Dewar's and water, please

To give the reader some perspective, let me begin this dissertation with a maxim apropos to most any situation: Life is Hard.

To wit:

As I watch the man across the way relentlessly and fruitlessly bring down his pickaxe on the unsuspecting stump of a long dead orange tree, I am reminded of my penis. Once a landmark of my unbridled masculinity, it stood proudly. High atop this narrator's barren waistband stood a shimmering ebony tower of confidence and domination ready, at a moment's notice, to strike out all those who dare to question its authority. Now, it dangles in accordance with the whims of its master's torso as it busies itself with the task of staying alive.

This once majestic monument, now deflated and useless, sways in the breeze of unambitious utilitarian pursuits. It is this old man's flag of permanent defeat.

P.S.

I am almost done with my first children's book. Look for details here soon.

When did we become so necessary?

It took the birth of my second grandchild to make me realize that the books available for children are all trash. Until somebody steps up and does something about it, I will have to have "Author of Children's Books" to my ever-growing list of responsibilities.

The Church of Wallace Palmer

What were once merely a series fleeting thoughts are now full-blown criteria:

The only music suitable for an outdoor luncheon with friends is undeniably and undoubtedly chamber music.

The only rule of fashion to remain hard and fast without regard to season is that the understated elegance and simple utility of a woven leather belt make it the only waistbound accessory a man of quality need own.

Because of their abundance and because they are a good source of protein, Eggs should be eaten with every meal.

TV aint nothin' but trash. Except for Charles Grodin.