Man Club – March 2015 (Naggopause)


Wedding Leap of Death

Yes, its menopause!

Sometimes I lie awake in the early morning hours and just think.  Sometimes the thoughts are deep and many times, well, like this one, not so profound.  Why do they call it “Menopause?”  Do men get a pause from women or women get a pause from men? As I said, this is not one of my more profound thoughts, but stick with me on this, because I’m about to set a new trend in the use of words or the homicide rate in married households, it depends on your perspective and hormone levels.

The following ten words have been added to the Man Club 2015 edition of manly, man rules:

  1. Naggopause – that very brief period of time when a wife actually allows you some peace.  It is also synonymous with the next word.
  2. Nanopause – the length of time  lapsed in an naggopause, indiscernible to anyone even armed with a nanosecond stop watch.
  3. Choreopause – that period where your honey-dos are given a rest, usually comprising of two nanopauses.
  4. Sexopause – for men married more than seven years, this is the length of seven years to the third power, times 2  (for those not good with math, that’s 12 centuries).
  5. Viagraopause – That period after sexopause ends and jumper cables no longer work to revive certain physiological functions.
  6. Greyopause – hopefully that period when you never hear anyone talk about the story, ever again, unless it ends the sexopause, only backed by a contract signed, witnessed and fully enforceable in a court of law.
  7. Spendopause – a word, even though completely contrived from thin air resonates with the opposite sex, like “fetch” does for a black lab.
  8. Saveopause – a word, even though completely contrived from thin air will not register with the opposite sex.
  9. Coldfeetopause – that period where your wife is in menopause that you get relief from cold winter feet placed near a certain obvious heat retaining male organ.
  10. Beardopause – that moment when the love of your life has a better beard than you and wants to borrow your grooming gear. Egads!

And there have it, ten words you can now add to your daily conversations with your wife, such as:

“Honey would you empty the trash?” says the lovely lady.

“Geez babe, can I have a few nanaopauses here? Your naggopauses and my choreopauses are getting shorter and shorter!”

Later that evening as you cuddle (their word, not ours) up to that same lovely woman…

“Hey babe, is the sexopause over?”

As she turns to you with the look of murder in her eyes, she so lovingly replies,

“I’ve decided to extend the sexopause for a milleniumopause.”

Oh crap!!! Appears the female code was also updated.  Now you are ready for menopause. That period you wish you weren’t a man, just a mere boy with his bucket of plastic army men playing in your parents backyard and girls were something to throw dirt clods at.  Sigh…


Man Club – February 2015 (Token Male)


A Token!!!

In my last post you learned I was working for a local CPA firm comprised of 99.9% women, or as I call it – “Occupy Insanity Street.”  They have dubbed me a token male.  To be precise, here’s the meaning:

“anything of only nominal value”

Well… this shall not stand!  We tokens, I mean men, have to stand up for our value in society with comments like these,

“You see those kids over there?!  You think you did that all on your own?!  Who’s your Token now, huh?”

“You mow that yard in the 110 degree Oklahoma heat. This Token dares you.”

“You want that sofa moved where?  Tokens don’t do that!”

“You need help moving that box of copy paper on the top shelf. Bow before the Token.”

A Token!  The only tokens I know are the ones you use in Vegas, like inserting a token in a machine to win, or lose 99.9% of the time.  Which makes you wonder who really is in charge of the gambling industry, and why women are so well dressed, but I’ll cover that subject in a later fashion review.

As long as women continue mutation, not to be confused with maturation, there will be the need to update man club law and regulation (a very tedious and draining task).  So in order to dispel this insane idea of tokenism, here are some valuable club rules:

Section 179-b.l.a.h.b.l.a.h.b.l.a.h.

“Pretend to listen”


Yes, it’s that easy.  When the woman is done talking or lock-jawed, whichever comes first, nod your head and reply, “I couldn’t agree more!”

Section Gr8.1

“Forced False Flattery”


When they are having a bad hair, face and body day; tell them how lovely they are.  No Token would ever go to that much trouble.

Section Gr8.1.2.

“Daily Affirmation”


Give them a nice little gift that will inspire their “Inner Goddess” or “Inner Rhino.”

You see, the Man Club code book is full of life-saving tips just like the three sampled above.  To show you are not a token male, renew today with your $1,000 membership fee, because the Man Club is all about being a masculine manly-man.


You say the fee is too high?!

Well you #$%^$^$ worthless @#%@Q%$ TOKEN MEN!!!

I’m sorry for my outburst, I still haven’t recovered from the Gr8I812 virus spreading around “Occupy Insanity Street.”  Until next month, enjoy your manhood, it is under attack every day.

The Man Club – January 2014 (Candy Comment Rebuttal)

I follow many authors on Facebook.  Sometimes they inspire me to write and sometimes inspire me to comment on meme’s, photo’s, etc.  The following is a meme, provided by author and all around good sport Amalie Jahn posted on Facebook.


Now I ask you fellow man club members, is this really all we are in the eyes of the enemy, I mean… the lovely opposite sex?  Many years ago I went through marriage counseling, because I couldn’t figure my wife out at all.  In those sessions I learned that financial security is one of the very highest items in their well being.  So in rebuttal and armed with my growing knowledge of Photoshop I present to you the following:


You see, perspective is a two-way street.  In 2013, we learned that women go ballistic over 50 Shades of Grey, about an other worldly gorgeous, endowed man that just so happens to be a billionaire to boot.  How convenient? Or there is Edward, not this Edward (club president and chief dictator), but the sparkling Edward, who is also gorgeous, sparkles, stands watch over Bella (the awkward stare Queen) sniffing in her scent, and drives a nice Volvo.

Amalie wondered why my rebuttal focused predominantly on financial matters.Well I don’t know, maybe because almost every love story depicts some woman being swept off their feet for a fantastical journey around the world, with some guy that happens to look like Fabio with a well endowed wallet, unworldly FICO score, and a billion dollar line-of-credit, and is willing to watch some chick flick like Mamma Mia and cry and dance along with them.

You never read stories of a truly sincere loving 5’5″ balding guy, with a beer gut, who owns a 1976 rusted Toyota pickup  (complete with 8-track and ABBA’s greatest hits) that’s parked outside by his 1975 Tradewinds double wide at Morning Dawns Trailer Park.  Why not!  We bowling ball shaped men need forcing, I mean… loving no differently than anyone else.

So then I read how men are being chained and whipped into submission, bound and forced to watch Twilight and The Help.  Men are calling 911 for assistance and getting injunctions against their wives and girlfriends.  Then they try to seduce us with candy hearts with devious subliminal messages that we are being intolerably insensitive and have only SEX on our mind.  You don’t see a male author writing 50 Shades of Kardashian, about an average bowling ball male being swept off by the Kardashian women – now do you?  That’s right, we are logical, analytical and sensical (not a word, well it should be!)  I rest my case.

So members, as you can see your dues to the club are used to counter the arguments that you are bunch of wussies all on board the wuss wuss train.  I’ve got your back as long as the $50 monthly dues keep rolling in.  Also remember our rule book

Section 66.1, Paragraph A – Just Listen!

“If your woman would rather talk than listen to your ABBA Greatest Hits collection, be prepared to pretend to listen.  Pry your eyes open with toothpicks if you must, and do not, even though your genetics scream to fix the situation, try to fix anything.  And if you are to be forced to watch some sappy flinging chick flick love story afterwards, do it with style and imagination.  I suggest a ceiling fan.”

Here is one of our club members who failed to follow the Man Club Code, aka The Book of Male Survival.

I know winter is tough men, but hang in there.  Spring will come soon and the freedom of the open air awaits.

Footnote – Thank you Amalie Jahn for being a good sport.  Please support an author today.  We love to tell stories.  Look here on Amazon for more on Amalie.

Man Club – November 2013 Edition (EddieCare)

ThanksgivingCatHave you noticed on Facebook how people post how they feel after Thanksgiving, but never post a photo of themselves?  They project their true identities through  anthropomorphism (big word, eh? I’m an author, YAZ!) and blame poor cats and dogs for their gluttony.  Most men are laid out in their LazyBoys (appropriately named), pants unzipped, snoring and drooling all over themselves, waking up long enough during the football game to notice the Victoria’s secret commercial, or the Hot CGI warrior chick on Nintendo’s Zelda’s adventure in Amsterdam.

Well this is a disgrace you lumps of lifeless coal called a MAN!  Since you won’t shape yourself up, yours truly has to mandate it for you.  As president and chief dictator of the Man Club, it is hereby ordered that you come into compliance with EddieCare, the new Man Club health plan, also known as ManClubCares and CareForEddie.  Here are the rules and regulations:

Regulation 1

All man club members will submit fees until $700 million is raised for website development.  The webmaster (yours truly) will construct a website with the latest in outdated and discounted technology.  If you can’t get through the website, just call 888-UJU-ST81.  The Operator ( a facsimile of the voice of yours truly) will place you on hold until July 2014 and with the roll out of EddieCare2.0. You may even be able to talk with me (yours truly).

Regulation 2

Your premiums, administered and dictated by the Director of Dictatorial Policy Management (your truly) will be $1,100 per month to fund my Hawaiian vacation home.  Don’t worry, your deductible is only $25,000, so your premiums are in good hands with the Policy Fund Trustee (yours truly).

Regulation 3

You must submit a $1 million life insurance policy with the sole beneficiary of the policy listed as the club’s Treasurer (yours truly) managed by the Director of Risk Management (yours truly).

This is necessary to manage the risk that the Webmaster, Operator, Director of Dictatorial Policy Management, Policy Fund Trustee, Director of Risk Management, Treasurer, and Man Club President and Dictator’s (yours truly, truly, truly, truly, truly, truly, truly, truly and truly … whew, what a bureaucracy!)  salaries, benefits, retirement plan and free healthcare plan are fully funded and guaranteed.

I promise you the CareForEddie Act of 2013 will work! Trust me!

Yours truly,

EW Greenlee, President
Man Club of the Universe

Legal Disclaimer #1:  Director of NSA, this is satirical humor, please do not bug the website, it’s already having difficulties.
Legal Disclaimer #2:  Folks this is satire. Late night comedians do it and you laugh, try it here too.
Legal Disclaimer #3: Failure to register is subject to, well, nothing I can enforce, so please, please, PUHLEEZE register today!
Legal Disclaimer #4: The Director of Health (yours truly, but a nonpaid spokesperson of the Act) suggests you eat well and exercise routinely to control your health.  This is not satire.

Absurd, isn’t it?

Man Club – July 2013 Edition (Hard Rock and Golfing)


You are back from shopping! So soon?

Men, you’ve been through this before.  Your girlfriend, fiancee or wife has just returned from shopping and she wants to tell you about the bargains she found and how much money she saved.  Be prepared – it’s going to hurt.


Prada, Coach, and Calvin Klein
Oh How I want them to be mine, mine, mine!
(Sung to the tune of the William Tell Overture and Suicide Symphony)

In this month’s Female Code episode, I gave you an educational background of the real story of Adam and Eve – “The Married without Children Era.”  There in episode 666, Eve turns 54 and enters menopause in the heat of July, yet there are no men and there certainly is no pausing, so whose brilliant idea was it to call it menopause, maybe menomurder is more apropos.  So now it’s just you and your non-stop jibber-jabber soul mate from hell!  Somewhere in the female code there is no gene for logic or rational.  I shall prove my point.

“Honey, Honey… I just saved you big bucks on this new Coach bag,” says your loving succubo.

Succubo – not to be confused with a succubus, which is cool and sexy, but a succubo – an evil female demon vampire that bleeds your wallet, a turnip and the federal reserve dry.

“Great, enough for me to go golfing tomorrow?”

“Huh?” asks your sweet little succubo with a look like you are a total idiot.

“Savings – like the one at the bank where we place money into!”

“That’s not savings – that’s hoarding!!!  Savings is where you spend far less than retail!”

And so goes the debate with that sweet little snookums of a succubo you married, as she shows you the contents of her sixteen shopping bags from Prada, Coach, Calvin Recliner, Che Tre Le Vue, Coldwater Creek and Paddle, Diane Von Iceberg, Tahari Mahari Mai Tai, and Victoria’s Sucrets.  Which begs to ask the question, how is it women can find energy to carry all of this, but not one little bag of groceries.  My wife, when she arrives home from grocery shopping, honks her horn for me to serve her.  Carrying the bags – now don’t get carried away!

Logic and reason, this is where you just lost the argument and it can never be won.  Savings and shopping are not synonyms.  It is the one section of the Man Club Manly Manual I hate to refer you to:

Section 666 – Utter Defeat

In those rare instances where you attempt to apply logic, stop, for god’s sake STOP.  You will not win, you will lose, and you will have a splitting headache to boot.  To survive the seven deadly sins you must have the virtue of patience, be deaf from cranking up old 70’s and 80’s rock songs, and play golf – whether you suck at the game or not.  You must also learn nod in agreement.

There you have it men, wisdom in as few as words as possible.  That’s because we men are brief, to the point and can find a solution to everything, except personal finance, which is the “Bane of our Lives” – a new daytime soap and antacid opera. You got to know when to hold them, know when to fold them, know when to walk away and know when to nod.

Disclaimer – men this is not humor, sadly this is reality. Fooooooooore!  Elin – put that club and my golf balls away!

Just Chillin


Whoever said, “like father like son,” was a genius.  Except now it is like grandfather, like father, like son.  Here is a weekend photo of the Greenlee men just chillin out, as my son would say, on a hot Saturday afternoon.  My generation might call it hanging out or hanging loose.  Who knows what my grandson will call it, but this is as priceless a generational picture as one could take.  My daughter took this photo with her Canon EOS Rebel T3i.  If she wanted to be, she could become a photographer, she’s got talent.

The weekend before the water was too cool and our grandson decided to anoint our bed when his dad allowed him to go Full Monty just a little too long between diaper changes.   That’s okay, I did the same with my son, in fact, one time as I was acting like all witless father’s do and while cooing my son, I was anointed in the face – like grandfather, like father, like son.

My readers need to put on Ray Ban sunglasses to keep from going blind, because we are three of the whitest white men you will ever see .  I am so pale  that my  grandson had to put on his Baby Ban sports shades.  Now, is that a hip grandchild or what?  Now notice the genetic inclination to place our right hands behind our necks? Like grandfather, like father, like son.  And how about that float?  Top class, eh?  It’s part of the grandparent oath to spoil their grandchild rotten.  One day he’ll ask daddy for a BMW and when he says no, I’ll remind my son of the floatie his grandpappy bought for him.  Am I rotten or what?

As one gets older we refer back to photos such as these.  One day I’ll be much older.  My son will be in the prime of his career and my grandson will be chasing some  young pretty lady.  They won’t have much time on their busy schedules (sniff, sniff) for poor old papa. A tear will come to my eyes about the days the Greenlee men trio were just chillin and grillin together.  Then I will pull out this photo and show to my grandson’s girlfriend,


My mother always said you need to live long enough to become a burden on your children and grandchildren.  I’ve decided to start early and embarrass him now – in front of my world wide audience. He’ll be so embarrassed he’ll become a monk and save himself much grief later on.  Oh by the way, he doesn’t have to pay any fees into the man club – there’s a nepotism clause.

Hey – just chill out!  I didn’t go the Full Monty with him.  That’s later!

Today, please love a child, a grandchild or any child who looks like they just need someone to smile at them.  They are precious gifts that supply lifelong unforgettable memories, laughs and smiles.

Man Club – April 2013 Edition (Man Flags)


In conjunction with the bedazzling post from the April 2013 Female Code monthly edition, I suggested we men should have a flag system to communicate with our wives.  Since women are now bedazzling their body parts, why can’t we men hoist flags on ours?  Some men would have difficulty making eye-to-eye contact with their wives, “Hey honey look up, I’m up here!”  Some of us would have to endure endless teasing about only being at half mast. So just stick with the tried and true system of flashing flags.

If you don’t have a flag system for each of the flags above, go to the fabric store and buy the necessary colors.  Give these to your wife, but only one of these flag patterns at a time until you have the complete set.  If your wife doesn’t do Suzy homemaker projects, go join a group one at the local senior center (they are used to half mast.)  Or join a quilting group and if only females are allowed, dress up like one. Hey it worked for Monty Python and Tom Hanks!

When you have all your flags ready, go stand before your wife emotionless and use only your flags.  Give your wife the chart above and wave these three flags.  Using the chart she will see it is WFD – What’s For Dinner?


Now everything is going great for many weeks.  You don’t get into any fights and your conversations are short and sweet.  Too sweet to last forever. The next time you do this signal, you find out she has been making her own flags, she misinterpreted yours to say WFD – Wifey Fix Dinner, and she vigorously waves these three back.


Not expecting this, you look at the chart and WTFoooore?  Uh oh, she’s on to the system!  Not being 100% certain she truly  understands, there is a sure fire way to know if you are communicating properly.  Eagerly, but gently, wave these three flags with a sheepish smile on your face.


You know you are doomed if she waves these two flags so emphatically that she takes flight like a stork or one of those new Boeing Dreamliners.


Well like most the absurd things in life there are failures, there are setbacks and there are bombs, all unleashed by the unpredictable kamikaze gender known as female. But as president and chief dictator of the man club, I shall carry on in defiance with our flag hoisted high and proud.