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Post by crzhrs on May 26, 2006 6:48:55 GMT -6
Well . . . . I am an avid reader . . . especially Non-Fiction . . . sports, history, environment, culture, gardening (my favorite) philosophy . . . plus watching PBS does help keep one informed of past, current, and even future happenings.
And being on a forum like this keeps me on my toes when discussing not only LBH but now other subjects with some very knowledgable people.
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Post by d o harris on May 26, 2006 12:45:44 GMT -6
Fred, I would guess you were married to a woman. When I was quite young, (at my age anyone under 45 is quite young, because I will not consider myself old) I learned a valuable lesson I am sure you know, but for the benefit of the young men of the board I will state the lesson. A man may be smarter than every woman on earth, but he will never be more clever than any one woman. I think it goes back to the days when humankind lived in caves, learned how to control fire and cook food. Until then life was share and share alike. Then the division of labor began, and, no doubt, a woman decided how labor would be divided. She said women would remain in the cave and tend the fire and the cooking, all those onerous things that must be done, and you men can go forth and have all the fun by fighting wars and killing supper. If the weather were nice sometimes the women would venture out to gather fruits, berries, nuts, roots, and wild grain, while the men went after bison and hairy mammoths. This was considered an equal division of labor. Perhaps it was, but I've never heard of any one being gored by a turnip, or stomped to death by a stalk of wild grain. Too late we learned that whoever controls the fire and the cooking pot controls the disbursement of food. Did you ever wonder why most men love ribs, and women do not? It's an evolutionary thing. Back in the caves by the time the food was passed to the men the steaks, chops, and roasts were gone, and the women convinced us that ribs were a man thing and really the best part, and if ribs weren't enough there was always the lovely sauage a nice woman had made. Do you know what goes into a sausage?---every part of the animal a woman doesn't want to eat, and possibly including the sweepings off the floor. But we ate it and learned to love it, just as a masochist learns to love being beat upon. The real crisis in the United States occurred when ordinary women began to drink beer. This was a back door approach to turn us into drinkers of white wine. Originally, white wine was presented as a Los Angeles thing, or a California thing. When that didn't work the next tactic of the women was to drink beer, and, of course, that led to lite, light this and light that and the near destruction mof the brewing of real beer in America. In 1958 the US led the world in the production of quality beers. By 1975 it was all over. A beer hall in Munich, Germany took pride in offering beer from every country in the world. Except the U. S. Ours didn't measure up to minimum standards. Then came Sam Adams, and, after 60 millenia, the beginning of the counter-revolution. Thank God for Sam Adams, and the thousands of micro-breweries inspired by that success, which must be deemed a patriotic success. It is no longer necessary to seek out imported beer, and this certainly helps our trade balances.
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Post by crzhrs on May 26, 2006 13:25:09 GMT -6
Fred, I would guess you were married to a woman.
Guess?!?!?!?!?!??!?
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Post by Tricia on May 26, 2006 13:35:40 GMT -6
Well, speaking for myself, there's nothing better than a good Sauvignon Blanc and a book ...
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Post by d o harris on May 26, 2006 13:46:17 GMT -6
crzhrs---it's an expression, like I guess I'll watch the Cubs lose another, or I guess I'll fly by plane. (Is there an alternative?) Fred wrote "You can imagine what I was married too." I didn't imagine, I guessed, like I guess I prefer Sam Adams over Budweiser. Or, I guess I'd rather spend my vacation on a lake in New Hampshire than in San Antonio. I guess you can understand that. On the other hand, some creatures look like women, talk like women, act like women, smell good like women, but they are really visitations from Hell. So, my guess was Fred married a woman, rather than a visitation. This category doesn't include my wife. After 47+ years we still get along, more or less. I guess more rather than less. But, then, she happens to be a New Hampshire woman and I guess you know what that entails.
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Post by crzhrs on May 26, 2006 13:50:11 GMT -6
DO:
Just havin' a little fun before the big holiday weekend . . . you say you married a NH woman. I DO know what that's like . . . some of the best and hardest workin' women live in NH . . . mine is non-stop, from the time she gets up till bed time. Even when we are sitting and watching TV she has to be DOING SOMETHING . . . must be nervous energy. Me, once my day of work is done, be it my job or outside chores . . . I'm kicking back and not moving from the sofa . . . almost comatose but still breathing!
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Post by d o harris on May 26, 2006 13:53:26 GMT -6
A good Sauvignon Blanc? Isn't that an oxymoron?
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Post by Tricia on May 26, 2006 14:10:37 GMT -6
A good Sauvignon Blanc? Isn't that an oxymoron? So is "refreshing beer."
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Post by d o harris on May 26, 2006 16:05:03 GMT -6
I never claimed beer is refreshing. Beer is beer. It is good beer, or bad beer. No other adjectives are necessary, or relevant.
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Post by d o harris on May 26, 2006 16:20:52 GMT -6
Best and hardest working I agree with, Ole' Hoss. And ain't we lucky to have them at the end of the day. Even if they are more clever. But to try to convince them to do one thing at a time is like talking to the Old Man of the Mountain. Nonetheless, I got by far the best of the bargain.
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Post by Tricia on May 26, 2006 17:59:43 GMT -6
I never claimed beer is refreshing. Beer is beer. It is good beer, or bad beer. No other adjectives are necessary, or relevant. You haven't. It's merely those countless man-type commercials which interrupt baseball games that claim something to that extent.
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Post by fred on May 26, 2006 19:23:21 GMT -6
And ain't we lucky to have them at the end of the day. "... at the end of a stick" would have been better w/ my ex-wife.
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Post by d o harris on May 26, 2006 20:07:32 GMT -6
Fred, maybe you got one of those visitations from hell I alluded to. Next time, if there is a next and hopefully there will not be, go bride hunting in New Hampshire. There is one thing about New Hampshire women, though. A few years after we were married we went to New Hampshire on vacation. All the way East she told me she couldn't wait to have fried clams, she loved fried clams. We had to cut short visiting the sites in Virginia so we could get to New Hampshire and fried clams. Finally, very late one night as we turned toward Dover, there was a restaurant just off the highway. Nothing would serve but we stop and I buy some fried clams to go. When I returned her expression was something to behold. In the years we had been married she had never once looked at me as she looked at those fried clams. It bordered on religious ecstacy. You remember those old Charmin commercials? With the women getting jollied up by squeezing toilet paper? It was something like that. So you have to concede the clam thing, but they don't last long, and good things can last forever.
Leyton---agree entirely on those manly commercials. If those guys need refreshment they ought to take a shower once in a while. The one's that really got me were the Old Milwaukee commercials ten years ago or so. Especially the one where this guy with about a six day growth of whiskers is fishing, Old M. in hand, scratching himself, probably because he was a stranger to soap, and saying "It don't get better'n this." I'd say more but I make no comments about inbreeding.
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Post by Tricia on May 27, 2006 12:00:02 GMT -6
DO--
Funny, as much as I hate those "man law" adverts, one of my favourite commercials is the Dial For Men one. "It looks like an oil can!" Now that's enough praise to get me to buy a jug for an unsuspecting Spouse!
Regards, Leyton McLean
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Post by alfuso on May 28, 2006 8:20:14 GMT -6
d a harris
give me a Guinness. Now that's a drink you can drink with a fork.
alfuso
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