Older men and younger women.

Good advice Chumly, for some guys.

I am 68, 5'10", 180lbs, retired from the military. This morning I had the bone in my left arm measured and tested. My bones are superior to most men in their 20s let alone the poor guys in their 30s, 40s, 50s and 60s. Basically I am infantry through and through. Still quite the masher.

Red hair, blue eyes, strong teeth with some gold and silver but no cavities.

Between love affairs I read, right and study. I also play music. As a matter of fact right now this very moment a brand new Blessing B88 trombone (complete with F key) has been shipped and is someplace between Elkhart, Indiana and here. Right now.

Your menu is good Chumly but what this man is doing this very day is better. OOps, another inquiring female has just popped up on my monitor. Gotta go! Then I have to jog.

Sounds OK, but does not blow me away (remember what I said about not talking about stuff in the past?), I know you can do a lot better.

You skipped right over the most important parts!

And don't give me this BS again that you got it all going on already!


Out

You're really Frank Costanza, aren't ya, Jackie boy?!

I'm about J Webb's height, but instead of 180 points, I'm 165. If I were 180 I'd be a fatso. Also, what's cool about the trombone?
But I'm glad he's just having fun with us. And it IS fun.

What isn't cool about a trombone JLNobody? Brass is what's happening. Just watch me when FedExpress delivers my B88!

Man when I unleash my tones through that .547 big bore they won't let me stop playing solos.

Back in the fifties a few girls loved me and hated me at the same time. They loved me because I am just me and a great bonehead as well. They loved to see me playing in the dance band. They hated me because I could not play my horn and dance with them at the same time.

This is 2006 and when I start playing in a dance band again the lovely mature ladies will simply understand, enjoy their martinis as I make music. Then later? :wink:

What can I say, except I'm convinced. Can I have an autograph?

To be sung to Home On The Range:

Oh give me a 'bone
And let me play where the buffalo roam
So I can get a big one
That I can take home

I don't want to play
Any hip new music today
And we'll both eat lots of snacks
From the tray




I am just yanking your chain, I am sure you're a cool guy, and you can do as you please and I dig the 'bone. I am a working music singing, guitar, and keys are me. I do know my min7b5 from my aug & dim though.

Well, I know that at least some of you people have been as fortunate as I have in life and this is basically the people I am addressing my confidence to here; the rest of you can read it or go some place else. I don't really mind.

There comes a time when a playboy hits the wall. He becomes aware that before long he is going to meet his maker. I have come to the point where I can no longer look at the divorced woman as simply "stock" for my pleasure.

I used to brazenly use child bearing woman for fun. Can you imagine such a horrible thing? Any woman of child bearing age righfully should be and deserves to be married, not spending her time with a thoughtless man hoping there is an outside chance he will "fall" for her mulish behavior.

The most recent revelation I have had though is with the 50 something woman. Do I have a right to assume because a divorced woman is wandering around in ruination, OUT of the mainstream of American life where all decent, loving, caring 50 something women reign I should consider her "easy?" What of those jowls, what of those droopy things. What of that extra weight that makes her knees ache as she shuffles on the dance floor?

These are the facts of life. The poor woman is not to blame any more than I am for being 69 years old next month. The facts brother, the facts!

Oh, I watch the lovely Canadian woman that is the news anchor. Three years I have been watching her. This past week I detected she was no longer the young girl I saw three years ago. I can tell it by the eyes (and God only knows what changes her guts are undergoing) and I think: in thirty years the woman, having gone through a husband or two, will be shuffling around on the dance floor just like a woman would have been doing this evening had I not come to my senses this afternoon around three, called her and told her I was feeling ill and would not be able to see her tongiht.

I feel quite nice here this evening with my dog sleeping at my feet, listening to contemporary, instrumental music on my Bose Wave Radio enjoying my National Geographic magazines and literally an unlimited supply of O'Doul's Amber to quaff the night away.

Another epiphany, another fresh start and tomorrow is Super Bowl Sunday too.

Enjoy the game, "oldtimer"
Oldtimer JLN

Roger JLN, will do.

Jack, somehow you remind me of my grandfather, who after
Grandma's death, shortly thereafter, was in the ring again.
He was charming, good looking and knew how to court a
lady.

Everything was fine until the ladies realized that he was
a controlling, dominating chauvinist. Even the desperate ones
didn't want to succumb to such a relationship and after a
few years, Grandpa came finally to the understanding that he'll be
better off alone, and he was.

Even driving your red mini Mercedes makes you no
playboy Jack, and it certainly is no accomplishment to woo
a few divorced or widowed ladies for a short while, it takes
far greater character and substance to sustain in a relationship,
and make it work.

Wow, Calamity Jane's back, and just in the nick of time.

Even driving your red mini Mercedes makes you no
playboy Jack, and it certainly is no accomplishment to woo
a few divorced or widowed ladies for a short while, it takes
far greater character and substance to sustain in a relationship,
and make it work. (Posted by Calamity Jane)

Jane, you may be right. But I take great satisfaction knowing that my lack of character has kept me out of a lot of trouble. Believe that or not as you may. Unless you (man or woman) are fortunate enough to have a Signal Red 560 SL as your daily driver don't even attempt to relate that experience to the one of associating with the ocassional over-the-hill divorcees I solicit from time to time.

One has absolutely nothing to do with the other. Being a Mercedes-Benz afficianado, they are mutually exclusive.

Dyslexia's red Porsche gave me a little tingle; and I'm (I insist) straight.

Jack, I am not one to brag, and since I have family, I obviously drive a bigger car, more conservatively in burgundy, but it is from the same manufacturer as yours. Being German, I guess I trust them more. Regardless, I associate my car with a fast
driving tool, nothing more and nothing less.

Maybe, because I am a woman and have other attributes
to show for, so that cars are not that important to me.

JLNobody, any Porsche gives you a slight tingle. I think it's
the computer generated voice of that seductively sounding female.

Today, this very day, I am not talking about yesterday or tomorrow; when you have a beautiful sports car being the largest, fastest of the company's line be it a Mercedes-Benz, Porche or BMW you know you are not driving that machine primarily to get from point A to point B. You are primarily driving that machine for the experience. The experience of people in other machines paying deference to you, yielding rights of way even when they have the right away.

People do not dare tail-gate because they know what will happen to them less they so much as scratch my car. I enjoy watching the gaze at my wonderful machine while waiting for the light to change from red to green. Sometimes I acquiesce and provide well wishers with a nod, I may return a toothy smile to a lovely woman. More than once I have noted the shy, young married woman looking at me as we are stopped abreast in traffic. I know she feels embarrassed looking at me and my beautiful machine because she most certainly is true to her husband an children but? Well, what woman can help herself stopped so close to the symbolic fires of hell and NOt be moved?

Indeed JLN, life is too short. Why not treat yourself to a nice German roadster; new or not new, just nice. Go to a dealer and take one for a spin. Put the top down, have your favorite CD with you.

Zoom down the highway, crawl through the traffic with Men at Work singing "In The Navy" or Herb Alpert blaring "Highway 101" And you will see the most sexy smiles and the greatest waves from the beautiful women of the town. Rev the engine at the light. :wink:

x 2

Don't wake him up, ladies. We old-timers need our dreams.