<TABLE cellSpacing=0 cellPadding=1 width="100%" border=0><TBODY><TR><TD><SPAN class=TopStory>Perfect match-up</SPAN>
<SPAN class=Subheadline>Daddy Oh</SPAN></TD></TR><TR><TD>Tony Robinson
Sunday, October 15, 2006
</TD></TR></TBODY></TABLE>
<P class=StoryText align=justify>He lost a wife.
Whose dear perfection
Hearts that scorn'd to serve
Humbly called mistress.
- Shakespeare, All's well that ends well.<TABLE cellSpacing=0 cellPadding=5 width=100 align=left border=0><TBODY><TR><TD></TD></TR><TR><TD><SPAN class=Description>Tony Robinson</SPAN></TD></TR></TBODY></TABLE><P class=StoryText align=justify>Imagine, losing the perfect wife. Sometimes it's not until you've lost something that you truly appreciate its value, for as the old Jamaican saying goes: "Cow don't know de use of him tail until it chop off". That's why many people look on past relationships as being near perfect, and often make the mistake of trying to rekindle the old flames.<P class=StoryText align=justify>Well, nothing is really perfect, but try telling that to some people who spend forever searching, seeking, wistfully wishing for the perfect match-up to shed some light on their dark, dour, damned, dismal, desolate existence.<P class=StoryText align=justify>"So, how come yu don't have a man?" "Because I'm waiting for the perfect match-up, I know that it's in my future, that the perfect man is out there waiting for me." Well, they say that every hoe has its stick waiting in the bush, but the trick is to find that stick, for the forest can be a mighty big and perilous place, and by the time they pick, choose and refuse the pieces of sticks, twigs, logs and other detritus, they may just end up old, dull and rusty. I'm actually amused to see those TV commercials by e-Harmony, that internet dating service, that professes to find the perfect match-up for people, desperate people.
Apparently what it does is tabulate the data of thousands of people (make that hoes and sticks) and matches it up with the data of thousands of other hoes and sticks. After nuff computing, bits and bytes, nips and tucks, voila! the perfect match-up is made, and they live happily ever after.<P class=StoryText align=justify>My, my, they've certainly come a long way since the old pen pal. Apart from that, there are other types of dating services, plus the classifieds in the papers, where people tell glowing lies about themselves to other people who also tell lies about themselves, then they meet to form the perfect match-up. Usually when they meet it's, "But I thought you were taller". "Oh yeah, I thought you were prettier." Instead of painting that pretty glowing picture, why not just say, "Desperate, I need a man, any man, just write me quickly, please!"<P class=StoryText align=justify>The fact is, if they are as good as their ads say, there would be no need for the ads in the first place. "Tall, handsome, attractive, educated man, financially independent, seeks woman, must be pretty with big boobs." Yeah right, give me a break.<TABLE cellSpacing=0 cellPadding=5 width=360 align=center border=0><TBODY><TR><TD></TD></TR><TR><TD><SPAN class=Description></SPAN></TD></TR></TBODY></TABLE><P class=StoryText align=justify>They say that if something looks too good to be true, it usually is. For this reason, many women I know shy away from these services, saying, "No sah, no way, that would make me look like I'm desperate." So they remain on the sidelines and try to find the perfect match up on their own. That's why some cultures save them the grief and match-up the children from birth.<P class=StoryText align=justify>I think it starts with the mothers who instill in their girls that they must seek out and
<SPAN class=Subheadline>Daddy Oh</SPAN></TD></TR><TR><TD>Tony Robinson
Sunday, October 15, 2006
</TD></TR></TBODY></TABLE>
<P class=StoryText align=justify>He lost a wife.
Whose dear perfection
Hearts that scorn'd to serve
Humbly called mistress.
- Shakespeare, All's well that ends well.<TABLE cellSpacing=0 cellPadding=5 width=100 align=left border=0><TBODY><TR><TD></TD></TR><TR><TD><SPAN class=Description>Tony Robinson</SPAN></TD></TR></TBODY></TABLE><P class=StoryText align=justify>Imagine, losing the perfect wife. Sometimes it's not until you've lost something that you truly appreciate its value, for as the old Jamaican saying goes: "Cow don't know de use of him tail until it chop off". That's why many people look on past relationships as being near perfect, and often make the mistake of trying to rekindle the old flames.<P class=StoryText align=justify>Well, nothing is really perfect, but try telling that to some people who spend forever searching, seeking, wistfully wishing for the perfect match-up to shed some light on their dark, dour, damned, dismal, desolate existence.<P class=StoryText align=justify>"So, how come yu don't have a man?" "Because I'm waiting for the perfect match-up, I know that it's in my future, that the perfect man is out there waiting for me." Well, they say that every hoe has its stick waiting in the bush, but the trick is to find that stick, for the forest can be a mighty big and perilous place, and by the time they pick, choose and refuse the pieces of sticks, twigs, logs and other detritus, they may just end up old, dull and rusty. I'm actually amused to see those TV commercials by e-Harmony, that internet dating service, that professes to find the perfect match-up for people, desperate people.
Apparently what it does is tabulate the data of thousands of people (make that hoes and sticks) and matches it up with the data of thousands of other hoes and sticks. After nuff computing, bits and bytes, nips and tucks, voila! the perfect match-up is made, and they live happily ever after.<P class=StoryText align=justify>My, my, they've certainly come a long way since the old pen pal. Apart from that, there are other types of dating services, plus the classifieds in the papers, where people tell glowing lies about themselves to other people who also tell lies about themselves, then they meet to form the perfect match-up. Usually when they meet it's, "But I thought you were taller". "Oh yeah, I thought you were prettier." Instead of painting that pretty glowing picture, why not just say, "Desperate, I need a man, any man, just write me quickly, please!"<P class=StoryText align=justify>The fact is, if they are as good as their ads say, there would be no need for the ads in the first place. "Tall, handsome, attractive, educated man, financially independent, seeks woman, must be pretty with big boobs." Yeah right, give me a break.<TABLE cellSpacing=0 cellPadding=5 width=360 align=center border=0><TBODY><TR><TD></TD></TR><TR><TD><SPAN class=Description></SPAN></TD></TR></TBODY></TABLE><P class=StoryText align=justify>They say that if something looks too good to be true, it usually is. For this reason, many women I know shy away from these services, saying, "No sah, no way, that would make me look like I'm desperate." So they remain on the sidelines and try to find the perfect match up on their own. That's why some cultures save them the grief and match-up the children from birth.<P class=StoryText align=justify>I think it starts with the mothers who instill in their girls that they must seek out and