Whoa! How insensitive of you, Mark! Man alive, this tiresome silliness of political correctness is going to throw our society into heck in a hand basket yet! I found your comment no more or less offensive than say a woman referring to a man as her boyfriend, or when a woman walks into an office and says, "good morning, boys!" I mean for crying out loud. Anyway, I tell you what, the next time you want to complement Dorothy on her work I suggest that you call a spade a spade and say, "Hey, good job you, old, worn out, over the hill, couldn't get any if you sneaked into a men's prison, at the hockey game when the person next to you asked when the last period ended you said "1962," you'd tell me what menopause was like but you can't remember back that far, I tried to get you a date with a man your age but the cemetery wouldn't let me dig him up, the difference between you and the opening of Carlsbad Caverns is that guys don't mind finding bats when they enter Carlsbad, I had a job I wanted you to do, shall we say, by hand but your liver spots would have been too distracting, the old men in the church choir like you because you're the only woman they know who can still pump the organ and you're good on the keyboards as well, every time you go to the dinosaur exhibit at the museum they keep trying to put you back up in the display case, are these Polaroid's from your last trip to the gynecologist or are they aerial photos of the grand canyon, hotel bellmen crowd around you trying to figure out where they hid the handle on such an old bag, you say you'd like to get it on with a real stallion but the bestiality laws prevent that sort of thing, the last time you went to bed with a younger man he woke up and threw you out of the nursing home, even Red Adair couldn't blow out the candles on your birthday cake, you'd be an excellent model for high school students that is if they needed a model showing the extreme long-term-effects of gravity on the human body, do you have extended earlobes or are you wearing eggplants for earrings, poster child for bladder control sufferers of America, even a gallon of K-Y jelly couldn't help you, one of your earliest memories was when you got to shake the President's hand in high school and all you could think of to say was, "I love you Mr. Coolidge!", your idea of a face lift is to submerge your head into a bucket of hemorrhoid shrinking cream, you estrogen-starved bag of bones!" So, there you go, Mark. Feel free to memorize and use the entire above diatribe the next time old Dorothy jumps on your case and I can guarantee you that you will never hear any static from her again because she's not the one who is going to be downtown standing in soup line with a bunch of fellow unemployed strangers. And thanks for writing, Mark. Listeners, as always, should you or someone you know have a manly question or are in need of some manly advice, simply address your letters to me in care of this station. Until next time, this is Mr. Manly saying be manly and good day
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