So I attended two very different social events yesterday. At both of them, I got into conversations with women of… “a certain age.” After the first conversation, WebDom helpfully observed, “Ummm, Dad, are you oblivious? She was hitting on you.”
“Really?” which got me a disbelieving head shake and eye roll.
Thus sensitized, the second conversation with another woman seemed quite a bit more blatant. But still, I had to check, having been away from the dating and mating scene for about 30 years. I related the conversation to WebDom, who responded, “Dad, as a fresh widower who has a job, a business, and a house, you are hot man-meat on the market.”
You haven’t lived until you hear your daughter call you “hot man-meat.”
In any case, this has inspired me to pursue a new avocation as a himbo. Bring it on, ladies, there’s enough Old Man for everyone!
Players are not made, they’re born, and the ones born on this date include a rather complicated woman who was easy on the eyes and hard on the Allies; a woman famous for her remarkably annoying voice; a guy who went totally ape; Ida Lupino’s co-aquarium parent; a performance artist extraordinaire; baseball’s FAR better quote machine than Yogi Berra; one of my personal heroes; the only guy who could rein in Larry Niven; an annoying mediocrity who at least had the manners to get canceled; the black Harold Stassen; the reason my security clearance interview was particularly stringent; my spirit animal; and the Nick Gillespie of libertarian columnists.
Bad jokes out of the way, we can proceed to Links.
I know, I know, Old Guy likes to put up bluegrass. And I’ll be happy to put up this pair of songs from a staggeringly all star band. When Jerry Douglas doesn’t even get mentioned, it’s an amazing ensemble. And Douglas kills it. When I take over the universe, Sierra Hull will be MINE.