On Macho

I was having difficulty sleeping the other night, so I decided to do something that I don't do nearly enough--read. A novel (dear me; no pun intended) idea! I decided to find a good short story after whose reading I might be able to go to sleep. I recalled that I had a book of some short stories of Ernest Hemingway's at hand, so I thumbed through it and selected the book's final story, "The Short Happy Life of Francis Macomber." Without spoiling it, I will say that it is characteristic of Hemingway's oeuvre in that one of its central themes is the struggle to be properly "manly." The story is set on a safari holiday with its main characters being Francis Macomber, his wife, and their safari hunting guide, Wilson. Macomber finds himself in conflict with his inability to land the big game that his concept of masculinity seems to dictate as easy. The story leaves the audience wondering about the meaning and value of "manliness."

Being the pensive dude that I am, I've got further thoughts on this idea. I found Francis Macomber to be a victim of harsh societal expectations. Perhaps there is a connection between my sympathy for Macomber and the fact that I'm never going to win any wrestling matches or wow any women with six-pack machoness. But even so, I think it is a huge factor in what seems to be deteriorating male behavior. High school is the ultimate stage for male chest-puffing, and having spent four years observing such animalistic attempts at courtship, I feel somewhat qualified to put in my two cents, hopefully in parody of old-timey animal documentaries.

"We turn the camera to the adolescent male, intent on garnering the attention of the adolescent female. It is that brief respite between class periods. They sit in the upper foyer of their academic building. We turn our eyes to our female lead, apple of our young man's eye. See her toss her shiny hair, making his eyes grow wide with desire to go out with her, perhaps to "hook up" with her at a party sometime! In order to command her attention, he makes fun of another boy, sitting nearby. He continues to joke brashly and slightly vulgarly with his comrades, hoping that his use of profanity--against school rules--is seen as bold and alluring. She laughs nervously, but being the arrogant pretender to the Alpha-male rank that he is, he interprets this as success. He smiles mischievously, thinking he's "in."

Et cetera, et cetera. Call me crazy, but it's just funny to watch my fellow young men do silly things because of some perceived masculine directive.

I know it's been a while since I've blogged. If this is a bit incoherent, I apologize. I am glad I've roused myself to return to the blogosphere. Hopefully this is the first step on the road to Musings normalcy.

Observation

A Red Lobster commercial, followed by a Dulcolax stool softener commercial. Coincidence?

I'm sorry for not blogging much. Summers are a bit of the doldrums for TVM. I'll try to find something blogworthy.

A No-Go At Flo's

My life has taken a horridly un-blogworthy turn of late, so I have resorted to complaining about a restaurant. I am very sorry, dear readers. You deserve better, and I will try to deliver soon. This will need to do for now.

I have been in the lovely, low-key, Lowcountry town of Pawleys Island (a Gavrich family vacation spot for the last eight years or so) for a few days now, playing golf, experiencing potent thunderstorms, and eating a lot (the standard Gavrich summer, really). Two nights ago, my parents and I decided to have dinner at a Cajun-inspired eatery in nearby Murrells Inlet (renowned for its seafood) called Flo's Place. They tout their blackening seasoning as "famous," which excited me, since I am a fan of the taste of blackened things, especially blackened shrimp. Just dump on the blackening spices, put 'em in the pan and toss 'em together. Simple as that. "BAM!", Emeril might say to such a proposition. To my curiosity, there was no specific "blackened shrimp" entrée on the menu at Flo's. However, there was a "blackened fish" entrée, however. No matter, I thought to myself, they'll have no problem doing some blackened shrimp. After all, this is a popular restaurant, so they obviously please their customers.

Well, dear readers, it turned out that blackened shrimp was too much to ask for the folks at Flo's. I suppose that a restaurant whose entrées are in the $15-30 range should not be expected to have much room for flexibility anymore. For shame.

I was forced to order a combination platter of grilled shrimp, scallops, and oysters over rice. It was stupendously disappointing, sad to say. The shrimp were small, the scallops tasted less-than-fresh, and the oysters looked like the testicles of a steroids-abuser. I know that shellfish isn't in season now, but it could have and should have been much, much better. Oh well; won't be going back there anytime soon.

PS: The nametag of the cashier who scanned my parents' groceries tonight read, "Lexus."

Good night, blogosphere.