I've been able to find more affordable tickets this year and goin to the games has been a lot of fun, but as we all know it does cut into noodlin time out in Kaw Lake. I like to get a few hours in just before sunrise it brings level of peace and understanding that so many of us men need. There's no children talking about fort knight and apps or doing a dance from a tablet we bought them off craigslist, we men sometimes love and cherish most of our offspring, but the grating voices can just become heavy. Nothing but a man out in the lake before dawn relying on his intuition, his ability to stand stoic and still, his hand eye coordination and a touch of the Irish luck from a bloody rabbit's foot you snagged the night before from the local Atwood's while none of the teenage clerks was watching.
There's no screaming kids, no workplace you have to share with women, no younger wife telling you all about what happened on Steve Wilkos and how she likes my uncle's sexy new pickemup truck and is gonna go with him to try and win money hustling slot machine winners over at the Fancy Dance Casino in her new low cut sweatpants. You just want to close the bedroom door draw the shades, light some candles, lay down and put on my favorite song, Picture - I mouth the words to both kid rock and sheryl crow; and I think about how life just ain't fair and how a bicycle racer with only one gonad got to look at all of that naked at night and im alone sitting in a dark bedroom eating dry ramen noodles looking out the plastic miniblinds.
Saturday morning after noodlin for two hours before dawn at Kaw and cooking that mornin's catch; I decided it was time for some me time. I put on my favorite Rustlers, 2007 Insight.com Bowl Champion button down shirt, my trademark black leather vest, my Justin R toe Boots with the polished and sharpened spurs and drove to Good ol' Lewis Field bought myself a solo ticket. Just me and the prairie wind, no face piercings son, no teenage daughter wearing all her mother's old Affliction halter tops and low rise jeans, no older wife sighing at me as she reads the weeklies from the grocery checkout line, no younger wife embarrassing me with stupid questions in front of other men there to watch football. Just a man in his element.
Midway through the third quarter I felt the Blue Catfish starting to settle to my lower half; that and the anxiety from my beloved Pokes down by 30, and the thoughts about where Artificial Intelligence and food delivery robots are going to leave as either slaves to them and/or food for the robots. I could feel my body tremble and realized my body was releasing the anxiety from such unhealthy thoughts. As I relieved myself in the commode I stopped and prayed. Not to a traditional deity high above in the sky. But to more of the dark illumnati figures deciding where things will be in the future technologically, politically, and financially.
It was a moment of weakness any man can relate to. A moment where you just don't know which way is up and which God you should serve. I felt immediate regret and as sobbed to comfort my heartbeat that been racing like Bullet's long black graceful gait. I realized the latrine's door had swung open and two teenage boys dressed in all red Houston gear and their blonde hair tied back in what I believed is called corned row fashion were laughing at me like I was a fool because I was sobbing in what I believed to be a moment of solitude and self reflection. The shine from their metallic teeth as they grinned threatened me as any of us men would've naturally feared they had been already been bred by some robot and human intercourse.
I immediately bulled up my Rustlers and evacuated the stall and the entire commode. I needed Fresh Air, I needed Prairie Wind, I needed to view physical combat between men. I needed to feel there was a chance for me and all the other men like me in this cyber hellscape that is encroaching upon us. I needed to breathe. I needed to be around men of my breed.
I walked around in the soothing heat as my spurred boots emphasized my presence as a man. After walking up I no longer crossed my arms, but walked more upright and confident, I felt an air of defiance in my stroll as I walked the upper level. It was time to be brave again and take this world head on. The old trick father had taught me about looking off across the prairie and pulling on your mustache for calm, cool, and collected thoughts had worked.
I saw one white man dancing defiantly; both unafraid, joyous and vulnerable as he twirled his shirt. I knew I had found my tribe and it was time to re-energize myself and celebrate my masculinity. Other young men felt the call to be defiant in the face of the oppression of the Rural American Male. We gathered what I initially felt was magically. I immediately removed both my black leather vest and my Insight.Com Bowl Champion polo. I twirled and danced. I danced free and bravely. The Oklahoma sun drenched my skin and I felt its strength and it felt mine in return. I had joy in my heart. At first I danced on the outside of the group and as others came, we danced together. As more and more young shirtless men joined our movement. But almost immediately I felt a distance. Some of my fellow shirtless men were discussing a smell coming from my area. It couldn't be me as my pheromones now exceeded a strong and resilient musk of a man on the rebound. That was when a college age boy whispered to another and they both pointed at my feet and laughed hysterically.
I immediately looked down and saw what these college aged a-holes were laughing about. Because Boone Pickens insists on using the cheapest striking paper sold at Walmart, it's bound to get stuck under any real Loyal and True Cowboy that wear's the spurred boots. And YES, it was a few feet long and yes it did smelled like passed Blue Catfish and was dark brown and dripping behind by Justin R-Toe's. BIG WHOOP
Those undergrads announced it to the rest of the men and they told me that I'd be embarassing them when they made it on the Jumbotron. I saw their scowls and threatening postures as men who had recently recaptured their masculinity all the while mine flew immediately from my chest as I was both mocked and threatened. I was told to make myself scarce and I did the only thing I could. I hid on the ground in a fetal position. I tucked my knees close to my heart to protect myself. We all know a man can't change the fear in his heart when surrounded by aggressors, but you can protect yourself by making yourself difficult to attack and as we all know, the body expels gasses to ward off attacking hordes.
As the young men left and I felt it was safe to escape the humiliation and social exclusion and retreat the stadium and mosey back Northwest to my humble abode. I trudged back to the Chevy Astrovan. You'd think a cold shoulder like that wouldn't sting in that Northern Oklahoma heat. But brother it does. and when you feel it firsthand you'll never tease and laugh at a man in my predicament again.
I've spoken with my big city lawyer Ronald Durbin out of Tulsa, Oklahoma and he has agreed to file cease and desist letters at anyone who brings up the Section 231 incident to me either in-person or through electronic means. He explained it's an intentional effort to cause distress and I can collect damages and I will no longer have to fear looking like a fool again.
