Mission Statement: Herculodge: The Essential Guide to Saving Your Manhood in an Era of Shriveling Masculinity.
I can be e-mailed at herculodge@frontier.com
Ed let me borrow his mint Panasonic RF-2200 in the summer of 2008. Easily, it was the best radio I have listened to. How can I explain the sound on AM. One word: Magisterial.
As I navigate my Benarus glitch in which I purchased the wrong version (hope to exchange it or I'll have to sell it brand new on WatchRecon), I'm considering another trimming. Perhaps get down to my final 3, the Citizen Grand Touring, the Orient Saturation Diver, and the Seiko Tuna.
I hate having to make choices and I hate clutter. What I love when it comes to my watch collection is clarity.
Here's some clarity: My oversized fashion watches were like sweet cereal; instant gratification but no long-lasting satisfaction. My Grand Touring, OSD, and Tuna all become more appealing over time.
Looking at these 3 watches, I find the CGT and the Tuna to be the most visually stunning, even more so than the OSD. I may have to sell the OSD if I get Oris Fever.
In any event, three years ago I used to have 60 watches and every morning was, "What the hell am I wearing today?" as I looked at my collection the way a deer stares at the headlights.
Below my daughter Natalie was told to pick one drink. She was paralyzed like me back in the days when my collection had expanded into Crazy Town.
Don't ask me how it happened. I anticipated with glee my Benarus Moray Dart 44 but opened the box to see the Arabic numeral version, which I don't like half as much as the Dart. Keeping everything wrapped, I emailed Benarus and explained that I clicked on the wrong button (evidenced by my paypal receipt) and I would like to make an exchange. I notice their website has no more Arabic versions, so I have the last one.
It hit me as Julia was staring with wonder at the water bottles on the garage shelves and I was telling her we needed to get into the house so I could do my kettlebell workout before picking up Natalie from preschool (Julia is staying home to nurse a cold):
The number one conflict between my children and me is our diameretically opposed notion of time. For them time doesn't exist. For me time is in scarce supply.
Youth is a drug that pushes death away from the imagination. Middle age is a sobriety clinic that has mortality breathing its bated breath in your face every second.
I trimmed my watch collection selling even more on eBay to get my Benarus Moray Dart (should arrive tomorrow) and for the last few days I've been patting myself on the back, saying, "Hey, Mr. Practical, you shut down when a watch price goes to high. At a grand, you've hit your limit. You're done. You're winding down."
These thoughts lasted about three days before another Grail, like herpes that keeps recurring, showed up in the form of an oversized Oris Diver. Something between 47mm and 51mm would be very tasty and "finish" my search.
I better save up. See what my tax returns look like a year from now.
Final thoughts: I'm so full of it, it's disgusting.
If I lived in the sticks, some musty armpit town, population 117, in a cabin, I'm sure I wouldn't crave delicious, shiny watches. My approach would be almost exclusively utilitarian.
On a certain level, where we live, having an audience, so to speak, influences are tasts in watches, clothes, cars, etc.
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