Short for a “compromised old” is “cold”

Fedora for contemplation in slow motion 

Aging process can compromise mobility and hit the bones with surprising agility. Also, like aging cheese, especially men start emitting a clearly distinctive smell as they get older. In general, the human body gets saltier and calcifies over the decades of life. So, the bones should as a matter of fact be on the winning side. However, that’s not the case; it’s the aging that takes all the agility, and the bones are only left with “fraud agility” i.e. fragility. I personally know that my sixty-year-old bones do not scream out of joy when the bus leaving for downtown is two minutes early, and I’m only one. They do scream, but out of the fear of a falling knee-cap or my chronic trochanteric bursitis. The latter is my favorite; anyone intending to bother me with a personal health issue will get fret as I pull it out of my sleeve. Hearing the mere word can conjure up all the beasts of Apocalypse if one’s imagination is any good (woe betide the hypochondriacs). Old people immediately relate it to cancer, and the younger find it a VD. 

Not so long time ago, I discussed aging problems over dinner with three old friends who all are about the same age with me. We all agreed that the mobility issue really stinks, but the stink wasn't bad. It was also suggested that men actually like this odor, and move slowly as they don't want it to fade away. I myself had an old idea that the smell has its origin in disintegrating bones, and that I had tried to find some supporting evidence. By the way, is personal hygiene an incongruous topic as much as in a dim-light restaurant?

So, I was dining with my old friends, and occasionally some of us had a need to use the local facilities. Getting up from the chair was almost with no exception accompanied by a barely audible sigh, although the effort wasn't that exhausting, and there was no obvious hurry. The voice effect wasn't for the relief in sight, but for a job-well-done. This was followed by some tentative small steps, carefully moving the chair backwards, and turning in the walking direction without pulling the tablecloth down. The accuracy of the movements was beautiful to watch; the eyes of many a fellow diner widened in admiration. What happened in the facilities is not essential. However, it was concluded that, in near future, some flow issues might be lurking in that department. Slow moving and smells seem to walk hand in hand in the life of an aging man. Our fellow diners in that cozy restaurant cocked their ears.

When you already have a half century plus ten in your pocket, most major tricks like moving the weight from one foot to the other require concentration. A pertaining sigh is well deserved. We all agreed that the time for major athletic efforts is starting to fade, but instead some smaller things like walking past a gym or turning down bellboy’s services will provide us with mature satisfaction. It wasn't long ago that I myself, right before a young waitress, carried two full loads of meatballs in multigrain porridge to my breakfast table. Her hesitating look bothered me for a second, but the table wasn't far.

Moving carefully could also be the result of refined mental processing entailing healthy anticipation of possible untoward happenings. Smells can be anticipated less often. Not breaking bones is one goal, but there also has to be something else. There is a chance that over the years some muscle memory has been lost, and especially complicated movement patterns have to be studied every time over on the spot. But, on the other hand, couldn't this be considered as an ability to really fast consider, review and polish whatever you’re slowly doing: minute meditation, tablecloth yoga, transcendental masculinity… any apt description you can find goes. Even the sports professionals and specialists would say that the most simplified and economical path of movement is the most efficient and winning. As getting to this phase has taken lots of time, this could be all but the top of our individual evolution. Also, pertinent odours appeal perfectionists. See what I mean? At the dinner table, our conversation dealt with lots of issues that the fellow diners in the restaurant found invigorating.

The odour discussion was still short of conclusions. A strong body odour may be for the bearer himself too hard to recognize or possibly likable, but the next of kin could be too kind to tell if it disturbs them, we thought. Showering every day wouldn't necessarily help if the stuff surfaced in a continuous flow. But if the odour was related to the aging of bones, the bearer wouldn't be to blame.

The last time I broke my arm I tried to find some hard evidence to support my theory. Unfortunately the actual fracture line was covered by soft tissues, and sniffing the skin above gave no results. Thirty-six years earlier, when I broke my arm the first time, this didn't even occur to me.

The friendly surgeon, who operated my arm a few weeks later, wasn't of much help either. His good friend the anaesthesiologist stubbornly made me pass out before any smell from the opened fracture site possibly escaped. So, no evidence for my theory was gained. On the other hand, the smell has to penetrate all the tissues, and it takes more or less time for it to get into the atmosphere. Perhaps some more mileage has to be clocked before the guys of our age need to go shopping for cologne in a wholesale. My friends listened to my talk with a serious expression on their face. The claimed link was worth some serious research, but according to their calculations, reckless empirical studies wouldn't provide strong enough statistical strength. Power analysis alone would be a pain in the neck. The three scars on my left arm were admired by the fellow diners in our fine restaurant.

When writing these stories and reading books, I have learnt that finding the author’s pace of expression is essential, not only for understanding the text (despite sloppy punctuation), but also for finding the underlying mood. The manner of conversing of these three guys I was dining with had changed over the years. We had known each other more or less since the preschool age, but during the last good twenty years we had met only once. Although our company was never boisterous (as far as I remember), now there was a sort of pleasant pace in individual talks and in exchange of thoughts. Or, was it a sign of approaching senility? Is there a chance we simply took our time for trying to understand what was being said, or tried to avoid losing the train of thought in order to say something worth listening? Is it possible I’ll be getting all the ciphered stuff first next week? I completely ignore the alternative that the odour concentration of four 60-year old men could have blurred our minds. Anyway, I have an impression that our fellow diners in that pretty restaurant had adopted a sedated page by the time they walked home. The next time we four meet, we'll most likely have a new audience. Break a leg…! 

Caution in walking is good, but so is discretion in talking. In world literature, there is no shortage of quotations where "talking" has been defined as a somewhat female domain. As over time walking gradually slows down in men, does talking respectively lessen in women? Are "walking" and "talking" in this respect parallel phenomena? After getting the report of the main lines of our talks, the spouses of these three will perhaps squeeze out the truth about whether our night out was a social and sincere rendezvous or undermined by pretension. Women tend to do it by nature. It’s just so hard to visualize this casual and laid-back ambiance in the company of four girl friends after not seeing each other for twenty years. Alone the required preparation time for such an evening would speak in my favour. Or, is it only that the world actually is what it seems to, and my conception of women is simply based on too many assumptions. Would Mr. Ockham agree? It is no assumption that the bones of postmenopausal women start losing minerals faster than in men as the female oestrogen levels run low, and thus the positive correlation between bone loss and cautious talking doesn't work. Moreover, whatever stuff the women lose from their bones, and even if it ended up on the skin, most of them would still smell better than men.

As the evening got old, and our discussions drifted in the direction of grandchildren and other mundane issues, we decided to call it a day. But the next time we'll meet, we'll first have sauna.

Shopping for a car is like getting a wife

"Materializing things that shouldn't be materialized is unmannerly. Is there a neat way to maternalize cars?" - Unknown feminist.

As the most "technical" expressions of this story are so clearly metaphors for various premarital and marital dealings, I have come up with a conception that car dealer business, in general, is just one big smokescreen for sex. When writing this story, I actually started considering it as a sort of "manual for new drivers". It is based solely on what I've seen, and if any of the readers have something to add, please let me know. Some of the metaphors are direct, but some are just overlapping. An example: In this story, "a driver" is definitely a metaphor for "a male", and "driving" quite often literally means what's on their mind. However, in this writing not so much covered, processes of "insuring a vehicle" and "getting a prenuptial agreement" could both serve for a parallel purpose although the latter may rather eat your mental than financial resources.  

This manual has been written for all men considering to acquire a vehicle. Especially the young men with no or little driving experience should read it carefully. If you don't know much about cars, life may get tricky, and you might even believe that the car you are getting will be forever.

A new car smells good, the lights shine bright, there is no harshness in its sound and nowadays most of them do not smoke at all. Sleek and slim appearance is nice to show and watch. Service record is nil. On the other hand, used cars are cheaper, and you may even get one or two previously installed accessories in the bumpers almost for free of charge. It's great to know that the previous owner had to pay through the nose for them.

If you buy a new car, you may decide not to test drive it at all. When all the factory seals are in place, you can simply trust on the warranty. However, you should first arrange a time for a careful manual inspection of the body parts inside out, not forgetting the trunk and engine. But remember, nowadays even brand new cars tend to carry on some mileage. After the purchase, the running-in period has to be cautious for not loosening the engine too much. As for new cars, extremely few owners let anyone else drive, which definitely will help skirting trouble. But nothing lasts forever. One beautiful day, depending on the country-specific regulations, the first MOT on your vehicle is due. There is nothing you can do if the inspector wants to have a test ride. However, it is widely known that the inspectors are inclined to find old cars more test drivable than new cars. 

New cars seldom need more than an occasional light wash and make up, but older cars may need some paint and filler for passing MOT. If already at young age your car requires uncanny amounts of make up products, there is a chance that sooner than flooring the pedal you'll be in trouble with unauthorized car inspectors.

Getting a previously owned car has also its advantages. You can perhaps upgrade the model and year more often, and used cars tend to be more prone to rough riding. Quite a few available vintage vehicles tend to have big engines as they're more durable and last longer. However, losing distributor oil may sometimes become a problem with them, and an ordinary used car buyer should stay far from them. You can barely imagine all the consequences of the crankshaft of an old vehicle falling off in the middle of an acceleration. Also, big old cars may have a permanent four-wheel-drive system that may surprise a beginner. An AWD in smaller new cars is often related to track level performance, and old drivers should beware hearth attacks. Occasionally, leakages happen even in new cars, but normally the warranty will cover all damages. Reading the users manual inside the cupboard door will help an inexperienced driver for understanding the service intervals of new vehicles. In general, driving a leaking car is a personal liability and an environmental hazard. 

If possible, when planning to go for a previously owned car, it is a good idea to have a chat with the previous owner. You may also have the car inspected by a car doctor if you are getting it directly from the owner. If you are buying the car from a used car dealership, the previous owner or owners can be tracked from public records. Talking to the ex-drivers may really pay off as hidden traits or real faults can have been covered by a dishonest dealer, as revitalizing procedures are common and e.g. the mileage can be altered for concealing the true nature of an old car. Most dishonest dealers can be recognized by their pimped-up personal rides and gaudy clothing. 

It seems that used car owners often go for a new second hand one as their next vehicle, and thus gradually acquire some expertise in these affairs. Having a friend to give his opinion might be useful; letting him take a test drive would be a sign of a true friendship. Waxing an old car by hand may over time become a laborious chore, and for this reason old car owners regularly become devoted DIY men. But if an old ride really needs some pimping up, its up to everyone's personal likes whether to let a professional driver put his hands on it. 

Pooling cars is an interesting approach for driving around. However, deviating from the commonly recognized rules of conduct is daring, and may sound even outrageous to the owners of brand new cars. Cleaning upholstery after pool driving sessions, and not knowing who'll pay the bill if accidents happen, may be easier to swallow for only the callous drivers who have changed their ride many times.

If the car owner is planning to increase the number of family members, there are some things to pay attention to. Driving with a kid aboard is less convenient than normal driving. Using a four-wheel-drive is often the only option. At this phase of life, many vehicle owners start appreciating solo driving. For female drivers, driving alone with even just one kid aboard is complicated as reaching all the required knobs and buttons is awfully hard.

What ever kind of car you have, getting a second one will increase all expenses. A second car is almost with no exceptions a previously owned, or at least it has a high mileage. A second car will almost always, in short and long run, become much more expensive than what was planned. Driving or even just having preliminary and secondary cars simultaneously kids aboard, is a nightmare.

An older, well kept car can look stylish from behind as, on the other hand, the front grill, bumper and lights would more easily reveal the actual year model!

Plump and Circumference

Hamlet dug porridge, not so much cabbage.

As the writer of this yarn is prone to cross-disciplinary thinking, modifying William Shakespeare's mighty lines and mixing them up with personal dietary and life style visions is almost an obligation. Reading this story may in some cases require sociological or parental discretion.

                                                                         

Substantial amounts of loose body fat is culturally either favorable - or then not. Depending on the availability of nutrition, the conception of an ideal figure, and especially that of the rear (more accurately: butt, rump, behind, derriere etc.), has from time to time changed. However, over the last a hundred or so years, it has oscillated from voluptuous to meager and back mostly for the reason of looks. Nowadays also the health enthusiasts are stirring this soup. Although, in this writing, I'm mainly providing you with my findings, visions and advice from a moderately tame western chauvinist point of view, in parenthesis () I have also included an alternative version for those with other sort of background. 

For many of us health issues don't sound attractive enough reasons for starting (alternative: stopping) to release (gather) unwanted (beloved) fatty tissues although common sense and health advisers would tell you otherwise. The threat of dying some five or ten years before (after) your expected meeting at The Pearly Gates may for anyone living one's twenties or sixties sound distant; of course there's always time to do things later. But then, if you just had a strong enough reason to start monitoring (ignoring) the outline of your midsection...!

Dependence on a current fashion may dictate ones behavior. Those intending to lose (gain) a couple or more pounds from (to) the waist or butt need good motivating factors. Losing (adding) stones would be even better, but(t) might require measures that are beyond reach of an average willpower. However, willpower can also be manipulated, and can almost be omitted if the motivation is in good shape. I'm just saying that when reasoning is waterproof, there is no need to waste energy for maintaining willpower.  For those willing to gain weight, all energy saving options are welcome. Switch your behavioral autopilot on. 

Now we definitely shouldn't pick anyone for having just some extra michelins (lack of michelins) or having different guidelines of life, and especially not anyone with difficulties in body self-perception. In this story I'm referring to us in late middle age (when writing this, I'm fifty-nine going on 60) who when swinging around in a shower cabin have accidentally shoved the faucet with the butt and almost scalded themselves (love scalding experience). As I see it, what ever you are doing, having a motivating factor is important.

If the eyes are the mirror of a man's soul, and the face is that of a man's hearth, a person's behind has to be the mirror of his past. As the butt is usually more or less covered, it testifies to a man's intention to keep some details of one's personal past to himself, unlike the eyes and the face that are too easy. Perhaps for the inborn curiosity of the humans, checking out men's and women's butts seems to have become an evolving leisure time hobby. Exemplary specimen awake enthusiasm and act as role models. The carriers of derrière exhibitable have been pointed out to have significance in portraying e.g. stereotypes of personalities, ideal phenotypes of people and even in matters about religion (Chychota J.C. in Master of Arts Thesis: Interdisciplinary/InterartsTheory and the Example of Marilyn Monroe, 2000). Careful studying and utilization of an extraordinary derriere could open doors to "higher" shower cabins.

Interlude:

In 1901, in Liverpool, Edward Elgar introduced the series of Pomp and Circumstance Military Marches, Op.39, and a couple of years later one of its tunes Land of Hope and Glory adopted the name of the whole series as it was used as a processional tune in the Yale University graduation festivities. The marches were originally intended to emphasize "the splendid show of military pageantry", and Elgar picked up the title from W. Shakespeare's Othello (Act III, Scene 3):

"Farewell the neighing steed and the shrill trump,
The spirit-stirring drum, th'ear-piercing fife,
The royal banner, and all quality,
Pride, pomp, and circumstance of glorious war!"

In those days nutritional recommendations and health enthusiasm were most likely quite different from today, and life expectancy at birth in USA and Britain was below 50 years for men. 

Of course also a number of other factors had an impact on those figures. However, I have a feeling that quite few Edwardian gentlemen bothered measuring the circumference of their own derrière as scalding ass in a shower cabin was a minor liability. I don't want to suggest why the ladies' had a corset, but anyway their butts were more carefully hidden in the garments. According to The Free Dictionary, the definition of the word "pomp" is "vain or ostentatious display". Today vanity, as a human trait and expressed as pomp, might not be one of the deadly sins, but might not be regarded as something to be proud of. At least it is not that in a supermarket checkout line. But again, neither is dragging an extra stone of fat (rattling bones) in your pants down a supermarket aisle. However, when listing available motivating factors, "butt & vanity" could come up handy. "Circumference" in this context naturally refers to the perimeter of belly, waist, butt or whatever you get your hands on. According to my western theory, pomp and circumference are a pair of variables with negative correlation; when the circumference increases, pomp tends to decrease (according to the alternative theory, the correlation is positive, but we have to accept that). On the other hand, as attributes, "plump" and "mighty circumference" go hand in hand in all cultures. Whether my reader is into putting on or getting rid of extra tissues, the connection between the Shakespearean and secular terminologies has been established. Now you may get an impression that reading this writing, as well as reading Shakespeare in its original form, requires an interpreter, but no worry. Just read my story "Sometimes I don't understand a single word of what I am saying".

In this context, a common endearment "pompous ass" is fairly unscientific unless its use is limited to only those who willingly exhibit their own. 

My own experience about losing weight and substance has been pretty successful over the last five years. After some fairly close encounters with the faucet, I realized that the circumference of my rear had reached dimensions that weren't beneficial to my well-being, neither to that of the cabin. Now, after sending a good three stone (20 kg) of various tissues into thin air, it is my responsibility to unravel some details of my 
daily doings.

After a good eight hours sleep, my breakfast is simple to prepare. This is essential as most of the mornings I have to take care of it myself. Porridge will easily postpone my next meal until early afternoon.

- Switch water boiler on. - Pour two-minute porridge flakes into a bowl.
- Add five to ten e.g. chicken nuggets.
- Add spices (oregano, BBQ etc.).
- Adding a cooked (and scaled) egg is optional.
- Pour boiling water into the bowl and stir.
- Stick the decently covered bowl into a microwave oven.
- Take a shower, and test the compatibility of your butt with the faucet. 
- After the shower your porridge is ready for one minute (800kW) heating.
- Watch morning news, and cut a big chunk of raw cabbage for a side dish. 
- After the two first news items you can start spooning and crunching.

Plain water is good for drinking. Instant coffee is essential in the morning. Whatever you have for lunch doesn't matter; nor does it matter what you have for the dinner. However, when you're done with your appetite, leave it there. Three meals a day is enough. When you need a snack, indulge yourself with a slice of multigrain bread and some cheese. A fridge in your office is a good idea. Keep some dental floss and a pouch of snack carrots in your briefcase. Avoid alcoholic beverages at any time. Cherish your buttocks e.g. with a thirty minute stationary bike session at least four times a week.

As an alternative menu for those who follow the text in the parentheses, I suggest a mug of coffee with a cigarette. Snacks and energy drinks are good for daily nourishment. It is exercise to carry all the trouble in the world on your shoulders.

Conjuring breakfast in no time doesn't have be complicated, and biking is fun. In about two to twelve months time, be prepared to go shopping for new pants as there is enough room for a head of cabbage between you and the waist band.

For digesting the cultural significance of this causerie, it's relevant to provide some background statistics. Although cabbage has lots of Vitamin-C, in his whole production William Shakespeare used the word only once. And even then, in The Merry wives of Windsor (Act I, Scene 1), he used it only for emphasizing Falstaff's good intentions: "Good worts! good cabbage. Slender, I broke your head: what matter have you against me?". In legal proceedings, I suppose, this could be considered as misuse of a good product. On the other hand, at least Hamlet had porridge in his breakfast menu (Act III, Scene 2). 

Sometimes I don't understand a single word of what I am saying

As a single guy, socializing with a flock of high-school girls is a tough exercise.

"I am so clever that sometimes I don't understand a single word of what I am saying."
- Oscar Wilde

Occasionally, sharing our complex inner thoughts is hard for us semi or three-quarter intellectuals. Sometimes it is like exhibiting an abstract painting; the beauty is in the eyes of the beholder, or in this case the interpreter. Afterwards, you'll just hope to be amazed how insightful you've been. On the other hand, unequivocal communication is not necessarily less complicated. It all depends on your company. In my line of work exchange of messages has to be clear. However, within your family or in other casual walks of life, clear talking may not be enough if the recipient's receptors or mental software do not operate. Again, regarding my line of work, the deciphering unit is switched off. Necessarily, the fault doesn't lay with the expresser as for 50-75% intellectuals clear delivery shouldn't be a major problem. Common cultural and educational background could of course help, but what comes to my professional experience, it is so much simpler to discuss wavelengths. As both female and male ballparks are well known to me, i.e. regarding both transmitter and receiver departments, I wouldn't be able to bring up any significant differences between the frequencies of genders. It is true that females are more prone to multitasking, and it may 

somewhat distract them, but then as I'm writing this, at the same time I'm carrying out a surveillance mission on my drone. 

But where are my manners; I haven't introduced myself. The first about twenty-five years of my life my name used to be Samuela Clemens, but now it is Marcus, Marcus Twain. This Marcus-me has always been a fighter pilot. People changing their names often use an acronym of the old one, but I decided to make it up completely. On the other hand, I'm also an inborn "twain person" as already before my military career, I came out of the hangar (air force expression) introducing my hidden male character. John Irving is good.

I earn my living as a Squadron Commander in an officially unofficial UAV fleet somewhere in Hawaii thus being one of the best experienced men of The Unmanned. Still I need to confess that some features of an inborn male are still slightly deficient about my person, and there is a chance that my professional orientation was affected by that. 

The drone I'm piloting has a range of quite a few thousand miles, and it's been equipped with unusually strong ball bearings in its tail section. In piloting blabbering is is bad, and small talk is unnecessary. You don't have to seduce your target; it will in no time get a hot touch in the form of a non-sexually oriented fast exploding projectile, and that is straightforward if anything. Those affairs do not last long. 

Generally, I do not classify people by their demeanor; quite often they are just fine. Still there are many with whom I feel a sort of void in communication, and perhaps it's the clincher limiting closer acquaintance. These people mainly consist of females and males. I'm almost natural with my lady friends and lady colleagues, and mutual understanding could be perfect if they didn't try to make too much of my casual talk as if I were an abstract work of art to be deciphered. Quite often I also have a feeling that their own messages are hidden in a way no US Air Force officer could understand. How do they talk to each other? My own semi-lady-brain would explain some of this behavior as being post traumatic after suffering early adulthood in a high-school environment, but my semi-male-brain only would consider it as an inborn (subconscious) talent of taunting. Again, how do they talk to each other? 

"It is better to remain silent at the risk of being thought a fool, than to talk and remove all doubt of it." 

- Maurice Switzer

Every day at work I deal with my male peers, but consider them merely as those who either do or don't get my meaning at once. No pain, I feel sympathy. Especially OK are those who understand what I tell just once, and right there can figure out my orders. If they won't, they'll be sorry as my half female sympathy is taunting. My superior officers regularly address me with suspicious sort of missions, and I'm good just like that as well. No pain there either, I'm very emphatic. However, sooner or later they'll feel insecure as my empathy is as true as that of a high-school girl. Perhaps, after my retiring, some of them are going to suffer from PTSD. Sometimes though, I have to confess, I have no clue about what's happening. Is there a chance that some of these guys have been in some way infected in high-school? Should general segregation of sexes be applied to those planning a military career or football? In my line of duty, not following orders may lead to a collision course - literally. Anyway, personally it is not that essential as I still have good bumpers (nowadays more mental than physical). My superiors can be male, female or something else (in Air Force the third ones don't come up too often), but men with too big drones are far too common. Now I may sound a bit unfit for my role as a drone pilot, but it's only that I'm trying to clarify my conception of communication as I'm thoroughly 50-75% intellectual. Got it? 

Off military circles there definitely are folks with whom casual talk is too hard too (2H2 - I love that acronym - it's almost like "LOL"). Casual talk should be funny and relaxing, and it's like that when the deciphering devices are fully functional at both ends. However, if e.g. your simple and casually intelligent quotation of W. Shakespeare doesn't entail jocular ambiance, something has gone askew - big time. Anyway, lately some lines from Richard III have been a great success among my lady acquaintances. Lest awkward silence would follow with their male equivalents, I have recently planned to include quotations from Harper Lee and Truman Capote in my repertoire. Many of them just love ornithology and non-fiction. I'm doing all this although in my girly high-school years I learnt that the guys overall got pretty much none of the at should-I-spell-it-to-you level ciphered messages. In this respect talking to female companions is easier and less traumatic; eavesdropping males have their destiny in their own hands. If this pursuit of making small talk is all but unsuccessful, there still is a chance if the other party is only shy but receptive, and the performing party is creative. Light-hearted chatter is the core of delightful socializing. 

In my case, unambiguous delivery of reflections has always been axiomatic, and successful informative transaction is completely up to the adversary. If, however, mutual comprehension is not so much above nil although there is much enough intelligent sounding exchange of words, but no chance of getting the ideas through, the set up may result in a disaster. In a family, this would simply show as perpetual replay of arguments with no outcome, and would in long run render the words "I told you" suffer inflation. In the worst scenario the things would remain unsolved before a marriage counselor. But then, in an other kind of company, you might suddenly end up doing things that on TV would require parental discretion, and moreover with someone who no better than you has any clue about what is happening. There you would have some material for an awkward scene. 

Acquaintances based on poor communication often just gradually peter out, or end like The Third Man movie; no one is talking, Anton Karas is playing in the background, it's raining, and all just walk in their own directions. No problems there, if you live under the umbrella of optimism. However, if the communication in real life is something like text messaging, my feet have all my life been steadily off the ground. I just wonder if good old William considered Richard's long talk to Lady Anne as a skillful effort in order to impress her with his wordy talent, or a straightforward move into her pants. At least Richard the Duke of Gloucester got lucky.

"Teach not thy lips such scorn, for they were made for kissing, lady, not for such contempt" (W.Shakespeare, Richard III, Act I, Scene 2). This is where Richard tries to seduce Lady Anne right after killing her husband. The "Anne character" in The Third Man movie was more clever.

My name is Richo

My name is Richo and people don’t like me. I really don't understand, why! They try to get rid of me all the time by trampling and kicking me continuously. They say I and my pals are different and call us names; faces they make only occasionally. I would consider us "the most extreme outcasts of society". I also feel isolated as I and most of my pals are kept in cages that move from one place to another so often. I’m cocooned. On the other hand, there are some bright sides in my life too - I have to confess. Relatively often I get a new or a recently washed outfit that especially in winter makes me feel warm. 

Now this may sound weird: Although I’m complaining about so often being closed in my room, it is this home that keeps me alive, more or less. In summer, when I quite often get out, I'll be in a real danger. Surprisingly, I don’t like bright light and too dry places very much. I suppose I'm a sort of habitual nightclub wet head. The winters are not that bad as I feel comfortable in my outfit and my home is warm. Moreover, there is less chance to get sunlight or too much fresh air. Perhaps I'm just getting schizophrenic.

Now I have to tell you that I find myself a kind of city person in these somewhat weird circumstances. In countryside, I have cousins who live a completely different kind of life. They almost enjoy fresh country air although they like rain too. Anyway, these cousins of mine keep their heads high up and are one proud lot. On the other hand, there are dangers too: many of them get their heads chopped off if local politics go sour. I don’t envy them as people can be so cruel and narrow-minded. 

But then, I and my buddies have some threats too. People try to poison us in most peculiar ways. I've been treated with snake oil, vinegar and even some drugs. A couple times I have been stabbed, and only luckily survived. Once, after giving me knife, a guy poured pure vinegar in my wounds. But, very soon he was really sorry for that. Last summer, someone tried to drown me a couple of times. However, I laughed a dirty laugh as I'm an excellent swimmer and enjoy water - no chance in that territory with my whole family and buddies. Actually, I prefer indoor swimming pools to beaches. 

So, I'm a city person, but still I’m not a real sports fan although in one way I benefit from things related to sports events. Now I have to say I'm not talking about advertising, vice versa. In our line of work excessive advertising could end up in peril. Neither is vending sausages nor popcorn our cup of tea. As to actual sports, tennis, squash and track & field sports are not bad although I sometimes become claustrophobic or frustrated, whatever they mean. I have a bit mixed feelings about soccer. American football is just fine as kicking ball is there so much less frequent. For obvious reasons, I really don’t like ball kicking. Swimming is really enjoyable as I already mentioned. All winter sports are completely horrible. But then, wrestlers are my favourites. I really fancy wrestlers. 

Now I’m awfully sorry, I haven’t properly introduced myself and my family. The name “Richo” is short for my original name Trichophyton rubrum. Using some imagination, someone could think that my name actually means a "T-rex Richo rubbing python snake", but it doesn't. I have no such inclinations. After all, my life is very regular, and I'm strictly heterofungal. However, my address is not at all the same every day; I may have different quarters seven days a week. Anyway, I have to tell you that perhaps the dearest house I have ever occupied is the one where I spent all my youth. My first home was a warm and cosy sneaker, and my host took good care of me, providing all the necessary nutrients I needed for growing big and strong. He didn't play much soccer, but spent a plenty of time in sports facilities. 

This is where I took my first steps. I did it blind. This is my passport picture. 

Our family has really nothing to do with popcorn or any other vending business, but as we like to extend our turf, we utilize the shower rooms of sports facilities. As I told, wrestlers slimy mats are excellent for our purposes. Hiding first in a wet wrestling or shower room mat, and then attacking a victim unexpectedly may sound creepy, but that’s our livelihood. It is essential if we're intending to form a new family. Nevertheless, I have to say that most of our new hosts should be grateful to us as from that moment on we’ll manage the security of the shoe, and we’ll guarantee that no unwanted multi legged parasite will enter our symbiotic environment. In the dressing room, the fragrance we often excrete creates a fraternal atmosphere and strengthens team spirit. Also, later on, it may dispel too friendly approaches of the opposite gender. This task we're ready to carry out even if we had been exposed to unfamiliar eyes. However, it doesn't happen too often; the appearance has for centuries been the Achilles' heel of our hosts. I just wonder if the ancestress of all Trichophytons' hosts once held their progenitor by a toe when dipping him in River Styx. 

Uncomprehending people sometimes try to drown us; you remember I have some experience of it. However, the only outcome is that fragrance deliveries will be behind of schedule, and defending host may be compromised. On the other hand, sun exposure in this environment may physically jeopardise our existence and thus hamper our defensive task and responsibility of the host's well-being. Nevertheless, social pressure is on our side. Some people consider our looks somewhat odd, and if the host too often introduced us to the public, his or her self-esteem could suffer. 

As mentioned, in terms of alleged, stereotyped appearance and health enthusiasm, we have become the victims of this time. The benefits we provide, also declared above, have been shadowed by unjustified fear and prejudice. If a hypothetical host, under the pressure from ignorant relatives or friends, is prone to end our fruitful collaboration and dismiss us from the premises, he or she of course has several options. Some efforts, recorded in our age-old Natural History of Fungi, have been made by using tee tree oil or grapefruit seed extract, even snakeroot, but most of us just laugh at them. What we really are worried about are some real drugs that actually may make our life difficult. And then there are those who just aim at driving us crazy by rubbing funny creams on our inner home roof and door; there actually are creams that may help itching of skin, but will boost our ability to extend territory. These hosts are so funny; we are here to stay - period. 

I really have a large number of cousins living in the countryside. At some point, some of their family members lived here in the city too, but gradually their pure size started causing problems. One after another they moved to areas where there was more living space, and now only few daredevils occupy mostly wasteland in sparsely habited blocks. On the other hand, these brave guys only seldom need to be worried about having the head chopped off as city pollution that fills their tissues is a big enough deterrent for most enemies. Also, I've been told about a distant relative who on Friday, September 28, 1928, decided to elope to get married, but in all hurry accidentally jumped into a Petri dish in London. They say he became a traitor. 

So, people still hate me - in my opinion unreasonably. Although I still at times feel isolated and claustrophobic, overall I have to be happy with my life at home. In the back of my head there is a smouldering thought: what about moving to the country where I have so many friends and relatives. This idea of mine most likely will never come true. My present home is essential for the survival, and winning over the host and shoes would be just a bit too tricky. 

Well, so long for now, perhaps one day we'll meet. Our family tree is an evolving business. 

My country cousin "Penny Bun", living quiet life her head high up. Her whole name is Boletus edulis.

This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places and incidents either are products of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously. Any resemblance to actual events or locales or persons, living or dead, is entirely coincidental. 

The picture of "Penny Bun" was copied from Wikipedia, and published in accordance with the CreativeCommons terms http://creativecommons.org/licenses/by-sa/3.0/. 

Symbiotic Honolulu birds

All know that Hawaii is the birth state of Nicole Kidman , Barack Obama and Bette Midler, and that it's the youngest of the US states. Its capital is Honolulu. Actually, is there anything else to tell about this relatively small group of islands in The Pacific Ocean...? Oh yes, there is something pretty essential.

Hawaii is a major tourist attraction, and a variety of birds and "birds" live and especially visit it every year. What makes a difference is that most of the birds learn to fly very young, but the "birds" will never manage without help. Many of those that can't fly have been imported, and live in man-made constructions called "houses" or "buildings". The others usually live in trees or among vegetation having some kind of symbiotic relationship with the protecting tree structure, worms and bugs. The two birds know and see each other every day, but don't communicate at an intelligent level. Still. the both groups enjoy nice weather throughout the year. Because the discussion about the "concept of species" still today is quite controversial, there is no need to make a difference between them in this talk, so let's just call them all birds. 

Of the birds on the left, many have poor flying abilities, and may spend an extensive amount of time in sandy areas called "beaches". On the other hand, flying species as the one on the right prefer evergreen areas where they also find some of their nutrition. The birds on beaches don't have a chance of finding anything edible in sand, and many of them use the males of their species for that purpose - in one way or another. Knowing the name of the game, in mutual understanding, the males attract the attention of the female population e.g. with floating devices equipped with a fancy looking vertical canvas. 

Inhabited buildings and houses tend to be located next to sandy areas as this is very practical for feeding purposes. If the shore line only consists of bare volcanic rocks, finding sufficient amounts of food or feasible feeding areas may sometimes be hard. As the "beach birds" aren't always able to find food, they occasionally are completely dependent on the male population. Moreover, these birds regularly seem to waste tons of exchange units for unimportant items like new "feathers" or "beak paint". For this reason, even gross approaches made by constantly circling "vultures" may be taken into account. But who's the benefactor, and who will eventually pay the bill? Or, is this a common symbiotic phenomenon, characteristic to the nature?

One of the best vulture tactics is to establish an observation post in front of a public feeding and drinking facility. Under normal circumstances a short, portable post is all that is needed (middle). However, if the bird population is in an unfortunately good nutritional state, stronger means for drawing attention may have to be applied (left). Usually, it doesn't take long before hungry birds start tweeting and gathering in the vicinity, ready to be picked up and taken into the facility. 

As a common finding, birds seem to start tweeting as soon as there is two or more of them around, but a single bird only tweets if she is connected to another by an electronic device. If the advertising male looks wealthy and well fed, the pursuit can't go wrong - with or without any electronic gadgets. There is no need to mention that appealing phenotype, suggesting perhaps thorough mating after feeding, is a big advantage in the eyes of a single bird. Except of verbal approach, also candies and recreational liquids can be used. 

 An alternative for an observation post is an appliance that represents money transactions or otherwise is related to financial stability and reliability. First of all, a crappy parking meter is hardly anything fancy. To stay on call at a street ATM is a borderline choice; there always is a chance you'll be taken as a pickpocket or you'll get robbed. However, an ATM on the wall of a major bank in a posh shopping street, providing a trustworthy impression, is a good choice. Dressing up in a streetwise manner is essential. 

The basics for this technique were first developed in common parks by old females of the non-flying species. Their habit of feeding flying birds was noticed and studied in the nocturnal meetings of non-flying males. Scattering food around seemed to attract all kinds of social birds, and if this happened on a regular basis, a potentially deceitful trust and dependence could be developed. In later invented sophisticated techniques, like e.g. wooing birds already nestling in a feeding and drinking facility, sprinkling cakes with chocolate chips and floor with champagne come in handy. 

 Overall, flying birds seem to have a better instinct for self-defence than their non-flying mates. Moving in flocks is more common, and there always is one or more eyes open for possible attacks. In terms of energy use, flying together is economical, and the fliers are good at calculating fuel consumption. When moving in a crowd or alone, their walking sisters have no problems with air resistance, but in a company they tend to attract unfavourable attention as overflowing tweeting is in some circles considered noise pollution. Watching out for danger may be ignored. Though, especially at night, they should be aware; a single bird is an easy prey. 

It is common knowledge that expected financial benefits and complicated mating system breed lots of intrigues within the non-flying population. These intrigues may arise between the individuals of opposite genders, but also against someone of the same gender. The whole setting becomes more complicated as the seduction game can be played in more than one direction, and all the parties of the game necessarily do not "appear on the stage". As mentioned above: presents, appropriately dressed mating tools and focused anticipations in this context are strong weapons. 

Not far from the Honolulu down-town, there is a harbour area, Pearl Harbor. For ages, on various pretexts, birds have tried to persuade sailors to move ashore. And why not, a male with a steady job and pension is not a bad catch. Then there is one more thing: Sailors have always been praised for their mating willingness and occasionally great capability. As an evidence of this, some of their 30-40 times magnified tools are on display in the Pearl Harbor Exhibition Area. Because of my strict family friendly publishing policy, I'm not going to go any deeper into this issue, not in any position. An ultimate means for finding suitable sailors for the above named purposes is to use cutting edge technology. Following the evening leave schedules of ship crews and planning a feasible approach tactic may be essential in a successful sailor hunt. In the Pearl Harbor Exhibition area, there is an old submarine tower where a periscope is in continuous use by the local birds.

Utilisation of stool pigeons in politics and other honest business has been common for centuries. When the background work has been done right, suitable attracting things or beings can be used for placing political or business opponents (most often of the same species) in an awkward position. The joke is that, in the same way as the "beach birds" can't resist the temptation of good food, most of the individuals of any species have a weakness or two; the actual job is to find them. Often the soft spot is related to mating rituals - again, in one way or another, or third. As flying birds are sometimes hunted with traps and decoys for nutrition, also non-flying birds can be used as set-up material for constructing so-called honey-traps. As a reward for this work, these "employees" are provided with food and other goods. So, the game goes in all directions at the same time. However, the Hawaii Department of Public Safety doesn't consider this relationship symbiosis, and the funds used for the employment are not tax deductible. 

 Honey-trap birds, or "love birds", are hunting decoys for non-fliers and usually equipped with well disclosed details, details for effortless perusing by the males of same species. "Love birds" are seldom monogamous, unlike their flying counterparts, Lovebirds (Agapornis fischeri), which strictly are. Anyway, common to these two are a bright red beak or lips, big eyes, innocent expression, charming posture of the figure and distinguishable outfit. In Hawaii, there is no natural Lovebird population, but they have been imported, live in houses with non-flying species and are supported by them. On the other hand, this is pretty much the same with "love birds"; many of them have been imported, they are dependent on other people and seldom pay the rent themselves. If the business goes bad, both of them may end up in a cage. Nevertheless, there is one more peculiar detail that is common to the both of them: they both can "fly", but only short distances. Anyway, as for the "love birds" it only is a figurative quality related to the night life in a big city. On the other hand, this will make "love birds" slightly different from ordinary "birds", and accordingly the true flying birds from Lovebirds and "love birds". Ornithological classification and terminology are complex issues. 

As a conclusion, we can say that all kinds of birds, covered in this article, have symbiotic relationships with other environmental elements. This applies to, not only Honolulu birds, but some other parts of the world too. In the next part of this populist series of scientific publications, we'll look into the symbiont cultures in the Galapagos Islands. 

As we now have learnt, there is much more to know about Hawaii and Honolulu than some coincidental names. Digging deeper into the essence of any geographic area always requires some sidelight from a well informed source or sources. I express my sincere thanks to the the United States Pacific Fleet, Nokia Siemens Networks, Hawaii Department of Public Safety, Department of Zoology, University of Hawaii and The Superman who can fly, but is not included in any of the above mentioned categories because he's fictional. 

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The picture of Lovebird was copied from Wikipedia, and published in accordance with the CreativeCommons terms http://creativecommons.org/licenses/by-sa/3.0/. Women with electronic gadgets and the Superman are from Google's picture collection, although the first ones are not fictional.