-> THE SEX COLUMN
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SAN FRANCISCO - I think there's been a big misunderstanding among people about what is and ain't worth having. This comes to mind especially when I think about all the guff I've gotten from some folks over my predilection toward bimbos (bim.) But this time Charlie isn't going to just speak for himself, I mean to speak for all those men -- from Frank Sinatra on up ‚ who have gotten a huge ration from a lot of people for choosing to have nice-looking (and sometimes younger) frails on their arms. You've heard the terms people use for these kind of women: "Ornament" or "Trophy." The latter being connected a lot of with that four-letter word "wife."Let's think about the other end of that spectrum for a second. . I mean, if you ain't gonnah have some hot Bim on your arm, that means you end up with some "average" chick OR you do what every man would really like to do and find an Ornament OR you announce to the world what a true Loser you are by going for a Lapdog.
We've all seen the Lapdog type of chick. She is always starry-eyed about her man. She worships the damned ground he walks on. She is a mousy-looking, low self-esteem, whiney care-giver who can't spend more than three hours alone by herself without thinking that she's about to get kicked to the curb. She's that chick that everybody is always trying to set you up with because she has "a nice personality." That's about all she has going for her and she overplays that "niceness" because she secretly suspects that most fun people who rather not be around her. She's right. So she has to be the Lapdog of her chosen victim --- ehm! I mean, lover.
Any guy who goes around in public with a dame like this is announcing to the whole world through a damned megaphone to that he had to settle for the Lapdog because no self-respecting woman would have his Loser ass and he knows he doesn't have a snow ball's chance in Hell of landing a Bim, Ornament or Trophy like the Winners in the crowd.
Please consider the following:
LAPDOG SAYS: "I just love being around my man because he's not like other guys. He's just so intelligent.""I just love being around him and I think he is fond of me, too. But I understand that he needs some time to himself."
CHARLIE THE TUNA SAYS: I get it; you can't say He's strong, smart enough to be actually making bank, handsome or ambitious, so you say he's intelligent all the time so you'll both feel better. If he was really intelligent, he'd know what we think of him when we see him with you.
You're right, he finds your little Goodie Two-shoes Schtick as freakin' irritating as the rest of us but is willing to put up with it because you're easy. He's too lazy to put any real effort into a relationship.
So I just have to speak up for the those of us in the Ornament column for a second here, like I said earlier, and ask those of you so down on those of us who can pull Ornaments and Trophies to look at the pathetic picture just painted above. It's like watching two retards make-out at the local McDonald's in Charlie the Tuna's book. Major Hurl material.
'Cause usually the type of guy who chooses a Lapdog is your spineless, posing, pencil-necked, lazy-assed whiner himself. He wouldn't any more know what it was like to be a Man than a hen needs dentures. You've seen this type of guy before: a nerdy little fucker who bends over backwards to be a hipster. He still listens to Slayer and complains that he's always exhausted because he actually had to lift a beer from the bartop or a cigarette from an ashtray. One honest day's work would put His Wimpiness out of commission for three days. One major way of spotting these miscreants is that they worship other dysfunctional folks like themselves. They think there's something "badass" about Losers like Dylan Klebold, et alia, who look down at the world from their holes in the ground.
The kind of guys who are always mad at the world and talking about kicking some ass, but who know as well as the rest of us that the only way they'll ever do that is pull a "postal" or just go off their nut like some pathetic high school kid with an automatic weapon. Because the only way their sorry asses will ever kick any butt is from a great distance and only if it doesn't entail anything genuinely badass like the possibility of they themselves getting hurt.
In other words, the kind of guys who need the Lapdogs to worship them because the rest of us, especially the Men in this world, pity them.
That said, I'd rather be a Captain of Industry, aged 60 and pot-bellied, who could show up at the nightclub with a gold-diggin' Bim on my sleeve ANY DAY OF THE WEEK before I'd like to be some "swanky" middle-aged Boho dude with Goody Two-Shoes clingin' to me like Saran Wrap.
In fact, from the Tuna point of view, it shows more hair to go stag than to show up with a lapdog in tow. People judge you by the company you keep and by your girlfriends. Hot girlfriend means you've got something going for you, even if it's "only" a huge bank account. Mousy or wimpy girlfriends say you have problems in life, with money, or more than likely both.
Don't even start that "Butăbutăbut!" crap, 'cause you know you'll just being lying to defend yourself. It doesn't matter what you or I say about this. It's the way of the world whether we are willing to accept it or not.
Which leads us quite nicely into the reason you all come here, Gentlemen,
The Tuna Philosophy
This week, since we've been looking at Losers v. Winners and Lapdogs v. Ornaments, I thought it would be a good time to share with you the Tuna Philosophy on keepin' the gene pool nice and healthy.
- NUMERO UNO: Size does matter. Short people have no reason... Randy Newman might have been joking, but Charlie's not. Now I know it makes some of you guys feel like King Kong to make the sign of the double aardvark with these munchkin-sized ladies, but let's face it: you want your kids to be called "Shortie", "Shrimp" or "Half-pint?" I didn't think so. In Charlie's book, a frail ain't worth the time of day if she isn't at least five foot five. Think about the term "statuesque," guys. Then imagine your young son or daughter being patted on their heads at age twenty-five by their boss and being called "cute" like Michael J. Fox.
- NUMERO DUO: If you're serious, get a gander at the old folks at home. I mean it, get a look at the parents as soon as you can. Are all of the people on Dad's side known for being prematurely bald? (Remember that old sayin', "It takes a man to make a boy." They weren't just whistlin' "Dixie." It takes extra testosterone to support a full head of hair in most men. Think Dean Martin, Bill Clinton.) Did Moms balloon up like the Goodyear blimp after having her rugrats? That's what your Intended will look like in less than twenty years. You have been warned.
- NUMERO THREE-O: Check the RX records. This is important. And I don't just mean the usual vetting of getting their latest STD report.
Sure, you want to make sure they haven't been sleeping around too much and won't give you some October Surprise --- especiallly before you're even sure they're Keeper material. But after that and the Main Event, the next thing on your list should be getting to know their medical history and that of their family. The sooner the better.
Is there a history of heart attacks, diabetes, bunons, you name it, in their bloodline? Those are not the type of genes you want to pass on to your children and grandchildren, Webster. Sure, sometimes your heart tells you that a few recessive genes here and there, especially if they're not overwhelmingly apparent, goes with the Heinz 57 nature of the world. BUT REMEMBER: This is the future of your entire progeny you are dealing with. Take it seriously. It makes the difference between producing an Olympic Gold Medalist and the town drunk.
Until next time, Charlie the Tuna reminds my faithful readers to: Stay Hard.
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