Friday, July 01, 2005


I have been sitting on my butt for the last month. I decided to go get a teaching job next year and encouraged DJJ to put it where the sun doesn't shine. Anyhow, I've been office bound for the last month and this has made me a regular with some of my neighbors.

One of them, a guy who is an accountant across the hallway from me, is a VietNam refugee who had his wife come in about a week ago and lit off a 12 gauge through his door because he had been visiting a "pleasure house" run by another neighbor. The upshot was that I wound up bonding his old lady out on a weapons charge. As often happens, I have suddenly become the guy's best friend. Sigh.

He tells me that he has been taking Enzyte and couldn't help himself. He's a middle aged accountant for Christ's sake. And he was afraid that he was not getting it up as he expected so he got a bottle of this Enzyte so that he could get some of that Viagra boner medicine. And it got out of hand so he was going upstairs to sample some of the charms of the "pleasure girls". There's a bakua game and whore house in the neighborhood. Don't ask. It's just one of the facts of life for VietNamese culture.

Now, this is a respected professional man in the heart of the Southern Dixie Cracker Belt, not some Oriental Getto outside of Peking. Orlando, Florida for God's sake! Now, his wife has apparently made the complete conversion from VietNam to Cracker seamlessly. Most of the women in my life would have exactly the same reaction if they were confronted with the same set of facts that he presented to her. He's lucky she didn't do a Bobbitt on him (that's what my resident experts on Women's Rights... the team of my daughter and the surrogate Mom).

Since then I've noticed some of the Enzyte ads on TV. This is some kind of herbal supplement. It doesn't promise anything but it has a real cute ad campaign... wierd, but effective. A goofy guy fondles penis symbols with a maniac grin on his face while his sexless spouse hovers nearby with a stunned look on her face. He gets new clothes, new golf clubs, and a new lease on life.

Fifty bucks a bottle for an herbal supplement. Amazing. And this guy is paying a bondsman, and a lawyer, and maybe a divorce too. All because he is getting a little older and is afraid that his pecker might be older than his memory.

I started thinking... the guy is younger than I am, and I don't seem to have any trouble in the sex department. Of course, my daughter and the surrogate mom both agree that like most guys, my imagination is active in excess of the realities. But I haven't started trying to manufacture any chemical hard ons.

And... I don't think that false hardons are such a good idea. First of all, all the women in my life who wanted to have sex with me actually "wanted" to do the deed. If I were to just show up carrying a chemically induced boner you could't get my girl friend to welcome sex with that thing if you were to put a gun to her head. So what are these guys supposed to do with these boners if only the guy wants to do the deed? Suddenly, the guys finds himself wandering into a whorehouse. What the hell is that all about? Is he so afraid of dying? Afraid of not getting it up. Too old? Can you get too old to get it up? I think not. You just don't believe that the thing will work. My grandfather was proof of the fact that sex is all between your ears. He was an old guy with very sexy ears.

The simple fact is that 99% of sex is between your ears, not between your legs. And age? Well, my grandfather died when he was 106 years old. One hundred and six! Nobody knew how old grandma was, but my mother once told me that grandma had once told her that after Grandpa's death the biggest thing she missed was the sex. Yup.. those old codgers were in there doing the dirty and he was 106.

Who the hell needs Enzyte?