Have you ever heard of the word “skorts.”  I had never heard of it and I wish I had never learned of it.  Let’s go back in time at least 40 years or so.  I was in the Caribbean vacationing with my great friend (now dead) with his wife (now dead).  We dripped money, and it was not pretty.  Now the guy and I who made all the money were fine—it was our wives, and the skorts that ruined the party for us—and he and I lived and relived the skorts incident, imbibing in the middle camp—where real men are real men.  The skorts incident and all that is connected to it ruined our lives—and I am sure of that.  What are skorts?

We were staying in a fa-fa place in the Caribbean.  Neither of our wives had ever done a thing of any type of value—and we knew that, but never spoke of it.  But soon we would gush!

We were going to dinner and the choice was formal or informal.  Who cares?  But they did—they would instantly become the witches I would like to forget.  But one wore “skorts.”  The sign said “no shorts or slacks “ in formal dining.  Who cares?  But the witches did, and it was going to become apparent.

A Bahamian kid was given the job of making sure women did not wear shorts in formal dining—the worst job in the world.  He, nor I, knew nothing about skorts, and just looking at them led me to believe that they were shorts.  Informal dining was fine.  The wives had decided they wanted to eat in the formal dining room had apparently chosen to go formal, although we husbands had no say in it.  As we attempted to enter, the Bahamian kid intervened and said that we could not go formal because one of the women was wearing shorts—later to be known as skorts.  You would think that these women would have walked away from this incident—THINK AGAIN!  They immediately turned on this kid, and began to babble skorts—and who would know?  I remember it as if it were yesterday.  My Lord had I failed!  We had created a scene over skorts or shorts.  All because we men had enabled this outrageous conduct.  And it is true.  It was not my wife wearing the skorts—but who cares?  I again repeat that neither of these women had ever done anything of value—and that makes a difference to me now—You cannot bat your eyelashes at me and own me—although that was a huge problem for me back then.  Skorts my foot!   Unless you were going to get very personal with the woman, you have no way of knowing that it was not shorts.  It was the first I had heard of “skorts.” So how would the Bahamian kid know?

We both wanted to kill our wives, and we should have.  They were so spoiled, and it was on us.  I remember my ex and I being out at a mall.  If all is good in your life, you need not fear a mall.  But all was not good.  We met a lady that I knew from high school.  My ex opened up—which is a fearful statement.  My wife had been “colored”, which means she had paid about 250 dollars to have predetermined what colors she looked best in.  It was witchcraft, but it was only $250.  My ex started to drone how it was important for all women to be colored—never mind that this woman was trying to put food on the table for her children.  I never remember beings as embarrassed and ashamed.  But at whom?  Her or Me?  I think me because I had made this nightmare.  I will back off a bit here, but if you are a woman who would go berserk because of skorts or talk a woman who had no money into being colored—then I am forever your enemy—and I understand that it is not your fault—it is mine—but I have a hard time accepting that!  Now most of the women today work, so anything I say here is bunk.  And I know it.  My son’s girlfriend says I am wrong about women working but I have no way of knowing

But one story remains and I think that story will never be told today. It is outdated.  When I met my wife’s second lawyer she was singing praises about how my wife had done everything.  I was confused?  What had she done?  “Well, often she would drop everything and go on trips to the Bahamas with her husband?”   Can you believe that?  That was a torture!  What else did she do?  “Well she travelled alone to far away places to visit relatives—as far away as Australia.  All true, but this is what she wanted to do?  And finally the one that takes the cake.  “She endured not one but two plastic surgeries to her face to please her husband.  I get that but it is patently false.  I begged her not to have these surgeries done, but I paid for it, in more ways than one.

After my departure from this woman I learned a bit about life, and I would never have learned it with her.  Many women worked in the shoe shop, had a gaggle of kids, walked to and from work because there was not enough money to put gas in the car, if it was working.  They did the cooking and cleaning for the old man who was, more often than not, laid off or drunk or both.  These women had not had tennis lessons nor been colored-nor whatever.

We tipped the Bahamian kid 20 dollars and assured him that she was not wearing shorts.  We went to the formal dining area and each had a hamburger.  Why bother?

It got to the point that I was petrified to go to dinner with my wife.  We went dancing a lot which is not good for talking.  Her arrogance knew no bounds.  Once a waiter came over and by memory recited about fifty items that were on the dessert menu.  She listened intently, and this woman could hear like an elephant.   “Could you repeat them”.  He sternly said “It is as I said, ma’am.”  She was furious and had a dish of vanilla ice cream.

When we visited her family, we had to go through a poor section of town and she would always comment on how poorly the people kept their houses.  I stopped the car and told her that it really upset me that she always commented negatively about the poor.  It did no good.   That evening her father came over to me.  He had had a couple of drinks.

“I want to tell you something about my daughter.  Don’t blame me.  She was not like this when she left this house.”  Stunning, and I did not forget.  That November Bill and I were in the middle camp.  I asked him if his wife came from wealth.

“She was as poor as a church mouse.”  He paused and asked “How did we do Bob?”  I did not answer.


Extremely volatile.   And this is self-imposed.  A president can’t lift the market but he sure can tank it and he has.  Regardless of the market it is time for those responsible to consider the 15th amendment that allows a few chosen few to oust the president.  It is long overdue.  As far as I am concerned, he has obstructed justice many times.  Just yesterday he told his people to violate the law, get the wall built and he would pardon them after.  This is a banana republic and when the president advocates violation of law—it is time.  He does not understand the basics like the Federal Reserve is not his pawn.  That spooked the market—big time.  This is unchartered country and if you are part of that base, I beg you study the history of the rise of the SS under Hitler.

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