Good Night

We are not from different planets. We are Earth Louie-Lads and Earth Louie-Ladies...face it. Furthermore, Big Louie admits that Louie Lads will never understand Louie Ladies. He has a hunch however, the Louie Ladies know all about Louie Lads. That's not fair. But what else is new?

We now have genuine medical proof that just drooling over a well endowed or hunky specimen of your sexual preference is good for your heart. That's because it actually raises your blood pressure. Which you have to do to lower your blood pressure. I know that sounds strange, but that's what people with genuine MDs as opposed to the Internet kind tell us. We can actually cut down exercising by extended and sincere drooling.

Speaking of exercising, I have to get back into some kind of shape. As I told you in my book Staying Happy Healty and Hot, available at Amazon...I have no intention of allowing myself to become just a chunk of luke warm meat. Ever since I had that Louie Louie Generation operation...sometimes known as a knee replacement, I haven't been doing much sweating and straining. And hey...by the way...have you ever noticed how sexy co-ed sweating and straining at the gym can be?

I think Big Louie would make a good personal trainer. He always says, "If you have any moving parts left, move em." And now we have absolute proof that sex is good for your heart. Among other parts.

For most of last night my house was making noises. I heard the first one while I was sitting in my big, manly, comfortable, black leather poppa chair in the living room reading Billy Crystal's new book. It's a good book by the way. Proud Podcast Participant Carole M said "get it", so I did. She has a way of saying things in a very convincing fashion. I should ask Carole to send all of you Emails telling you to get my book, Staying Happy Healthy And Hot. Amazon would go nuts trying to keep up with the orders.

But back to the noises. They're not big bangy things. Just little tick tock things, and they seemed to be coming from all kinds of different directions. I heard another one just a little while ago and I was thinking maybe I could record one, and one of you would be able to tell me what it is. They're just little tick-tock sounds, but they got kind of spooky last night. I was just sitting there reading and my Lady Wonder Wench said..."Somebody is throwing things at our front door." I heard those little ticks, but I wasn't paying much attention. But that comment got my attention.

I am sitting here in my big, manly, comfortable, black leather poppa chair trying to calm down after an hour of hurtling down the hideous, holy, highway outside my house. I mean that highway is hideously holy. You can get seriously hurtled on that road these days. It's hard to tell whether those are potholes in the highway, or sinkholes. Some of them look like the craters of newly formed volcanoes. I am a manly man. I eat rocks and I chew on metal. Well...salt is a rock, and I suck on zinc tablets when I'm getting a cold. As a matter of fact, I keep my stash of chocolate chip cookies on the shelf just over the zinc tablets, because I've heard that there are no calories in cookies that you eat over the zinc.

I'm sitting here in my big, comfortable, manly, black leather poppa chair in my living room with a grand canyon size smile on my face, because it has been an evening of wildly erotic interdigitating with my Lady Wonder Wench. The Politically Correct Forces For Good in the community were sometimes outraged when we interdigitated before we got married. But we didn't care. We interdigitated at every opportunity. And even after all this time, we interdigitate... two or three times a day...and night. Like tonight. We sometimes take the time to initerdigitate while waiting for a long stop light. We interdigitated right out in public tonight. We do that frequently. During a recent session of especially erotic interdigitating, I tried to explain to My Lady that we really should jump into a shower together so we won't catch fire. She wasn't buying it. Interdigitating can be dangerous, but we feel that it feels so good that it's worth the risk.

Interdigitation is my hand picked word for holding hands. I love to interdigitate with my Lady, because I am a hands on kind of guy. I love holding her hand in public, partially because I like how her hand feels, partially to see to it that she doesn't trip, and mostly because that says to the other guys...hands off this lady. I have no intention of letting her change hands. On the other hand...we have fingers. Fingers are the little explorers for people who are in love or in lust. Or both. Fingers are very handy at finding new adventures in previously un-known territories.

As I've told you in my book Staying Happy Healthy And Hot, The Pimple People and the Dreary Drones very seldom interdigitate. And they are sometimes amazed and a little embarrassed that we do. Good. I love embarrassing Pimple People and Dreary Drones. They're embarrased because my Lady and I are members of the Louie Louie Generation. And Louie Louie Lads and Ladies don't have fancy abs and perky breasts any more, like the people in the TV beer commercials.

I'm sitting here in my big, manly, comfortable, black leather poppa chair in my living room. I Just had another interview about my book, Staying Happy, Healthy And Hot on my friend Michael Harrison's radio show, A Touch of Grey. He calls his show, The Talk Show For Grown-ups.

It's fun doing these interviews. I got to talk with Pia Lindstrom on Sirius/XM radio again too. These interviews were such a lot of fun that my son David...who is also our podcast master...posted them on the website at www.dicksummer.com right under the book cover on the home page. Give it a listen when you have a moment.

I don't believe this headline. "Cabin Fever" it says. It says the tough winter is keeping people home! Oh no! This terrible weather is making me stay in a nice warm place, where I can scratch any where there's a itch, where there's a refrigerator stuffed with cherry vanilla ice cream and various adult beverages, where there's a beautiful woman who smiles at me, and stretches out on the couch wearing just her pink bathrobe and fuzzy slippers, and a towel wrapped around her freshly shampooed hair. Oh no! I have to get up out of my big, manly, comfortable, black leather poppa chair to put another pine log on the fire to keep it crackling and hissing pine perfume out into the air. How terrible.

I am sitting here in my big, manly, comfortable, warm, black leather poppa chair in my living room in my bedroom slippers and my black bathrobe with the word Wiz embroidered in gold thread script on the left side, enjoying a real fire in the fireplace, and the sight of my Lady Wonder Wench dressed in her red Beatles Forever sweat shirt, a pair of pink sweat pants that respect and prioritize curves, and a pair of big, old, beaten up fuzzy slippers. It's a good life. A much better one than some guys have.

For example, an email just came pouring in from Proud Podcast Participant Bruce. It says: Just got off the phone with a friend who lives in Long Prairie, Minnesota. She said that since early this morning the snow has been nearly waist high and is still falling. The temperature is 32 below zero and the north wind is increasing to near gale force. Wind chill is -59. She says her husband has done nothing but look through the kitchen window and just stare. She says that if it gets much worse, she may have to let him in.

I'm sitting here in my big, manly, comfortable, black leather poppa chair in my living room, and I'm a whole lot better than I was last week when even with my most manly manipulation, I couldn't open a jar, and my Lady Wonder Wench did it. She said she wiggled it. The jar lid I mean.

That obviously cut manly me to the quick. But when I mentioned it to you, most of you were very supportive. You made me feel better. A couple of days ago I stopped whining, and by this morning my tears had pretty much dried up. So I feel manly again. Ready to use a chain saw again...fly my airplane...use the tv channel changer. Ready to fight the biggest challenge men face today, excess humility.

I am a completely manly man. I have explained that in my book Staying Happy Healthy And Hot. Manly. I use a chain saw. I take out the trash. I fly an airplane. I kill spiders. I have fathered whole schools full of children. I open doors for my Lady, and help her in and out of the car. I occasionally spit and scratch and pick my teeth. I never ask for directions while I'm driving, and I always know a shortcut that the GPS never heard of. I am the Louie Louie Generation answer to Tarzan.

I was a beach lifeguard when I was a kid. I do thousands of one arm pushups every hour. I am a fourth degree black belt in judo, karate, and kickboxing. I have my own big, comfortable, black leather poppa chair in my living room, and I sit in it tall, and straight and proud. My hormones are intact and constantly over active. And I am in total shock at something my Lady Wonder Wench did today. It has to do with Motts apple sauce and it cut to the very core of my manhood.