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Wednesday, September 2, 2020
The Enigma of Growing Up
This is Hairy Tux. He is thinking intently about something. In the past year, all he has done is grow up. I believe his meditation must be focused on that.
I don't ordinarily discount physical education. In fact, I have several friends who entered gainful employment as gym-coaches and freelance toilet trainers (doubtless seduced by the glamor of it all) . But I recall those days, deep in another century, when 9th grade choice consisted of gym class or the cacophony of marching band. Although I played 3 --or so--guitar chords, I never mastered the cacophone and took gym. Gym class was full of psychologically isolated boys who exhausted themselves --whose only other exercise was falling in love, even when nobody else was around.
A year or more later, we were mobbing the DMV to get our drivers' licenses. Girls were warm, soft and smelled really good but, if boys were foolish enough to ask them out without a driver's license, they were soundly skunked. We mainly just had fun.
Years later, I met a girl in a library and wondered: how could such a perfectly fragrant creature appear under my very nose? I asked the cat, "Is that the sort of thing you're focused on?"
Hairy answered, "No, I'm concentrating on making my white eyebrows grow. It makes me more attractive."
No argument there, Hairy. You got this.