a soapy water clyster well aforetime. Think you this strange? On the long march, Mao Zedong was increasingly insomniac. The army camped at night, but the leaders attended to the routes and maps and supplies, and never got enough sleep. So on the march they were carried in crude litters by their comrades and never got any real sleep. So Mao (and other leaders) took to eating opium so they could sleep, and, truth, they all became hardcore opium addicts. Anyone who has traveled in backwoods Asia knows that one must always carry opium pills to stop the diarrhea that results from toxic water and food. Opium is a specific for both diarrhea and insomnia. As a result of his increasing habit Mao developed the lifelong mother of all constipation and to the day of his death he had to have the impacted stool extracted by finger by his comrades. When Mao pointed his butt at you, you knew you were it! And thence it was just apickin'and agrinnin' No question about who was alpha and omega there. Now that you know something of the misteries of elevated alpha male butts you should be better prepared in the daily mindless (but not buttless) struggle for organizational power. Somehow, I just cannot quite imagine that the butts of powerful alpha women will be wielded in precisely the same ways as alpha men wield theirs. An inward facing circle of women seems to require a few small children to be handed around and admired (or possibly changed). One expects a tea pot, cups and saucers, petits four, possibly bridge of a particular insipid kind (maybe with prizes and little pencils and scoring pads) and a light domestic banter. One cannot somehow imagine such a gathering pulsing waves of power. Rather it is an Elisabeth (Bette Davis), Catherine (Garbo), a Hillary (Betty Grable), or a Monica (Hedy Lamarr) pictured as storming into a carven oak withdrawing room of fluttery young things (played, perhaps, by a young Maureen O'Hara in all seven roles) bantering with young jackanapes (played by Error Flynn and Tyrone Power) -- with perhaps a swarthy and glowering Spanish Ambassador (Raymond Massey or what's his name) insinuating himself into the graces of the still Catholic but randy cousin (and heir presumptive) of the queen (Vanessa Redgrave) --"Sirrah (to Massey), I dismiss you my court -- take you a xerox of the usual defiance and cast it in the teeth of your high but despised (emphasis on the ultima) master." "You -- ladies -- cease your mindless chatter (they drop their embroidery and fly shrieking off in all directions), you -- Lord Power -- to France to beseech their accustomed aid and ultimate treachery -- but first a buss on my own lips and bosom and a slap on my butt -- You -- Sir Errol -- to my bedchamber." There is simply no time in these scenes to train the trusty old Countess of Ennui (Flora Robeson)[ "Raised her from a babe, I did, and the sweetest little babby I ever gave suck") to take field command of the armies or the wiles of diplomacy. You must dance with the ones that brung you, and most important, you must not arrange whatever women you do have in a circle where they cannot be prevented from opening their bodices and thrusting their egregious bosoms into assorted young children who suddenly appear as if by magic (the Thai children -- the little ones "I believe in snow1"-- from "The King and I"), while the unlucky barren women coo and cluck about the little angels. Faugh! You women of today must learn to use your butts on new, aggressive models, and not merely to copy men. May I suggest some old Carmen Miranda movies as a start?