Received: from [107.167.60.125] (port=40944 helo=theplayerhelp.com) by stodi.digitalkingdom.org with esmtp (Exim 4.87) (envelope-from ) id 1cVm8b-0006Qf-TC for lojban@lojban.org; Mon, 23 Jan 2017 13:26:57 -0800 Date: Mon, 23 Jan 2017 14:26:04 -0700 From: "Dora Wong" Content-Transfer-Encoding: 8bit Content-Type: text/html; charset=us-ascii To: Subject: He was so erect-from taking this pill: This past weekend we had the-most pleasurable sex-ever Mime-Version: 1 Message-ID: X-Spam-Score: -0.4 (/) X-Spam_score: -0.4 X-Spam_score_int: -3 X-Spam_bar: / the responsable for this is

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They stood for a few moments in complete silence, and around them, too, there were no sounds, beyond the faint screech of the insects that provided that wallpaper of whirring that was always there, but one did not notice unless one stopped and listened. There was nothing to say, really; there were no words Mma Makutsi could use to describe the sense of fulfilment that she felt. So nothing was said until they heard the sound of a vehicle making its way up the road and Phuti turned and announced, That will be Mr. Putumelo now, Grace. The vehicle was one of those ubiquitous pickup trucks favoured by people who had things to do: carpenters, gardening contractors, electricians. It was dark brown and on its side bore the legend This Way Up Building Co. (Pty) Ltd. In the back were a workmans toolbox, a stepladder, and several roughhewn planks. Clarkson Putumelo got out of the van and walked briskly towards Phuti Radiphuti. Very good land, he said, even before greetings were exchanged. Good building land. He did not address Mma Makutsi. He did not greet her in the proper, approved way. He did not even appear to see her. Phuti smiled at the builder. I chose it carefully, he said. Or rather, my wife and I chose it. He turned to Mma Makutsi and smiled as he spoke. My wife. Clarkson Putumelo half turned his head towards Mma Makutsi, but did not look at her. For a moment it seemed as if he was going to greet her, but that moment passed and he turned away again. Good building land, he repeated. No problems here. Youll want to put the house over there, in the middle, right Then you can make a drive which goes from there to there. He pointed out the proposed route of the drive. There will be no problem with that. Simple as one, two, three. Mma Makutsi seethed. Nothing was as simple as one, two, threeeven one, two, three itself was rarely that straightforwardyou could miss something when counting things, even a child understood that. And who was this illbehaved Putumelo, anyway Who was he to arrive like this and pay no attention to the wifethe wifeof his client It was a breathtaking display of arrogance, she thought, and she could just imagine what Mma Ramotswe would say when she told her about it. Or Mma Potokwane Mma Potokwane might have her faults, but she would know how to deal with a man like this with a few wellchosen words, such that he would be decisively and deftly put in his place. Ill walk around with you, Rra, said Mr. Putumelo. We can see how it looks close up. And me, said Mma Makutsi. And me too. Clarkson Putumelo frowned, as if he had suddenly heard something quite unexpected. He looked at Phuti Radiphuti for confirmation. Everybody can come, he said briskly. They began their inspection. Mma Makutsi said nothing, but glowered with resentment. She had rarely come across so illmannered a man as this Clarkson Putumelo, and she dered how Phuti Radiphuti could possibly have selected him. But then men do not see things the same way we do, she thought. They have different eyes. Men have different eyes. It was a very appropriate observation, she decided, and she would write it down and pass it on to Mma Ramotswe for future use, perhaps, when sayings of this nature would be required, which she knew from experience could be at any time.

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I SHALL SIMPLY LOOK UP IN THE SKY MMA MAKUTSI GAVE Mma Ramotswe a full account of her meeting with Mr. Clarkson Putumelo, sparing no detail of the insulting way in which he had treated her. He was very attentive to Phuti, she said. All the time, he looked at Phuti and not at me. He never noticed nor spoke to me. I am not exaggerating this, Mma Ramotsweit is as if I wasnt there. She paused, her anger mounting at the recollection of the humiliating encounter. It was as if I was some nothing, just some nothing. Mma Ramotswe looked sympathetic. There have always been men like that, Mma. Fortunately, there are fewer of them than there used to be. But there are still some, and this Putumelo must be one of them. Mma Makutsi now asked what made these men behave in such a way. Were they like that because they had been badly treated by a woman at some point Or were they like that because She tried to think of another explanation, but could not. How could anybody ignore the other half of humanity And did they behave like that to their wives she asked Mma Ramotswe. Phuti had met Mma Putumelo when she had come into the furniture store to test the sofa, so she knew that Mr. Putumelo was married. Did the poor woman have to put up with being ignored in that astonishingly rude manner What would it be like to sit down for breakfast with a man who never spoke to you but instead looked over your shoulder as if you were not even there He will be a small man inside, said Mma Ramotswe. He will feel small and unimportant. That is why he needs to put ladies down, Mma. Men who are big inside never feel the need to do that. She was right, thought Mma Makutsi. Mr. J.L.B. Matekoni was one of those men who were large insidekind and generous, and strong tooand he was never anything but courteous in his dealings with women, and with men too, for that matter. So what I suggest, Mma, Mma Ramotswe continued, is that you dont let this man annoy you. Just ignore his bad manners. Mma Makutsi nodded enthusiastically. I shall ignore him altogether, she said. It will be as if he is not there. When he talks I shall simply look up in the skylike thisas if I can hear something but am not sure what it is. Mma Ramotswe gently explained that this was not what she had in mind. Dont repay rudeness with rudeness, Mma. It is much better to show a rude person how to behave. Have you not seen how well that works I have not seen that, Mma. Mma Ramotswe knew she would not persuade Mma Makutsi, but she continued nonetheless. Well, it does work. A rude person wants you to be rude back to him. He really likes that. But if you just smile and are very polite, then he will realise that his rudeness has not hurt you. He has achieved nothing. This was greeted with silence, and Mma Ramotswe decided that it would be best to move on to another subject. There was work to do: a report to be typed up and sent off to a client, which would keep them busy for the hour or so before lunch time. Both she and Mma Makutsi went home for lunch nowMma Ramotswe in her van and Mma Makutsi in the car sent for her by Phuti. This car, which had The Double Comfort Furniture Store emblazoned on its side, had been the subject of some remark by the two junior mechanics. She is very grand now, Charlie had said. Too grand to go on public transport, like the rest of us. You may have to sit next to some poor person in a minibus. She is now too big for that. Fanwell, who had at last qualifiedthough Charlie had not done so, and was still an apprenticewas more charitable. It must be very nice to have a car with a driver, he said. Maybe if I marry a who has a furniture store that will happen to me. That will never happen, said Charlie. s with furniture stores are looking for someone more exciting than you, Fanwell. Sorry about that. The inference was clear: these furniturestore s, whoever they were, would be more satisfied with Charlie than they would be with Fanwell. That was probably true, thought Mma Ramotswe, who had overheard this conversation, but the fact that something was true was not always justification for saying it. Now there was the report to compile, and she and Mma Makutsi began to busy themselves with the task of writing it. The matter to be reported was a routine onethe breadandbutter, or breadandgravy as Mma Makutsi put it, of a detective agency: marital infidelity. This case, however, was rather more sensitive than the usual runofthemill investigation, as the client was a prominent politician, Mma Helen Olesitsi, a former government minister in charge of the police. She had developed suspicions about the conduct of her husband, Kholisani, who was a businessman. She was sure that he was having an affair, but had been unable to find out the identity of her rival; could Mma Ramotswe help Mma Ramotswe, assisted by Mma Makutsi, had done her best. Long hours had been spent parked outside houses and in the lobbies of hotels; and more than one evening wasted in bars known to be popular with married men on the lookout for a mistress. Mma Ramotswe disapproved of these bars, which, she said, knew exactly what they were doing. One, in particular, was the object of her derision, a bar that called itself The Second Homea name that she felt was deliberately and cynically inflammatory to women. This bar advertised itself as a place where those in need of entertainment they cannot find at home will be given a warm welcome. Those words make it very clear, dont you think, Mma Makutsi said Mma Ramotswe, pointing an angry finger at the offending newspaper advertisement. Why dont they just come out in the open and say, ‘Married men: you come here to meet other ladies Thats what it should say, Mma, if they were being honest. Mma Makutsi was in complete agreement. As a married woman, I can only say that I agree one hundred per cent. Even if I know that Phuti would never go to a place like that, I know that there are many men who are far weaker and will do that. Shame on them, Mma Ramotswe! Shame on them! It was not clear to Mma Ramotswe whether the shame should be heaped on the weak married men or on the bar, or on both, but she nodded her head. Their one trip to The Second Home had been an eyeopener, but had not resulted in any information on Mr. Kholisani Olesitsi. They had shown photographs to the barman, who had been perfectly obliging but who had shaken his head. Never here, Mma Ramotswe. I have never seen this man. Not once. Are you sure that he has been here Mma Makutsi had been doubtful about the truthfulness of this barman. I think he probably says that about anybody, she said. That is why he is the barman in a place like that. He is discreet. If you showed him a photograph of of the Mayor of Gaborone himself, he would deny knog who it was.

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