BAGWAN IS MYSTIFIED BY WOMEN’S BITCHING……was 19th amendment a mistake?

women's rights

Good Morning Schlemiels,

If you logged on expecting the wisdom and life guidelines, the acumen if not gift from our very own Bagwan, you may be surprised by this week’s “Further truth and light.”  He has seen personally the power women possess and is dismayed by today’s whining ‘helpless women’ unable to achieve success on a par with men.  He has submitted this weeks “honest” assessment with a heavy heart expecting harsh rebuttal.  Please feel free to reply using the comment link…but I think you’ll like it:


I get tired of all this talk about a “glass ceiling” that is supposedly keeping women from rising to the top of corporate America. The last company I worked for the highest paid employee was a women and that was for the simple reason that she was the most profitable employee in the firm. Women who work the same hours, make the same contributions and make the same sacrifices make the SAME as men.

The glass ceiling apologists offer statistics which show that women make 77% of what men make in what they describe as comparable positions. First off women are better in compromising positions and second there is no such thing as comparable positions for men and women. There is a long list of differences but I will start and stop with who spends 9 months bearing a child vs who spends 5 minutes conceiving one? There are always ways of twisting your interpretation of the stats but the real reason that women are paid less is the same reason that the vast majority of convicts on death row are minorities – they get what they deserve.

Here’s what I don’t understand, if women are as capable as men then where is the female Bill Gates, Warren Buffet or Steve Jobs? I suppose you can still come up with some of the same alibis about the odds being stacked against them but the odds are in the millions or billions to one against anyone doing what those guys did. Okay let’s just say it was a billion to one against Steve Jobs accomplishing what he did, do you really suppose the odds would be measurably   different for a woman. The answer has to lie in the inherent difference between the sexes. The men’s record in the pole vault is over 20 feet while the women’s is more than 3 feet less – I suppose that’s because of a glass ceiling too.

I am glad someone brought up Steve Jobs because I just recently read something his widow has written. I don’t know her first name and there is no reason to look it up because the “Widow Jobs” will do just fine. I am unaware of her accomplishments other than ensnaring this weirdo and now laying claim to all the billions he left behind. She is of course entitled to her opinions and with all her money her opinions have a loud voice. The opinion of hers that is giving me pause is her opinion of Hillary Clinton. It is not that she supports Hillary, I would expect nothing else. No what gets me is the absolute over the top, unsubstantiated and laughable language the Widow uses to try to make her point:

Jobs writes, “Hillary Clinton is not familiar. She is revolutionary. Not radical, but revolutionary: The distinction is crucial. She is one of America’s greatest modern creations. Her decades in our public life must not blind us to the fact that she represents new realities and possibilities. Indeed, those same decades have conferred upon her what newness usually lacks: judgment, and even wisdom.”

I have no idea what any of that means and my guess is that the Widow doesn’t either. Hillary is perfectly entitled to run for President and by modern standards even has the credentials to do so. She was a Senator for eight years, a Secretary of State for four and the wife of our most entertaining President for another eight.

The Widow Jobs gets her bully pulpit from her husband as does Hillary. Other than Oprah, I can’t think of a rich and powerful woman who doesn’t owe her power and wealth to a man. As an aside, Oprah owes hers to the weakness of women.

What women might expect to get from their husbands varies according to any number of factors. I was just watching an episode of The Andy Griffith Show where Mr. Darling is trying to convince his daughter Charlene not to leave her husband Dub (played by Bob Denver). I love his closing line: “How many other women you know that’s got a wood floor and a husband who hardly ever hits ’em?”

And to think Zuki calls me a misogynist!

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A MISPLACED AND DISHEVELED LOVE……just joe stalks his way into her heart

edda moserGood Morning Pusillanimous Drifters,

Have you ever seen a mirage?  Something you felt was a sure thing with tactile surfaces and substance only to watch it evaporate?  I ran into one of our own last night and was pleasantly surprised given nobody has seen him in months!  We sat at the bar (surprise) and caught up with missed “rules committee” meetings although I spared him the minutia normally associated with these little soirees’ and cut to the chase.  Interestingly enough there was very little substance but hoped he appreciated the gesture. I asked where the hell he’d been which caused him to change his demeanor and immediately became serious.  He confessed a horrific story but swore me to secrecy.  This is generally not a good idea as my responsibility to this forum supersedes any promise of keeping lids in place.

Before I move into the meat of the story, I’d like to post this disclaimer:  The following story contains graphic language and adult themes; readers sensitive to such are advised to log off now.  Should you choose to read on, you do so at your own risk.

The Management

This curmudgeon like many of us fancies himself an aficionado of the ‘classics’ and maintains he’s the last of the Renaissance Men.  While I have no problem believing this, however I know only of one thing he does well and had already demonstrated his talent by farting “Yankee Doodle” at the bar. He says the older he gets the pursuit of his passion has taken on a sense of urgency so he travels the country to hear everything from Rachmaninoff to George Gershwin.  He is now rushing to see as many classic operas as possible and has what I can only describe as a ‘bucket list’ with each entry prioritized according to historical significance.

Our associate finally took a knee to the groin though.  In a film production of Mozart’s Don Giovanni in San Francisco our good friend became smitten with Edda Moser who played one of the lead characters ‘Donna Anna.’  Evidently Edda is an accomplished soprano and our associate put taking her to bed atop his ‘bucket list’ postponing the other performances.  Our adventurer further confided that he’s been involved in a campaign of letter writing, phone calls, Fed X, and a standing offer of $5,000.00 to simply enjoy a dinner together.  To date, all efforts have gone without reply.  I had no idea, but according to our heart broken friend, even opera singers have ‘groupies.’  I suppose from her standpoint it’s just best not to encourage anyone!

Our committee member was discouraged but not yet ready to give it up and pressed on.  Ms Moser lives in a ‘gated’ community in Westchester County, New York and is married to a heart surgeon so she lives quite well.  Undaunted, he continued his quest by moving into a nearby Motel 6 that had weekly rates and plastic sheets.  He planned to accidentally bump into her creating an opportunity to introduce himself. Unfortunately by the time he discovered her routines she’d spotted him enough times to be convinced he was stalking her.  Before he could execute his plan the police were summoned and our well intentioned ‘Dickhead’ was taken in for questioning.  There’s now a restraining order in place and was forced to leave the county.  Our boy’s family has rotating shifts to keep an eye on him.

It was good to see my old friend but he’s quickly losing what’s left of his feeble brain and seems to lack discernment of right from wrong.  I understand the idea of chasing a dream only to see it obliterated, but to actually stalk someone who obviously has no interest what-so-ever seems a bit demented to me.

Please join me in a moment of silence for this poor son of a bitch.


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CAN’T WE JUST BE FRIENDS?……..zuki is forced to tell the truth

Big ButtGood Morning Victims of Chumminess,

I’ve determined that on average I spend approximately 16 hours per week perched atop a barstool at Blondie’s.  In the last three months I’ve piled up over 5,000 mileage plus points from money spent on food and drink.

It finally occurred to me that my insights about people are greatly influenced by drunks!  Being in a state of crapulousness communicating with others in similar condition has brought about a certain level of viciousness in my behavior I find disturbing.  Having said that though, it shouldn’t surprise me anymore when I find myself in a confrontation I didn’t instigate, but there I was; attacked and forced to defend myself.

More and more I feel victimized by people that for whatever reason need to be accepted and feel little if any self-esteem.  Why I’m singled out remains a mystery to me.  The only explanation that makes sense to me is cosmic in nature which of course makes it unbelievable.  I must give off a vibe that through the unseen world of particle physics inures those empty souls my way.

I believe Woody Allen said something to the effect he couldn’t possibly love anyone who could love someone like him.  Friendship even on a cursory level is something that is normally cultivated over time and on some level becomes a mutually beneficial relationship.  Am I out of line here?  Just because an idiot wants to be friends or something more, are we obligated to befriend them?  I say no we’re not!  Comradeship on demand is something only fools believe possible and are destined to be lonely and disappointed their remaining rotations.

Last Friday I didn’t get to the bar until late and watched most of the rules committee stagger out the door.  One by one I said goodbye until I was alone at curmudgeon corner.  Over the last several months a woman has continued to sit at the peripherals of our band of morons and at times inject herself into the fray but was ignored.  It got back to me that she lusted after my body (don’t even go there).  Normally I’d be flattered by this and seek to make myself available.

This woman has a pleasant enough looking face, but her ass looks like two bushel baskets filled with lard!  For months she’s been trying to flirt and engage me in conversation, which I managed to avoid most times.  But this day she was determined to make something happen.  She began by tossing napkins folded like paper airplanes at me while discussing the affairs of state with the ‘Rules Committee.’  Given my back was turned to her I didn’t notice.  She kept speaking to me directly which I ignored continuing the bluster and bullshit.  Again her nasal voice pierced the air asking me to take her home!  I politely explained I didn’t think it was a good idea and again turned away from her.  When I was alone she promptly drug her stuff over and sat next to me still trying to make small talk.

It was painfully obvious she intended to force this issue so I girded up my loins and in a raised voice asked, “What the fuck do you want from me!?”  “I want to be your friend” she replied.  I knew better than that and decided to end it all right there and then.  In as direct and harsh a voice I could muster I explained to her I wasn’t interested in anything she had to say and was physically repulsed by her.  I continued the tirade by explaining I didn’t care if she ever came back.  She told me most convincingly that she’d never impose on me again and walked away in a huff.  Thank God!

Why was any of this ugliness necessary?  The two or three of you reading this mordant turn of events have to side with me on this.  I never encouraged her or gave her any reason to believe I was interested, yet over time she felt compelled to get in my face about ‘being my friend.’  Why does this keep happening to me?


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BAGWAN FEIGNS UNDERSTANDING……zuki wears sensible shoes

checking inGood Morning Estivators,

As you may have already surmised our very own Bagwan has agreed to be “hoisted by his own petard” and communicate with we the unwashed.  Having read his theories it’s clear he’s abandoned objectivity for a lance through your well intended host’s heart.  Please be warned….should you decide to read Mrs. Doubtfire’s account of things it may cause a sever case of flatulence….please enjoy:


What I gathered from Zuki’s most recent post is that a life of quiet desperation beats the hell out of a trip to Clearwater Beach, Florida during spring break. We haven’t been able to total all the damages yet because 5 of the credit card receipts were rendered illegible due to rum stains. All Zuki knows for sure is that when he tried to buy some Altoids mango sours down at the 7-11, the clerk confiscated his credit card.

I commented previously under this vacation post of his that his money was better spent here in Denver on legal marijuana and illegal hookers. His reply was a weak, “it seemed like a good idea at the time.” Implicit in that reply is that he actually thought this out, but history tells us that this was more likely a wild hair from his nether regions than a well thought out plan.

I don’t want any of this to be construed as criticism, because that certainly wasn’t my intention. I’m just as likely as he is to fall victim to the allure of perceived greener pastures. But when you step back from it for a moment it does make you wonder. Both Florida and Colorado have tourism as a huge source of revenue. You can’t help but wonder how many Floridians were in our State over Easter weekend while Zuki was down in theirs. And, horror of horrors, were any of them sitting on Zuki’s private stool at Blondie’s in his absence?

As I age I have developed a great deal more respect for the Law of Inertia. “A body at rest tends to stay at rest.” If you have any doubt about that come by Blondie’s some evening and set up a time-lapse camera — you’ll be amazed.

There is another school of thought that you just have to stay in motion. Doing something is always better than doing nothing. I have heard that sharks have to stay in constant motion or they will die and I know that some women fear the same dire consequence if they stop talking; but it is perfectly okay for a 65 year old man to do nothing – in fact it is mandatory at times. He can be relaxing, meditating or just contemplating his navel.

There are any number of TV commercials for those dating services for “mature adults.” The one I have in mind shows a very attractive couple in their late 50’s where they go riding off on his Harley. She talks about how she knows what she wants and when she wants it and now that they are together they never have an idle moment. I wonder what all of their exes think as they are lying on the couch watching that commercial. There is always an ex somewhere with an unflattering opinion.  It was Dan Jenkins of “Semi-Tough” fame who wrote that the next time you think you are so in love that you must marry some gorgeous, hard-bellied debutante; just remember that someplace, somewhere there is a guy who hates both her and her mother.

Dan Jenkins is well past his prime but some of his stuff still holds up as funny even 30+ years later. From his book “Baja Oklahoma” he lists the 10 stages of drunkenness:

  1. Witty and Charming
    2. Rich and Powerful
    3. Benevolent
    4. Clairvoyant
    5. Fuck Dinner
    6. Patriotic
    7. Crank up the Enola Gay
    8. Witty and Charming, Part II
    9. Invisible
    10. Bulletproof



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ZUKI TAKES MUCH NEEDED VACATION…….hoards of revelers heighten experience

Sunday's Breakfast

Sunday’s Breakfast

Good Morning Sand Dwellers,

How does one begin to describe the living hell that is vacationing with the Grizwald’s? I know I’ve had a few rotations but even with my limited reasoning skills I pictured a paradise of white sand, palm trees, and blue waters maximizing my complete relaxation.  How could anything go wrong?

A gentle breeze wafted the smell of coconut sun tan lotion as I trudged awkwardly through the sand dodging the hundreds of bodies absorbing the sun’s vitamin D but feeling good about the $9 sunglasses I’d just purchased.  I felt pretty hip for an old guy.

I struggled with where I should go for my 4-day vacation.  At the end of 2014 I managed to squeeze out 16 days of vacation but spent all of it working in my studio and watching daytime TV.  Please note:  Daytime TV has nothing to offer anyone with a brain.  So I was determined to actually leave town and travel to someplace with palm trees.  I contacted my very good friends euphemistically referred to as “The Grizwald’s” taken from National Lampoon’s ‘Vacation’ series with Chevy Chase.  It was all set.

It’s with a bit of shame I admit most women are far superior to me and suspect most men when it comes to planning.  Not only was I unaware it was ‘Spring Break’s final weekend but was Easter weekend as well.  For those who’ve not had the privilege of visiting Clear Water Beach, FL—traffic headed to the beach and across a two lane causeway backs up to a crawl 15 miles before even reaching the causeway!

Jimmy my host knowing the above to be true and what must have been at considerable expense set us up at three different hotels nestled right on the beach! This kept us at the center of the beach’s nightlife and its many clubs my entire time there.  I think my host knows me pretty well.

I’ve known Jimmy & Stacy since 1992 and watched their three boys grow up until a tearful goodbye when they traded the Rockies for the gulf shores of Clear Water Beach.  As life’s rich pageant never stops, each of their sons has grown to be young men with successful high school & college football careers, smarts, and all of them are good looking.  As one might expect they all have beautiful girlfriends and an entourage of teammates and friends the Grizwald’s have adopted as their own.  I had no idea they’d all be staying with us and our drunken overnight vigils each successive night.  Yikes!

I quickly discovered the key to surviving this late night sardine can was to drink enough and inhale voluminous amounts of accoutrements suitable for the occasion so that you essentially pass-out allowing a modicum of rest.  I was promised at least half a bed each night, but that proved to be a fools dream and was regularly, sometimes brutally, forced off the bed and onto the floor usually on top of another body.

I had contracted a nasty dose of heartburn…I suspect as a result of “Street Taco’s” eaten earlier and needed to seek relief.

I removed myself from the occupied 10 inches of bed and negotiated each body as much as my physical conditioning would allow and almost made it to the door but got snagged on a blanket or towel and kneed an offensive lineman (nickname of bowling ball) in the ribs!  He never moved or even acknowledged the event so I wandered the streets at 5 am looking for a 7/11 to buy medication.  Jeez….

Sunday being the last night we pulled out all the stops and went to Shepherd’s to get out on the dance floor.  For the two or three of you still reading this dry-humpty hump perhaps you can appreciate the fact that at 65 rotations the pickings are pretty slim for dance partners so I turned to technology.  Tinder is designed to find women/men wherever one happens to be using GPS location algorithms and hook up.

I matched almost immediately with Pam a reasonably attractive 59 year old woman and noticed her location was one-tenth of a mile from me.  Using the Tinder text messaging feature I told her where I was and with my directions and landmarks she arrived within 15 minutes sipping on a Rum Runner.  Engaging me in what quickly turned into dirty talk and subsequent high school make out and groping session, it was crystal clear where this was going.

We danced to a few songs then around 2 am and without saying anything to our hosts we ditched the crowd and walked a block up the road to a Quality Inn.  They had one room available and of course raped me at $309.00! The clerk sized it up pretty quickly and wouldn’t come off the price.  So I gladly paid it not only to get lucky, but more importantly to actually have a bed to myself.

We had what could only be described as drunken sex immediately followed by deep snoring.  When I awoke about 10 am Pam had already let herself out without a note or kiss goodbye…but that’s the idea behind Tinder.  I lay there for another 30 minutes basking in my alone-ness before I showered and dried myself with clean dry towels instead of a damp used washcloth!  Heaven!!!

I hadn’t seen my hosts & family for 5 years.  I love the Grizwald’s and the time spent with them and committed to go back at the end of this year’s football season to catch number 3 son as he’s a highly recruited QB for one of Florida’s top high school teams.  They will no doubt be involved in the state championship series.

Whenever I hang with the Grizwald’s it usually takes a little while to put it all in perspective and realize I really did have a great time!  Knowing how this works now, my next visit will include a female masseuse and private sleeping accommodations!


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