All I can say is, it’s about bloody time!

Being that I sail, I tend to hang with men. Not fashionable men, not squirmy men, but honest to God men. We race boats, drink, and are men in all our faults, bravado, and cockiness. We’re not squishy, or afraid to break a nail, and don’t have a six-pack generally (unless it’s cold beer), and we do not shop at The Gap.

And don’t get me started on the smart, capable, and interesting women! Women who are all women. They ooze womanliness. Women who like men. Sweaty men. Men who drink and curse and make blue jokes. Women who us men are barely worthy of and who make us better men by being the true women they are. Yin and Yang – look it up.

As I have sat in my manliness bubble and wondered what has happened to men and manliness in general (need I say to see the Bieber haircut as a prime example – by the way, mine is a #1 clipper on the sides, a #6 on top, and tapered in the back) , it is good to see there are those who feel the same as I do.

I will now wear the Retrosexual label proudly.

About. Damn. Time.

I have, from day one, stated that President Obama is utterly out of sync with the American populous, its values, and its traditions. I think this picture so clearly captures that lack of sync, that it is worthy of a Pulitzer.

Literally everyone around him is doing the wave and there he sits, looking bored, irritated and wistful. As if being at the game is an imposition forced upon him and he’d rather be doing something else. Perhaps golfing yet again? Perhaps another fancy party at the Whitehouse? Perhaps another concert? I suspect anything other than being around the common people and having to endure their silly game. As Dorothy Rabinowitz so aptly put it, we truly do have an alien living in the Whitehouse.