Smoke and Mirrors

In a perfect world . . .

Month: May 2006 (page 1 of 4)



~One caveat to all the ladies visiting, this post is in no way to be construed as a blatantly sexist commentary.
I’m just observing the changes in the female form over the years…very closely.


I can’t recall exactly when it happened or when I first noticed it.
I’m thinking somewhere between my roaring twenties and my “Jack Benny” years (a span of time when nothing is as it seems).
I’m talking about the disappearance of the female bum as I knew it.
It left and never said so much as a goodbye.
It seemed that I woke up one day and that perfectly curved, exquisitely formed part of the female anatomy was no longer with us; a memory, a distant thought once lodged inside the growing mind of a young man.
Oh well, go on, you can call me a flaming heterosexual.
And just so we're on the same page, IMHO, that is one fabulous bottom at the top of the page.

Presently, and correct me if I’m wrong, the female tush has taken on a more widespread stance sometimes appearing to cover massive areas of space, dividing state lines and looking repulsively misshapen.
Rectangular and almost boxy, in a way.

What designer decided that something needed to be done to refine the quintessential bumcake? It was fine the way it was.

The female posterior just doesn’t look the same to me these days and I feel somewhat betrayed. It’s not that I expected an email informing me of the change but a nicely written article in the “style” section of the paper may have alleviated some of the weirdness I feel when walking through a mall or strolling the beach these days.
It used to be something to look forward to, something to be savored, this art of “bum watching”.

It can’t only be me, I’ve decided that.

And I’m no freak show out for a five minute joy ride but rather a disgruntled observer who was never made aware of a major fashion change in the shapes and cuts of clothing, jeans to be specific.
To me, they all look strange these days.
I never find myself saying, ‘what a fantastic fanny’, anymore.
Guys, remember pointing out a soopah-doopah to the pack of wolves you used to hang around with?

How about the Levi Strauss jeans that women wore in the late seventies and early eighties?

Remember the way the jeans used to fit?

Maybe it’s just me, but I miss those days.

God, I'm pathetic…



ps. just for the record, I found this post on an old legal tablet of mine dated: 12.9.02

A definite maybe

I've decided that as much as I liked the "Hemingway" template this one does more of
what I like.
Yes, call me fickle.
I'm having one of those indecisive days I guess.
Lord knows, we've all been there.
Not sure what to post today so here's a link to George Bush talking about his theories on Global Warming. Give the video a few seconds to buffer.
It's heartwarming.


Life explained

life explained

This picture says it all.
I don't think much more needs to be said.
For tonight, anyway.
We men are such simple creatures, aren't we?


Somewhere East of Eden

My wife and I sat out on our deck tonight.
It was the first time this year that we got out.
I was smoking a Punch Churchill cigar from Havana and working on three fingers of Ouzo, Pamela was sipping her favorite cocktail; the Rum Swizzle.

Life was good under the all too welcome night sky.

We listened to the singing birds as they drifted off to sleep one by one.
The world grew quiet, as did we.

Conversation trickled in as we talked about our work, the girls, the plants she bought for the undressed backyard; plants she wished she’d bought years ago.

As I scanned the backyard I saw hostas, numerous impatiens and a lone crimson azalea filling in the once empty landscape; it all looked so impossibly gorgeous.

Pamela planted some Bleeding Hearts and Columbine on the side of the house; courtesy of a Home Depot gift card from a dear friend after my mom died.
Out of death, comes life and remembrance, I thought.
My wife has a green thumb and I’ve no doubt these beautiful plants will thrive, much like the daughters she’s been so carefully nurturing all these years.

She tells me, don’t touch the lavender, but I can’t help myself, and I do.

The pure scent of the herb is one of my favorites in her garden.

I smell the fragrance in the palm of my hand and breathe in the royal purple richness of it. And it’s good because it reminds me of her soul; her kindred spirit.

The little garden continues to grow into a place of respite for me; an indelible spot to remember the wonders, loves and most vital things in my life.

And for just a moment, I’m the richest man in the world.




(journal soundtrack: Bobo Stenson – Goodbye )

i am the eggman

the eggman

Fifteen years ago I had a full head of hair.
I mean like a “Fabio” head of hair—actually, I was the antithesis of Fabio…along with the muscles. But my hair was shoulder length and I would tie it up in a pony tail ala Steven Segal. I was 100% slicked back and cool.

In the past 6-7 years my hair has been incredibly close-cropped; not a buzz-cut but real close all over my head.
If there was 1/16th of an inch of hair on my coconut, I’d be surprised.
This morning I took it to the nth degree and took a straight edge to the brown, red and grey rubble.
Yup, I’m the eggman.
But there’s something really clean about it.
The only people on my blogroll as bald as me are Ash and Fuzz,  who I’ve no doubt will give me a big thumbs up.
Though my wife regards me as something of a circus clown regarding my naked crown, it’s still me in here. Maybe she needs time to warm up to it.
The best part of it is putting moisturizer all over your noggin. Shweet.
Bald is beautiful, baby. Well, that's what Dick Vitale says.

Either way, I feel like Mr. Clean…




Someone found my blog using these search words:

"golf balls in her ass"

I am yet humbled and at the same time amazed… (and laughing)

I came, I saw, I lurked

Just wanted to make visitors aware that anyone can comment on this blog.
It's quite easy. After reading a post click on "jump to comment form".
All you need is a name and an email address.
I was talking to my friend Eliud the other day and told him how many people had hit the blog as of late but hadn't commented.
He felt that most folks don't know they can.
I don't mind people "lurking" but come on, throw me a bone once in a while.
Just say "hi, I was here."
It's not rocket science people.
Last week my stat page told me 156 people had hit S&M in one day. Wow. Cool.
But only 2% commented. Hmm…
One more thing, my RSS feed buttons (entries/comments) are now located in the bottom right corner of the blog.
It's a nice way to keep tabs on my activities here.
That's all folks.
Have a great weekend everybody and remember: icksnay on the urkinglay…




I'm working the entire weekend and won't be posting much.
I thought I'd just take the time and wish everyone a wonderful Memorial Day.
It's a time to remember those that sacrificed so much so that we can still live our lives as we wish. We cookout, mow our lawns, drink beer, go to a parade and maybe even smoke a nice cigar in peace.
We owe more that we will ever be able to give to the soldier…
My thoughts and prayers go out to my Uncle Bill, my Dad, CAN, RH, BS and all that have been forever changed by the godforsaken tragedy that is war.
A heartfelt wish that our kids come home soon.
Thank you all…
The Widowing Field
by Jars of Clay

I'm sure that I could never
make it through the night without you here
the fires in the sky
illuminate the demons closing in

have mercy on my soul
if I am not the last
have mercy on my soul
if I am not the last to go

as I crawl around these trails
and fight upon this widowing field
the ground below is bare and burned
at the places I have learned to trust You

have mercy on my soul
if I am not the last
have mercy on my soul
if I am not the last to go
I am not the last to go

when even silence sets my heart to racing
I will lift my eyes to you
please, Father, find me

have mercy on my soul
if I am not the last to go


a lie?


I found a very unsettling link tonight.
I wonder what you think…yeah, you.
Click on the pic above and turn up your speakers.
Will something jump out and scare you?  No.
Is this chilling?  Yes.
Are you really surprised?
Come back and let me know…


Paradox Found


Since I started blogging I find that I constantly think about stuff to write about. Some of my writing makes the grade while some is almost pre-destined to remain strictly in the unread pages of my countless filled journals.

As I lay in bed this morning, an ephemeral thought flitted across my sluggish mind: color TV. Don’t ask me why but I thought back to the first time I saw Superman in color.

Oh. My. God.

I couldn’t peel my eyes off the screen.

By today’s standards, the quality of the picture absolutely sucked; green on the bottom of the screen and indigo caressing the top. Cool beans.

It was ridiculously simple but amazingly sufficient.
Granted, there were only three channels that came in and if the President was on your night was screwed but it didn’t seem to matter.
My father installed one of those antenna rotation devices on the roof, controlled by a big oversized brown box that sat on top of the TV.
You turned the hockey puck sized dial to turn the antenna and hopefully improve reception. After two years the antenna rusted out inside the base rendering it useless. You could hear the thing trying to turn but all you could hear was tick, tick, tick; so much for the technology of the early sixties.
Although television back then was relatively unsophisticated, it had a genuine humility to it unlike the programming these days.
I don’t watch much of the boobtube these days by choice.
I’ve had it with reality shows that choose to highlight the morose and ugly side of the human condition. I’m done with Springer, Nanny 911, Wife Swap and any show that features those out of touch douchebags in Hollywood.

I can hear you asking, “Is there anything you do like, Michael?”

It’s a fairly short list but here it is:



The real paradox is in the technology, the more “real” it appears, the more “unreal” it seems to become. So, the next time you want to knock a few points off the old IQ turn on that TV. As that great comedian Gallagher once said, “It’s just that easy.”


Ps. Go Taylor Hix…



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