…So he chases him down this long concrete pipe. The pipe gets smaller and smaller and so does he. When he runs out into the open sand he's a tiny speck. That's cartoon logic for you. That's when he rebounds off the stiff leg of cartoon irony: His prey is now 20 times his size. The coyote mote holds up a sign that says, "Now what?"
Ok it happened a little differently than that, but those of you who've seen it know I've hit the highlights. It's all in the perspective of the viewer. As a viewer we pick up the things we like or don't like and run with them.
Meep meep!
Just like marriage and divorce...
Yeah how's that for a birds eye view? I'm surprised they didn't have the roadrunner gobble the coyote up right there. Problem solved. It would have even been better if, as he clears the fur from his beak, he holds up a little sign of his own, "Tastes like chicken."
Speaking of chicken, I now find myself in a coyote pair-o-ducks. Er, uhm, sorry, not ducks--paradox. Yeah, I suppose there are a few ladies out there more excited by the sound of docs over ducks. What's up with that?
Ok for the record, I'd like to say I'm sorry for that last paragraph. Really, I'd like to say that. But from this perspective, I really am not. See, like my coyote friend, I'm a little frustrated and that started with a woman's blog entry.
It's always somebody else's fault…
No, the blogger wasn't blaming anybody. She was looking for advice. Her post started with the question, "How to Pick up a Man, Any Advice?"
Please! Just show up in public holding a sign that says that. You'll have your choice of pretty much any guy in the place.
Scoop of chocolate, scoop of vanilla, don't waste my time.
We're guys, we're not wily creatures. Flash a pair of breasts, and we're deer caught in the headlights (so to speak). The best approach is never subtle. Try, "I want you." it works every time.
You girls are a different problem. You're grey matter. You're weird and complex. It's no wonder we always give you the map. You can read abstract paths and patterns like the back of your mind. We don't ask for directions because we have you, and we're used to the idea that we're already lost.
Here's another illustration to further my point, ever watched a horror movie? All it takes for the evil entity to kill a guy is a beautiful woman mock up. She steps out of a creepy shadow dripping ooze, shows a little leg, licks her lips, and smiles.
"I'm going to eat your flesh, and suck your soul."
"Ok."
"No, I mean literally."
"Ok, I still don't see a problem."
Girls? The entity has to jump through flaming hoops to score a respectable kill. Even Topless Tramp requires a Foley troop sweating spooky sounds and at least a half dozen lurking shadows before she'll get to where she's supposed meet her un-maker.
"Hi, I'm scary guy with big knife. I'll be serving you this evening."
It takes a lot of work. That's why I was confused when blog woman asked her "How to" question. She holds all the cards, and that's scary.
In her piece she also talked about married men pretending to be single. That I can see as a problem. I never did that, but I used to work sales. I've worked around a staff of guys who leave their wedding rings in their lockers next to the mason jar for sales floor pick-up numbers. These coyotes may not be wily, but they are real, and that makes them dangerous The blogger's friend warns her to check under the bed, and watch the guy's ring finger. Look for marks and discoloration for where a ring once tethered him down.
Good idea. Reflexively, I check mine. HOLY CRAP! I have a ring-ring!
I'm not married anymore! That's not fair. I've turned in my uniform, why should I have to keep the nametag? I already have enough going against me in the dating world. I'm as agile as a peg leg drunk, and half as comely.
ARRRGGG!
I don't have a killer Foley team or special whispers to make a girl scream. No smoke, no mirrors, all Rob, and Rob needs all the help he can get. This ring-ring sets the tone for a distinctive disadvantage.
What do I do now? Do I carry my divorce decree to points of pick-up interest?
"Excuse me, I wanted to tell you about your fantastic smile, but first I need you to see this…"
That only works in movies and cartoons. Yeah, I know, it doesn't work there either. I'm screwed without being screwed.
Now what?
I started working through my problem. I could disguise the ring-ring. I could wear a Band-Aid--because yeah, that's never been tried by a married guy. Maybe I get one of those bubblegum machine rings or a candy ring. Yes, women like their men like they like their nylons: creepy. Next idea.
Could I camouflage it? What about a shock of hair, a Superglued finger toupee? Shocking, ladies love bushy fingers. You know what they say, bushy fingers, bushy back. Ok, so maybe that won't help. What about some window caulking and latex paint? I may not be able to bend my finger and will probably die from chemical poisoning, but it wouldn't show the ring-ring. Sometimes we all have to make sacrifices for the team.
So you can see I'm in crisis. You're the viewer, you can see from the unmarried perspective how I can look married. I'm not. I've let go of the ring, rushed out into the open and here I stand at the leg of my future. it's huge! It shows so much potential, and yet I feel so small.
Now what?
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