I the current podcast, I have tried to explain why “Fine”…isn’t. It’s a woman thing. On the other hand, I will try to explain why guys do what we do in this Sunday’s podcast. It’ll be called Testosterone Terror. If you are a guy, or you know a guy, or you have a guy, or you wish you had a guy, or you have too many guys, please grab this Sunday’s podcast at www.dicksummer.com/podcast.
Testosterone is a controlled substance. You need a doctor’s prescription to get it. Does that mean every man who doesn’t have a doctor’s note is in trouble ? This and other pressing problems are discussed in agonizing detail on the Good Night Podcast.
Some of the comments you’ve posted on the She’s So Fine blog are excellent. Suggest anybody reading this now, zip down and read the comments.
I have been fined once too often and I’m going to sit here in my big, comfortable, manly, black leather poppa chair in my living room and complain bitterly to you about it. My Lady Wonder Wench came back from the supermarket today, looking totally exhausted and upset. I said, “Are you ok?” And she said, “I’m fine.” No. She wasn’t fine. I have seen her when she is fine, and she doesn’t look like that when she’s fine. She looks so very fine when she is fine. What is it with that “fine line.” It’s like we’ve taken the words, “Hi, how are you ? I’m fine” and turned it into one word. “HihowareyouI’mfine.” The person asking you how you are doesn’t really want to know 90% of the time, and you’re not fine 89% of the time. Why don’t we say what we really mean? Hi, what’s your problem. I feel like throwing up.
“Have a nice day”…95% of the time the person who says that to you really means “I’m through with you so go away.” “He misspoke.” No. He lied. “This is a Pre-Owned car.” That means some guy got tired of being nickel and dimed to death with this heap of junk, and I’d like to sell it to you. And I’ll never forget the great George Carlin bit about how we lose the real meaning of a statement by using fancy words. He said, “During World War One, we had a simple and exact description for people who’s emotions were shattered by the devastation of battle. We called it Shell Shock. Shell Shock was a tough, hideous, and accurately nasty description. Now, when somebody’s emotions are destroyed by war we call it by a totally meaningless, completely sanitary and oh so politically correct term. We call it Post Traumatic Stress Disorder.
I fly a small airplane. One of the joys of flying a plane here in the northeast corridor is that we use very clear words with air traffic control. When an ATC guy says, “No delay, immediate right turn to three six zero degrees!” that gets your attention. That happened to me the other day. So I flicked the auto pilot off… and turned that control wheel over hard… and I watched the compass spin up till we were at about 345 degrees…then I eased her the rest of the way till it said N for north…just like the man said. A moment later a big jet flashed by pretty close to where I would have been if the controller hadn’t called the turn. I flicked the mike and said “thanks.” And believe me, I meant it. Pilots around here call that a “Linda Rondstadt” because Linda had a big hit called “Blue Bayou”…as in “that jet just blew by you.” I flicked the auto pilot back on to catch my breath for a moment and I realized… I was looking at an “N word.” There’s no 360 degrees on an airplane compass. Just the letter N. It means North. That’s one of flyings more important N words.
If you are easily shocked, stop reading this right now. Because what I’m about to say will get some of you very angry with me. But I’ve got to say it. There are lots of “N words”…which means there is no such thing as “THE N word.” I hate it when Brian Williams is discussing some really serious race relations story, by saying “So and so said ‘The N word.” Some idiot long ago couldn’t spell the word “Niger”, so we got the word “nigger”… which became a word other idiots have used to describe people with brown and black skin…like Cecelia, the beautiful and priceless newest member of my family. Actually Cecelia has been watching a video of the story called Rapunzil, and she wants to be called Princess Cecelia these days. And Grandma Lady Wonder Wench enthusiastically encourages that.
Let’s get real. “The N word” doesn’t mean anything. Say what you mean. “Nigger” is a word that cuts. It’s the result of a stupid guy who couldn’t spell, it’s outrageously disrespectful, and it hurts. And that means something…it tells you something…something ugly… something that won’t go away if you stick your head in the sand. So deal with it. It hurts. The phrase “The N word” doesn’t hurt… because there IS no such thing as “THE… N WORD.” It has no real meaning.
There’s a dictionary full of “N words.” How about Nice, Nude, Naked (I like that one), Nabob, Naah, Nana, Nail, Native, Nose…etc. There is no marking on my airplane compass for 360 degrees. There’s just the letter N. It means North. When that jet was bearing down on my little plane, the controller said “turn north.” That meant something. If he had said “turn to the N word”… the only response I’d have had is…”HUH?” “Do you want me to turn naked nicely like a nabob with a nana who has long nails…naaah, that can’t be… do you want me to fly my plane up your nose?” By the time I got if figured out, I’d have been toasting marshmallows on the jet guy’s after burner.
And while we’re at it, there is no such thing as an “African American,” any more than there is a “European American.” “African American” means absolutely nothing. You African? Okay. You European? Okay. You American? Also okay. Africa is a continent. America is a continent. Europe is a continent. Three different continents. Lots of water in between.
Let’s get a grip. When that controller called the traffic, I put both hands on that control wheel and put some muscle into that bank…fast. It happened, as they say, with “no delay.” The lesson ? Let’s cut the silly stuff that doesn’t mean anything…now. We’ve got important things to worry about in this country. Let it be the exclusive concern of our very capable American Association of Interior Decorators to worry about how and if brown, black, white, pink, yellow and red can work together…. what do you care? Get up off your black, brown white, pink, yellow or red fannies and get a grip on the things that count. And DO something about them.
Watch the news reports, including the ones from the BBC and other foreign sources so you know what other people are really saying about us…read the paper…learn what’s going on…make a note of which politicians don’t really answer the tough questions…tell your friends who they are, then vote them out of office. Raise hell on talk radio, and write e-mails to the politicians… and demand an answer from them by phone if they ignore you. Know what’s really going on…THINK.
And whatever you do, please remember this quote. It’s from Adolph Hitler…and these are his exact words: “How fortunate for those of us who rule, that the people don’t think.” SO THINK. THEN get up off your multi-colored butts and DO SOMETHING ABOUT IT.
Dick’s Details Quiz. All answers are in the current podcast.
1- What’s an instant way to make a man cry like a baby?
2- What was the connection between ladies corsets and warships in World War 2?
3- What late finding has the leaders of the Woman’s Movement cheering?
Dick’s Details. They take your mind off your mind.
While we’re talking about language that means something, a sense of humor couldn’t hurt. The thing the papers call a “near miss” is really a “near hit.” If it were a “near miss,” it would be a collision. That’s why pilots call it a “Linda Rondstadt.” As in “Blue Bayou”…as in “that jet just blew by you
A little courtesy couldn’t hurt either. The Air Traffic Control system is highly professional and absolutely courteous. Pilots and Controllers address each other as “Sir” or “Maam.” We trust each other with life and death decisions that have to be made in an instant. There’s no time to waste. But courtesy isn’t considered a waste of time. Courtesy is probably the one part of growing up that doesn’t hurt.
There’s a story about growing up in the lovin touch Personal Audio CD. It has to do with how my Lady Wonder Wench makes me feel powerful, because she lets me make her feel beautiful. That’s also how she made me get over feeling like I’m getting old, without actually having to grow up…and mature…at least not completely.
We have a number of pilots who are Proud Podcast Participants, and at least two (ex) Air Traffic Controllers. While I’m trying to be clear about things, on behalf of all of pilots and our passengers, let me take this opportunity to say “thanks” to Paul and Eric and all their brother and sister Air Traffic Controllers for looking out for us. You guys are the best.
Well…I mean Hark…I’ve had a fine time getting this off my chest and plopping it on your shoulders. And now it’s time to go and see to it that my Lady Wonder Wench really does feel….Fine. Soo Fine. I like doing that.
Tomorrow’s podcast at www.dicksummer.com/podcast is probably going to get me into trouble with people who don’t listen carefully to what I’m saying. But I’ve got to say it. The podcast is called “She’s So Fine.” Please let me know what you think of the points I’m trying to make. My email is Dick@DickSummer.com
Sunday’s podcast ( www.dicksummer.com/podcast ) looks like it’s going to be kind of tough in spots, and a little tender in others. It’s called “She’s So Fine.” Looking forward to having you along.
My Lady Wonder Wench had some comments about this week’s podcast:
There is a HUGE difference between the Lad’s eyes … and my mirror. I know I am not supposed to believe that dratted mirror in spite of all the commercials and unshaven guys who tell me I need whatever it is they’re selling. And to tell the truth, I would much rather believe the Lad’s eyes. Those greeney, browney, yallerey eyes see – ME!! But I can’t help it …………
And as for toe nails – try not being able to turn your head far enough to see what you’re doing. I CAN’T let him watch – or help – because pride is my middle initial. Oh I manage all right, but just barely. Anyway, I have decided to give up “seeing” in that mirror except to be sure my hair is at least somewhat under control. Everything else, as someone famous once said, is subject to change.
So if I tend to strut a little … don’t blame me!
The current podcast proves that kids in the back seat cause accidents. And accidents in the back seat cause kids.
Proud Podcast Participant Betsy sent this, and Big Louie wants every woman in the world to read it, copy it, and recite it every day before each meal:
Pretty women wonder where my secret lies.
I’m not cute or built to suit a fashion model’s size
But when I start to tell them,
They think I’m telling lies.
It’s in the reach of my arms
The span of my hips,
The stride of my step,
The curl of my lips.
I’m a woman
I walk into a room
Just as cool as you please,
And to a man,
The fellows stand or
Fall down on their knees.
Then they swarm around me,
A hive of honey bees.
It’s the fire in my eyes,
And the flash of my teeth,
The swing in my waist,
And the joy in my feet.
I’m a woman
Men themselves have wondered
What they see in me.
They try so much
But they can’t touch
My inner mystery.
When I try to show them
They say they still can’t see.
It’s in the arch of my back,
The sun of my smile,
The ride of my breasts,
The grace of my style.
I’m a woman
Now you understand
Just why my head’s not bowed.
I don’t shout or jump about
Or have to talk real loud.
When you see me passing
It ought to make you proud.
It’s in the click of my heels,
The bend of my hair,
the palm of my hand,
The need of my care,
‘Cause I’m a woman
If you’ve ever had to deal with the medical establishment, you’ll want to see “Co-Pay.”
CoPay took “Best Iowa Short Film” at the Wild Rose Independent Film Festival and “Award of Excellence” at Iowa Motion Picture Association (IMPA).