I’m Glad I’m a Guy … Human Type

There are times when I’m really glad I’m a guy … a human guy!

George M. Cohan, told us that “The birds do it … bees do it … even educated fleas do it.”

It’s true … every morning I stroll along the shores and boardwalk of Lake Dora, one of the larger lakes in Central Florida.

I refer to it as the “Gators’ Single Bar”  ‘cause the gators are out in force … sunning, strutting, bellowing … and occasionally “roughing it up” with one another.

Recently, I walked out our front door and literally stumbled over two wise Bard Owls engaged in a feather flying “love smack down” … right in my driveway!

All this Mother Nature activity, emboldened Seriously Absurd’s “Crack-Love-Research Staff” to look into some of the more strange and absurd humping habits among the species.


The Praying Mantis pays a dear price for his sexual fling.

Mama Mantis subscribes to the idea that “If you bug me enough you’ll get what you deserve.”

Scientific rumor has it that while Joe Mantis is literally losing his head … thanks to the Missus … his sexual fervor is heightened so he’s assured of successfully completing the act.

Whoopie … she gets mantis kids … and he gets dead!


How about exploding genitals.  Exploding genitals?

Yep … in the honeybee hive, only the Drones get to “get it on” with the Queen Bee.  But wait … there’s a price to pay for being one of “the chosen!”

Apparently the successful insemination of the Queen requires that the Drone’s sperm be “locked” into the Queen’s body cavity.  The Drone’s genitals … mainly his penis … explode during the act thus sealing the Queen’s cavity from the competition.

I think we can assume that post-penile-explosion the now “dickless” Drone falls to the wayside … and becomes ant fodder.


Then there’re those kinky porcupines.

The male spots a potential mate and promptly pees all over her … looking for a “go ahead signal” from her!

Okay … scientists explain it away as a “pheromone thing” which helps her determine if he’s “worthy.”

I dunno about you … but that just sounds like a “Trump Moscow Thing” to me!


So I’m glad I’m a human male and don’t have to deal with “off with my head,” an exploding dick, or what would happen to me if I peed all over my mate … all for the sake of “love.”

Just sayin’ …

Devil asks God for a Summit …

Summits are in vogue … everybody wants one … even the Devil … in his case, with God.

Location … heaven …  God at his desk … bright-red-hot-line phone pulsates … destroys God’s moment of Zen … ringtone’s “There’ll be a Hot Time in the Old Town Tonight!”

He presses “Talk” and says, “Whaz-zup, Beelz?” … playing the black hipster this time.

The Devil sighs at God’s little joke.  “We gotta meet.  Call it a ‘Summit’ … or whatever.”


God’s leg’s jiggling a mile-a-minute as he waits impatiently for the Devil.  He picked Altitude Sky Lounge, a rooftop bar in San Diego, based on Yelp reviews.

God likes to support His creations … He thought Yelp was a good one.

In strolls the Devil … sporting a full-length animal fur … anyplace out-of-Hell is freezing to Beelzebub … besides, he loves splash and spectacle when he comes out to play on earth.


The Devil says nothing … sits and glares.  He hates that God can be anyone, anywhere, anytime … and always seems to enjoy Himself … so cool.

“I’ll come right to the point GD” … the Devil always refers to God as “GD” … as in God Damn … which he loves because when God damns someone, it’s another one way ticket punched for Hell.

“I need more space.

“The way things’re going on earth, we can’t keep up.  I’ve got a crisis on my hands down there.  You gotta create about 25% more space for me just for the current US government.”


“C’mon, Beelz … you can’t be that close to capacity.  I know it seems a bit out of hand now, but don’t you think Mueller’s gonna make a dent in things?  And we’ve got the midterms coming up.  Give it a little more time.”

“Are you crazy, Old Man?  At the rate Mueller’s going and the GOP’s not going … BTW, I love that baby snatching … Trump’s got some balls don’t he?

“I’m expecting an influx that’ll make border crossings look like a snail parade.

“And these folks are complainers … c’mon.

“Manafort’s already pissy about no sheets for his jail cot … that twerp Pruitt … not to mention that complete A-hole, Corey Lewandowski!

“And I haven’t even gotten to pundits and GOP congressional leaders.

“I really think I’m too old for this shit.”


“Funny you should mention that,” replies God.

“I was just thinking that we might switch you out for some fresh blood … so to speak.

“Someone who’s really despicable … someone like …”

“The 45th President?” interrupts the Devil.

God smiles … “If you’re ready, I think we can snag him.”

The Devil smiles and asks, “How soon?”


Just sayin’ …

Let’s Blame Walt …

The Royal Wedding’s come and gone … and the tabloids already have the Princess pregnant!

In spite of America’s blue collar-ness … lift me up by my own bootstraps-ness … work my way to the top-ness … we seem to have a penchant for believing in princess fairy tales.

And the idea of another American Princess got the crack “Princess Research Team” of Seriously Absurd busy lookin’ for the facts … just the facts!


You might think that American Princesses are rare … but then you’d be wrong.

Prior to Meghan Markel, there have been 11 other real-life-human-American princesses.

We all know about Grace Kelly … but did you know Rita Hayworth was also a “for real princess?”


Thanks to Walt Disney, the creator of the “I’m-A-Fake American-Princess-But-I-May-As-Well-Be-Real” … the total number of “American princesses” is in fact twenty-three.

Walt and his Disney Marketeers brought 11 Disney princesses to life from their celluloid world to reign in the dream world of countless little girls.

His fairytale princesses promoted female stereotypes … they lacked color, ethnic diversity and strength … and were all rescued by their Prince Charming.

Another unintended consequence?  Disney princesses literally did “live happily ever after” … and after.

But the reality is that real princesses often disappoint … plus there’s no guarantee of that “happily ever after” crap.  Our mortal princesses die off … some sooner rather than later.


The Duchess of Sussex, AKA Meghan Markel, is actually America’s 2nd princess of color.

The title of first belongs to “Post-Walt’s” Disney, Tiana, an African-American role model who debuted in 2009 … only 72 short years after Snow White’s American premier in 1937.

So, Black girls aspiring to princess-dom finally have a real-life princess as a role model, the Duchess of Sussex … as well as “The Duchess of Disney,” Tiana.


Though Walt’s campaign to “princess-ize” America remained sparkling white and limited girls to stereotypical roles … the world does and did change.

And fortunately for us, so has Disney’s continued “princess-izing” of American girls.

More recent Disney princesses include women with strong athletic skills, traces of feminism, ethnic diversity (Asian, Black, Native American), and you can add a fierce independence with Princess Merida … the first to not have a “prince” in her life!


Hopefully we can add the British Royal Family to that sea of change … Meghan and Harry definitely plan to leave their stamp on Buckingham Palace.

Now if we could only teach our daughters that real princesses create their own “happily ever afters.”

Just sayin’ …

“High Noon” … a remake?

The Scene …

Manhattan … 5th Avenue … the watches in Tiffany’s, clocks in Bergdorf’s and Abercrombie all read 11:50 AM … approaching twelve P.M.

The “Ballad of High Noon” blasts over speakers strung along the designated block of 5th Avenue.

“Do not forsake me on my darlin’ ….”


Media vans and emergency vehicles line the Avenue … a “yuuge and biggly” crowd sits in makeshift sidewalk grandstands … lottery winners who ponied-up 5G’s to witness.

The press gallery’s jammed with representatives from around the world … only PBS and Telemundo declined.


At one end of 5th, a tall rather orange looking man struts … catching the wind, orangey-blonde-hair-wisps reveal his hidden comb over … squinty eyes peek between face-lifted creases as he stares down his nemesis.

At the other end of the block, a taller, thinner, lanky and relaxed man stands … arms loosely dropped at his side.

His eyes cold and blue … fixed on the pacing bloater … relaxed in the knowledge that he’s been trained in the use of his trusty Glock-9.


“Unfair,” yells L’Orange.  “Unfair.”

Glancing down at his spanking clean oil-glistened NRA issue AR15 clenched in itty-bitty hands, he bellows, “I don’t know how to use this thing!”

“They didn’t teach you how to fire a weapon in your ‘military school?’  Maybe you shoulda signed up for the FBI … weapons training’s mandatory,” says the Lanky One, a trace of a smile on his face as he strides forward … closing the gap between them.

“Also negotiating … required training … wanna try talking your way outta this?  Rudy and Cohen still on your speed dial?

“Lordy … I’d say you’re in a pickle … I’ll let you go first … go ahead.”


L’Orange whips the AR15 to his waist and yanks the trigger.

In 45 seconds 100 rounds of 5.56 NATO hollow points strafe the street … dust, asphalt and cement chunks leap into the air … windows blow out from the stores on 5th Avenue … media vans and emergency vehicles’re riddled … smoking and hissing.

Finger locked on the trigger … L’Orange hears nothing but click-click-click.

As the dust settles two reporters, a TV cameraman, three cable news pundits and sundry GOP ticket holders are victims … just collateral damage.

An unscathed slow moving silent silhouette continues forward.


The crowd’s still …  cameras rolling.

A shot’s chambered with an ominous click of a Glock-9.

Slowly the Lanky One raises his arm … aims and gently rests his finger on the Glock’s trigger … the front of L’Orange’s cammo pants suddenly darken … totally soaked as a round strikes the pavement inches from his combat boots.

The Lanky One smiles … pivots … waves to the crowd and exits …

Just dreamin’ …