3-7-77

The recurrence of this combination of numbers in Montana is fascinating. Supposedly, it started in the days of the Montana Vigilantes to give the unlawful element (called "road agents" in the parlance of the time) a clear warning to leave town or face the consequences. So what is the meaning of this egnimatic group of numbers? The most widely accepted view is that the numbers represent the dimensions of a grave: 3 feet wide, 7 feet deep, and 77 inches (6 feet 5 inches) long. Alternatively, the “road agent” was given a specified amount of time (3 hours, 7 minutes, 77 seconds) to leave town. Otherwise he would be a grave man. It may, however, be something of Masonic significance.

My theory is just that grown men managed to include some horsing around in what was definitely serious business. Guys love secrets; especially weird ones. This is what adds to membership in the Masons and other organizations with rituals. The Ku Klux Klan did pretty much the same. They did malevolent and illegal things, but managed to have a little dress-up fun and quaint rituals in the process.

After all, how many people know the actual dimensions of a grave? And did watches in the 1860's or 1870's have second hands?

By the way, the Montana State Troopers have the 3-7-77 on their shoulder patches, to indicate that they are serious!

Victor's Secret: A Response to States' Obesity Problems

During the past 20 years there has been a dramatic increase in obesity in the United States. In 2009, only Colorado and the District of Columbia had a prevalence of obesity less than 20%. These are the states with the highest obesity percentages: Mississippi, Alabama, Tennessee, West Virginia, Louisiana, Oklahoma, Kentucky, Arkansas, South Carolina, Michigan, and North Carolina. Now we can view it as a health issue; or we can view it as a possible marketing opportunity. Bear with me on this.

With male obesity comes moobs, female-like breasts. Now these will, shall we say, need to be supported. Why not a line of male bras to support their extra tissue? But let's sweeten the demand: use colors that guys like, advertise their comfort, and so forth.

And why not get licenses from professional sports teams to have their logos on the male bras? These ought to really sell. Sell them at stores named Victor's Secret, to capitalize on the already-present familiarity of Victoria's Secret.

I can see neighbor of mine from Franklin exercising while wearing his Tennessee Titans sports bra!

The T-Shirt Rebellion

The new dress code annoyed the students at Fulmer High School: it seemed to abridge their rights and curtail their sense of style too much. One aspect of it was particularly noxious: it was the section that, although it allowed the wearing of t-shirts and sweat shirts, limited the content of what was written on them. This seemed to be de facto in violation of the Constitution, which allows free speech.

Obviously, spirit t-shirts were okay; especially those for FHS or UT. And those with innocuous messages would pass muster too. However, no controversial messages, no Rebel flags, no beer or cigarette or drug themes, no messages that might be regarded as obscene, lewd, or antisocial.

The dress code came with teeth: detention for the first offense. and suspension for the second offense. Some students tried mass disobedience; but they were duly punished with detention for their infractions. In all, it seemed that the Principal and other powers that be had buffaloed them; and they settled into a surly silence.

However, six enterprising girls had a solution: devise t-shirts that had messages that would annoy the administrators, but not be in violation of the rules.

Now this was true creativity.

One of them had an astonishing idea that was so off the wall that it invited some titters at first; but then it sank in as a great idea.

That weekend, they got t-shirts printed at the mall, and agreed to wear theirs on Tuesday.

On Tuesday, Willow wore a green t-shirt with 36C on it. Megan wore her violet 34C one. Heidi wore a red 32A tee that looked splendid on her! Deena's green one had 34B on it. Dee Dee's black one was labeled 36C. Finally, Heather's was a 36B yellow one.

What could be done about this? There was gnashing of teeth in the Principal's Office, and titters in the faculty lounge.

In days to come, some other girls donned t-shirts with similar messages.

Does Size Matter?

This amusing picture aside, it may not be as important.

Before you get the idea that I'm going to suggest willy-nilly inspecting the contents of guys' swimsuits (not a bad way to spend a Saturday afternoon), let me make this observation: Only a certain minimum size is needed; beyond that, it's how it is used.

Let's put it in perspective. Is it more satisfying to do it with a guy whose little soldier is five inches in length, but who lasts for fifteen minutes; or with a guy whose weapon is seven or eight inches, but who fires it in less than a minute? I think most women would know the answer.

In short, it's how it's played. And I mean foreplay. Make it last longer. If you give her multiple orgasms (or even one), you will be a hero. Putting it in is Act III; Acts I and II should not be neglected.

And there's more. In a recent issue of Maxim, they purported to interview 8,000 women. When given these choices, 86% preferred a guy who was not good in bed, but wonderful in all other ways, as opposed to 14% preferring the guy who was great in the sack but otherwise a bastard.

Operation Pumpkin: Dealing with the Runaway Bride

One of the tittillating little details that crept out of the barrage of news of the Royal Wedding is that there actually was a contingency plan in place in the case that Kate were to bolt. It was called "Operation Pumpkin," for some reason. And it was reported in The Register and in Time Magazine.

Here's my take on what could have happened had she actually been a runaway bride:

"Oh my God, Kate's kicked off her heels and she's sprinting out of Westminister Cathedral! Wilson, put Operation Pumpkin in effect!"

Wilson turns to Pippa, the Maid of Honor: "Okay, Pippa, you know the bargain you made. Hop into this spare bride's dress and you marry William. Oh, and think of England tonight."

Wilson subtly holds a stiletto in Pippa's back. She strips out of her maid of honor clothes and dons the bride's dress while standing in the vestibule. The word is sent to the Prince: "You're marrying Pippa, instead!"

"Oh good. She's smoking hot!"

Pippa asked, "Do I get to be a Duchess and do I still get to go to Disney World?"

Pippa and Wilson go down the aisle, with Wilson holding the enormous train.

"Rule Britainnia, Britainnia waives the rules!"

If I Were to Give a Graduation Speech

City Council and School Board Members, Ladies and Gentlemen of the Faculty, Parents, and Honored Members of the Class of 2007:

I have no Earthly idea why I was invited to deliver the address this evening: perhaps it is hard to find graduation speakers who will do it gratis, or maybe all others are making preparations for later, when you proposed to "paint the town red." Anyway, I'm constrained to send you off with sound advice, so here it goes.

Be easy on yourself, for nobody else is going to feel like doing that very much. Never pass up an opportunity to sleep, to use the rest room, and above all never, never pass up free food. Read the newspaper, but don't take the editorials very seriously. They're mostly written by J-school grads with bad haircuts. Speaking of haircuts: if your trip to the salon or barber comes out disappointingly, you can always wear a baseball hat backwards for a month.

E-mail your parents now and then. Periodically change your account, and leave spam behind. Don't drink gas station coffee. Pay your fair share of taxes, but not one penny more. Make sure your spare is properly inflated. Learn how to sing, how to dance, and how to skate. Learn a foreign language, and find opportunities to practice speaking it. Foreigners can help you out with some new ways of having a good time.

You're old enough, dammit. If you used up all the toilet paper, than replace the used roll with a new one. If the bulb burns out, replace it.

Go early to things; and have a backup plan. Murphy wasn't kidding: If things can go wrong, they will. Plan an escape route when attending civic meetings.

Be kind to animals.

Having a good heart is expected of you; having a perfect lawn is not. Love people, starting with yourself.

Tommorrow morning, if you feel like I think you're going to feel, take three aspirin, some juice, and two more hours in bed. Don't even try a big breakfast. Live long and prosper. Now, let's go out there and kick some butt for the next fifty years!

The Bra Tree

This is a tree at which women in a group individually remove their bras, and leave them permanently hanging on the tree. This is usually part of a ceremony by a sorority or other group, and is almost always attended only by women.

The Chili Dog Sisters, a group I belonged to, would have their annual bra tree ceremony; and it would be followed by a dinner at a Thai restaurant in Murfreesboro.