God is Watching

The big NFL football game is just hours away and you suddenly discover that you don't have any snacks or beer. You hop into your car and head to the nearby grocery store and are shocked to see that it is closed. You then realize you have time traveled back to the 60s-70s and no store is open on Sunday. 

Why? Well, God is watching.

They were called “Blue Laws” probably because they made everyone feel blue because people couldn't buy their snacks.

Often Young people don't believe me when I mention you couldn't buy a pair of socks on Sunday. They grew up in a time you could buy just about anything on Sunday. I guess God isn't watching as closely these days.

Over the years, the laws began to relax a bit here and there. For example, convenient stores were given exemptions first. Maybe because God wanted them to stay convenient or maybe because their lobby paid some big bucks. Gas stations also got a bye because hey, you need gas to be able to get to church to praise god.

Grocery stores came next because you sure can't worship god on an empty stomach. It took longer for shoes and socks, but they eventually got a pass from god too. Of course, god still won't allow alcohol to be sold on Sunday, but a number of years ago, he winked at beer.

It may seem strange that these rules changed so slowly, but that is quite common. Religions always adapt to the times. They have new interpretations of what god believes is okay. For example, in the early days of this country, you weren't allowed to play sports. Too ungodly. Nowadays there are church softball leagues. Before the 1800s, people could not celebrate Christmas. Too pagan for the Pope. By the way, the annual story of Christmas is a few weeks away.

Some folks will undoubtedly defend their religion and the Blue Laws by mentioning how their god commands them to keep the Sabbath holy. Well, I hate to remind them that Sunday is not really the Sabbath. Yep, even that got a reinterpretation by religions.

Sunday is the first day of the week. Saturday is the seventh day—which is the day god supposedly alluded to. So how did Sunday get to become the owner of Blue Laws? Around 400 CE some Pope decided he didn't like that his religion was required to observe the Sabbath on the same day as those heathen Jews. My gosh, they actually drank wine and cut off the tips of children's penises! So he moved the Sabbath one day over. After all, they both begin with the letter “S”. Who'll know the difference. 

So I hope you younger types will appreciate the sacrifices your elders had to endure. Imagine no chips and beer during Sunday football! It's ungodly.

Ahhh, James Thurber

The Thurber Brigade knows there were more restrictions based on religion. Things like birth control, women driving, women owning houses, well, women doing anything and much more. Those weren't tied to one day though and so maybe we'll catch you up on those in the future. As for the religious types who may be offended by the snarky way we attacked religion, we'd like to say we are sorry, except we're not. Nope, not at all sorry that we made fun of your current mythology. After 3,000 years people gave up on Zeus. There are 2,500 different gods being worshiped these days. You sure that your single god is the one?

Did we mention that Blue Laws violate church/state separation?

 

The Gift of the Anti-Magi

How could he express his love for Delia with this year's Christmas present? Jimmy Young thought of his wife and what she had said and a light bulb turned on in his mind. They had been through so much together, the early days when they barely had food to eat to the disastrous restaurant incidents. Now that they had made a decent life for themselves, he could afford to give her the gift she'd been dreaming of for some time.

Delia loved her husband and admired his drive to give them a better life. Sure, at times he could be too literal and not see the forest for the trees, or be willing to pause now and then to smell the flowers along his path. However, she knew he loved her deeply and she desired to show her own devotion by giving a precious, endearing gift for Christmas.

So the day arrived and each believed they had found the perfect expression of their love for the other.  Jimmy carried out a very large box festively decorated and it stood nearly equal in size to their modest Christmas tree.  Delia brought out a large blue box with a red ribbon and placed it lovingly at her adoring husband’s feet.

“You go first,” Jimmy said.

So Delia walked up to the large box presented by Jimmy and carefully began to unwrap the gift. After Jimmy suggested she not worry about saving the paper and just “let her rip,” she tore the rest of the wrapping off.  Before her now stood a gleaming Zambolla Dirt Destroyer vacuum cleaner. Delia stood dumbfounded in front of the humongous machine.

“You bought me a vacuum cleaner,” she said unemotionally.

Jimmy beamed. “Yes, just like the one you said you wanted last month. Oh, and look, it has all the special attachments and brushes that everyone dreams about.”

She looked at him in shock.  “This is the absolute worst gift you have ever given me,” she exclaimed.  “How could you give me a household appliance for the holiday?”

“I thought you dreamed about this?” he said, shocked. 

“I wanted it as a tool to use, not as a gift,” She said softly, trying to hide her sadness at the gift.  “Well, open yours.”

Jimmy looked down at the box at his feet, smiled weakly and hid his disappointment at his gift-giving failure.  He opened the box Delia had presented him and discovered a large bottle of cologne lying on top of a fuzzy, wool sweater. “What the hell,” he said, furrowing his brows as he looked down at the gift.

“Yes, it’s the most popular scent, all the kids are raving about it.  Plus, you said you needed something to keep you warm at those football games,” Delia said, her spirit slightly raised at seeing her offering.

Jimmy looked aghast at his wife.  “I was hoping for a Green Bay Packers sweatshirt,” he stammered. “And why would you get me perfume?”

“Um, it’s cologne. I thought you would like having something other than that old aftershave you use.”

“I hate guys who wear fancy, shmansy smells, er, colognes.  Plus, guys who wear sweaters like this are wimpy, metrosexuals who don’t go to football games.”

The married couple glanced at the gifts they had just been given and then blankly at each other.

They had experienced the age-old difference between male and female gift giving. They had discovered that neither of them had a single clue about the other’s dreams or thought process.  Learned that the sexes had not progressed from Eve giving Adam the forbidden fruit. They had once more enlisted for combat in The War Between Men and Women.

Ahhhh, James Thurber

The London Manifesto: a Thurber Brigade Sidestep

As rogue members of The Thurber Brigade, we declare that the recent London terrorist acted in accordance to the wishes of our group: British Are Redcoat Facists (BARF).

We have never forgiven the British for their treatment of American colonists. Whether it was setting NYC on fire or hanging our loyal comrades who fought in the militias, we will not forget their atrocities. Regardless of the years where they "claimed" to be our allies, nor that it happened over 200 years ago, we will never forget.

Although some other irrelevant and foolish groups claim responsibility for the attack on London, it should be abundantly clear to the world that the attacker followed our guidance and ideals.

— Over the years he has proven he wanted to rebel against the Bloody Brits by callously flaunting their laws.

— Like a huge portion of the American populace, his weapon of choice was the automobile (40,000+ American deaths by auto in 2016)

— Just as a large percentage of Americans have been incarcerated for various crimes, he too was a lifelong adherent to the criminal lifestyle.

We at BARF will continue to rebel against the evil British Empire and will combat their atrocious attempts to Anglicize the world with their hideous tea and scones at 4 p.m. (Tea Time), their wanton embrace of musical diversity, their absurd love of an anachronistic monarch, and especially their insane belief that soccer must be called football.

Our struggle will continue unabated and forever.  Long live the BARF rebellion!

 

Ahhh, James Thurber.

We at The Thurber Brigade (the non-rogue element) wish to apologize for this sidestep. We believe this cheap attempt at satire to ridicule ISIS and other terrorist groups who like to claim all criminal acts as a result of their bizarre beliefs is, well, futile.  To think that terrorist groups are logical or intelligent or rational enough to understand how their misinterpretation of religious dogma is not a valid reason to carry out atrocities doesn't make sense. They're nuts. They don't understand their own religion, how could they possibly understand satire? We at The Thurber Brigade promise to get back on track with the next blog. Really.
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Legal Disclaimer: The Thurber Brigade legal staff has advised us that we must declare that we are NOT responsible for the terrorist attack in London, nor do we support any act of violence.  However, we do claim credit for the invention of the pet brick, Jello ice cream, sunny days at the beach and are proud sponsors of the Marty Feldman Fan Club.  

 

Throw Me A Line

In the distant past, well, really only about four years, I wrote a blog about how men "throw lines" to begin the process of interacting with females. It gave some sage advice, ahem, and also mentioned how women don't throw lines (just like they don't make first contact. It's related).  Anyway, I suddenly realized very recently that I no longer throw lines.

Well, normally. If my testosterone levels go off the scale, say in the case of a supermodel-esque female's presence, I might. For the most part though, I instead just try to engage the female in conversation. It could be something like, "did you see the news report about the water in Barton Springs?" (A big issue here in Austin), or "I always drink a cup of water when I have a beer. It's part of my "save Jay's liver campaign.""

Oh, sure, you could say that is still throwing a line, but it's nowhere in the realm of "what's a super model doing here at the local bar?" Or "you must be a thief because you've stolen my heart" (Heard those, didn't use them).  No, it's just me trying to get someone to talk to me. No different really than if a guy sat next to me at the bar and I wanted to do more than just drink my beer or work on a blog. i.e. Talk.

It could be age. Maybe I'm so old (hey, no snide thoughts there buster) that I no longer believe I have the silver tongue of my youth or that I no longer possess the youthful imperative that young males have to hook up. However, I think it's that I have just become more accepting of the situation. In other words, I have the thought that if the target wants to engage good, if not, no big deal.

In the old days, I'm positive I was the master of throwing lines. For example, I remember telling a women drinking wine at a brewpub: "You know it's against the law to drink wine at a beer brewing establishment?  So I'm going to have to ask you for some ID." Or one I'm still not proud of, but it seemed to work: I made a bet with my buddy this morning that I would meet the most beautiful woman in the world and it looks like he owes me ten bucks."

Now, before you judge me too harshly, remember this was the 70s-80s and Austin.  Women were much different in attitude back then and if not more accepting of goofy lines, more understanding of how difficult it is for guys making contact. Even today I trust women understand the challenges of a guy making contact when he's alone and there are two females or when two guys are winging it and encounter a single (nervous) woman.

I also feel obligated to mention that the venues of those years were completely different then today. In Austin we had fantastic and cool places to hang such as The Split Rail, The Back Room, Steamboat and everyone's favorite The Armadillo.  Ahhhh. Throwing lines at those places was so common and expected and, well fun, that everyone just went with it.

Oops, I digress.  Be careful when an Austinite begins a sentence with "in the old days in Austin...".

Anyway, I don't do that anymore. Yes I'm older and admittedly I'm not as successful as in my youth, but part of the problem is that many older women still think they are teenagers. One of my rules is that if a female I'm interested in is past the age of 35 she may no longer play games.

Oh, you know what I'm talking about. Things like acting coy/aloof when in fact she is interested; not willing to say more than yes and no to the guy's questions when she really wants to tell him her life history; unwilling to call him after they exchange numbers even though she's already put him on speed dial. You get it.

Too many older women gripe about us dudes going out with younger females (the reason behind my hunting tips blog) but still want to act like the situation has not changed. Well, it has.  If we have to risk the perils and depression of rejection, why not take a chance on a younger model?  If we must always take the chance that we will become the butt of numerous females complaints about men being animals for our brash desire to be with a female, why not go for someone not jaded by years of relationships they disliked but were unwilling to take a bold step and try to start a new one on their own?

I'm sure there are other older guys out there who still feel the imperative that tells them they must go home with a female. However, I have encountered quite a few like me who accept that if we succeed it's great, yet don't despair if we go home alone. After all, although it's sure nice to wake up with a warm body beside you, it's also nice to be able to watch football all day without someone reminding us to mow the lawn, or to be able to drink beer late into the night and watch "Die Hard" or other action movies instead of having wine and cheese parties.

(oh, you knew I was going to drop a Bruce Willis picture in here somewhere, right?)

So females need to drop the games and do their part to reach out to someone or quit complaining when they see us old geezers with a younger, partying-crazy version of themselves.

 Ahhh, James Thurber!

Whew, aren't you glad this wasn't another sidestep about police brutality or some other topical issue? Although there are plenty of lousy things going on right now, we at The Thurber Brigade believed we needed to get back on track. However, with the weirdness that is the Donald Trump candidacy and the ever present police anger management-less force on the streets, there's no guarantee that a sidestep won't reappear.

Slugging it out—The Florida (in)justice system

By now the event has pretty much blown over, well, for the media anyway. With Donald Trump hogging the airwaves, not much else is covered in the media for more than a few seconds. The event I’m referring to is a Florida State football player hitting a woman at a bar. No, this is not another side-step by The Thurber Brigade, because this really does involve The War Between Men and Women.

I don’t mean physically of course (the war), although this event is physical. What this blog looks at is the inequality of the Florida justice system that seems to say it’s okay for a woman to hit a man, but not the reverse.  In this case, De’Andre Johnson is accused of hitting a woman while in a bar in Tallahassee in June.

Let me state that I’m not saying he did not hit the woman. I think that’s clear on the video (although for legal reasons I guess I should say “Allegedly”). What gets me is that she also clearly hit him and yet she has NOT been charged with misdemeanor battery as he has.  

 Is it because he hit harder than she did so she doesn’t get charged? Is it because she’s female and well, we guys are told never to hit a woman? Or is it because this happened in the South and it’s a BLACK man hitting a WHITE woman?  I have a feeling it’s the latter, but won’t discuss that here.

First off, let me point out that any time you go to a crowded bar, rowdy rock concert or the Austin City Limits Music Fest you should realize that you are going to get bumped here and there and quite regularly. If you don’t like getting bumped into, don’t go to those type of places!

Of course, good bars should have a dedicated spot to order your drinks. You know, like the Black Star Co-op Pub and Brewery here in Austin who brew some great beers, serve very delicious food and yes, have a spot where you order your drinks and don’t have to worry about muscling up to the bar. No, I’m not getting paid to say that, I just like the place and wanted to mention it here as it seemed relevant. Sort of.

  Anyway, here’s what happened at that busy Tallahassee bar on that June night.  Johnson wanted to order a drink and asked a woman who already had her drink if he could take her spot and move up to the bar to get his.

 

She agrees and lets him in and so he moves to the bar but accidentally bumps into the alleged victim. Note how he has his hand on the bar attempting to get that spot before someone else does. That's a typical ploy to get up to a crowded bar because it's so difficult. It’s tough getting one of those spots, as someone who has had to fight his way to bars for years, I can tell you it’s not easy.

The victim gets angry at being bumped by Johnson. Is it because she’s not used to being bumped in a crowded bar, or is it because he’s a big black man? Well, since we men do not have ESP I can’t say for sure (but yes, that’s my opinion). Of course, she might have been drunk already and just in an angry mood. Who knows?

The alleged victim (okay, I keep saying alleged not for legal purposes, although my lawyers wish I would, but because I’m being snide because she seems to get away with this while he does not) seems to be cursing Johnson out (some witnesses say she used racial epitaphs) and raises her fist to make a point that she can take him out with one blow. Okay, that’s not why she raised her fist, but I thought it sounded funny. Plus, we small guys (compared to football players) know better than to threaten bigger guys because if we exchange blows, we know it won’t be very equal. For some reason, I don’t think this woman learned that while growing up.

Johnson attempts to stop her from hitting him by grabbing her arms. Although he’s probably incensed by the racial slurs and threats, he has been taught not to fly off the handle at a slight provocation like this. She becomes even more enraged and so knees him in the groin!

Johnson doesn’t leave even though he’s been cussed out and kneed, so she decides to up the ante. She slugs him! 

I think that this was the straw that broke the camel’s back as he slugs her back. I’m not showing that picture because you have seen it maybe 1,000 times since the news media likes to focus on that aspect and not what leads up to it.  

So that’s the event. Two people in a bar slug it out. However, only one person gets charged with a crime! Yes, it’s the man. 

I believe strongly in equal rights. I believe women should get paid the same as men for doing the same job if everything else is the same (that’s another story), I am really happy women got the vote and wish they would do so more often and stop electing idiots like George Bush, et al. As noted before I like watching women’s sports as much as men’s.

However, you can’t pick and choose what will be equal and what will not. 

Personally, I don’t think this is the type of event that should involve charges. If the woman wants to take him to civil court, let her, but don’t make it a crime to have a fight. If you do make it a crime, then make it equal.

Florida either needs to drop the charges against Johnson, or charge her too.

As we guys always like to say when we explain to our parents about a fight we got into, “Well, she started it!”

(Sorry, I just had to include one JAMES THURBER cartoon and since it's set in a court, welllll)

Women Say the Darndest Things

When I wrote my blog about women drivers, feminists went into attack mode ranging from attacking me on Twitter to complaining to my boss. I made some generalizations about females, but...

We interrupt this blog for sports!

This is Coach J and although I hate to jump in here during this exciting and stimulating blog in which I am sure the writer is going to say something controversial in an attempt to make some people angry and garner more reader interest (he thinks), this is much more interesting and important.

 The Women's World Cup has begun!

The USA Women's National Soccer Team needs to reclaim their rightful place as the premier force in the world, and I believe this year they will do just that. Led by Abby Wambach and Megan Rapinoe, and bolstered by a great back-stopper in a Hope Solo this will be a team to be reckoned with.

They begin play in one of the toughest groups, the Group of Death, Group D. Here are the teams:

This is the USA's schedule:

 

A big controversy to keep an eye on are the fields themselves. For some odd reason FIFA has set all the games to be played on AstroTurf. A terrible surface for soccer and there is no way this would happen if they were men's teams. No, this probably isn't as big as giving the Men's World Cup to Qatar, but it's close.

So don't miss out on these exciting games. Tell your boss that Coach J has said it's the Patriotic thing to do to take time off to go watch the USA team at a nearby sports bar.

 

Now, back to the regularly scheduled blog already in progress. 

So although I know this might really inflame those crazy radical feminists once again, they can't deny the truth. Now, aren't you glad The Thurber Brigade got back on topic and didn't succumb to another sidestep about something like the latest police malfeasance?

(Okay, I love soccer. I've played, coached, reffed and even wrote a book about coaching. Next time, I'll really get back to the usual blog stuff. Really)