Another Round of Fermented Yak Snot For My Buddies!

Stone-age poker night

Everything is ALWAYS simpler for guys. 

I once posted 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.


*This little post was woefully neglected when it first arrived on the scene, so I’m bringing it back for an encore.

About pegoleg

R-A-M-B-L-I-N-G-S, Ram...Blin!
This entry was posted in General Ramblings and tagged , , , , , . Bookmark the permalink.

30 Responses to Another Round of Fermented Yak Snot For My Buddies!

  1. Big Al says:

    Laughing so hard I almost dropped my remote.

    If you’d like to know some of the other things we’re thankful for, go to


  2. Spectra says:

    It’s all too true, sadly. Although I betcha if a brutha could get hold of summa dat Wooly Mammoth today, he’d be so pimpin’ stylin’, everyone would want Wooly Mammoth capes and boots. Matching hats, of course. And the serious Dr. Love types would have one spread on their giant round bed under that mirrored cieling. With all of this fur lovin’ goin’ on, makes ya wonder why women don’t just learn to love hairy backs again 😀


  3. I think you are right on target with this one, Peg. While on a two-week camping trip, we had difficulty convincing one of my sons that changing clothes was necessary. We had to wait until he was swimming, steal his clothes, and burn them so that he couldn’t put them back on. (True story!) He would fill the bathtub at home, and toss in a handful of dirt to try and deceive me into thinking that he bathed!
    Then he met “her” the young woman that would forever change our lives. She announced that she was interested in him, and within one week, we were living with Mr. Clean!


  4. It deserves an encore, I’m glad you brought it back! I love it when you talk the evolution of the gender roles – your writing evolves to a high level of humor that makes my day!!!


  5. Tar-Buns says:

    Nothing like beating a vat of yack snot into a pulp … do you like it low pulp or no pulp or high pulp??? Hope your Thanksgiving was fabulous.


  6. We are celebrating Thanksgiving with my younger son and his love. We are staying at their house, which was his house before she moved in. Everyday I look around and marvel over the civilizing influence women have over men.


  7. gojulesgo says:

    Three grunts, er, cheers for this post! “…and Barry.” That killed me!


  8. The “Barry” part killed me as well. I actually choked on my water. And I can’t count how many times I tell my husband to take his cronies and poker-and-fermented-mastodon-pee game elsewhere on Friday nights. Some things never change.


  9. Amy says:

    This deserved an encore – hilarious!


  10. If the pizza doesn’t arrive until the Mesolithic it’s free, you know.


  11. Too funny…I now understand why my husband, the Bull, can’t even order a pizza…he always makes me do it…I guess he comes by it honestly, huh?


  12. Behind every successful man is a woman who taught her caveman to protect his “sensitive bits.” 🙂


  13. Barb says:

    Now if we could just get them to put the seat down and stop thinking a party is more than “just open some beers and a bag of chips.”


    • pegoleg says:

      I know, right? Imagine throwing a bash without matching, holiday-themed canape spreaders and pickle spearers. I’ve said it before and I’ll say it many times more before I die: life is much simpler for men.


  14. I don’t know how you do it, Peg — but you make me laugh every time I visit your blog! And I wonder if you can market this game concept in time for Christmas, where, “the first one to pass out was the loser.” 🙂 Hilarious!


    • pegoleg says:

      Aw, thanks! That’s a great idea – only problem is, I don’t think I could afford the liability insurance on a game that includes sticks and instructions to knock one another out.


Leave a Reply

Fill in your details below or click an icon to log in: Logo

You are commenting using your account. Log Out /  Change )

Facebook photo

You are commenting using your Facebook account. Log Out /  Change )

Connecting to %s