Some items in the news are just too juicy with potential for wry, sarcastic comment to pass up. Thus it is with an article in Bloomberg News by Elizabeth Lopatto. Sam and I saw the article reprinted in Friday’s edition of our local newspaper The Olympian.
Ms. Lopatto reported that, “Male fruit flies become barflies when rejected by females, choosing alcohol-spiked food more often than their successful brothers in a study that suggests it may be due to a brain chemical also found in humans.”
Yes Ms. Lopatto, it is true that rejected men often turn to alcohol imbibement to drown their sorrows - excessive alcohol imbibement in most cases. But it’s no wonder the male fruit flies decided to soak their sorrows. Ms. Lopatto reported that “In the experiment some flies were spurned by already-mated females for one hour a day,” which would drive any guy to drink. You have to wonder why Mr. Dunderhead fruit flypersisted for a whole hour with some broad (excuse me, woman) who was already attached? DUMB! Hey, every guy on the prowl knows you check the ring finger first to see if she’s married, then, if you decide to pursue anyway, you at least back off once she tells you she’s happily hooked up, has three kids and attends church regularly.
“The successful flies had six-hour mating sessions with multiple virgin females for four days,” Ms. Lopatto reported. “They were then allowed to choose food that was either plain or spiked with a 15 -percent alcohol solution.”
Gees! The successful guys probably were too tired to eat anything after a love-making session of four days with multiple virgins. Eat your hearts out terrorist bombers. Sam and I would be surprised if the successful flies had enough energy to climb out of bed, let alone go look for non-alcoholic food. Those guys probably just wanted to smoke a nice relaxing cigarette.
I have known a few rejected barflies - been one myself on occasion (in my younger days). There’s one guy I know of where I used to live, who was a constant regular in this one bar. Watching him around women, it was obvious that he considered himself a player. But he appeared to be pretty unsuccessful, thus most happy hours his butt would be slung over a barstool and he would be talking sports to the bartender. Tres sad, monsieur!.
Sam and I can’t help wondering how much money the people who conducted the barfly research were paid for their study. They probably applied for and received one of those big government grants maybe a hundred grand worth or so. Wow. I sometimes wish I could come up with some great idea for a bountiful money grant. I’ve thought a couple of times that I should form a Save the Possum Society (SPS) and solicit funds to come to keep those poor furry creatures off the roads. They get slaughtered in the spring time and I think it’s because the males are crossing the road to go to the local pub and drown their rejection sorrows in alcohol. At least I wouldn’t be surprised if that’s what they’re trying to do. Maybe we should have a Mothers Against Drunk Possums (MADP?) society.
Two bags of poop on rejection by the female species. Rejection hurts ladies !
No comments:
Post a Comment