“Why, why, why?” asks Hammerhaid, who has several unanswered questions burning a hole in his pointy, little head.
Oh, these aren’t important questions – no vitality important issues like whether Obama and Congress will save the economy or if the new “Friday the 13th” movie will be worth a #$%&.
No, they are questions like, “Why doesn’t anyone in Murfreesboro: A. allow cars to merge into their lane; B. ever use a turn signal?” Questions that are good questions – things people really want to know – but with no good/reasonable answers.
Here’s another good question: “Why do an increasing number of men cut their grass in the winter?”
That came to mind when he watched a neighbor cut his on Saturday, Feb. 7.
Now, you would think this might have a logical answer like, “Well, it needed cutting, so I cut it.”
Or perhaps, there is some scientific reason – such as global warming – that causes grass to grow on those increasingly toasty winter days.
But Hammerhaid has discovered an even more amazing answer. Experts like “Opra” say at least 50 percent of all American males had rather cut the grass than spend (let’s call it) “quality” time with their spouse.
Now this is a problem because of the countless talk shows and two or three women’s TV networks that seem to point to the fact that 99.9999 percent of all American women want more of this “quality” time. (You understand what I’m talkin’ about, Willis?)
Now this is an unfortunate development coming at a time when the demand is greater than ever before on the average American man.
In the days of lore, the man got home at about 5:30 p.m., took a little nap, ate a little dinner and then, all revitalized, played his role in the family (or took a longer nap while pretending to read the newspaper.)
“Quality” time was reserved for Saturday nights, or maybe once a month, twice on birthdays, or something like that. You didn’t think about it – and you sure didn’t go on “Opra” and talk about it.
Well, anyway. Cutting to the chase, women now “expect” more from their husbands.
Which means what, guys?
“Boy, that yard really needs cutting, or those leaves really need raking.
After all, it is our final refuge.
You can’t hide out in the Lazy Boy anymore. And the “reading room,” “library,” latrine or whatever you want to call it has been taken away from us and transformed into personal home spas. That’s translates into NO PRIVACY. The wife, the kids, the neighbors, the in-laws all seem more than happy to walk in and spoil your concentration.
The yard isn’t that much of a refuge either. With landscaping, decks, etc., etc., exxxxxcetera making the outdoors more like the indoors, there soon won’t be a safe spot.
“Oh, honey, let’s enjoy some ‘quality’ time on the deck. They said on ‘Opra,’ it really brings out the beast in men,” she purrs.
The only thing protecting us now is the roar of the lawn mower and leaf blower (yeah, that is why so many guys want them.) And that is why riding mowers get louder and more powerful every year, but they are increasingly becoming the domain of women just like last Saturday.
While the H-man was watching his neighbor mow, across the street, the lady of the house was trimming her shrubbery when suddenly the kids ran inside and announced that the woman next door needed a man.
Hammerhaid let Betty Lou’s snide comment slide and went to her rescue. She needed help starting her leaf blower. It was a slick backpack model, but much more powerful that his electric-powered machine. That was depressing enough, but he just had to ask. “How powerful is this thing?” They say it blows at a 1,000 mph, she answered. H-haid’s will only push out 350 mph.
Yep, she was a bigger blowhard like Hammerhaid.
“*&^%$# &@,” he muttered under his breath.
“T-t-t-t-t-t-that’s r-r-r-r-r-r-r-right.” |
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