Valentine’s Day: 25 Cards From the Heart or Other Inappropriate Places

Sure, Valentine’s Day is a made up holiday. But it is romantic and fun and besides, someone has to keep Hallmark in business. Here are 25 cards showing just the right amount of fun and love.

Happy ValentineThe Cost of Valentine’s Day Goes Up Every Year

Hump Daaay“HAWWWWWWP VALENTINE’S DAAAAY!”

Tolerate You“Sure, we have a difficult relationship, but be my Valentine anyway”

Virginia is for Lovers“Dear Virginia, there really is a Valentine’s Day”

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There Comes a Time for Every Blogger…

The Family Poobah

Marcia (Wife), Claire (Daughter), and Me at an annual fundraiser for Claire’s Chi Omega chapter.

Some of you have asked, most of you have not. That’s not surprising since the readership of the Poobah has dropped considerably. Life waxes and wanes. That is the way things work.

I’ve been doing this gig for 7 1/2 years. That’s an epoch in blog time. I’m not sure how many posts I’ve done, but it has been in the thousands. I’m not sure how many visitors I’ve had, but it is in the high hundreds of thousands (I even got one from Antarctica once). That’s not bad for a guy with a keyboard and a loud mouth.

My production has dropped too. This is where I should say something about all the fun I’ve had and the close friends I’ve made, and that would be true. But most importantly, this blog has been my friend too. It has helped me vent and given me a new-found respect that an astonishing number of people read what I had to say — regularly — even deeply personal things aside from important (and sometimes unimportant) things that go on outside of me.

If bloggers have a steady complaint it is that life too often intrudes on their writing. Relationships need tending. Jobs get in the way. It’s the way of the world. Sometimes the tumult of personal life and the lives of so many people and so many events  outside just converge and make one tired. I’ve given advice to many a blogger just getting started. I have two pieces for them. Always write for yourself and when it isn’t fun anymore, stop.

It’s not as much fun anymore. These days the idea of writing is more appealing than actual writing these days. The words don’t come and when they do, they aren’t good enough — better a little of something good than a lot of something bad. After all, I can’t rage at the world forever. I always promised myself that when I reached that point I’d stop. I’ve reached that point.

I’m not sure if this is a retirement or a hiatus. Perhaps the spark will return and perhaps not. If you’d like to know if it does, please drop me an email or hit the subscribe button over there. I’ll keep a list.

If this is the last time I post or if this is the last time you stop in, I appreciate your patronage. I hope you got at least a small taste of the joy it’s been for me.

Fellow bloggers, update your link lists.

I’m out of here. See you around the intertubes.

Sometimes Sharing is Not Caring

Sharing is Caring?

Lots of people sext these days. Many do it as a naughty spice up. Nothing wrong with that. Sex is a basic human need like food and water. If you eat the same vanilla-flavored food every day you get sick of it pretty quick. The photos usually go back and forth and no one is the wiser. Easy peasy. Sometimes they go awry which embarrasses some and creates new careers for others (Yes Kim Kardashian, I’m talkin’ about you.), go figure.

But sometimes hitting the share button is intentional. One party knows and the other doesn’t. The conventional wisdom is this is a disgusting cadish male trait for which the boyfriend deserves evisceration. But apparently there are some women out there who enjoy the titillation (pun intended) of sharing the pics with friends.

Hmm.

“Laurie” says she’s “awfully proud of her husband’s package”, inordinately so. She started sharing pics of her hubby’s Johnson in a Facebook group comprised women who are close and share, or over-share, as the case may be. The ladies loved it like an out of control bachelorette party. The show and tell climaxed (another intended pun) with the Full Monty. Penetration. Photos of it all. The only problem is hubby doesn’t know wifey is sharing him on her electronic “coffee dates with her girlfriends.” Besides, the other women share in the Facebookery too. Laurie said she’d be OK if her hubby shared his with friends. I guess turn about is fair play as long as you don’t bend over to pick up the flogger.

After all, sharing is caring.

Now if everyone consented to the arrangement it’s no problem. Whatever blows your skirt off as they say. But hubby didn’t get a vote. Maybe he’s a little self-conscious about the Little General. Perhaps he abruptly bends into an attack on the right flank instead of attacking the front lines head-on. Maybe hubs has unsightly pimples on his ass. Maybe he’d shrink like a member of the Polar Bear Club on an annual swim if he knew. The point is he didn’t get a say in the matter, even if wifey thinks he’d stand to attention and be as “awfully proud of his package” as she is.

Exhibitionism aside, isn’t this where sharing may not be caring? Doesn’t it signify a bit of an issue with basic candor, truthfulness, even intimacy of the non-sexual kind? What if he’d freely bandied her furry fetish about to his buddies? I’d think even for her showing pics of her in a sexy raccoon costume might not be the best decision he ever made. I’d also think most women would be pissed about it, especially ones with a golden shower fetish.

I’m not a moral monkey and I’m usually OK with whatever people do short of hurting children, small animals, or unnecessarily scaring the bejeebers out of fundies by doing it on their front porch – though I suspect Rick Santorum might secretly like that last one. Who knows, I might even find my hidden 49 shades of grey…as long as I get to vote on the show-off ticket and maybe take care of those pimples before the big show. After all, I am middle-aged.

So what’s the verdict? Ask or not ask? Rip down the curtain or pay no attention to the man behind it?

It’s time to care to share.

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