You’ve Got the Magic Touch!
Well, some do and some don’t. Women are shy and often try to tell a man in a nice way he is pure poison when they see they are in the middle of a relationship that is going nowhere but fast! My favorite example is in Cobra. Brigitte Nielsen asks Sylvester Stallone, ”Are you always this intense?”
Women everywhere know what that one-liner means. Stalin was the master of the one-liner, but he would have his work cut out for him to keep up with American women who have been verbally as well as physically and psychologically abused by a real he-man who doesn’t have a clue.
In dancing, a guy learns that the art of dance is like a beautiful picture. The woman is the focus of the painting and the man will always be the picture frame. In the movies the he-boy is the center focus of the big camera after they get all the gum and tobacco out of his mouth and the silly girl is the damsel in distress.
I am sure Brigitte Nielsen got a gut full of that pot boiler from the get-go.
The songs of the ’50s encompass eternal truths of back when men and women were out searching for their soul mate. Women teach a man about love and what is expected of him if the guy will let them. But many men prefer the stud bopper role. You find them get their most precious possession, then go to their club and crow like a rooster and move on the next dame. Casual sex.
The so-called “experts” teach us about the birds and bees. As Roy Head sang, “Thanks to them, free love is all I can afford.” I refused to listen to a bunch of gimp old professors who never had it put to them right. Subsequently I got it put on me big time. “You have a soft head for the dames. You have a glass jaw for women.” “Why don’t you get smart and get them before they get you?!” On and on. In the United States Army, during the Cuban Missile Crisis, I had a sergeant who said, “If we go, we go, we go for our women.” We have the finest women in the world. The hotshots and the brain boys don’t count and are not worth a shit. It is the innocent and unsuspecting we must protect because, if we won’t, no one else will. We want to fight over there for them; as Johnny Burnett sang, “I may have to fight, but I go for God, country, and my baby!” As for the rest? They can smell bicycle seats.
Me, I got beat up a lot for being in my emotions, but love is like the rodeo — you will get hurt, but I am taking this ride for Mr. Larry Mahan. Cut her loose! The punchline goes to The Platters. The woman gave her gift to the man. “In the end you gave me…the magic touch!” Women don’t want to be around an intense guy who is going to blow sky-high over nonsense. In the ’60s the term was “Vesuvius”, the flaming volcano effect. When a man goes rank like a racehorse and is throwing his weight around, women turn to flight. So what does he do? He goes to the weight room figuring that if they bench press 450 instead of 400 pounds, the honey baby cupcakes will return because women are dizzy and need to snap out of it. As for me, I had to get help. I got out of the Army and I had a drinking problem. When I got drunk I liked to fight. My counselors at the VA listened to me patiently and simply said, ”I know you need help, soldier. I treat a lot of guys just like you and you can be helped. You’ll end up a sweet guy.” Oh, thank God. He had the magic touch. This little ole’ doey-doey is dedicated to The Platters — they will never come again, but I pray for a “Twilight Time” to domestic violence. It has to stop.