Some folks have a low tolerance for Buick-driving blue heads (for those not in the know, blue heads refer to those whose hair is a bluish-tinted gray). And, there are still others who get red-faced by the antics of pampered, postpubescent pukes who give little and expect all.
Where you are on Don’s highly scientific No Patience Chart usually is based on whether or not, or how close, you are to either blue heads or postpubescent pukes.
I am the quintessential All-American Ambivalent Male (AAAM, for short). I base this lackadaisical stance of the generations on the fact I am equally close to blue heads as to postpubescent pukes. Hmmmmm? Upon further introspection, my ambivalence must also have roots in this: The face I see in my mirror every morning sports an ever-graying beard. Despite said graying beard and achy body parts, some still insist my inner-child leads to sophomoric tendencies, ergo immature ways. That last part really sucks.
Go figure.
All this leads up to . . . were I French, I would not be a member of the AFAMS (All-French Ambivalent Male Soci’t?). Were I a French male, beside having an affinity for long walks in the moonlight, thin cigarettes, cheese and wine, I would hate both the old AND the young — uhm — males. (It’s a scientific fact genetically speaking, French males can only love women. They may hate to love them, but, regardless of age, French Male DNA demands femina amor — love of women. That ‘fact? was gleaned from the pages of the very comprehensive and thoroughly researched, Don Rush’s Compilation of Knowledge of All Things Great and Small, so it must be true.)
Yep, just like soft, orange cheese in a can, I would be whizzed off at those males at either end of their prospective life-cycle.
I’d be angry at the million or so protesters (mostly young men) closing down and clogging up the country because they didn’t like proposed new labor legislation that would grant French employers a wee bit more freedom to fire any employee under the age of 26 for up to two years after being hired.
All this protesting would really put the damper on romantic walks in the moonlight by the Effiel Tower. What gal wants to be wooed while a bunch of whiney unemployed dudes are running around the streets causing undo pessimism, fear and anxiety?
I think I’d shout, ‘GET A JOB! But, don’t look for one in Michigan, cause it sucks there, too.?
Here in Michigan, unemployment is high. However, I read unemployment in France is about 10 percent. Worse for the younguns where one in four French pampered, postpubescent youth is without work. The irony of it is the French have high unemployment even though their blue headed politicians have essentially guaranteed French citizenry employment for life via weak-kneed and shortsighted legislation.
Were I a middle-aged French male, while I’d be upset with the guys coming up the rear, I’d be furious with those fat cats sitting in Parliament. (By the way, how can you have a Prime Minister and a President in the same country, as in France, and hope to get anything done?)
The whole French experiment of socialistic-democracy and cradle to grave care from the government seems to have cause France’s problems. Those problems can be laid on the laps of old-European politicians. Were I a French male columnist, I might write, ‘Off with their blue heads!?
Nah, I probably wouldn’t write that in light of how busy French guillotines were a couple of centuries ago, and how much more busy they would be now.
I guess I am not cut out to be a French guy. I reckon I’ll be content as an AAAM. But, I do predict before it is all said and done, the United States will get a glut of young French men, green cards in hand, seeking work Americans won’t do. So, men — watch out for your wives.
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