This just in, from the DOG, who also, by the way, serves as my editor for a generous salary and benefits:
This giorno at Duomo was typical save for one comment. A white (you shouldn’t wear a doo rag) trainer and his 110-pound male protégé were doing legs, with cries of pain after each burning set. Uh — ok, but still a pussy boy. Whatever. They invaded my area, and I had my towel, water and glasses on a bench next to the leg press. The cool doo man asked me, “Are you using this bench, ________?”
I responded no, and moved my stuff, so he could sit down and assist his client.
The “blank” evoked many thoughts, and I find it useful to pass some on to you, perhaps akin to the “ma’am” comment, as follows:
- Do I look like George W., the President and Commander? or
- Do I have a striking resemblance to Rhenquist, the boss Justice of the US Supreme Court ?
- Do I exude the military and a position of power, that I might be mistaken for the Joint leader of staff?
- Do I resemble an aged native American tribal poopah, or perhaps a highly placed policeman or fireman?
- Perhaps he thinks I play for the Kansas City professional football team?
- Better yet, he takes me for a Texaco gas pump (premium Sky pundit).
- Am I the principal character of anything?
By now, I suppose you guessed it, a reference I find particularly offensive, chiefly because it is a caustic and sarcastic reference, unless one is referring to Odin.
Any wonder why we’ve been together so long? Woof!