Political Correctness is Wrong!

“Why do you have such a problem with political correctness? It basically is just telling you to be kind to people?”

There’s two reasons-

#1- It’s teaching people that they are victims. “You are gay. If someone calls you a fag, then you have been victimized.”

– Maybe. If a person that lashes out in anger and calls any other person a name with the intention of hurting that person, then that is a bad person. However, when I was a kid, children were taught to be tough and to not let words or name calling hurt them.
Remember the phrase, “sticks and stones may break my bones, but names will never hurt me?” – I think we need to get back to pushing out that message. Yes, we should teach people to be kind and not to call names, but we should also be teaching people to be strong and confident and resilient and to not let names hurt them. To rise above it. To not be victimized.
You can’t be a victim from someone calling you a name if you decide that it doesn’t hurt you.

#2- This “political correctness” has become very one-sided and hypocritical.

Don’t believe that?
Let me give you an example.
“Hey Steelers, quit playing like a bunch of queers!”
Try yelling that at a football game. I promise you that is frowned upon.
Now, let’s say we don’t know anything about the person. What do we actually know?
We know the guy is a Steeler’s fan, and we know he doesn’t like how his team is playing.
We also know that there are likely some gay players in the NFL. But many gay guys, at least all the ones I know, love to make fun of themselves when it comes to sports. Some of them are athletic, but they’re the the exception. So, yelling, “stop playing like a bunch of queers,” though insensitive, actually makes a little sense on some level.

Now, consider this- There’s a chess tournament at the local high school. One player loses, and he stands up, flips the board over, smashes his fists on the table, yells some obscenities, and storms out.
Someone says, “Chill out, you’re acting like a stupid jock!”
Is anyone concerned that jocks have just been slandered?
Most likely not.

Political correctness seems to only play in one direction. It plays to those whom the keepers of the rules of PC culture determine to be too weak too defend themselves. PC culture, in itself, is sexist and racist because it seems to have made the determination that black people, Mexicans, gays, transsexuals, Muslims, women, and handicapped people are too weak to stand up for themselves and must be protected by the masses of the PC police. That is racist and sexist against those groups. That is assuming those groups to be inferior.

Nobody fighting the PC fight has a problem making fun of “bros” or white people or Christians. That, in itself, states your assumption that these groups of people are strong enough to take care of themselves and do not need your protection.

It’s just one more example of liberal ideas doing the exact opposite of what they think they are doing. PC culture is racist against the minorities they think they protect.

This failure is similar to the failure of identity politics. Identity politics are divisive even though the people who champion them think they are doing something to bring us together. You don’t bring us together with identity politics, you force us to choose an identity and team up with others of that same identity.

It’s similar to the liberal ideological failure of pointing out cultural appropriation. They think that by pointing out “appropriation” they are protecting the culture of a minority, when in fact, they are standing in the way of that culture becoming mainstream and part of the fabric of the culture of this country. It literally works to keep minority culture in the minority by admonishing anyone outside of the minority group for celebrating and adopting it.

I stand for equal rights for all. Equal rights means equal treatment. The freedoms I deserve, so too do you.

When I was a kid, that sort of philosophy was, in fact, “liberal” which literally translates to freedom. Now-a-days, liberal has become something else entirely different, and it isn’t good for humanity.

Be kind to all people. That’s a good rule of thumb for how to treat others.
Be strong as an individual. That’s a good rule of thumb for yourself.
Let’s get back to basics.

The Dad Presents Podcast

The Dad Presents podcast is up and running with fantastic guests like Joy Villa, G Love, Pete Yorn, Bob Schneider, Ben Lee, Zoltan Istvan and many, many more.

Please check us out and review us on iTunes: https://itunes.apple.com/us/podcast/the-dad-presents/id1438151440?mt=2

and on Spotify: https://open.spotify.com/show/436LeMTe3d1KTOAfaI1Sht?si=p5Ml_VTER2qqGsG79yqVJg

Wanna-Be

Being a male model is a weird thing.

I went for a jog today and ran by a young handsome fella who was participating in a photo shoot for some periodical. This handsome SOB was wearing a suit and tie on the beach, which was already weird, but what pushed it over the point of being tolerable to this middle aged jogger was that he was rolling around in the ocean, in his suit and tie, with a surfboard while a photographer showered him in superlatives and compliments while snapping pictures.

I was about to walk up to him and smack him upside his handsome sculpted millennial noggin to inform him that, as a former surfer, I’m 100 percent confident that nobody in the world surfs with a suit and tie on, but a few steps shy of doing so I stopped myself.

“Wait, Matt, you used to be that idiot. You had better cheekbones, sure, but otherwise, you were that douchebag. Cut him some slack.”

Like a lot of handsome young dummies full of testosterone and red hot American ambition, I came out to Los Angeles hoping to snag a piece of that Hollywood dream. I did all kinds of silly photo shoots for a couple dollars, and even some more embarrassing ones for free. I know they were embarrassing because my loving family reminds me of how embarrassing they were at least once every couple months by digging up an old picture and sending it back to me in a group text for the entire family to laugh over together.

I’d bet this handsome kid had yet to be anywhere near as foolish as I was. I tried to act. I ended up doing six or seven C level horror films starring C-list celebrities like Lorenzo Lamas, Lemmy from Motörhead, and Ron Jeremy. I did a couple weeks on a daytime soap opera, dating shows, reality shows, infomercials, and several national commercials, and those were the highlights.

I did some modeling (using that word liberally). Modeling for a guy in this town is likely to get sketchy, and I learned that the hard way. It means doing things like rolling around in the ocean in a suit and tie and pretending to surf, or worse, it could mean posing naked in the ocean, with a surfboard, like I did in the picture below.

I was sent on a private modeling gig to David Geffen’s house for an event. When I arrived, I learned that I was the event. The other models I was told would be there were not there. David and I hung out and eventually he wanted a happy ending to our hang.
He did not get a happy ending.
I complained to my booker and he basically told me that this is how it goes “in the biz.”

I got a modeling as a greeter for a birthday party for Sabrina the Teenage Witch. I had to stand outside her front door, wearing nothing but a loin cloth, and feed grapes to all the females entering the party. It was humiliating, but if I’m being honest, it was the kind of humiliation that a guy like me can get behind.

The Teenage Witch deal wasn’t my only loin cloth gig. I was hired to play a Greek God statue outside a celebrity charity even in Hollywood. My entire body was covered in gold, again I wore onlya loin cloth, and I had to pretend to be a statue for two hours. It was about 55 degrees and I was way to cold to maintain statue pose, not to mention that I was feeling a bit overexposed and my Grecian “grapes” were attempting to hibernate, leaving me feeling unimpressive to the A-list actresses that were passing by, looking, judging. The proprietors docked my pay for my inability to strike and hold a pose, or maybe they docked it for my unimpressive grapes, I don’t know, whatever, all I know is I got my money’s worth when Jamie Lee Curtis gave me a slap on the ass (#MeToo). Yes, that really happened.

Like all wanna-be actors, I got roped into an over-priced acting class. For the first time in my life, I became teacher’s pet. You would think that was good, but in this case, not so much. Being teacher’s pet ended with me being somewhat pushed into a sexual relationship with her unattractive daughter in a move that I can only describe to you as being very Harvey Weinstein-ish. That said, doing so, in the crazy world of Hollyweird ended up parlaying into me being asked to attend a private acting session with one of her A-list actresses to help her rehearse for an upcoming audition. It was a romance and there was kissing and I’ve bragged to this to almost everyone I know, so, all-in-all, sleeping with the teacher’s unattractive daughter was a price worth paying in order to get to suck face with this attractive A-lister.

At one point, I got sucked into a gig that actually turned out to be a front for an underage porn ring being run by a former assistant football coach from the University of Pittsburgh. Once I caught wind of it, I went to the police and they allowed me to do some legit undercover type stuff. It was one of the more exciting things Ive ever been a part of, and some day I’ll have to tell that entire story front to back, but that time is not now.

I landed a contract for a calendar gig. I thought it would be eleven other dudes and myself pretending to be firemen or something, but in another twist, when I got there, it was just me. Twelve months of me wearing an American flag speedo in some odd calendar that I can only assume was for really gay people who were also super patriotic. If people weren’t suspecting my sexually before this calendar, they definitely were after. In fact, the photographer, at the end of the shoot, felt the need to tell me that I had gotten him very excited and that he might love me. He then proceeded to stalk me for no less than one year. I’d often find him sitting on my stoop when I’d get home from work. Regardless of how often I called the cops, this continued, until finally I beat him up, took his camera, and ran over it with my car.

Even when I wasn’t getting paid, I was making a spectacle of myself. I was something of a junkie for trying to raise the stakes at any event. I liked to push boundaries. I was playing in a charity volleyball tournament, we were in the semi-finals, and we were losing, so I negotiated five points for my team by taking off my pants and doing a half mile loop around the beach (To all the mothers and young children, I’m sorry). We still lost the match, but at least I gave a lot of people a memory they’d never forget, no matter how hard they tried.

So, jogging today, I wanted to smack that kid and tell him that he might regret his decision to do this one day. But I didn’t. Though I didn’t want to see it at first, he was just chasing a dream, like I was. I’m hoping he makes it. I’m hoping he turns himself into the next Ashton Kuchter or whomever the newest young male model is that made it into a big star. Good for him for chasing his dreams. Too many people are afraid to go for it because they’re afraid to look silly or they’re afraid to fail. So what if he looks like a total jerk in his suit and tie, rolling around in the ocean- he’s going for it, and for that alone he should be proud. He’s more courageous than at least 90% of the people I know, who really want something, but have never taken step one towards getting it.

Or, possibly, he’s just a total moron.

But whatever.

Bullies- Societies secret heros

Bullies provide a service for a society.
Now hear me out-

I’ve always been confident. Even when I had no reason to be.
I’ve always been very positive. Even when things have been bad.
I was also small and I had a smart mouth on me.

So, I got picked on and bullied, A LOT, as a kid. I could’ve crumped, crawled into a shell, and let the bullies win. I could’ve become meager and fragile.

I never did. I always fought back. I got beat up and I got shoved in lockers and had my head stuffed in toilets. I got made fun of, and I took it all in. I never cried, I never tattled, I never let them win.

It made me strong, and from all that, and from small tragedies that have happened since, I’ve learned that, if you stay positive, work hard, and always keep trying, things usually work out in the end.

This “confidence”, this certainty that I’m always going to land on my feet, this complete lack of worry and anxiety, and my willingness to always be honest with my thoughts, ideas, and feelings, this puts some people off, and it makes some people confuse my confidence with arrogance.

I’m okay with that because I don’t need everyone to like me. That’s never been a concern for me.

Once you realize that you are in control of the outcomes of your own life and that others can not hurt you with words or disapproval, you can be free and confident and positive.

Bullying is bad, and we should, of course, try to stop it. That said, it’s a valuable service to society. It can lead people to taking control of their own emotions and their own life and it can help put them on a path towards strength.

I fully believe I’m better for having been bullied.
My kids are small and they’ve got some spunk and sharp senses of humor. They aren’t going to shrink,l in with the wallpaper. This will likely lead to some bullying. I will arm my kids with the physical and mental tools to protect themselves in these situations.

I will not fight their battles for them.

Our society would be much healthier if we were all equipped with the mental and emotional tools we needed to fight our own battles. Instead, we’ve begun a society of self-victimization. This is not good for our future.

The Bride is Trying to Kill Me

This is a cry for help.
The Bride is trying to kill me, and I need you to have my back.
I sustained a bad back injury that led to a near death experience.
No, not running or lifting weights or rock climbing or doing something else manly.
No, this 45 year old with 24 pieces of surgical metal in his body hurt his back in the middle of the night trying to get up out of bed to pee. I moved wrong, my back went out, and I went down hard. I went down to the floor in agony, crying for help. The Bride sits up and starts sleep talking, or pretending to sleep talk, “Stop making noise and put underwear on! Your sister is in the living room!”
Then this criminal mastermind lays back down and fakes sleep.
My sister is not in the living room. She’s in Pennsylvania. Also, she has four older brothers with no sense of humility, so it wouldn’t phase her even if I had walked out into the living room with a middle of the night urination boner.
I mean, my poor sister has been through it all. Once, while sharing a bed with her drunken one passed out drunken brother at a wedding, she sits up in the middle of the night and declares in a very emphatic tone that, “if you touch my butt one more time, I’m going to break your arm!”
In his defense, our sister strongly resembles his wife, but that’s another story for another time.
Anyway, point being, if my sister was in our living room and had seen my pee boner, it would not be the worst thing to happen to her. But what might actually be the worst thing ever is that I may die, on my bedroom floor, after having peed all over myself, because The Bride chose to let me suffer and die instead of trying to save me.
Now, you may ask, why would The Bride want to kill off her wonderful husband?
Well, I just sold my business and made The Bride the beneficiary on my bank account. So, for all I know, she was awake, hearing my agonizing cries for help, and she’s just trying to ride it out, hoping I die, while dreaming of herself riding along the coast in her new convertible Corvette, air blowing through her hair, while some dickhead 22 year old dude enjoyed the fruits of my lifetime of labor.
Anyway, after half and hour or so, I gathered myself, got back in bed, and was able to bravely make it through the night and fend off the Grim Reaper. In the morning, I was so jacked up with pain that that I could not bend at the hips.  I took a handful of pain pills, and when it was time for my morning poo, I had three options.
1- Stand over the toilet like a B17 bomber plane and hope for the best.
OR
2- Put together a make-shift bed pan out of The Bride’s cake pan.
OR
3- Shit myself
I went with option #2.
The Bride was driving the kids to tennis camp, so I’d be able to pull it off and get rid of the evidence and she’d never know.
Until now.
So, I survived the ordeal, not because I wanted to, but to spite The Bride, and I want everyone here to know that if something happens to me in the next few months, it was her.
I’m trusting you guys to get me justice.

Free The Drugs!

The reason Mexico has changed from a lovely destination to an unsafe destination in the past few decades is because of our war on drugs. Alcohol prohibition is what gave rise to the Italian Mafia in the 30’s. There’s always been a market for mind-altering substances and there always will be. You make them illegal and you create a black market for these substances. That black market always brings violence to our streets. It happened with prohibition and the Italian mafia, and now it’s happened, present times, with Mexican drug cartels.

Regardless of how you feel about “drugs” (everything we ingest is a drug. Everything you take into your body reacts, chemically, with your brain. “Drug” is just a word we invented to put a taboo on certain chemicals because we want to stigmatize the effect of those chemicals); anyway, regardless of how you feel about “drugs” there is no denying the simple fact that decriminalizing them and allowing the sale of them will take power away from the dangerous entities that are running them on the black market.

The best way to win the drug war is by legalizing.
The best way to make our streets safe is by legalizing.
The best and most simple way to immediately cut government spending is to stop locking people up for drug use and sales.

Regardless of how you feel about “drugs” there is no denying that nearly all of them have some positive effects.
Yes, they have negative effects.
However, so does McDonalds, sugar, bacon, dairy, etc, etc, etc. Should those things be made illegal too?

Are we a free society or not?
The answer is that we are not. We are not free to choose what we want to do with our bodies and our lives. We are locked up for doing things that harm nobody other than ourselves.

If something causes no harm to others, then it should be an individual choice.
I’ve been singing this song for years. I’m glad California has gotten with the program on marijuana. Soon, we will be doing the same with mushrooms. I hope we do the same for all illegal “drugs” Ideallly, we should do the same for prostitution as well.

Telling women they can’t use their bodies to make a living is crazy.
How can you pay someone to enter a war and kill another person, but allow someone to use their body to give another person pleasure?
How can it be legal for a man to buy a woman an expensive gift, and for her to sleep with him as a reward (this happens, don’t kid yourselves), but it not be legal for a direct exchange of cash for sex?

We are hypocrites and our laws make no sense, and rarely do we go through the mental gymnastics to consider them. We are passive and weak and we accept what Daddy tells us without challenging it.

When I was a kid, I constantly asked my father “why” – he would usually say “because I said so.” Nothing made me angrier.

Always ask “why” – my 8 year old constantly asks this question, and if I don’t have a good reason for him, I realize I’m wrong, and I let him win the discussion.

We need to start asking our government “why” a lot more often, and we need to refuse anything that is illogical for an answer.

The kid with the Opossum face

It’s time for a brief lesson in evolution, anecdotally, to help us all understand, just a bit, why men are the way they are and why women are the way they are, and why we need to stop the narrative of “there’s no difference between men and women” and that “it’s all a social construct.”

These are my 8 year old’s teeth.
Hideous.
His face looks like the result of what happens when an old-world British lady fucks a goat.
When I was a kid, I had the same gnarly teeth, and I too had to walk around with a big ugly mug everywhere I went.
Thanks to medical science, I was able to get my teeth fixed with braces. However, had that technology not existed, I would still be walking around with those hideous chompers and it’s very possible I’d have never found a woman to kiss me, let alone reproduce with me.
That said, my teeth were fixed, I became a handsome bastard, and now I have babies. I passed my genetics for these root-rooter teeth on to my first born, and he will now undergo the same corrective process.
Do you see where I’m going with this?
Evolution is determined by the natural selection of certain genetics over others.
Before the existence of braces, I may not have found a lover, and my garbage disposal teeth gene would’ve died with me.

Likewise, it’s not random that men are attracted to women with large breasts or big hips. It’s not random that women are attracted to tall men with broad shoulders. We don’t like these things simply because they “look good,” the question is why do these things look good to us?

The answer lies, again, in the natural selection process. Thousands of years ago, and all the way up until modern medicine, the infant mortality rate was over 40%. Almost half of all babies died for a whole variety of reason. Women with larger breasts were more likely to be able to adequately feed their children and thus their children were more likely to survive. Women with wide hips were more likely to be able to give birth without complications resulting in death to either the mother or child. Tall men with broad shoulders were stronger and more likely to be able to protect their children and wives from physical danger and consequently they were more likely to survive.

The result of all that is that those genes were more likely to be naturally selected, men became more attracted to women with large breasts, and women became more attracted to men with broad shoulders without anyone really being cognizant of why.

In the modern world, there is a strong selection for intelligence as we’ve entered a day and age in which intelligence is more indicative of future success than is brute physical strength. In high school, most girls still connect with their inner monkey and are attracted to the big jock studs; however, I would imagine that, in a thousand years or so, that would likely be bred out of them and you will see the school nerds dominating the popularity index.

This theory (and it’s more than a theory) can be applied to “racial” characteristics as well. I put racial in quotes because race IS actually a social construct. There is no biological difference between black people, white people, Asian people and Latino people. Our race is human. However, there are physical genetic differences in us based on thousands of years of separate evolution in different areas of the world.

Black people have evolved their darker skin due to the conditions of Africa. The sun is more brutal in Africa, white skin simply wouldn’t cut it. People with light skin, in a day and age before sunblock, would be more likely to die early from skin cancer, and thus less likely to pass on their genetics for their skin’s low concentration of melanin.

We can examine nearly every genetic characteristic that is associated with any group of people to explain why they are different, even those characteristics that reside within a group of people that we consider to be less than ideal. However, in today’s political correctness world, we not only ignore these realities, but we deem it “racist” or “sexist” to even discuss them.

It is neither of those things. It’s just scientific reality.

My child has a face like an opossum because his dad did.
I gave him those genes because I was able to get those teeth fixed and still find a beautiful mate in spite of my genetics.
He will get his teeth fixed because we can afford it and those genetics will be passed on.
This anecdotal story is a super, over-simplified and humorous explanation that can help us to understand the complex biological differences between us.
It’s okay to acknowledge that we are different.
We are all human.
We all deserve EQUAL RIGHTS.
This does not make us all equal.
We are not equal.

Be a God Damned Cat

Today, on a hike, I caught site of two tiny little mice. They were darting out on the hiking path, grabbing some crumbs of what resembled some kind of power bar that was likely left behind by another hiker, and then they’d dart back behind the bush and repeat.

I couldn’t tell if they were going behind the bushes to eat the crumbs and then returning for more because they weren’t satisfied, or if they were working as a team and feeding other mice that were hiding out in the bushes.

To be honest, it could’ve been more than two mice. I could definitely tell two of them apart, but I’m no mice expert and its possible that what I thought was two, darting in and out, was really several.

Anyway, I watched for about five minutes, trying to figure out what was going on. I don’t know why, but I was riveted.

Then, out of nowhere, this feral cat leaps, grabs one of the mice, and disappears with it.

There was about ten seconds of stillness, and then that other mouse came back out, grabbed more crumbs, and went about his business.

Maybe there is no sense of loss between mice.
Maybe they’re so used to the carnage that they move on from it quickly.
Maybe it’s so difficult for them to keep themselves fed that they have no choice but to persevere.

I can’t be sure.
All I know for sure is that I’d rather be a cat, than a mouse.
Be a fucking cat.

Dream Chasing

I went for a jog on the beach today and ran by a young handsome fella who was participating in a photo shoot for some periodical. This handsome SOB was wearing a suit and tie on the beach, which was already weird, but what pushed it over the point of being tolerable to this middle aged jogger was that he was rolling around in the ocean, in his suit and tie, with a surfboard while a douchebag photographer showered him in superlatives and compliments while snapping pictures.

I was about to walk up to him and smack him upside his handsome sculpted millennial noggin to inform him that, as a former surfer, I’m 100 percent confident that nobody in the world surfs with a suit and tie on, but a few steps shy of doing so I stopped myself.

“Wait, Matt, you used to be that douchebag. You had better cheekbones, sure, but otherwise, you were that douchebag. Cut him some slack.”

Like a lot of handsome young dummies full of testosterone and red hot American ambition, I came out to Los Angeles hoping to snag a piece of that Hollywood dream. I did all kinds of silly photo shoots for a couple dollars, and even some more embarrassing ones for free. I know they were embarrassing because my loving family reminds me of how embarrassing they were at least once every couple months by digging up an old picture and sending it back to me in a group text for the entire family to laugh over together.

I’d bet this handsome kid had yet to be anywhere near as foolish as I was. I tried to act. I ended up doing six or seven C level horror films starring C-list celebrities like Lorenzo Lamas, Lemmy from Motörhead, and Ron Jeremy. I did a couple weeks on a daytime soap opera, dating shows, reality shows, infomercials, and several national commercials, and those were the highlights.

I did some modeling, and modeling for a guy can get sketchy. It means doing things like rolling around in the ocean in a suit and tie and pretending to surf, or worse, it could mean posing naked in the ocean, with a surfboard, like I did in the picture below.

I was sent on a private modeling gig to David Geffen’s house for an event. When I arrived, I learned that I was the event. The other models I was told would be there were not there. David and I hung out and eventually he wanted a happy ending to our hang.
He did not get a happy ending.
I complained to my booker and he basically told me that this is how it goes “in the biz.”

I got a modeling as a greeter for a birthday party for Sabrina the Teenage Witch. I had to stand outside her front door, wearing nothing but a loin cloth, and feed grapes to all the females entering the party. It was humiliating, but if I’m being honest, it was the kind of humiliation that a guy like me can get behind.

The Teenage Witch deal wasn’t my only loin cloth gig. I was hired to play a Greek God statue outside a celebrity charity even in Hollywood. My entire body was covered in gold, again I wore onlya loin cloth, and I had to pretend to be a statue for two hours. It was about 55 degrees and I was way to cold to maintain statue pose, not to mention that I was feeling a bit overexposed and my Grecian “grapes” were attempting to hibernate, leaving me feeling unimpressive to the A-list actresses that were passing by, looking, judging. The proprietors docked my pay for my inability to strike and hold a pose, or maybe they docked it for my unimpressive grapes, I don’t know, whatever, all I know is I got my money’s worth when Jamie Lee Curtis gave me a slap on the ass (#MeToo). Yes, that really happened.

Like all wanna-be actors, I got roped into an over-priced acting class. For the first time in my life, I became teacher’s pet. You would think that was good, but in this case, not so much. Being teacher’s pet ended with me being somewhat pushed into a sexual relationship with her unattractive daughter in a move that I can only describe to you as being very Harvey Weinstein-ish. That said, doing so, in the crazy fucked up world of Hollyweird ended up parlaying into me being asked to attend a private acting session with one of her A-list actresses to help her rehearse for an upcoming audition. It was a romance and there was kissing and I’ve bragged to this to almost everyone I know, so, all-in-all, sleeping with the teacher’s unattractive daughter was a price worth paying in order to get to suck face with this attractive A-lister.

At one point, I got sucked into a gig that actually turned out to be a front for an underage porn ring being run by a former assistant football coach from the University of Pittsburgh. Once I caught wind of it, I went to the police and they allowed me to do some legit undercover type shit. It was one of the more exciting things Ive ever been a part of, and some day I’ll have to tell that entire story front to back, but that time is not now.

I landed a contract for a calendar gig. I thought it would be eleven other dudes and myself pretending to be firemen or some shit, but in another twist, when I got there, it was just me. Twelve months of Matty boy wearing an American flag speedo in some odd calendar that I can only assume was for really gay people who were also super patriotic. If people weren’t suspecting my sexually before this calendar, they definitely were after. In fact, the photographer, at the end of the shoot, felt the need to tell me that I had gotten him very excited and that he might love me. He then proceeded to stalk me for no less than one year. I’d often find him sitting on my stoop when I’d get home from work. Regardless of how often I called the cops, this continued, until finally I beat him up, took his camera, and ran over it with my car.

Even when I wasn’t getting paid, I was making a spectacle of myself. I was something of a junkie for trying to raise the stakes at any event. I liked to push boundaries. I was playing in a charity volleyball tournament, we were in the semi-finals, and we were losing, so I negotiated five points for my team by taking off my pants and doing a half mile loop around the beach (To all the mothers and young children, I’m sorry). We still lost the match, but at least I gave a lot of people a memory they’d never forget, no matter how hard they tried.

So, jogging today, I wanted to smack that kid and tell him that he might regret his decision to do this one day. But I didn’t. Though I didn’t want to see it at first, he was just chasing a dream, like I was. I’m hoping he makes it. I’m hoping he turns himself into the next Ashton Kuchter or whomever the newest young male model is that made it into a big star. Good for him for chasing his dreams. Too many people are afraid to go for it because they’re afraid to look silly or they’re afraid to fail. So what if he looks like a total dickwad in his suit, rolling around in the ocean- he’s going for it, and for that alone he should be proud. He’s more courageous than at least 90% of the people I know, who really want something, but have never taken step one towards getting it.

Or, possibly, he’s just a total douche.

But whatever.

 

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