Change: a new look

Many of us are not big fans of change. It means getting comfortable with, or at least accepting something new in our lives. And whether it's for better or worse is usually a matter of perspective. But the thing about change is it's the one constant in life that you can always depend on. There will always be change.

This is the third year for this blog. Most of that time I've used the same format. Since I began posting again, I've been thinking about changing the look. No good reason I guess, just boredom. I was tired of looking at.

So here it is. I'm still making a few changes to the template code, but since I'm not a whiz at html, it's slow going.

Want some boobs... I mean fries with that?

I was reading something the other day that amazed the hell out of me. It was an article that mention how Ray Kroc, the man who ran McDonald’s from 1954 until the early 1980s, had established a policy that prohibited women from being McDonald’s employees. That policy remained in force until finally being rescinded in 1968, but only on the condition that the women hired should be, in Ray's words, “kind of flat-chested.”

The inference there I suppose is that big boobs would distract patrons at the restaurants. After all, the fries and burgers were supposed to be the main attractions, not a busty clerk across the counter. I guess in that respect one has to admire Kroc's single-minded determination. Maybe I lack the unwavering determination needed to be super successful, but being a boob man myself, Kroc's thinking seems rather extreme.

Speaking of super, isn't it interesting how somewhere along the line Mickey D's discovered the benefits of "super-sizing" their offerings. Burgers, fries, soft drinks. Boobs too maybe?

And isn't it interesting when you consider how a company like McDonald's could discriminate against women because they have breasts, then reluctantly hire them only if they have small ones. Flash forward a few decades to a company such as Hooters that gets sued over a policy that is completely opposite: the bigger the boobs the better.

I wonder, was the Hooters lawsuit filed on behalf of busty women who felt they were being treated as sex objects, or small-busted women who felt they were being discriminated against. What a world.

Time to make the donuts... and kick ass

The Internet is bursting with useless and often erroneous information. One link leads to another and another then another, and before you know it, there it is in front of you. You may not be all that interested, but nonetheless, for some reason, maybe simply because it’s there, you find yourself reading. I read some useless information today. I read it primarily because it struck a chord with something that happened to me about six years ago. Otherwise, it mostly qualifies for the useless information bucket, unless you happen to be considering investing money in Krispy Kreme.

This really is a post about wife-led marriage, female-led relationships and FemDom. Sometimes it takes me a while to get where I’m going, so yes, there is more to this post than donuts. :)

It was an article about why/how Krispy Kreme went from being a southern-based hugely popular chain of donut shops to a nationwide company full of more holes than the tens of thousands of donuts they sell each day. That equates to stock going from $49.00/share to less than a buck… and that equates to mighty piss poor executive management (IMHO). All of this despite having an affordable product that people are willing to wait in line for.

The article mentioned how during the company’s zenith in the late 1990s, a new KK franchise opened in Manhattan and people waited in long lines every time the hot donuts sign went in the window. I know the line thing to be true because when a KK store with a drive-thru opened near us, you would have thought they were passing out glazed, chocolate frosted and jelly filled five dollar bills. I think all the local Dunkin Donuts shops closed down and their owners went back to India for a few weeks. Local police were needed for several weeks to control traffic jams until the new-donuts-in-town curiosity wore off.

As for me? Uh-huh, I waited for nearly an hour in that line. I did it one time, and I might add that I bitched incessantly to my wife the entire time how idiotic we were for wasting the gasoline and the time. Sure I can put away donuts with the best of them, especially KK donuts cause they are small. But excuse me? All this hubbub just to buy a box of warm fucking donuts? It reminded me of the long lines in which I had waited back in the 1970s. I’d had no choice then, but this? This was a clear case of donut delirium.

BTW if you picked up on my wife reference in that last paragraph, you’ve picked up on the reason for this post. You see, at that time, I was feeling free to bitch about waiting over an hour for donuts. At that time, the woman beside me in the car was “just my wife.” I had not yet learned to elevate her to the rank of Goddess. Actually, we had not yet married. We were probably sitting in her convertible, the one with a purple “Worship Me as the Goddess I Am” bumper sticker.

If I have my chronology straight, it was about that time that Goddess V had just about enough of me and was planning to kick my ass to the curb. Get my drift, gents? If you read the first post on this blog (linked above), you know how I resented the inference behind that purple bumper sticker. That was a time when some people thought they could make a lot of money by investing in Krispy Kreme; and a time when a foolish 40-something year old man thought a woman had a helluva nerve expecting to be treated as a Goddess. My, how much there was for many of us to learn.