Please Give Generously

Dear friends, It's my sincere hope that you haven't personally suffered from the Lymes. Even if you haven't, you surely know a friend, family member, or acquaintance who has endured the heartbreak of Lymes. That's why I'm asking you to look into your tick-bitten heart and reach into your wallet. Please help the neediest among us. Every $2,500 (plus tax) you donate buys an hour of hyperbaric therapy for some poor Lymer. And, if you donate today, we'll send you a free "I got pressured into hyperbaric therapy" t-shirt as our gift. So please, before my next boat payment comes due, won't you give to the Lymer fund?

This Time, it's Personally

It's something they take personal, huh? Well that's heartening. I just wish adverbs were something they took serious.

Sun Hats Gone Wild

Well, I'm back on the sun hat kick. As my similarly melanin-challenged friend John put it " All of my hats make me think I look somewhere between a homeless guy and an asshole who beats up homeless guys." Let's look at more of the contenders.

Here's the venerable Bucket Hat. I admit having something like this, but I've already successfully reproduced and can get away with wearing it. Fellas, if you want the ladies to know that you're genes aren't suitable for passing along to a new generation. Think of it as a public service. No suitable mate here, Miss, move along.

Remember Dumb Donald? This guy doesn't.

This one is a little unsettling. When someone comes up to you in this gear it's either "give me your wallet" or "I'm going to die of a gruesome skin ailment any minute now. If I crumple right now, please look inside my hat flap for my next-of-kin's phone number."

Our final contender is the ultra-brim. And don't let the goateed model fool you. The only guys that wear these are over 40 types who came back from the doctor with precancerous lesions on their heads. Put off buying the sun hat long enough and somebody might pick up this beauty for you.

Sun Hat Connundrum

Last year I lost my cancer virginity. I was diagnosed with a Basal Cell Carcinoma, also know as "The Good Cancer." And, for sure, if you have to get the big C, I'll take my tiny skin cancer over a Butterfly Glioma any day. But sreiously, the good cancer? How about the Least Bad Cancer?

I've been a hat wearer all my life, but now my hats require substantial brims and therein lies the problem. If you're a man looking for a sun hat, choices are limited to a few main styles, none of which are particularly attractive. If anybody knows of a less-lame hat style, I'd love to know about it.

Exhibit A: The Uncle Douche

Few articles of clothing impart douchebaggery as resolutely as the Panama hat. This hat says "I'm going to show up to your wedding drunk." It's the hat of the miscreant uncle or maybe Mom's boyfriend who makes the kids wait in the car for a couple hours while he "visits some friends" at the strip club.

Exhbit B: The Neo-Cowboy

About every 15 years there's a cowboy fad. First it was the late 70's with Urban Cowboy and then came the early 90's Garth Brooks stadium extravaganzas. So I guess we're about due. I can't wait to see droves of doughy sedentary work force types squeeze into jeans with huge belt buckles and doff pseudo cow-puncher headgear like this.

Exhibit C: The Chief Executive Asshole

The stony expression. The squared jaw. The narrow slits for eyes. And up top- the laser sharp lines of absolute domination. The CEA will destroy you utterly.

Exhibit D: The Jimmy Cracked Corn

Some folk'll never eat a skunk
But then again some folk'll
Like Cletus the slack jawed yokel.

Even more hat bashing...

Cognative Dissonance

Apparently the swine flu has just earned its college degree. You're probably thinking it studied microbiology with an emphasis on virology. You'd be wrong. A super star like this baby is all about the marcom. You know this bad boy is going to reinvent itself more times than Madonna.

Naughty Bits

I was in my beloved San Francisco last weekend, taking the boy on a Muni ride. He doesn't really care where we go, just as long as we're on some form of light rail. I don't really care either, just as long as I have hand sanitizer.

So we're on the N-Judah rolling through the Castro when we pass Out of the Closet. For the uninitiated, OotC is a thrift store operated by the AIDS Healthcare Foundation. They describe themselves as "the world's most fabulous thrift store." There in the OotC display window was a fabulous display of racy and risqué apparal for the sexed-up set. You know, assless chaps, leather bindings, and, the most eye-catching male mannequin leaning back, hips thrust out and wearing only a sutdded leather thong (and me without my camera).

Now, I'm all for consenting adults to get into any sort of kinky mischief they want to. It beats the hell out of violence and hatred. And I don't even care that my 5 year old boy rolled past this window display. He didn't even see it and if he had it would have been meaningless to him. No, the thing that really gave me creepy heebie jeebies is the idea that somebody out there may be willing to purchase used thongs and chaps from a thrift store.

Career Counseling

Umm. He's already got one...