TerryWalstrom

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Posts by TerryWalstrom

• 
  6

  Thanksgiving Eve--Misadventure at the Airport

  by TerryWalstrom in

  1. jw
  2. friends

  thanksgiving eve episode____it's every man's fantasy getting to lure his ex-wife out into oncoming traffic.i, my friends, am here to tell the story.___outside the airport terminal, where the hurly-burly of the madcap pre-holiday passengers, reunions, luggage, and shoving clash;there, in a frenzied, herculean effort to get into and out of the hell-zone of airport chaos; my former spouse and i (hefting a 90lb chunk of luggage with it's too short "long handle" and "rollers" (probably square wheels) had but one simple task to accomplish.. "what is this task", i hear you asking?.

  my ex and i had to cross the kill zone of traffic which loops around the airport (craftily named "terminal") like the river styx, and reach the "garage a" parking lot to fetch the car and go back into the hellish nightmare to retrieve her parents.sounds pretty simple, eh?you fools!

  !____my brilliant plan was noble, altruistic, and lunatic.by saving her parents the ridiculous journey to the garage on foot, through trial and travail, we could escape the riot of airport insanity faster than otherwise.

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  TerryWalstrom

  When she was pregnant, her bladder back then would hold about a tablespoon full of liquid before EMERGENCY was declared.
  
  There's nothing more fun than being around an old married couple arguing. Except, of course, getting to risk your life and waste 4 hours picking them up at a busy airport.
  
  Lucky me!
• 
  6

  Thanksgiving Eve--Misadventure at the Airport

  by TerryWalstrom in

  1. jw
  2. friends

  thanksgiving eve episode____it's every man's fantasy getting to lure his ex-wife out into oncoming traffic.i, my friends, am here to tell the story.___outside the airport terminal, where the hurly-burly of the madcap pre-holiday passengers, reunions, luggage, and shoving clash;there, in a frenzied, herculean effort to get into and out of the hell-zone of airport chaos; my former spouse and i (hefting a 90lb chunk of luggage with it's too short "long handle" and "rollers" (probably square wheels) had but one simple task to accomplish.. "what is this task", i hear you asking?.

  my ex and i had to cross the kill zone of traffic which loops around the airport (craftily named "terminal") like the river styx, and reach the "garage a" parking lot to fetch the car and go back into the hellish nightmare to retrieve her parents.sounds pretty simple, eh?you fools!

  !____my brilliant plan was noble, altruistic, and lunatic.by saving her parents the ridiculous journey to the garage on foot, through trial and travail, we could escape the riot of airport insanity faster than otherwise.

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  TerryWalstrom

  Thanksgiving Eve Episode
  ____
  It's every man's fantasy getting to lure his ex-wife out into oncoming traffic.
  I, my friends, am here to tell the story.
  ___
  Outside the airport terminal, where the hurly-burly of the madcap pre-holiday passengers, reunions, luggage, and shoving clash;
  there, in a frenzied, Herculean effort to get into and out of the hell-zone of airport chaos;
  my former spouse and I (hefting a 90lb chunk of luggage with it's too short "long handle" and "rollers" (probably square wheels) had but one simple task to accomplish.

  "What is this task", I hear you asking?

  My ex and I had to cross the KILL ZONE of traffic which loops around the Airport (craftily named "terminal") like the river Styx, and reach the
  "Garage A" parking lot to fetch the car and go back into the hellish nightmare to retrieve her parents.
  Sounds pretty simple, eh?
  YOU FOOLS! Why would you think that??!!
  ____
  My brilliant plan was noble, altruistic, and lunatic.
  By saving her parents the ridiculous journey to the garage on foot, through trial and travail, we could escape the riot of airport insanity faster than otherwise.
  "Yes, yes--go on, go on," I hear you breathlessly urging me to the action sequence about to erupt.
  Very well, we're almost there!
  ___
  I had, like all great masterminds of history, (Napoleon, the Unabomber, and Ernst Stavros Blofeld) had not reckoned on the flip-the-script disaster of hubris.
  I didn't KNOW HOW to find my way back to the garage.
  There! I said it.
  Go ahead and nitpick.
  ____
  So--(here is the important point) BEING A MAN--I ignored commonsense to achieve my goal even if a horrible death resulted. (Hey, a lousy plan is better than none at all, right?)

  I urged my Ex (now capitalized as she achieves center stage status in my story) to bolt out into oncoming traffic as a canary in the coal mine scientific experiment!
  Nope.
  Surely, I mused, fine citizens of Texas wouldn't run her over.
  Nope.
  (I see the best in others. I'm just that kinda guy.
  (Imbecile.)
  As all properly programmed former Christian men will tell you, I knew I must now step up and take the lead!
  (Or admit failure. Shee-it, no!)

  I bolted out into the troubled river of headlights, honking horns, screams of abuse, shaking fists, and snaked between vehicles jerking at that damned luggage as I progressed.
  When I reached the other side there was a wall and only inches of safe space. I am wider than mere inches.
  This was certain doom!

  I twisted my neck to capture a glimpse of my Ex-wife for that final snapshot of appreciation I was sure to see emblazoned on her grateful face.
  Here I was, sacrificing myself, my a career as a writer, a crow wrangler, gigolo and Parcheesi champ to save her parents an exhausting trek to the parking garage.
  I would be crushed by the fender of an errant Buick any second now--but at least I'd have died in the way all men crave to depart this life: as a damn fool stubborn hero.

  She was shaking her head in disgust and probably yelling, "Don't let the luggage get scratched!" as the thud of my body
  colliding with disaster filled the air with manly screams.
  Her lips were pursed in the classic "What a Putz" expression only former marriage mates have mastered.

  A lady in a bulky black sedan rolled down her window and screamed, "Are you trying to get to the garage? Go back and take the pedestrian tunnel, it's the only way."

  Surely this was a sign from Zeus, the gods had not abandoned our hero in his moment of triumph of will over practical common sense.

  I thanked the angel of mercy and made a turnabout into oncoming traffic, dodging headlights, bumpers, and horns.
  Heck--I was like O.J. in his football days. (Before he murdered his wife.)
  We made our way through the pedestrian tunnel and located the car.
  Mission accomplished, right?
  WRONG.
  _____
  A phone call in the car from her mother introduced a plot twist so diabolical only a Hollywood writer could have dreamed it up while high on absinthe.
  My Ex's father had vanished!
  _____
  My former father-in-law suddenly realized he had lost his Dopp Kit.
  I know what you are thinking. "What's a Dopp Kit?"
  That's not important at this moment. No.
  Whatever a Dopp Kit might be, this man would risk everything to go back to the airplane and retrieve it!
  Sure. Sure. You're probably imagining this is a fool's errand and it is impossible to get the damned Dopp Kit back from the frickin' airplane.
  You'd imagine correctly.
  I knew it. His wife knew it. His daughter knew it.
  But--dammit--he is a MAN! We live for such moments--haven't I made this clear enough???
  ___
  We pulled up to the curb and mother-in-law clamored into the car heaving curses and bringing down lightning bolts of reproach upon the husband who dashed away and left her all alone with hundreds of strangers as he quested for his beloved "precious" Dopp Kit like a latter-day Smeagle.
  ____
  As the luggage is being hefted into the hatch of the car, the car phone rings and it is HIM, the wayward wandering seeker after Dopp!
  He's yelling something.
  His wife is yelling.
  His daughter interrupts the yelling. She's yelling.
  And now a summary:
  1. Father-in-law is disgusted with being yelled at.
  2. His wife wants to ditch him and go home.
  3. My Ex has had enough. Too much of enough.
  4. I'm thinking of all the sins I'm paying off in punishment and beginning to think I might end up in a penthouse in heaven.
  5. We drive back to the garage to hibernate until the mysterious journey to the Land of Dopp Kit is completed.
  6. My Ex needs to relieve her bladder most mightily.
  7. I assure her this will trigger the phone call from her Dad because I've seen lots of awful disaster movies. She'll be gone to pee and her Dad will be waiting for us to snatch him and his Dopp off the curbside with much petulance.
  8. My Ex leaves on a quest of her own, leaving me in the car with the much-disgruntled Mother-in-Law. (Imagine your own conversation at this point.)
  9. Suddenly, my Ex returns.
  10. Her Dad phoned her-- has returned to the curb outside and is waiting.
  11. The bladder rageth with fulsome plentitude as we exit the garage and tunnel through headlights, horns, and traffic toward the missing member of our Suicide Squad.
  And now...
  We reach the magic moment: our Finale.
  _____
  Father-in-law climbs into the car and we speed away from the airport "TERMINAL" with much haste.
  I head for the nearest bathroom in a nearby chicken franchise.
  When relief has trickled its way into quietude, this car filled with escapees from Hellzapoppin finally hear the answer to the burning question we've all waited for.
  What is a F**KING DOPP KITT that a man will abandon wife and daughter to seek it out in an impossible moment in time at a busy airport after a flight from New Orleans?

  "Did you find the Dopp Kit?"
  "No."
  "What exactly is a Dopp Kit?"
  "A shaving bag."
  "Does it contain family heirlooms crafted in fine gold and silver?"
  "No."
  "Oh."
  _________

  (Insert long drive home here. Insert me drinking like a sailor on shore leave when I get back home.)
  Thus endeth my mighty tale of Thanksgiving Eve.

  HAPPY THANKSGIVING Everybody!
  
  
• 
  7

  60's Sexual Revolution to the outing of Powerful Predators

  by TerryWalstrom in

  1. watchtower
  2. scandals

  in the late 1960's a big change happened in sexual culture in the u.s. and england.women asserted their "right" to become more aggressive and obtrusive in their dealings with men.

  however, the louts, the jerks, the hyper-aggressive males were only encouraged (in their male fantasies) to lower women even more as a result of this.

  bra burning, short skirts, "free sex", was seen as a green light to do as you please and to relegate "respect for women" to discarded and antiquated manners of a bygone generation.i was in a puritanical religious cult during all this.when all the "fun" began, i was either in prison or going door to door peddling end of the world scenarios.the chief reason i got married was to avoid sex!

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  TerryWalstrom

  Until 1979, State Laws were such it was viewed as impossible for a husband to "rape" his wife.
  Her Christian duty was to submit and not deny him in the first place.
  In my lifetime, in fact.
  ______
  In answer to the query:
  "maybe they stayed indoors and raped their wives instead."
  
  Citation:
  http://time.com/3975175/spousal-rape-case-history/

  
  
  
• 
  7

  60's Sexual Revolution to the outing of Powerful Predators

  by TerryWalstrom in

  1. watchtower
  2. scandals

  in the late 1960's a big change happened in sexual culture in the u.s. and england.women asserted their "right" to become more aggressive and obtrusive in their dealings with men.

  however, the louts, the jerks, the hyper-aggressive males were only encouraged (in their male fantasies) to lower women even more as a result of this.

  bra burning, short skirts, "free sex", was seen as a green light to do as you please and to relegate "respect for women" to discarded and antiquated manners of a bygone generation.i was in a puritanical religious cult during all this.when all the "fun" began, i was either in prison or going door to door peddling end of the world scenarios.the chief reason i got married was to avoid sex!

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  TerryWalstrom

  I "blame" WARS and what they did to generations of men.
  
  I see civilization in the last few hundred years as chunks of time between World Wars.
  Men went off to fight WWI and left women at home.
  The much older men and the younger guys stayed behind to take up the slack.
  
  Each time this sort of thing occurs, there is a power shift.

  
  
  The MAN OF THE HOUSE position was filled by either old men or young men who had to "take care of the women."
  This meant hard work and sacrifice.
  Those men were put upon, exhausted, and strained by exigency.
  
  After the wars were over and the soldiers returned home--WHO WERE THEY INSIDE? These weren't the same men who were little boys taken to church and told, "Thou shall not kill."
  These were damaged people who had lived daily horrors of life or death
  So what?
  So, the "BAD NATURE" of such men is let loose.
  The scourge of surviving or dying had stripped these men (not all--but many) of civilized values.
  
  They had "needs."
  Food on the table. Sex. Respect.
  Women were seen as needing to OBEY and SUBMIT.
  
  If those needs weren't met--depending on the man and his circumstances--he might well become demanding, coarse, bullying and abusive.
  Women had VERY FEW resources to survive outside of trading their sex.
  What else could they bargain with?
  
  I said all the above so I could say this:
  Several generations of men and women were in a crucible which molded their habits, ethos, thinking, core beliefs, and POWER STRUCTURE.
  
  Those people were hardened. They were forged by forces insuperable.
  These are Red State folks for the most part.
  The generations which came after them were increasingly disgusted by those War Year Values.
  
  The 60's was the first generational BREAK in sex and culture.
  That divide was never healed.
  That generation is one of two worlds.
  Until my BOOMER generation has vanished, the voting influence (vote for Trump, McCain, etc.) will remain powerful enough to create damage.
  
  Electing Donald Trump was the work of Baby Boomers with American flags, guns, the Bible, and all those "core values" sizzling at white-hot zeal.
  That generation has many double standards about men, women, sex, and behavior in general. We speak with forked tongue because we suffer mightily from cognitive dissonance. It is the aftermath, the blowback, the collateral damage wrought by wars.
  
  That is why I said what I said.
  
• 
  35

  Sexual Depredation as a function of male society by men of a Certain Age

  by TerryWalstrom in

  1. jw
  2. friends

  i would like to remind those folks younger than i that it was very few years ago when almost the entire planet earth was run by and for the benefit of men.women have throughout history been the property of men.due to religious restrictions, teachings, and fundamentalist doctrines, women in the largest societies on earth right now (muslim, chinese, n.korean) have almost no human rights at all.next year, in june, women will, for the 1st time, be allowed in arabia to drive---but--only if they are 30 years old or older, and for only a few hours per day!the old testament laws (read through them sometime) are horrifying reflective of prejudice toward gender, bodily cleanliness, guilt-tripping, and anonymity.

  (what was noah's wife's name?

  lot's wife?

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  TerryWalstrom

  So why does the cause of feminism need you and the rest of us to die?
  _____
  
  
  I see civilization in the last few hundred years as chunks of time between World Wars.
  Men went off to fight WWI and left women at home.
  The older men and the younger men stayed behind.
  Each time this sort of thing occurs, there is a power shift.
  The MAN OF THE HOUSE position was filled by either old men or young men who had to "take care of the women."
  This meant hard work and sacrifice.
  Those men were put upon, exhausted, and strained by exigency.
  So what?
  So, the "BAD NATURE" of such men is let loose.
  They have "needs."
  Food on the table. Sex. Respect.
  If those needs weren't met--depending on the man and his circumstances--he might well become demanding, coarse, bullying and abusive.
  Women had VERY FEW resources to survive outside of trading their sex.
  What else could they bargain with?
  I said all the above so I could say this:
  Several generations of men and women were in a crucible which molded their habits, ethos, thinking, core beliefs, and POWER STRUCTURE.
  
  Those people were hardened. They were forged by forces insuperable. These are Red State folks.
  The generations which came after them were increasingly disgusted.
  
  The 60's was the first generational BREAK in sex and culture.
  That divide was never healed.
  That generation is one of two worlds.
  Until my BOOMER generation has vanished, the voting influence (vote for Trump, McCain, etc.) will remain powerful enough to create damage.
  
  Electing Donald Trump was the work of Baby Boomers with American flags, guns, the Bible, and all those "core values" sizzling at white-hot zeal.
  That generation has many double standards about men, women, sex, and behavior in general. We speak with forked tongue because we suffer mightily from cognitive dissonance. It is the aftermath, the blowback, the collateral damage wrought by wars.
  
  That is why I said what I said.
• 
  7

  60's Sexual Revolution to the outing of Powerful Predators

  by TerryWalstrom in

  1. watchtower
  2. scandals

  in the late 1960's a big change happened in sexual culture in the u.s. and england.women asserted their "right" to become more aggressive and obtrusive in their dealings with men.

  however, the louts, the jerks, the hyper-aggressive males were only encouraged (in their male fantasies) to lower women even more as a result of this.

  bra burning, short skirts, "free sex", was seen as a green light to do as you please and to relegate "respect for women" to discarded and antiquated manners of a bygone generation.i was in a puritanical religious cult during all this.when all the "fun" began, i was either in prison or going door to door peddling end of the world scenarios.the chief reason i got married was to avoid sex!

  1. 
  2. 
  3. 
• 

  TerryWalstrom

  In the late 1960's a BIG change happened in sexual culture in the U.S. and England.
  Women asserted their "right" to become more aggressive and obtrusive in their dealings with men.
  
  However, the louts, the jerks, the hyper-aggressive males were only encouraged (in their male fantasies) to lower women even more as a result of this.
  
  Bra burning, short skirts, "free sex", was seen as a green light to do as you please and to relegate "respect for women" to discarded and antiquated manners of a bygone generation.
  
  
  I was in a Puritanical religious cult during all this.
  
  When all the "fun" began, I was either in prison or going door to door peddling End of the World scenarios.
  The chief reason I got married was to AVOID sex! (Of a religiously termed "illicit" nature.)
  In a way, that is as sick as anything else going wrong with my generation of males.
  
  I should NOT have been married when I decided I must.
  How many JW's did the same and ended up frustrated and unfulfilled?
  Religious cults and evangelical churches sent forth into this world some overhyped dirty minds.
  I have discovered in the last few years by conversing with various EX-JW's the astounding fact their JW husbands were sick, twisted, and often cold sexual partners.
  Men outside of religion and men inside religion had frustrations of a different sort. It was a question of personal character on the one hand and simply the "way things were" when they were born.
  
  What women, in general, did not realize was this.
  Men dominated culture, business, religion, politics, and damned near everything else. Opening the door to "equality" in sex was an invitation to BACKFIRE.(Unintended consequences.)
  
  Men of a predatory nature--sleazy, ill-mannered, and entitled--would take full advantage of the imbalance in power by leveraging a young woman's desire to advance by trading her sex for opportunities.
  
  When I was a young man, my ideas about how men treated women whom they wanted as sex partners were "modeled" for me in movies and books. James Bond, Cary Grant, Rock Hudson, had very colorful techniques. I watched, I listened, I learned.
  All the above were mostly hyped fiction and male fantasy fulfillment.
  
  HOW WAS I TO KNOW the difference?
  
  Men are the gatekeepers.
  Not as much or as many or as exclusively as before the sexual revolution. Men have been driven underground in their malfeasance. They've become less obvious. Predators have adapted to the politically correct language to camouflage their intentions.
  In fact, outspoken men who make a loud gesture of support may well be signaling more than their "virtue"---it may be their "sheep's clothing" on the wolf.
  
  Congregations are run by MEN exclusively. What filter, what test is there to root out predators or twisted characters with disgusting minds?
  NONE.
  It is what men "profess" with their lips and their outward behavior which indicates whether they'll make great Elders or not.
  
  One thing for sure, "Jehovah's Holy Spirit" is guiding nothing.
  Outside the Kingdom Hall, bad men and good men are actually competing for the same jobs and JW's seldom have positions of any power in real life. They can only wield power at HOME spiritually and in the Hall with privileges.
  When "obey your husband" comes into the bedroom--red flags may well fly.
  
  All the bad guys are STILL THERE. They spin a web and catch a fly and only if the fly escapes and blows the whistle is the spider in the harsh spotlight of public disdain and retribution.
  MEN WHO PREY ON WOMEN are everywhere!
  They have always been there.
  
  They look out for each other. They have each other's back. They play dumb. They pretend to be "shocked" if somebody is exposed who is their partner in crime.
  CALLING THEM WHAT THEY ARE is a gigantic advancement in civilization!
  We need to keep up the trend and sniff out who is hiding behind what covers of civility and our willingness to show NO MERCY is the only thing which matters.
  Unless these men pay a huge price--unless they are fully held accountable--nothing will change except a cosmetic sense of fake rehabilitation.
  My opinion?
  You CANNOT REHABILITATE a sex predator. Never. Never. Never.
  It is etched into the very nature of their character.
  You can make them sneakier and they'll say all the right words--but don't be fooled by the idea of repentance.
  Repentance is our stupidity for believing they can change.
  
• 
  32

  not a new topic - really a pet peave

  by Moster in

  1. jw
  2. friends

  makes me crazy:.

  there: go over there!.

  their: they own it; belonging to etc.. for the love of pete - use them correctly!.

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  TerryWalstrom

  There is a free background program you can run called Grammarly which will solve this problem.

  http://www.thewindowsclub.com/grammarly-free-firefox-chrome-windows
• 
  59

  A Little Direction Please

  by Brian J in

  1. social
  2. relationships

  i'm an active elder, cobe, just got home from the meeting where i handled the treasures part and concluded by announcing a friend of mine has been d/f,.....blah blah blah...and over the last year have woken up.

  i simply cannot spill my guts to my wife and children as it would be family suicide.

  i have zero desire to bash, spread my feelings, or become an "apostate".

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  TerryWalstrom

  I would suggest printing some copies of the document below at a print shop locally and having it assembled into a simple ring binder with an unobtrusive cover.
  Label HISTORY of OLD LIGHT / NEW LIGHT through the years
  
  Leave it out in the open around the house.
  There is nothing inside which can be disputed. Better still, it speaks for itself.
  https://docs.google.com/document/d/1UrjfNBy6jlZ8lSibVe7VSRgihTxkwqbrLUzIHLGFH-E/edit?usp=sharing

  
  
  
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  7

  Roommates, Zombies and Napoleon Brandy

  by TerryWalstrom in

  1. jw
  2. friends

  the setting: i live in a big house as a renter of one bedroom.

  there are four other bedrooms and roommates.one of the more recent move-ins is robert.

  robert drives a very large blue truck with a 50mm machine gun mount on the hood, stenciled lettering: zombie assault vehicle, and --well...i've come to think of him as robert the zombie killer.then, there's a young fellow with wild, long, bizarre hair, and another guy with dozens of tats... fun and roommate games___ i received the text about an hour after i arrived back at the house.

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  TerryWalstrom

  I'll have to check out A.S.I.P. A.S.A.P.

  Thanks!
• 
  7

  Roommates, Zombies and Napoleon Brandy

  by TerryWalstrom in

  1. jw
  2. friends

  the setting: i live in a big house as a renter of one bedroom.

  there are four other bedrooms and roommates.one of the more recent move-ins is robert.

  robert drives a very large blue truck with a 50mm machine gun mount on the hood, stenciled lettering: zombie assault vehicle, and --well...i've come to think of him as robert the zombie killer.then, there's a young fellow with wild, long, bizarre hair, and another guy with dozens of tats... fun and roommate games___ i received the text about an hour after i arrived back at the house.

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  TerryWalstrom

  Weird Al (my Hippy Dippy roommate) asked the question:
  "Do you got any wine?"
  Well...
  "I do got."
  So, I pull the bottle out of my sacred hidey hole.
  Why?
  Weird Al has found a special place my widdle heart.
  He's sooo damn sincere.
  When I rode up on my bicycle and came around the corner earlier this evening, Weird Al was rockin' out with his electric guitar outside in the courtyard.
  He looked embarrassed.
  I laughed.
  "What-no amplifier?"
  "Oh, hey man--like, Dude..I was wailin' and the neighbor next door came over."
  "Yes...?"
  "And like, he sort of made it pretty clear."
  "Yes...?"
  "He's not one to appreciate my amplifier. So, I unplugged."
  "That's cool."
  "Yeah. Dude. Fuckin' A."
  ___
  After I magically produced my finest $3 bottle of Winking Owl Shibaz, Weird Al assured me he could open it.

  "But Al, we don't have an opener. When Richard moved out, he took his corkscrew with him."

  "Dude! Dude! I can, like, do this thing. I know how to open a cork."

  Ten minutes later, he had attacked the stubborn bottle with scissors, a paintbrush handle, a pair of pliers, and his teeth.
  The cork remained steadfast and virginal.

  "Dude!!" He was clearly vexed. Mightily.

  I took mercy on him.
  I suggested we might want to invest in a corkscrew which could be purchased at the Dollar Tree for a buck.
  He departed like a puppy for a bag of puppy chow.
  Then, the other Terry arrived. ("I'm the cute one." You'll recall his words.)

  He had shared his grotesque bottle of Chilean wine with me last night.
  We swapped ex-wife stories.
  This evening as he walked in my eyes brightened.

  "There's the second best Terry in the entire house and the owner of a remarkable forensic device known as the corkscrew!"
  I gestured toward my bottle of Winking Owl.
  Quicker than you could say, "Bob's yer Uncle." The wine was flowing into our glasses.
  We toasted our favorite body parts and started killing the bottle.
  After about half an hour, Weird Al suddenly returns.

  "Ah, like--Dude--I got lost."

  The two Terry's gave each other a look.

  Weird Al revealed a wonderful corkscrew.
  "How much was it?"
  "Dude, it was only like four ninety-eight and some change."
  "Where'd you buy it?"
  "Dude, it was the Dollar store."
  The two Terry's gave each other a look.
  _____
  Where is Weird Al as I type these words?
  He's headed to Trader Joe's for more wine.
  There wasn't any left, you see.
  It was, um, like--ya know...Dude--EMPTY!
  

  ____
  I am sitting here now watching Weird Al try to work a corkscrew on the wine he just brought back from Trader Joe's.
  It is like watching a hominid assemble furniture from IKEA.
  ____
  I've never seen a wine glass topped off with such proficiency as last night.
  As I removed myself from the kitchen, Al was teetering in the center of the kitchen, wine glass in hand, deep in contemplation of some of our universe's greatest abstractions.
  "It's like...ya know? Dude? It's...it's like that."
  I couldn't have agreed more.
  This morning, two dead wine bottles lay under the table like strangulation victims on a morgue slab.
  There was no sign of Al's body. I assume he is upstairs slumbering.