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  • #16
    The excitement is over. The men on my street have put away their earmuffs, mittens, and electric snowblowers and gone back to watching T.V. and sipping Starbucks. The street is plowed and the Honda is available to go to the orthodontist. The neighborhood is back to normal.

    I use the word “normal” loosely; it might be nice to have a few guys around who aren’t *manicured and *highlighted.

    While they debate whether nature or nurture determines gender identity, I will resume work on my old Dodge.

    I fear that men have been domesticated to within an inch of their lives.


    * manicure- a cosmetic treatment of the hands and fingernails, including trimming and polishing of the nails and removing cuticles.

    * highlight- Highlighting hair offers a sun-kissed glow and gives dimension to a hairstyle.

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    • #17
      What's a cuticle and why does it have to be removed?

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      • #18
        Starbucks?

        Cuticles collect paint and high-light your finger nails, don't they?

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        • #19
          Originally posted by Kevin Mienke View Post
          The excitement is over. The men on my street have put away their earmuffs, mittens, and electric snowblowers and gone back to watching T.V. and sipping Starbucks. The street is plowed and the Honda is available to go to the orthodontist. The neighborhood is back to normal.

          I use the word “normal” loosely; it might be nice to have a few guys around who aren’t *manicured and *highlighted.

          While they debate whether nature or nurture determines gender identity, I will resume work on my old Dodge.

          I fear that men have been domesticated to within an inch of their lives.


          * manicure- a cosmetic treatment of the hands and fingernails, including trimming and polishing of the nails and removing cuticles.

          * highlight- Highlighting hair offers a sun-kissed glow and gives dimension to a hairstyle.
          There is less dimension to my hairstyle than there was 30 years ago.
          Power Wagon Advertiser monthly magazine, editor & publisher.


          Why is it that the inside of old truck cabs smell so good?

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          • #20
            Martie has a slightly different definition for manicure (man-i-cure). But I won't go there......

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            • #21
              Perhaps Kevin's local Dodge dealer can host a Honda Minivan "Crush & Shred Trade-In" event- even used Toro Snoblowers and Espresso machines could be disposed of as a public service....

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              • #22
                Hi Kev!
                Great Post!
                Tell your neighbor that you know a guy in CA that can fix that little 'ol mini van right up....



                I share your lament about modern society, but I've come to the conclusion that we are only lacking two things to make society perfect, saber tooth cats and grizzlies....to thin out the slow and the dim...

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                • #23
                  Good Title

                  Norm that's a great idea, Culling Society............ a working title.

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                  • #24
                    Originally posted by maineSS View Post
                    Perhaps Kevin's local Dodge dealer can host a Honda Minivan "Crush & Shred Trade-In" event- even used Toro Snoblowers and Espresso machines could be disposed of as a public service....
                    Don't hold your breath. The modern minivan is, in large measure, a Dodge invention. Their latest model is packed with Chinese parts, a la Walmart, and probably has less American content than a Honda. Your local Dodge dealer is likely to be as "civilized and manicured" as anyone these days.

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                    • #25
                      My original thought was more about the man than the machine. What has happened to the man? Why can't he go out in the blizzard when there is a need? Why is he not prepared to take care of his family?

                      My answer to these questions is possibly over-simplified but here it is...A man becomes a man when a man is needed. Men have not been needed in my neighborhood for a long time.

                      The place where I live is very much the definition of suburbia. The houses and the attached garages are all identical right down to the pine shrub planted exactly five foot from the corner of the garage. We have paved roads, paved bike paths and sidewalks. Everyone has a 10’x10’ garden shed but none of us have gardens. We have trash pickup on Monday and recycle bin every other Monday.

                      We have 4 bedrooms and three bathrooms, granite countertops, stainless steel appliances, and Italian tile flooring. We can get crushed ice by pushing a button on the refrigerator door.

                      To keep the neighborhood uniform, the homeowner’s association must approve the color of our houses. They like beige.

                      It is a controlled environment….controlled not by the men who live here, but rather something else undefined and unseen. There is no need for men. They see no reason that they should not drive minivans. They don't need log chains. They don't need sledgehammers or axes or chainsaws. Their "tool kits" are kept in a kitchen drawer.

                      The environment of the suburbs ages a man’s soul. That is, it steals the human spirit, and strips man of his purpose which is caring for and protecting his family. The suburbs convince us that life is all about being comfortable and safe, but it doesn’t require that we men must be charged with making it comfortable and safe.

                      The sabre tooth cat and the grizzly is a great idea. Men would become men again because men would be needed.

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                      • #26
                        I must confess though that I had a cup of Starbuck's yesterday and it was really good. I wonder if I should try a latte?

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                        • #27
                          Originally posted by Kevin Mienke View Post
                          I must confess though that I had a cup of Starbuck's yesterday and it was really good. I wonder if I should try a latte?
                          We've got Grizzlies up here, and they do have a tendancy to weed out the dimwitted, foolish and mis-informed. We also have "gated communities" - much like suburbia but with a gate at each end of the street. It lends a false sense of security for those who can't sleep in the real world. And the bears could care less if there was gate.

                          Good on you for having the patience to tolerate suburbia. I would have a very difficult time with some governing body telling me what I can and can't do in my own yard. I would be smuggling bears in for entertainment...

                          Your views on the needs of todays man are spot on as well. Although I'm sure that even John Wayne and Grizzly Adams would both enjoy a good cup of coffee. Good coffee is a sign of good taste, and is nothing to be concerned about.

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                          • #28
                            Originally posted by Kevin Mienke View Post
                            ...A man becomes a man when a man is needed.

                            I like that thought. Very true.

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                            • #29
                              Originally posted by Kevin Mienke View Post
                              ...A man becomes a man when a man is needed. .
                              I think that is a John Steinbeck quote or maybe Teddy Roosevelt, I can't be certain. I know it is not my own. I have heard or read it somewhere.

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                              • #30
                                Having purpose could be a subject in and of itself. George Bernard Shaw said, “This is the true joy in life, the being used for a purpose recognized by yourself as a mighty one; the being thoroughly worn out before you are thrown on the scrap heap; the being a force of nature instead of a feverish selfish little clod of ailments and grievances complaining that the world will not devote itself to making you happy.”

                                I have given a great deal of thought to the subject of purpose lately and it occurred to me that the men I have admired all had purpose in their lives, meaning a point on which the soul could fix its eyes.

                                Could these men drive steel like John Henry? No. Could they fall a tree like Paul Bunyan? No. But they could get the firewood that they needed, and they could swing a hammer well enough to build a house. They were men who had a sense of purpose and who learned to become involved in their purpose.

                                I had a good hunting dog who developed health conditions that stole his ability to go in the field or to the marsh. He lost his purpose and it was a daily struggle to make him happy. The dog was wise enough to know that his purpose in life had gone and together we found a new purpose for him.

                                My dog was not willing to go to the scrap heap before he was thoroughly worn out. Men are not that wise. Their purpose is being stolen beneath their very eyes and they are unaware.

                                When I retired from firefighting there was a great void in purpose. I still had my family to care for and this was no small blessing but there was a hard change in how valuable I felt and it was causing pain. I chose to not spend too much time studying this pain before I found other things that I recognized as being valuable. I did not want to be thrown on the scrap heap before I was worn out either.

                                Men don’t seem to have that sense of purpose anymore. Women can drive minivans just as good as a man. They can call a serviceman when the furnace goes out or take their car to the shop when it breaks down. Nobody has to gather firewood for the gas fireplace, and nobody has to build their own house. Everyone is seeking more leisure time. Man is getting lost in this. His purpose is getting lost in this.

                                In the end, he has no idea that he would be better served to throw away the leisure that he seeks and find work. The Toro power shovel ended up on the scrap heap where it belongs. I hope my neighbor doesn’t find himself there too.

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