Oh, sure, we've all heard of the sugar daddy. We know what he brings to the game. He's got money and is perfectly willing to use it to buy the woman he wants.
But there's another man out there: Splenda Daddy. He'll dote on his lovely lass with all the gusto of a sugar daddy. Telling her what she needs to hear and making sure she's taken care of. But he ain't gonna go broke for no woman no how.
Splenda Daddy vs Sugar Daddy
Sweet Thang: Get me a cool ride.
Sugar Daddy: Here you go baby: a Mercedes convertible.
Splenda Daddy: Here you go baby: It's my old Toyota Corolla. I got the engine fixed for you. Ya, it don't have no back seat anymore.
Sweet Thang: Baby I need some bling.
Sugar Daddy: A diamond necklace and a Sapphire ring.
Splenda Daddy: I got you a ring pop and a candy necklace.
Sweet Thang: I need some clothes.
Sugar Daddy: Prada and Versace. Nothing is too good for my girl.
Splenda Daddy: Let's go to the Gap. My mom gave me a gift card for my last birthday.
Sweet Thang: Take me some place nice.
Sugar Daddy: I'll take you to the best restaurant in town for steak and lobster. Don't forget the champagne. Then we'll go to the club.
Splenda Daddy: I'll make you a steak on the bbq. Then I'll take you to the Third Street Promenade in Santa Monica and watch the free street entertainers.
Sweet Thang: Get me plastic surgery so I'll look hotter for you.
Sugar Daddy: You'd better. Here's some cash, get some boobs and fix that face.
Splenda Daddy: You're fine the way you are, but if you want boobs I'll pay for them. But it's going to be on the installment plan, so you'll be lopsided for a few months.
Sweet Thang: I don't have to care about you, do I?
Sugar Daddy: No. Just look good and do what I want when I tell you to.
Splenda Daddy: If you don't then leave.
30 years later
Old Thang: You still want me?
Sugar Daddy: Who the hell are you?
Splenda Daddy: All that money I saved bought us a retirement home in Hawaii. Let's go.
Sunday, January 30, 2011
Sunday, January 9, 2011
My dark shame
It happened again today. I slipped up. I try so hard, and it is so wrong.
I hide my shame deep down inside. I push it down and crush it with the vice-like grip of my will.
But I am damaged, warped. Something definitely is askew in my world.
I hide like a beast, frightened of the truth. And I pretend I am successful. Outwardly, I appear mostly normal. I am educated. I have degrees and honors from the workaday society. Occasionally, people even look up to me for my abilities.
But God knows I am unworthy. I feel his steely gaze judging me for my failures.
I lay on the couch, my feet up and feeling fine, when it happened. The TV shifted from the news to commercials and I was undone.
Engine noise blared from the speakers and metal gods rolled across the screen.
"MONSTER TRUCK JAM IN ANAHEIM ON JANUARY 26," the screen blared and my heart lept. "$10 tickets for the kids!!!!"
My gaze is fixed; my mouth drooling, and I do believe a whispered "whooo doggy" escaped my lips.
Thus my dirty shame is revealed. My white trash genes are activated.
That's right,I must admit it, finally. I am white trash.
I put on a Mac Truck hat and a Skoal T-shirt and I feel pride. I tell my hipster friends and educated colleagues that I wear my STP button-up shirt because it's ironic. But that's just a lie.
Inside I crave to chaw and spit and grow my sideburns long. If only I could find a pair of comfortable overalls, I'd never take them off. I want to talk about trucks and hemi's and dual-intake valves. The sight of a tricked out semi gives me the vapors. Sometimes, when no one is around, I feel the need to scream YEEEEE-HAAAAAWWWWW, drink a Budweiser (the KING OF BEERS) and fart the national anthem.
I want to own the NFL Sunday Night Theme song CD. Because I am ready to play some football.
Now you know my shame. Turn away. Turn away.
Top ten white trash meals
1. Chicken fried steak, mashed taters and green beans.
2. Buffalo wings and a PBR.
3. Biscuits and white gravy. (my dad Claude Edward Lindsey's fave)
4. BBQ from a gas station.
5. Frito pie with mac N cheese
6. Anything off a truck
7. Fried chicken, okra and beans. (my Aunt Bobbi and Uncle Skeeters fave. Yes those are real members of my family)
8. Pork chops and greens
9. Beanie Weenies (cut up hot dogs in boston baked beans)
10. Pulled pork samich, tater tots and Green Jello salad (you know the kind with mayo and walnuts in it)
I hide my shame deep down inside. I push it down and crush it with the vice-like grip of my will.
But I am damaged, warped. Something definitely is askew in my world.
I hide like a beast, frightened of the truth. And I pretend I am successful. Outwardly, I appear mostly normal. I am educated. I have degrees and honors from the workaday society. Occasionally, people even look up to me for my abilities.
But God knows I am unworthy. I feel his steely gaze judging me for my failures.
I lay on the couch, my feet up and feeling fine, when it happened. The TV shifted from the news to commercials and I was undone.
Engine noise blared from the speakers and metal gods rolled across the screen.
"MONSTER TRUCK JAM IN ANAHEIM ON JANUARY 26," the screen blared and my heart lept. "$10 tickets for the kids!!!!"
My gaze is fixed; my mouth drooling, and I do believe a whispered "whooo doggy" escaped my lips.
Thus my dirty shame is revealed. My white trash genes are activated.
That's right,I must admit it, finally. I am white trash.
I put on a Mac Truck hat and a Skoal T-shirt and I feel pride. I tell my hipster friends and educated colleagues that I wear my STP button-up shirt because it's ironic. But that's just a lie.
Inside I crave to chaw and spit and grow my sideburns long. If only I could find a pair of comfortable overalls, I'd never take them off. I want to talk about trucks and hemi's and dual-intake valves. The sight of a tricked out semi gives me the vapors. Sometimes, when no one is around, I feel the need to scream YEEEEE-HAAAAAWWWWW, drink a Budweiser (the KING OF BEERS) and fart the national anthem.
I want to own the NFL Sunday Night Theme song CD. Because I am ready to play some football.
Now you know my shame. Turn away. Turn away.
Top ten white trash meals
1. Chicken fried steak, mashed taters and green beans.
2. Buffalo wings and a PBR.
3. Biscuits and white gravy. (my dad Claude Edward Lindsey's fave)
4. BBQ from a gas station.
5. Frito pie with mac N cheese
6. Anything off a truck
7. Fried chicken, okra and beans. (my Aunt Bobbi and Uncle Skeeters fave. Yes those are real members of my family)
8. Pork chops and greens
9. Beanie Weenies (cut up hot dogs in boston baked beans)
10. Pulled pork samich, tater tots and Green Jello salad (you know the kind with mayo and walnuts in it)
Monday, January 3, 2011
Money is the root of all hapiness
Money is the root of all happiness. There, I've said it, and it feels good.
Since caveman Ogg met cavewoman Oggette we have been judged worthy by our wealth. Ogg had two good spears and several fine pelts to woo Oggette, and it was good. He had the means to provide for her and that meant a better chance that their offspring Ogg Jr. and Poindexter would survive. I get that. It's an intrinsic part of animal nature to go with the winner.
It's always been part of our society. Kings and the noble are wealthy and therefore they have control. Would Julius Cesar, a rich, well-connected army general, have had a chance to become emperor if he was little more than a shop owner? No, and there's no argument that's going to change that fact.
OK, let's give the world and humankind that much.
Is that all there is? Is that what we are in the end? A bunch of creatures who only look to those with the obvious trappings of wealth and fall in line behind them?
I have to honestly say, I don't know. There are such things as social and economic revolutions, but they tend to be short-lived and open to corruption from within.
The usual pattern seems to be that the wealthy continue to get wealthy until society at large is so unbalanced that there has to be a reckoning. This usually takes place in the form of a revolution of some kind. It can be anything from a proletariat uprising to something as simple as a return to religious roots that call for a more just distribution of wealth. Heck, it could just be people deciding that being rich isn't everything. That was the upshot of the Depression. The common man was finally championed as a good thing and there was a great reallocation of wealth to the middle class. But in the end that gave way to the rampant consumerism of the 1950s and the eventual creation of a new class of the wealthy.
So, is wealth all there is?
No, of course not. We are much more than that. But it is true that if you don't have the basics, you will look at wealth as the ultimate goal because it eliminates the wants that plague us.
Money isn't the root of happiness, but it sure doesn't hurt. I'm going to buy a megamillions lotto ticket now.
Here's some links for thought.
http://researchnews.osu.edu/archive/relgwlth.htm
http://www.gearbits.com/archives/2010/11/on_wealth_and_s.html
http://www.newworldencyclopedia.org/entry/Wealth
http://www.faculty.fairfield.edu/faculty/hodgson/Courses/so11/stratification/income&wealth.htm
http://www.federalreserve.gov/pubs/oss/oss2/2007/scf2007home.html
Since caveman Ogg met cavewoman Oggette we have been judged worthy by our wealth. Ogg had two good spears and several fine pelts to woo Oggette, and it was good. He had the means to provide for her and that meant a better chance that their offspring Ogg Jr. and Poindexter would survive. I get that. It's an intrinsic part of animal nature to go with the winner.
It's always been part of our society. Kings and the noble are wealthy and therefore they have control. Would Julius Cesar, a rich, well-connected army general, have had a chance to become emperor if he was little more than a shop owner? No, and there's no argument that's going to change that fact.
OK, let's give the world and humankind that much.
Is that all there is? Is that what we are in the end? A bunch of creatures who only look to those with the obvious trappings of wealth and fall in line behind them?
I have to honestly say, I don't know. There are such things as social and economic revolutions, but they tend to be short-lived and open to corruption from within.
The usual pattern seems to be that the wealthy continue to get wealthy until society at large is so unbalanced that there has to be a reckoning. This usually takes place in the form of a revolution of some kind. It can be anything from a proletariat uprising to something as simple as a return to religious roots that call for a more just distribution of wealth. Heck, it could just be people deciding that being rich isn't everything. That was the upshot of the Depression. The common man was finally championed as a good thing and there was a great reallocation of wealth to the middle class. But in the end that gave way to the rampant consumerism of the 1950s and the eventual creation of a new class of the wealthy.
So, is wealth all there is?
No, of course not. We are much more than that. But it is true that if you don't have the basics, you will look at wealth as the ultimate goal because it eliminates the wants that plague us.
Money isn't the root of happiness, but it sure doesn't hurt. I'm going to buy a megamillions lotto ticket now.
Here's some links for thought.
http://researchnews.osu.edu/archive/relgwlth.htm
http://www.gearbits.com/archives/2010/11/on_wealth_and_s.html
http://www.newworldencyclopedia.org/entry/Wealth
http://www.faculty.fairfield.edu/faculty/hodgson/Courses/so11/stratification/income&wealth.htm
http://www.federalreserve.gov/pubs/oss/oss2/2007/scf2007home.html
Subscribe to:
Posts (Atom)
