ya think????
Posted on 07/17/2007 5:31:06 AM PDT by period end of story
This is a disgusting photo. It’s an in your face photo and does not speak for all the good men and women out there who are married, raising families and truly love and care for each other. This is “surface” only. Real love would never be this kind of garbage.
Doing great, thanks. How’s the wife and those two beautiful girls? I loved that pic of one in the Guiness hat last week. Dang, they are too cute!
thats half the guys I know. And it makes me sick!
What if the article was reversed? Bag a female. That would be so wrong.
Sick.
Makes me sick.
The only thing that makes me more sick is the ‘men’ that let it happen.
And yep, most women passed the teen college passion are looking for security and $$$.
No, we are creating a society in which people don't grow up even in their 20s. It used to be in the teens you had to grow up--life was too tough not to. Now if we're lucky they finally grow up in their thirties--but by then it's too late for a normal family life--the woman's biological clock is too far along and the wasted years have made it difficult even to understand how to be husband/wife, mother/father.
And the whole Boomer generation never grew up--it elected a man with a 14-year-old's level of maturity to be president of the United States. If that isn't symbolic of the mess we're in, I don't know what is.
Heaven help us as the Boomers hit 65 and 70 and the whole Social Security joke explodes and they whine and bitch about how society is unfair to them. . . . It's my generation but I became disgusted with them 20 years ago.
When this whole house of cards affluence collapses and life gets tough again, we'll start growing up in the teen years again. The problem is the immense violence and destruction that comes with the collapse.
To shallow, materialistic woman, this is true.
To spiritual, internally-beautiful women, SPIRITUALITY makes us beautiful.
At least it is the case for my darling, beautiful Karen.
I don’t think it is everyone. It’s always the big mouths that speak the loudest with nothing really to say.
One day these botox clowns will wake up. Their skin will have fallen and there is no more botox to be had because they won’t be able to take it any longer. Whatever else they had fixed will be sagging too. The life wrinkles and lines will appear and there ya are.
The men and women who lived their lives
Loved their families
Raised their children
Worked together all those years for their families
Cared for each other will now be there for each other in their twilight years...helping one another and loving one another when it is needed the most. Their children will be there as well and the love they shared over their years will sustain them until the end. How can ANYTHING like looks, a better hairline, better mouth, better nose, better breasts or whatever the hell else people want made perfect on themselves EVER take the place of what I just described? Nothing can. Too sad these artificial people don’t realize that until it is too late. They are left with nothing and are ALONE. I pity them...I really do.
I’m an older divorced woman whose husband of 28 years left her for an older woman with lots of money.
I am now financially secure because of my career and certainly not looking for a man for the $$$. However, in my limited experience what I’m finding are men who are looking for the $$$! They want a nurse, a cook, a cleaner and a banker, with little to no assets (money or otherwise) brought to the table.
I’d love to find a partner in every sense of the word—spiritually, intellectually, and common goals. I have my own home I’d love to share... I travel for my job and would love to share those experiences as well.
But it seems that’s a lot to ask!
I don’t think it is everyone. It’s always the big mouths that speak the loudest with nothing really to say.
One day these botox clowns will wake up. Their skin will have fallen and there is no more botox to be had because they won’t be able to take it any longer. Whatever else they had fixed will be sagging too. The life wrinkles and lines will appear and there ya are.
The men and women who lived their lives
Loved their families
Raised their children
Worked together all those years for their families
Cared for each other will now be there for each other in their twilight years...helping one another and loving one another when it is needed the most. Their children will be there as well and the love they shared over their years will sustain them until the end. How can ANYTHING like looks, a better hairline, better mouth, better nose, better breasts or whatever the hell else people want made perfect on themselves EVER take the place of what I just described? Nothing can. Too sad these artificial people don’t realize that until it is too late. They are left with nothing and are ALONE. I pity them...I really do.
Its the baby-boomers, the “me” generation. Men get plastic surgery to suit their own vanity.
Hey, I resemble that remark. That guy you saw, smiling in the passenger seat, was probably me. When we dated, I always drove. But ever since our first child, my wife has become progressively and verbally more critical of my driving. I guess it's because of her enormous cost of investment in our children, besides she might be right whos to say? Now that we have eight, and her criticisms have become unbearable, I am content to let her do the work of driving leaving me to ride in satisfied tranquility.
/I'm fairly successful in my manhood.
//No criticism from my wife, at any rate.
///Starships Troopers let the girls drive.
////Tarzan doesn't drive either.
A friend of mine was a wealthy entrepreneur who was married 5 times to absolutely GORGEOUS women. He lost over $100M in the divorces. I asked him if he had learned anything. He looked thoughtful and said, “If it flies, floats, or f**ks, RENT IT!”
Here is a disgusting article, that almost makes this one pale in comparison.
Speaking only for myself, I have a tendency to get car sick when I'm not driving.
I am not going to flame you...
Well said!!!
Hear! Hear!
The Maternal Instinct
A man's women folk, whatever their outward show of respect for his merit and authority, always regard him secretly as an ass, and with something akin to pity. His most gaudy sayings and doings seldom deceive them; they see the actual man within, and know him for a shallow and pathetic fellow. In this fact, perhaps, lies one of the best proofs of feminine intelligence, or, as the common phrase makes it, feminine intuition. The mark of that so-called intuition is simply a sharp and accurate perception of reality, an habitual immunity to emotional enchantment, a relentless capacity for distinguishing clearly between the appearance and the substance. The appearance, in the normal family circle, is a hero, magnifico, a demigod. The substance is a poor mountebank
The proverb that no man is a hero to his valet is obviously of masculine manufacture. It is both insincere and untrue: insincere because it merely masks the egotistic doctrine that he is potentially a hero to everyone else, and untrue because a valet, being a fourth-rate man himself, is likely to be the last person in the world to penetrate his master's charlatanry. Who ever heard of valet who didn't envy his master wholeheartedly? who wouldn't willingly change places with his master? who didn't secretly wish that he was his master? A man's wife labours under no such naive folly. She may envy her husband, true enough, certain of his more soothing prerogatives and sentimentalities. She may envy him his masculine liberty of movement and occupation, his impenetrable complacency, his peasant-like delight in petty vices, his capacity for hiding the harsh face of reality behind the cloak of romanticism, his general innocence and childishness. But she never envies him his puerile ego; she never envies him his shoddy and preposterous soul.
This shrewd perception of masculine bombast and make-believe, this acute understanding of man as the eternal tragic comedian, is at the bottom of that compassionate irony which paces under the name of the maternal instinct. A woman wishes to mother a man simply because she sees into his helplessness, his need of an amiable environment, his touching self delusion. That ironical note is not only daily apparent in real life; it sets the whole tone of feminine fiction. The woman novelist, if she be skillful enough to arise out of mere imitation into genuine self-expression, never takes her heroes quite seriously. From the day of George Sand to the day of Selma Lagerlof she has always got into her character study a touch of superior aloofness, of ill-concealed derision. I can't recall a single masculine figure created by a woman who is not, at bottom, a booby...
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