(Author Unknown)
I ain't much for shopping, Or for goin' into town
Except at cattle-shipping time, I ain't too easily found.
But the day came when I hadda go... I left the kids with Ma.But 'fore I left, she asked me, "Would you pick me up a bra?"So without thinkin' I said, "Sure,"
How tough could that job be?
An' I bent down and kissed her an' said, "I'll be back by three."Well, I done the things I needed, But I started to regret
Ever offering to buy that thing... It worked me up a sweat.I walked into the ladies shop, my hat pulled over my eyes,I didn't want to take a chance on bein' recognized.
I walked up to the sales clerk... I didn't hem or haw-I told that lady right straight out, "I'm here to buy a bra."From behind I heard some snickers, so I turned around to see
Every woman in that store was a'gawkin' right at me!"What kind would you be looking for? Well, I just scratched my head.I'd only seen one kind before, "Thought bras was bras," I said.
She gave me a disgusted look, "Well sir, that's where you're wrong.Follow me," I heard her say, like a dog, I tagged along.
She took me down this alley where bras was on display.I thought my jaw would hit the floor when I saw that lingerie!
They had all these different styles that I'd never seen beforeI thought I'd go plumb crazy 'fore I left that women's store.
They had bras you wear for eighteen hours and bras that cross your heart.There was bras that lift and separate, and that was just the start.
They had bras that made you feel like you ain't wearing one at all,And bras that you can train in when you start off when you're small.Well, I finally made my mind up... picked a black and lacy one...
I told the lady, "Bag it up," And figured I was done.
But then she asked me for the size I didn\'t hesitateI knew that measurement by heart,
"A six-and-seven-eighths.""Six and seven eighths you say? That really isn\'t right.""Oh, yes ma\'am! I\'m real positive... I measured them last night!"I thought that she\'d go into shock, musta took her by surprise
When I told her that my wife\'s bust was the same as my hat size."That\'s what I used to measure with, I figured it was fair,But if I\'m wrong, I\'m sorry ma\'am." This drew another stare.By now a crowd had gathered and they all was crackin\' up
When the lady asked to see my hat, to measure for the cup.When she finally had it figured, I gave the gal her pay.Then I turned to leave the store, tipped my hat and said, "Good day.
"My wife had heard the story \'fore I ever made it home.She\'d talked to fifteen women who called her on the phone.She was still a-laughin\' but by then I didn\'t care.Now she don\'t ask and I don\'t shop for women\'s underwear...",
1 comment:
I was looking out the window
of my house one day and saw a
simpleminded young man who
lacked common sense. He was
crossing the street near the
house of an immoral woman.
He was strolling down the path by her
house at twilight, as the day was fading,
as the dark of night set in. The woman
approached him, dressed seductively
and sly of heart.
She was the brash, rebellious type who
never stays at home. She is often seen in
the streets and markets, soliciting at every
corner. She threw her arms around him
and kissed him, and with a brazen look
she said, "It's you I was looking for!
I came out to find you, and here you
are! My bed is spread with colored
sheets of finest linen imported from
Egypt. I've perfumed my bed with
myrrh, aloes, and cinnamon. Come,
let's drink our fill of love until morning.
Let's enjoy each other's caresses,
for my husband is not home. He's
away on a long trip. He has taken
a wallet full of money with him,
and he won't return until later in
the month." So she seduced him
with her pretty speech. With her
flattery she enticed him. He
followed her at once, like
an ox going to the slaughter
or like a trapped stag, awaiting
the arrow that would pierce its
heart. He was like a bird flying
into a snare, little knowing it
would cost him his life.
***
There is a way which seemeth
right unto a man, but the end there-
of are the ways of death.
***
I made a covenant with my eyes
not to look with lust upon a young woman.
***
But I say, anyone who even looks
at a woman with lust in his eye has
already committed adultery with her
in his heart.
***
There is a time for everything,
a season for every activity
under heaven. A time to be
born and a time to die. A
time to plant and a time to
harvest. A time to kill and
a time to heal. A time to
tear down and a time to
rebuild. A time to cry and
a time to laugh. A time to
grieve and a time to dance.
A time to scatter stones
and a time to gather stones.
A time to embrace and a
time to turn away. A time to
search and a time to lose.
A time to keep and a time to
throw away. A time to tear
and a time to mend. A time
to be quiet and a time to
speak up. A time to love
and a time to hate. A time
for war and a time for peace.
Best wishes for continued ascendancy,
Dr. Howdy
P.S. One thing of which I am sure is
that the common culture of my youth
is gone for good. It was hollowed out
by the rise of ethnic "identity politics,"
then splintered beyond hope of repair
by the emergence of the web-based
technologies that so maximized and
facilitated cultural choice as to make
the broad-based offerings of the old
mass media look bland and unchallenging
by comparison."
P.P.S. Have you ever tried to explain
to a modern, secularized teenager or young
adult what's wrong with premarital sex between
two consenting adults? If you have, you
know the meaning of the word frustration.
The modern mind just doesn't seem capable
of grasping the concept that sex belongs
exclusively within marriage. That's not from
a lack of intelligence. It's simply because the
modern mind has been trained to think
otherwise: If two people want a sexual
encounter, and take steps to prevent the
occurrence of a third person -- an un -
wanted baby -- that makes the act morally
right. End of story.
May I recommend Jennifer Roback
Morse's new book, SMART SEX:
FINDING LIFE-LONG LOVE IN
A HOOK-UP WORLD, is so
refreshing. Morse, one of the clearest
thinkers I know, takes deadly aim at
the idea of "morally neutral sex" -- and
she does it in a logical and compassionate
manner. Having once believed in "morally
neutral sex" herself, Morse understands
the thinking behind the idea. She deals
with concepts like "reproductive freedom,"
"recreational sex," and "consumer sex,"
and shows how they're not only morally
bankrupt, but also anti-social.
Morse explains that the problem with
these views of sex is that they focus on
the individual. For example, the theory
of "reproductive freedom" teaches us
that everyone who wants a child is
entitled to have one, and that those
who don't want children should be
able to have sex without ever having
to face the possibility. When nature,
or our spouses, or our own children
get in the way of our "reproductive
freedom," we therefore feel entitled
to trample on the rights of others to
get our own way.
Morse recalls the time when she was
so desperate to get pregnant, that she
and her husband considered using a
sperm donor. That was when she
started to realize, "Having a baby
through a sperm donor would have
changed the relationship between my
husband and me in a fundamental way . . . .
The baby would be my project with
my husband along for the ride. . . .
And what about the baby? Do I have
a right to treat a baby as a project of mine?"
This confronts the conventional thinking
where a person, Morse writes, treats
relationships as if they affected only
herself. And that's where the objection
to premarital sex comes in. Advocates
of premarital sex often act as if their
sexual experiences are all about them -
selves and no one else. As Morse puts it,
"When we engage in consumer sex, we
do not fully consider the impact of our
actions upon others. Consumer sex is
focused inward, on personal pleasure,
not on the building up of the community
of the family."
In short, the sexual revolution taught us
to think of our sex lives as our own
property and our own business, and
nobody else's, even though other
people are obviously involved. To
use sex this way is to treat it as the
opposite of what it was meant to be:
a destroyer of relationships rather
than something that builds them.
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