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| CC0 Public Domain |
This is a weekly column consisting of letters to my perspicacious progeny — the Stickies — to advise 'em now, haunt them after I'm deleted.
"Once again, we come to the Holiday Season, a deeply religious time that each of us observes, in his own way, by going to the mall of his choice." {Um... shouldn't that be updated to their choice?} -Dave Berry
Dear Stickies (and gentlereaders),
This is going to be a relatively short one, my dear gentlereaders. I'm busy dashing through the snow (Hootervile got its first real snowfall recently, ain't global warming cool!) this week trying to get ready for Christmas. As usual, it snuck up on me when I was busy doing other things.
{I call bonkercockie, you're not a dasher...}
Or Dancer? Or Dunder, or Blixem?
{Say what?}
Dunder and Blixem had their names changed to Donner and Blitzen when they passed through Ellis Island.
{Right... Anyway, when people repeatedly ask you, "Well, are ya ready for Christmas!?!" don't you automatically respond with "Yup, that's why God made gift cards."
Also, I've noticed that all sorts of events that normal people regard as important have a way of sneaking up on you because you don't take them seriously anymore... and snuck is not a word, by the way.}
Yup, that's why God made gift cards, you can't go wrong with $20 bills, and snuck's been an acceptable irregular verb conjunction for so long that sneaked sounds wrong, by the way.
{Twenty dollar bills! That explains why...}
We must all do our part to roll back transitory inflation. Now if you don't mind, I have a part two to attend to.
Part one can be found here. But if you're dashing today, here's a quick summation.
My Overflowing Cistern hypothesis, reduced to its most simplistic explanation, maintains that many men who've been "sucking it up" all their lives reach a point when all the tears they haven't shed over the years start spilling out, often at inopportune times.
This is why old men cry, but this is a vast oversimplification, there's a bunch of devils thriving in the details that I didn't go into in part one.
Most old men nowadays are Boomers. However, current geezers that were early Boomers are less likely to suffer from overflowing tear cisterns as they are less likely to have been influenced by the rise of widespread feminism in the late 1960s.
Men were told they don't have to be such hard cases. They should be "in touch with their feelings" and their "inner child" and that it's okay for men to cry. That's the kind of man a modern, liberated woman wants.
[Younger gentlereaders please note: I speak of the Stone Age. In the 60s and 70s, LGBs came into their own and Ts were making a bit of a splash, but Q+++++++++++++ers were still maintaining a very low profile. If ya didn't know better you might think that the Ts, and all the others that came (and are still coming) after actually constitute a rather small segment of society who are currently enjoying a radically oversized moment. But I drift...]
Many of my fellow heterosexual, male, mid to late Boomers and I embraced this notion enthusiastically. You don't have to be a badass, or cool, or rich, or pretty (or fake any/all of those things) to have lots of sex, maybe even find an excellent wife — just be more sensitive, and cry occasionally? Where do I sign?
More sex and permission to relax the stiff upper lip. Cool.
Ruh Roh, Raggy, we have a problem. We should've realized it wasn't going to be that easy. It's okay to cry, dude, except for when it ain't, which, as it turns out, is most of the time.
Without going into detail, I'll stipulate that at least some, and in some cases, a lot of the radical change that rocked traditional Western culture, beginning in about 1965, was necessary and inevitable. But in my dotage, I've come to certain conclusions that aren't currently fashionable.
Heterosexual male and female H. sapiens are in many respects quite different creatures and in most respects are the same as they ever were (I won't presume to speak for the Ls, the Gs, and the Bs).
It's now okay for men to cry in front of other men or women. But the only thing that's really changed is that the contexts have broadened, slightly. A man may shed a tear, maybe two, in emotional situations deemed appropriate to bring a tear, maybe two, to the eyes of most men.
Completely losing it over something deemed sufficiently appropriate like the death of a spouse or worse, a child is fine, in fact, recommended, but should be done in private if at all possible because if it lasts bystander sympathy quickly morphs into uncomfortable, then embarrassment, and eventually, contempt.
{That's cold!}
That's realistic, but it's all about context.
For example, Jordan Peterson getting choked up for a minute (but not losing it and maintaining his dignity) while giving everything he has in a public lecture, or even in interviews when he's asked what it's like being known for psychologically salvaging souls from the woke mind virus who have been known to stand in line to thank him, is perfectly acceptable to many...
But not his ideological enemies who have been known to attack, smear, and sneer at him for it. Even certain woke public intellectuals, like the woke womyn who man the desk of The View, have been known to be less than charitable to men who cry in public.
Being an evil, oppressive patriarch ain't easy, it's enough to make you cry. And thinking about how much more sex I would've had way back when if I had been more bad boy, less nice guy makes me weep.
{I thought this was supposed to be a "short one."}
Garrulous: given to prosy, rambling, or tedious loquacity (Merriam-Webster)
Poppa loves you,
