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2010-12-20

Arousing the Ire of the King of the Grumpies

Boogers, blood, puke, puss, pee, poop, wieners, butts, and breasts; enough players here for a baseball team, or the Supreme Court. To ever comprehend the male psyche, you must realize there is an abiding (seomtimes exclusive) interest in these facets of existence.
Adam, Nathan, and I were on the ptio last Saturday telling gross out jokes. Not my idea to start, but I did not disapprove. I was slightly lconcerned that the neighbors could overhear, but aware of this slight concern. Solme things can be outgrown quickly if they are not made to appear unduly enticing by being portrayed as forbidden.
Adam asked, “Why did the racoon barf?”
I answered, “Because his girl friend was a dog?”
Adam's face went into contortions. “Ooh,” he said, “That's like being gay.”
One of the boys began telling another gross out joke. I felt a pain in my forehead. My eyes moistened slightly. The punch line was delivered. I looked at my son and said the only words which came to me: “You know Adam, sometimes I think you know more than I think ou know.” And I let it go at that.
Back inside, and later, Grandpa Ralph told the boys there was a real good Cowboy Movie on, a recent remake of Bonanza. Tought act to follow. Hoss, Little Joe and Ben are all dead. Don't know about Pernell Roberts. Of course, Grandpa Ralph had not previewed this real good Cowboy Movie, nor had he read the reviews. Had he done so, he might not have characterized it as a real good Cowboy Movie.
The boys could tell they were not being asked if the would like to wathc thi real good Cowboy Movie. Ther were bineg told to be company. They have paid the price for being unable to pre-select their grandfathers before. But they had each other and this was entirely sufficient to offset being condemned to watch a movie which did not hold their interest. They got rowdy, basdy, and loud. I went upstairs, hainvg no particular desire to watch this particular real good Cowboy Movie and I do not believe in attempting to keep boys from being obys. Number one, it doesn't work. Number two, it's wrong.
I reutnred later. While the boys were having fun laughing and discussing topics inappropriate for Grandpa Ralph's cherished preconceived notions something started to tick. He raised the tone of his voice, not to the stern, harsh, and brooding level, but up a notch, enough for ony one who was paying attention, as Pavlovian dogs are trained to do. This is what he said:”If you boys are going to act like animals when ye're watching my television show, then the next time you're watching your television show, I'm going to act like an animal too.”
The boys continued “acting like animals” (exuberant and playful). They have no frame of reference. They'ave never seen this Grandpa Ralph explode. They didn't realize they were being admonished to be quiet. They do not know that in order to understand Grandpa Ralph, you must realize that he doesn't always mean what he syas, and that he never says what he means.
It soon dawned on Granpa Ralph that they were too dumb to understand what he hadn't told them, and as punishment, he sent them upstairs, and switched to a basketball game. They boys were oblivious to what they had escaped. There were not terrifified. They continued “acting like animals.”
It was amazing and cathartic to watch. They went to the living room mirror and poked their fingers into every nook and cranny of their faces. Up eyelids, apart nostrils, down ear lobes and out tongue. Nathan, the taller stood up close to the mirror to check out his contortions. Adam slipped in between Nathan and the mirror. And after perfecting their horrible facial aspects, they turned to me, the arbiter of the rude, crude, and bawdy to swee what verdict I would render.
Gross! Disgusting! Terrifying! Ugly! Nightmarish! Alarming! Yuck!
Boogers, blood, puke puss, pee, poop, wienter, butts, and breasts. There's enough here for a lifetime of contemplation. The permutations and combinations are virtually infiniate. A guy doesn't need anything more, at least to move comfortably aoubt in the company of other members of the guy tribe. I speak as a member carrying member of that tribe.
And with this foundation, a man eventually comes to believe that he understands women, even though he'd rather not hafe to believe what he believes he understands. Reiterating, there are enormous fundamental differences. I understand men. As for women, this is all I know: there exist enormous fundamental differences.

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