Stone age poker night
Everything is ALWAYS simpler for guys.
My last blog post was about how shopping for clothes strains the mother/daughter bond. My brother-in-law, John, said he was glad he was a guy. Relations with his Dad are simple – pizza, beer and poker on Friday night and nobody cares what they are wearing.
John is right that guys’ lives are simpler. But that’s only possible because their comfort has always been enhanced by the more complicated needs and wants of Woman.
Come with me now…. back, back, back….. to the dawn of mankind.
In prehistoric times, Friday night would find Man sitting around the cave in his woolly mammoth pelts, playing poker with Oog, Glog, Mastoog and Barry.
Back then, the game was played with a club called a poker. This was thinner than the everyday, utility club used for hunting and mate-gathering. The guys would take turns hitting one another over the head with the poker and the first one to pass out was the loser. When he came to, he had to buy a round of fermented mastodon pee for everyone else.
They ate pizza, which was a hunk of saber-toothed tiger meat served on a slab of rock. Some guys preferred thick stone, and some insisted on a thin slab.
As the fermented sloth spit flowed ever more freely, tempers would flare. Man and his buddies would get into fights over the relative merits of eating the saber-toothed tiger meat raw – “if it was good enough for my Dad, Bobo the Chimp, it’s good enough for me!” – vs. the new-fangled way of using fire to cook food. Man would taunt Oog and Barry -“only a sissy-boy wants his saber-toothed tiger cooked!” and the pokers would fly.
And that’s where Man would be to this very day if not for Woman. It took Woman to force Man to put on clean underwear, and go out and hunt and gather some curtains, maybe a few throw pillows, to cozy up the cave. From there, it was just a short hop, skip and a jump to the invention of the wheel, then the upholstered chair, then the 52” screen high-definition TV (with surround sound).
Woman’s civilizing influence greatly improved the quality of life for Man.
Friday night poker looks a LOT different today. Man now has underwear to protect his sensitive bits from woolly mammoth pelt chafing. Thanks to Woman.
Peg-o-Leg's Ramblings 
You’re so right . . women are so much more sophisticated than men: the fact that so many of them spend several hours on regular basis with their damp hair in a conical oven, whilst reading magazines is proof positive . . any more fermented mastodon pee, Mum? I’m hoping for a flush . . .
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Point taken. But I hate to break it to you – the conical oven/hair thing went out with my great aunt Fanny.
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Well, no one can argue with your concise history of man. I must admit, though, that the title of this post leaves me a little concerned about you. Perhaps you need to open the windows and air out the pungent aroma of last week’s poker night??
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Don’t worry – that’s all in the long-ago past. Fermented sloth spit is too expensive nowadays.
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If your right, and you always are. I think in about another 50 years we will all be chicks. Then we can strip down to our underwear and have tickle fights, and talk about our periods.
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If I didn’t know you have 2 little girls, I would wonder what company you’ve been keeping with this tickle fight scenario (minus the period-talk).
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Good post! Truth + humor = good reading. But I laugh hysterically every time I hear a guy putting voice to his belief that women hang out naked and have tickle fights. I have been alive for 50 years. Never happened. Not once. Never. Yet, guys think it’s happening everywhere, all the time. Hilarious.
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You’re right – never happens, except maybe in dirty movies. Or so I’ve been told. I believe that must be a standard guy go-to fantasy.
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