Hilarity Floods the Brain

The problem with dating someone generally more attractive than you isn’t so much the obvious equality gap that could lead to a life of complete and utter servitude (although that is one factor to consider) – it’s the constant negative attention.

Having spent a significant amount of my life as the denominator in that unfortunate equation, I’ve had ample time to study the situation, but as I’m a participant – I’ve always struggled a bit to see the outsider’s perspective.

What is it that makes you people constantly point out that I’m big and hairy and I only own two pairs of jeans? Why must you comment that my hair has looked the same since 1989, and that if George Burns and Shrek bumped, my feet would fall out? It must be some kind of intense emotional reaction that occurs deep inside the most basic part of the brain; bypassing whatever remnants of "filter" you have left.

Its mind-boggling. After years of observation, the nearest thing I can liken it to is the rush of hilarity that floods my brain when I see a big, hairy, male transvestite.

It just kind of funny. I don’t know why, but it is.

I’m not saying there’s anything wrong with wearing women’s clothing – millions of women out there wear them every day; I’m just saying a big hairy, chubby, beer-laden, bearded man wearing them makes me burst into loud, inappropriate laughter.

I can only assume that’s the way you guys feel when you see me slip into my Friday night khakis and trudge out on the town behind Tyler.

George Barnes, notable miscreant, may have summed it up best when, just two short weeks ago, he looked up from his seat by the fire at the deer camp, shot one brief glance in Tyler’s direction, then blurted across the room, loudly, and to no one in particular: “HEY!!! BOY HAS HE OUTPUNTED HIS COVERAGE OR WHAT!?!!.”

Thanks a lot, George. I’ve got enough hair on my chest to weave an Indian blanket.

JGE