Back to the music, we learned another Turtles hit today, who knows, “So Happy Together”? It’s the only Turtles song I ever heard of. And it was first called “Nobody But You”. It was typical of the heavily-vocalized hits that came down the pike in the backlash of The Beatles. And all that harmony singing was the one thing I could not find back on the farm. Yes, I was still working in the fields as forced grunt labor when that song came out. It was about this time that I began paying close attention to two- and three-piece bands with minimal vocals. But any hint that I could do something like that (front an entire musical endeavor) myself would have to wait another forty years.
I’ve taken up the issue of buy or move with my people. Those who say move all, like myself not long ago, have an aversion to living in a trailer court. I don’t believe that should influence the decision but I listen closely to my people. I would point out that I am the only one of my group that has been wiped out by a single incident. That heart attack took my life savings and it is understandable that I look at registered assets differently. Despite the fact I’ve never borrowed a penny, the credit system had every one of my assets on file and gladly supplied that to creditors who should have come up against a brick wall. I can’t let that happen again.
It seems to me the two dangers are bad health and law suits. The old saw says if you are rich, people are more likely to slip on the ice in front of your house. I believe I’m shielded from the medical part because hey, there is nothing more to take from me. But I learned how easy it was for strangers to get a handle on your net worth right down to where you park your car at night. I noticed law works in the same fashion, take for example how the law lets end-users bypass the seller and sue the manufacturer of faulty goods. Automobiles come to mind. To me that is only possible when there is a clear chain back to the source. I believe computers have now created that same chain with some of the most private areas of people’s lives. Want to avoid the whole mess? Live in a trailer.
So let’s be reasonable here. Even if I had my half-million bucks back, is there any chance I would ever go back to being middle class again? Not bloody likely. I worked a lifetime for that money and it was gone in six months. Next time, I take care of number one. Live in the cheapest, most comfortable place you can afford and use the money you save to enjoy your remaining time. Once I figured this out, the past ten years have been the most consistently pleasant and gratifying of my life, the important word being “consistently”. During my entire working career, I never was able to drive a motorcycle halfway across the country and hang out for three months.
There is a downside to trailer court living. Neighbors. I’m okay here because every one of my neighbors is a snowbird. By and large, however, very few other people wound up in a trailer court for the same reasons as myself. Most of them got here by, shall we say, “less than optimum decision-making”. One of the reasons my next place, if I buy, will include the land, is because that added expense by itself weeds out most of the riff-raff. Those who buy the land must necessarily have at least something in common with me, if only a sense of permanence. I don’t like the sort of people who live in a trailer solely because they can’t afford anything else. Avoid that bunch.
In eight months, not a single critter has been trapped. The literature says the bait is irresistible, I even tried putting my own bait in one of these. Nothing. Made by PIC from New Jersey, this product is a complete waste of money. If the bottom photo doesn't make sense, this is looking through the trap, which claims to also work on ants and other critters. As you can see, it has not even trapped any dust. FAIL!
ADDENDUM
I lost a little bet on the side. No names mentioned but I have a person (female) that I discuss my findings in my on-line dating membership. I told her about the lady out west and the lady up north and she bet me that if I didn’t write to them for ten days, not one of them would make the effort to contact me. She was right, and proceeded to lecture me about what I’m like when I get around boring people. It takes a certain mental attitude to really get out there and enjoy life, she says, and women who wait for me to write first don’t have it. Well, she was right.
Ten days, not a peep. I’ve had my fill of sluggish women. That’s all I’ve met since I was 40, but from what I hear, this is par for the course. They have no spirit, you have to drag their asses out of the mud to get them to even try something new or different. And my friend made me realize I was in danger of falling for it again. I went back and read all the correspondence and sure enough. Everything they wrote me was reactive. I had to bring up every subject; I had to initiate every e-mail. All replies strictly adhered to my first letter, no new or interesting subjects were introduced. Sex was never mentioned, even as a joke. If nothing happens soon, I should direct them to this blog and let them run with that. I would never be happy with such women.
I’ve dated a lot of women in my life, but careful here because dating could mean we went to the movies. It doesn’t, but it could. Plus, no names, as these were nice girls. I’ve only dated one bad girl in my life. But these women were spread over 30 years and in that context, like most men, I was left wanting more. However, the lasting legacy of these babes was they made it so difficult for me to settle for what is left after I turned, what was is it? 46. At age 46 was when the supply of decent women completely dried up. It’s easy to say a woman not taken by then is a write-off, but oddly, I know a few really nice ones who just aren’t my type.
I’m talking about meeting women who are, by that age, at lease self-supporting. These divorcees who are supposed to be in such great supply and such fine catches simply do not go out to the same places I do. That’s libraries, lounges, parks, book stores, swap meets, bakeries, malls, movies, parties, bike rides, vacations, train trips, motorcycle tours, museums, coffee shops, you get the idea. In the fifteen years I’ve been in Florida and the probably 1,000 such places I’ve been, I have not met one winner babe. I’ve struck up with around 200 or so, but it was me that, after a few minutes, pulled the pin. My advice to women if you want a man—don’t talk right off the bat about how close you are to your mother.
And there are certain other issues we don’t really want to hear about either. I wasn’t there, it is not my fault, so don’t think to take it out on me. Every other day I see a picture in the news of some lady escaping a brutal man—but I take one look at that guy and sorry, I can have no sympathy whatsoever for women who date creeps like that. I mean, are you women blind? Deaf? Or what the hell is wrong with you? Jesus Murphy, ladies. You are the reason nice guys finish last, and you want sympathy too?
There, I feel much better now.
What? You want to hear about the bad girl? Okay, just a tidbit. First, I no longer take women out until after a relationship is established. I used to take her out on an expensive date in my fancy Cadillac and I'd drop her off home at her parents by 10:00PM. I found out she would make it a point to later go out later the same night and screw some other guy till noon the next day. I asked her years later, when it was all over and done between us, how she could do such a thing. She could only say that she didn't see anything wrong with such behavior.
