Today's Musical Selection: "Searching For a Heart" by Warren Zevon
Good day, everyone! Before I deposit you in the advice-giving arms of Uncle Millie and Aunt Beatrice once again, I wanted to speak on behalf of baseball fans everywhere regarding last night's home-run derby: Miguel Tejada?! I mean, my God! 15 home runs in one round! That is the most in All-Star history. Even more than the year McGwire kept going yard in Fenway a few years back. Now, I'll grant, Tejada has pretty good pop... for a shortstop. But where did this outburst come from?
I will say that Tejada's victory serves as a delightful comeuppance to the commentariat, which could always use some comeuppance. Think about all the buzzing about the 500-homer men in the competition. "Oooooh, Bonds! Ooooooh, Sosa! Oooooh, Griffey!" The commentator drool threatened to flood the press-box at Don't-Call-Us-Enron Field. And along comes Tejada, who with diligent effort might join the 500-homer club if he plays until age 60, and he takes down the lot of them! It's the moments when the sport completely undermines the pre-fab storylines that I love the most.
But I digress. Uncle Millie and Aunt Beatrice are coming to us today from Denver, Colorado. Uncle Millie told me that he's dreaming up things to do in Denver when he's dead. I asked him if he'd come up with any ideas, and he told me, "Then, as now, I plan to spend a lot of time on my back." Is it any wonder that the ladies love him so? Without further ado, I give you: Uncle Millie and Aunt Beatrice!
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Love is Like Whiskey: Strong, Intoxicating, and Too Much Can Make You Sick If You Don't Know What You're Doing, by Uncle Millie and Aunt Beatrice
UM: Hello, lads! Today your favorite romantic advisors are doing their advising in the pleasant confines of the Rattlesnake Cafe here in Denver. I'm currently getting cozy with some good rye whiskey, so let me turn things over to the woman who's always got me on a Rocky Mountain high, Aunt Beatrice.
AB: Thank you, Millie. Hi, everybody! I wanted to start off today by assuring everyone who wrote in expressing concern about the fireworks incident from our last column. No one was hurt, and Uncle Millie did remember to take out the extra rental-car insurance, so we're not in dutch with the fine folks at Hertz. And Uncle Millie's annual fireworks spectacular went off, somewhat incredibly, without a hitch. No injuries and no police investigations.
UM: Naturally there were no police investigations, my dear. That's what my $500 a year buys. Do you think you're dealing with children?
AB: That would explain why we're not filing this column from jail, I suppose. But everything's fine, folks, so you can rest easy. No arrests, no injuries, no property damage.
UM: Well, the first two are true.
AB: What do you mean?
UM: Well, I heard from the Randalls down the street. You remember those lovely hollyhocks they used to have?
AB: Used to...? Never mind, I don't want to know. Let's just get to the letters.
Dear Uncle Millie and Aunt Beatrice,
Here's a bit of an unusual question. I've had a couple dates with "Megan", a woman I met through a dating service. She's beautiful, fun to talk to, and seems equally smitten by me. No problem, right? Here's the thing: I'm a conservative Republican, deeply committed to my beliefs, and I found out in casual conversation that she's an equally committed liberal Democrat. Now, I'm not one of those types that thinks Democrats aren't fit to breathe the same air as the rest of us, but I can foresee this becoming a big problem for us, especially as the election gets near. How much of a problem should this be?
Robert in Provo
UM: Ah, lad, you must make priorities. Are your politics so important to you that you'd allow them to come between you and a beautiful woman? Lad, nothing should come between you and a beautiful woman. Not race, creed, religion, politics, clothing...
AB: Uncle Millie's right, or at least as right as he ever gets. Couples that love each other can overcome differences like politics. Look at James Carville and Mary Matalin. Politically, they're quite different. And yet they're happily married. I think people who let things like politics define who they are, and keep themselves from enjoying otherwise pleasant relationships because of it, aren't worth knowing anyhow.
UM: My beloved wife has the right of it, lad. A gentleman should never narrow the pool of potential mates based on something immaterial to romance, such as politics. Only remove women from consideration based on issues that matter, such as whether she puts out on the first date.
AB: Millie!
UM: Are you saying that shouldn't matter?
AB: You- but- that doesn't- never mind. There's no point in arguing. Robert, rejecting a woman because of her politics sells her short. Get to know her better before making a judgment! If it turns out that she thinks Republicans aren't fit to breathe the same air as she is, that could cause a break-up. Not because she's a Democrat, however, but because she's a snob.
UM: When in doubt, trust in Uncle Millie's old axiom: The only time politics should become involved in a relationship is if you're making love in a voting booth.
AB: That's just gross.
UM: Au contraire, my love. Especially with the new touch-screen voting machines. I'm a supporter of those. Don't have to worry about the levers gouging into your back-
AB: Enough!
Dear Uncle Millie and Aunt Beatrice,
My girlfriend and I have been dating for about six months. We have a pretty good relationship overall: we have our ups and downs, but in the end we're happy with each other. There's one subject that is a constant problem for us, though, and that's my habit of looking at pretty women. This argument has naturally escalated as we've gotten into summer, and the women have been wearing clothing that reveals more of their God-given assets. Now, my position is that I'm a lover of natural beauty, and when it passes me on the street in a crop top, I should take advantage of the natural vistas. My girlfriend's argument is less coherent and logical, but the words "disgusting" and "pig" are usually involved.
Now, it's not like I say anything to these women. I don't even whistle. I just look. Is that so wrong?
Mike in Waltham
AB: Hi, Mike. And yes, it is wrong. Your admiration of "natural beauty" is very touching, but mountains and trees can't tell you're staring at them, so there's a big difference. Also, it shows a lack of respect for your girlfriend when you stare at other women. Why don't you stick to appreciating the "natural beauty" by your side?
UM: Poppycock. A man living next to the Grand Canyon would eventually cease to be stunned by its majesty after seeing it every day. Staring at other women keeps the eyes fresh, and in fact probably keeps him from getting bored with his current lady. Am I right, lad? It acutally strengthens the relationship.
AB: I don't believe this.
UM: You and I both know, lad, that admiring pretty women is a man's God-given right. After all, why would He have given us eyes, if not to appreciate the wonder of His creations? It's our duty as God's creatures to look, and don't let any woman tell you different. The key, lad, is subtlety. For instance, now that it's summer you should be able to get away with wearing dark glasses in public. Saves the eyes, don't you know? And assuming the glasses are dark enough, you should be able to observe more discreetly, provided you don't crane your neck excessively. And if you do, you should work on developing your peripheral vision.
AB: I have to say, Mike, that if I were your girlfriend, I'd probably be willing to settle for a "look but don't touch" policy. I wish I could institute that policy around here.
UM: Once again, God has commanded His children to "be fruitful and multiply." So I simply-
AB: Oh, save it.
Dear Uncle Millie and Aunt Beatrice,
Why are men such scum? I'm 28, and I've just about had it. They say they'll call and they don't. They cheat on you. They tell you you're the only one for them, then pick up other women the minute you're out of sight. They're too loud, too crude, they never listen, they're obsessed with sex and sports. Argh!
When I was younger, my mother wanted me to be a nun. I thought she was crazy. Now I think she might have had the right idea. Are all men really as awful as the ones I seem to wind up with all the time? If not, where are all the good ones?
Sally in Carson City
UM: Ah, my dear, I know it can seem as though all men are dreadful when you're having a run of bad luck. But at heart, beneath the bluster and the vanity, most men are decent fellows. Plenty of them would listen to you, treat you with the love and respect you deserve, practically worship the ground you walk on, if given a chance.
Where are they? A lot of them are probably as confused and discouraged as you, convinced that they'll never find the right woman out there. To find them, stay away from the usual bar scenes, and look off the beaten path. Ignore the gentlemen who come toward you with their brash pickup lines and capped teeth, and look for the ones sitting alone, perhaps too shy to make a move. The gems are out there, my dear, if you know where to look.
AB: That's touching, Millie. And what he said of men is certainly true of him. He's got his layers of bluster and vanity - a lot of them in fact - but there really is a heart of gold underneath. And if you take the time to get to know men like him, you'll find that... Millie, who's that waving at you?
UM: I don't see anyone.
AB: Over there, in the corner. The one who's... walking this way.
UM: Oh, that's, um... my eyesight's not too good... oh, it's my cousin Debbie. Hi, Debbie, dear!
D: Millie! I finally found you again!
AB: She's a kissing cousin, I see.
D: What's she talking about? And who is she, anyway?
UM: Well, this is-
D: So is this the Mile High Club?
UM: Mile High Club? I'm not sure I understand.
D: When I met you on the plane, you said you wanted to make me a member of the Mile High Club. Remember? So, where is it?
AB: So, this is your cousin, is she?
UM: I think this may be a case of mistaken identity. Excuse me for a second, won't you?
AB: Certainly. Now, where was I? Oh, yes, Sally: all men are scum. The sooner you come to terms with that, the better.
Anyhow, we should be back in two weeks. Provided we're both still alive then. See you then. And on behalf of Uncle Millie, happy hunting!
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Thank you, Uncle Millie and Aunt Beatrice, as always, for that... educational experience. They'll be back in a fortnight.
Having nothing to add, I think I'll take my leave as well. Enjoy the All-Star game tonight! See you tomorrow!
Posted by Fred at July 13, 2004 04:53 PM