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Caveman Entertainment Network (CET). Bullies in a blender. Reality TV.

Me and my cavemen counterparts were drooling and scratching our nether regions when all of a sudden there arose such a clatter.   My friends and I are as dumb as a box of rocks and say,  “ugh, alot”.  Very profound commentary for us.  But we do have very strong opinions on everything including our cave chicks.  Errr,   Cave Ladies.

We have discussed boobs,  moobs and Jiffy Lube.   The last is a mystery still til this day.   And why do those cave ladies always make remarks that we can’t understand.    The size of our sticks to the best of my understanding.

Now that our cave darlings feel empowered they are making extensive ‘Honey Do Lists’.     We would rather brood in our so-called mancaves and listen to crickets harmonize by the lake than carve out holes in the walls,  to display their fossilized knick knacks.    Hell,  my old lady and I mean really old lady,  wears granny pants and panties.   Kind of like those basketball shorts in the NBA and cargo pants that are bloused and squared away.   Better than those sexy ladies with the hamburgers in their mouths,  if you ask me.

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Which one of these three do not belong?

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But one thing that really bugged us and that is,  is wrastling fake?   Or any more fake than Reality TV?  For one,  does anyone believe that Rick’s son Corey actually knows anything about much except that handshake he does? I mean it is like in the hood with the gun thing.   I wonder if he has maybe a gatt or Tech-9.

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Now me and the cave morons all agree, that the Amish Mafia can’t be real because how can you commit arson on TV and get away with it.   And we wonder about his nice car.   Okay,  I got a horse and you got a Mercedes.  To be protected from what?   Teen girls smoking straw and overnight and illicit games of Scrabble?

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The most inane TV Series is a tie between about 100 Reality TV Shows and ‘The Match Game’ and Gene Rayburn’s microphone.   I am not sure if that is cattle prod for ‘The Butthole Surfers’  or that staff that Moses had in that movie where he was a Pharaoh in training.

As to any of the shows where they are breaking the law what do they think because doesn’t law enforcement have TVs too?  So,  those Moonshine dudes, are on TV and you figure that they would be all in jail by now.    And anyway what happened to the Shapely Sonja on ‘Operation Repo’?   I love that ghoulish makeup and her awesome hair!   Even Billy the Exterminator knows she is a hot ticket in a donut factory.    I do want Billy’s electric Tennis Racquets because I want to nail some churlish wasps while they are sleeping.

Burn baby burn!

When my brother and I were younger he was a rascal.   One day he hit a honey bee hive with a rock and those overly sensitive bees chased us down.   I got stung a few times but rightfully my brother got x10 as many.   Sheez.   Or the day we were playing with Scorpions.

Now why is it when you have shows like the fishing shows that they are always whining like middle school girls?   Cave dudes love to mock and deride other dudes on the deck when the head cave dude is watching WWE and eating Doritos, the insect flavored brands.

Greenhorns my butt,  it is easy to create drama when one does not get enough roe.   Roe this, roe that,  row your boat whiner boy!   In the Storage Wars,  you have Brandi and Yuuuuuuuuup.    The rest is as staged as the Cowardly Lion biting his tail.

But if you want a real classy show,  you have that ‘Ginger’  with the hot ass cave chicks and their good manners.   That poor boy is probably for real,  like they are not my family.    The older guys are just as lame,  still trying to figure out their Tom-Toms and lava lamps.

Could you imagine one of them on a speed date?   “I  like chewing toe bacco and Cave wall porn.”    “My brother’s sister sure does like fyn!” Grunt!!!

I wonder if their National Anthem is Cocaine?   I mean cave dudes are in control of one thing and that is their TV remote controls and their ten foot satellite dishes.   I wonder if Cave chicks had tramp stamps?

Join my Senior Gang – Walkers Across America! Fear Us!

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I know it is a scary site so if you see us,  run for your life.

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I can see it now.    It is a sunny hot and balmy afternoon,  feelings are on edge and all of a sudden there comes the squeak of hearing aids over-modulating and the steady clack-clack-clack of our tricked out walkers as they crash against the heathen sidewalk.

I pull off my AARP approved helmet engage my kickstand while others fall suit.  It can be quite intimidating as the smell of tosterone and Hai Karate aftershave fills the promenade. The Discovery Channel is falling us around,   capturing our exploits and with dramatic elan show us entering our coffee klatch and winking at the young girls.   (Sixty year olds).

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Of course the big event is going to be when we get in our cars at rush time and drive 20mph in the fast lane while listening to sound bites of the old Lawrence Welk Show.   We will be in a Geritol-induced coma listening to the honks and remonstrations of busy young people.   Our old ladies (literally) will be wearing their antique jewelry and swinging their pearls flirtatiously.

But on a more serious note,  we are civc-minded rebels with a cause.   We man our walkers from our golf carts,   flashing gang signs and cooing sweetly at our female hang-arounds.   You can tell how mean we are by the tats,  like the one with the knitting needles or the EIB Network.     However on that day we are all business,  as we have our Walkers Across America Fund Drive for better sidewalks and Senior Discounts.   We are so vicious that we go to the Full Throttle Saloon and we scare the Bikie Gangs.

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Other distractions for us included collecting at a friend’s house and cajoling the parents and children as they come home from school.   “Mommy, they are scary,  when are the police going to do something about it?”    The mom say the cops are chicken and that we are no one to trifle with.   We have names like Lawrence,  Myrtle and Gertrude so we don’t even need gang names.   That is scary enough right there.

In our clubhouse we have pictures of Bad Granpa, Granny of the Beverly Hillbillies and Festus of Gunsmoke.    We have a saying,   ‘Torn clothing Needs Stitches’.   We like to let our children and grandchildren pay for our hip replacements at 90 and we watch our windows to see young people breaking the rules of our park and turning them into the community’s park management.

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If you go to our website.    www.bluehairs.com you will see our fallen bros and bro-ettes and please do not ask how you can join,  just find one of us and ask.    We would have been on the Sons of Anarchy but that would have only led to a rumble and we try to keep a low profile just in case the Popo spots one of us.

So the next time you think about coming up on one of us,  just remember if we are not wearing our patches and rockers you might not know who we really are.   Suffice it to say,  we have nothing to lose except our driver’s license and free parking signs.

RIP George Washington and watch out for Reverse Mortgages and Clappers!!