Penis Envy

It's now five weeks since my fall - and I'm so happy that it's five weeks down the road.  No kidding, it was that serious. In fact, I was in so much pain that I followed directions : no moving my arm unless I  had to,  no lifting,  no sleeping.  You get the idea. 

I was very careful,  although I did need to use my right hand hand for just about everything. This was usually accompanied by swearing that was so loud that it was probably heard in Paris. 

I have spent a great deal of time trying very hard to stay out of the way of the local obnoxious dimwits - with varying degrees of success,  as you know.  But these five weeks have provided the unassailable proof that the dimwits are in the majority,  not the minority.  I know this from painful experience: very painful. 

I've listened to the babbling of many, many braindeads - and for some reason it doesn't matter so much any more. I've had a lot of time to consider the evidence,  and the evidence tells me that the Brits  (and just about everyone else) have a deep seated problem:  Penis Envy. 

That's what I said: penis envy.  They want what we've got: drive,  determination,  the will to work hard instead of expecting everyone else to do everything for us. Ambition,  intelligence,  talent.  And, of course,  we've got balls. They don't. 

I'm living in a balls - free zone. I have more balls than anyone around here. I'm surprised that the population is so large. How do they do it? Test tubes? 

No wonder I fell over and didn't stop myself this time. My body may be in Dipshit Central, but my head and heart are in New York.