We thought it was a tick.

Amanda and my mother-in-law, Carolyn, had the dog, Charlie, flipped over on his back. They were giving him a good once-over. Carolyn began to pick at what she though was a tick. I turned out to be his nipple. Carolyn looked at me, shook her head, and said,

“Why do they even give men boobs? I mean, they aren’t good for anything.”

Initially, I wasn’t sure if she was referring to man boobs or just men, in general. Seeing as how I had been slothing around on her couch all weekend, either seemed like a valid question.  Either way, I certainly didn’t have the answer.

I began to think about why men have boobs, and the lack of purpose which they seemingly serve. I took it a step further and began to think about the lack of reasoning behind most of the the things in existence. We tend to want want a reason or explanation for everything. It seems to frustrate us when we can’t match an action or object with a reason for existence. We just can’t seem to accept that some things just are.

We have a hard time making sense of the things outside of our control which have no real purpose, but are  content in waking up in the morning in an effort just to make it back to bed at night. We cannot accept not having the answer to evolution or the arguments surrounding it, but feel perfectly justified in waking up Monday and praying for Friday afternoon.

I have no problem complaining about a lack of logic in other people’s lives while having no real purpose in my own. It’s a strange thing to reflect inward.

I can try to make sense of things or I can do things that make sense. I have woken up many a morning (and still do) and led a life that serves as much purpose as the tits on a male. I am guilty of so many man tit mornings when I carried my lack of purpose throughout my entire day, only complaining about the things that aren’t, while ceasing to appreciate the things that are.

It’s going to be a good day today.

Do something productive.

Don’t make it a man boob Monday.

Have a purpose.

For the record, before Amanda has a stroke, I came up with this topic on my own. She is going to die when she opens her email and sees that the topic is about boobs- man boobs, dog boobs, or any other type of boobs.

Peace, Love, and all things Beef related,

Beefcake

 

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