Scorpio Humor – David Starts Surfing Again

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Scorpio – The Master of Relationships – At Least According to Me

Most people seem to enjoy my humor so I decided to include a little snippet each Monday. Most of this humor is based upon real life incidents with Linda and me but are slightly exaggerated. You may see a little of my Scorpio CType and Linda’s Sagittarius CType here. You may also see a little of your relationships in these little bites of levity. Enjoy and I hope these brighten your Monday’s in some small way.


Linda mentioned to me that having a hobby that allowed me to get some exercise might be a good thing. I considered base-jumping, death zone mountaineering, and crab fishing in the Arctic. She suggested that something a little closer to home and less demanding might be better. I chose surfing. After all, I reminded her, “The great ones never forget.”

After a self imposed multi-year layoff, I started surfing again. Getting back into the sport hasn’t been easy. I started surfing at age 12 in 1957. Back then I knew everyone in the water and surfing, aside from being a way of life, was almost spiritual. Things seems to have changed a little since those early days and it isn’t only the spiritual connection with the water.

For one thing, surfer years are like dog years. In surfing years, I’m probably 200. In surfer years, with my long board and obviously diminished skill, I’m now seen as from the Jurassic Age. Diminished skills may be kind. My first few days back, instead of ripping waves with my classic 60’s style, I never made it outside to the break. Instead, I was unceremoniously washed back upon the beach like a dead and bloated seal. I looked like Tom Hanks (in a wetsuit) crawling out of the primordial soup in Cast Away. My boys, who surf, had never heard of a live person being rolled upon the sand by such small waves. Luckily, I have their full and enthusiastic support and they have only repeated the story to their 100 best buddies, including the two who used to respect me. Upon hearing my plight from the boys, Linda was compassionate. She said, “What! Oh no! You’re kidding. You washed back on to the beach. Were you hurt? Did you wash your feet off before coming into the house?” I’m going in for a manhood transplant as soon as everyone stops laughing long enough to drive me to the specialist at the World Association for the Humane Treatment of Dead Seals.

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