Life is an accumulation of experiences, and it is up to each one of us to find the takeaways from those experiences and make the most out of them. The circle of life is about the recycling of experience and repurposing it so that others can gain that knowledge and leverage it towards whatever they choose to make their life’s purpose.
Preaching the “Gospels of a Gentleman” as a high schooler to other high schoolers.
All of my early sermons would begin with me sharing a tale about the day that I was born and how the nurse was unable to put me on the table and tap my tushy because I had managed to lasso her with my umbilical cord, and how I was the one who was tapping her tushy. Additionally, I tried to emphasize the importance of using hand cream by illustrating all that is possible with soft hands, sharing another tale about the time I spent on a dairy farm. In that story, I talk about an interaction that took place between me and the “Dairy Queen”, a cow that was rich in Vitamin D, but one that never allowed anyone to milk her and would use her tail to whip anyone who tried, that is, until I showed up. On that fateful day, I was soaked in Antonio Banderas’ cologne and my hands were all creamed up, and this allowed me to get close enough to the Dairy Queen to set up my stool and bucket and grab her udders. Once I started caressing those udders, I was milking away and filling up one bucket of milk after another; the entire village came out to watch this spectacle.
The show I put on that day became a thing of legend among dairy farmers, with the Dairy Queen squirting out a year’s worth of milk, mooing non-stop, all courtesy of my creamed-up hands. While all of this is great news, this tale ends with poetic justice, or injustice. After arriving back to Canada, leaving behind my milky ways, I was made aware that the Dairy Queen had died unexpectedly. When the local veterinarian arrived and carried out a post-mortem, the vet assessed the Dairy Queen as being supremely healthy, but the cause of death was ruled to be a broken heart, obviously as a result of my departure. By the end of my sermon, and this tale, listeners are left with a clear understanding of the importance of using hand cream and having soft hands.
In the spirit of honesty, and many years later, it is important to acknowledge that some of my early sermons may have stretched the truth. They were inspired by Aesop’s Fables, but we should refer to my early sermons as “Alek Goli’s Allegories”. So, I do not feel bad for occasionally stretching the truth, because every cult leader has been guilty of doing it too, though I never had any intentions of running a cult and only wanted to provide kids my age with healthy advice. And it did, in fact, help many of them, I am sure. Despite all of my teachings, though, none of my disciples managed to stay on the righteous path to becoming a “gentleman”, choosing instead to revert back to being “gangstas”. I imagine that Fonzworth Bentley may have felt similarly when he realized that his show, “Gs to Gents”, was incapable of changing people who did not want to change, and only wanted to stack change.
“You stole my heart” – Unknown
During my time at Sears, I went from Western lawman to Ringo outlaw, but even lawmen and outlaws can agree that the only acceptable stealing is the stealing of a lady’s heart. I stole my fair share of hearts while I served as a Sears’ sheriff, even after I chose to set aside that Sears sheriff badge (although I was forced to return some of them). From those experiences, I have learned that there are things that work and things that do not, and I want to share them with you so that you do not have to go tiptoeing across no man’s land.
It is important to note that there were side effects to handling the ladies’ lingerie all those years at Sears, and the biggest side effect was that I now enjoy dressing like a retired golfer, and I have acquired a taste for “old chap” things. Additionally, the time I spent as Sears’ sheriff helped me learn how to diffuse explosive situations, thus helping me interact with bombshells.
On one occasion, I was “rizzing up” a gal who also worked out at the budget-friendly gym, one that does not like talking with anyone whatsoever, but who also shared a protein chocolate bar with me. After she shared that bar with me, I told her that I would return the favor. A few days later, I made my way to Bed, Bath & Beyond, and I bought a bath bomb for that bombshell – soon to be my bath bombshell. When I gave it to her, she became blushingly shy, and her heart was literally beating out of her chest and in my face.
The next day I pulled up to the gym dressed like an old chap, in a hand-knitted sweater with a matching hand-knitted scarf and beige khakis, I walked by the treadmills to the changerooms, passing by my bath bombshell. All of the treadmills were being used by women and every single one of them was over the age of 35, except for bath bombshell. All of them were enthralled by my old chap swag, except for my bath bombshell, who seemed taken aback. Long story short, I found out my bath bombshell liked guys dressed in urban attire, but I did not have any Drake OVO or The Weeknd XO clothing. The other problem with my bath bombshell’s dress demands, however, was that I last dressed like that some 10 years ago, but even when I did, I was more of a G-Unit kind of guy. Suffice to say, I drove back home listening to a G-Unit classic, “I know you don’t love me”.
On another occasion, also at the budget-friendly gym, as I was walking from the parking lot towards the gym entrance, I startled a gal who was peering into a car, and she asked if it was mine. I told her it wasn’t, and asked if she was looking for something particular.
“No,” she responded, and explained that she was using the tinted glass as a mirror. I told her not to worry because she looked great as I headed into the gym, and I thought that would be the end of our interaction.
Shortly after I got on the treadmill, however, the same gal from the parking lot had joined my side and she initiated a conversation. It was a fun conversation, and I teased her some more, asking if she had identified whose car she was using as a mirror before suggesting that the mirror in the bathroom had better lighting and that she would look less sketchy if she avoided using tinted windows. After our 10-minute conversation, I asked her if she liked Ferrero Rocher, and she said yes. So, I whipped out a golden ball and handed it to her. Almost instantly, her phone began to ring, and she had to go, but she told me she would be seeing me around.
To my surprise, it took less than a minute for the gal to make her way back to me, but she seemed uneasy, and she was not alone. This time around, her male friend joined my side, after I had started watching a UFC press conference, with the gal to his side. This plump fellow immediately started stomp-running and acting as if he never used a treadmill before. But I am inclined to believe this rascal was following the blasphemous school of thought known as “Top G”, and as is the case with every “Top G”, he lasted on the treadmill less than the time it took for his gal pal to make her way back to me.
Less than a minute after he had gotten on, presumably having had enough, he jumped on the elliptical right behind me, a machine that was better suited for him, before leaving altogether. Throughout it all, I felt so embarrassed for this plump fellow because he was doing it all wrong. Had I been in his shoes and if that gal had been my gal pal, she would have asked for an additional Ferraro Rocher for the gentleman who had her heart. Heck, if I had not eaten all of the Ferraro Rocher, I would have offered the plump fellow one too, because he seemed to be on the verge of having a temper tantrum, but also because his physique would indicate that he was a sweets kind of guy. In the end, my Sears’ sheriff ways guided me, and unlike Buster Scruggs, I chose to let this surly Joe fellow keep his spurs and not trade them in for wings. However, that gal left with her pal, and I hope things turn out better for this lawless couple than they did for Bonnie and Clyde.
Wrapping it up.
These days, my interactions sometimes remind me of the 2007 film No Country for Old Men, a story of past, present and future, and where the failure to acclimate to the changing times brings about catastrophic consequences. By the end of the film, Sheriff Bell comes to realize that what yesterday was, tomorrow will never be, and that he is incapable of staying up to par with the societal changes, as modern-day challenges seem to overwhelm the people of old. What that should tell all of us old chaps is that if we want to seek out younger gal pals, then we are better off visiting Seeking Arrangements or Ashely Madison, because that is where old chaps are most appreciated.
