Beauty and the beastly

Just two questions (lots of sub-questions, though):

First, Why Do People Do This? Who Started It? And Why? Is It Possible To Type Quickly This Way? I Say Not. It's Even More Irritating To Do Than It Is To Read. Why Do People Insist On Doing This Kind Of Thing? And Why Is It That These People Are The Ones With The High Profile Jobs And The Brand Spanking New Hummers With "Support Our Troops" Ribbons Stuck All Over Them And Those New-Fangled Fish With Nothing Inside Them? I Just Know Those Are Jesus Fish.

When Will The Gaia Fish Come Out? What Kind Of Vehicles Will The Gaia Fish Be Appended To? Old Veedoubleyou Busses? Nah. I Bet You'll See Most Gaia Fish Attached To Those Battery Operated Things That Sort Of Look Like Something Fred Flintstone Would Drive While He And His Kiss-Ass Side-Kick Schemed On How To Get Something Over On Their Wives Who Are Much Too Smart And Good-Looking (Not To Mention Tall) For Their Sorry Neanderthal Asses Anyway.

(AnD LetZ NoT EveN GeT inTO ThiS. ThiS Is SilliNEsS aNd oBnoXiCiTY TaKEn 2 uH WhoLe nUThr LeVeL.....)

My second question is, what the hell happened to all the ugly people in the world? Seriously?

Maybe it's just me, but the young people of today are just too damn pretty. Has there been some sort of trend going on, that only the pretty people have been reproducing? Have the ugly folks decided to do the right thing and keep their ugly genes out of the pool? For myself, well, I fathered two boys, but I promise never to do it again. It's too damn chancy. My first son Jared is pretty. He looks more and more like his Mom everyday, with his high cheekbones and dark-ish, half-latino skin. My second son, Jordan, well, he looks more and more like me, and it's got everyone in the family worried. So we decided I'd just keep the pony in the shed from here on in.

Whenever I go out I am simply dismayed by all the flat-out, drop-dead gorgeous people in the world. I guess it's a Western thing. I grew up in New York, the capital of ugly people. Actually that's upstate New York, which is lush and beautiful landscape-wise but apologizes for it by being the birthplace of lots of ugly folks. It's different out here in Arizona. People are taller for one thing. I'm one of the only male dwarfs I know of. Back in New York five-foot-seven is respectable for a man. Out here most of the high school girls are taller than that. Hell, just one of their legs is taller than that. I can hear them giggling as they breeze by me at K-mart, dissing me with their secret dope gangsta hand-symbols. But they are so beautiful that I actually feel honored at having the opportunity to be ridiculed mercilessly by them.

As for their male counterparts. It's just disgusting. During Spring Break you will see them stepping out of their Ford F-350s with those oversized baggy shorts that only look silly on ugly people, sandals, and shades heading into the local Safeway for their next nineteen cases of Bud Light. They have this strange caramel color to their well-sculpted bodies. A kind of orangy-caramel brownness which is the result of tanning salons, constant exposure to the sun, and good California genes. Their hair is amazing. The wind is blowing it all over, but when they get indoors they do this sudden, bird-like flicking motion and it falls perfectly back into place. It has this strange shine which is exotic and unearthly. In New York, sure, lots of guys had shiny hair, but it was only because their mothers forgot to save the water in the tub for them the night before which meant they couldn't wash their hair that month.

I haven't gone to any of the beaches here at Havasu during Spring Break since the early ninetees. My sensitive soul was simply overwhelmed with all the sheer beauty I saw unleashed around me: the pristine skin, the hair, the limbs that looked as if they had been hewn out of some rare dusky marble by Michaelangelo, the ubiquitous and unbearable presence of the human female breast. You have to realize, when I was going to school in upstate New York a girl's breast was something one saw in a magazine or on HBO when everyone, including us trailer-park folk, got a free week of unscambled mayhem and the chance to learn the entire screenplay of Porky's by heart. Also bear in mind that our idea of eye-candy, at least insofar as the female posterior was concerned, was getting the chance to see one of the cuter girls in a snug pair of Jordache jeans. A thong was something one wore on one's feet on those rare sunny days when everyone hunkered around the rusty sprinkler and laughed loudly enough to drown out the sound of Mr. and Mrs. Tallerico screaming death-threats at one another in a drunken stupor up the road.

Like Reynolds pointed out in a poem I posted recently: Americans are strange folks and like to turn things upside down or inside out. One example is that they now hang around (at least in swinging resort towns like Lake Havasu) with their eyes covered up and their asses hanging out. Just watdaphugizzubwiddat?

Yo.