Getting Old and My "TED Talk"

Missing through, Pregno.

In my own way, I was born fully grown.

I was born Ilyrio Zapata, Domingo Franchenzo, Juan Paco Medina, Ruiz, Luis Vega Rosando, Sanchez.

My father died shortly before I was born.

He mulled the cartels product north of the border in a balloon burst in his ass.

Life got hard then.

My mother was at work all the time, and I was left on my own.

She said she used her mouth to make her living.

I used to think that that meant singing, but now I'm not so sure.

Missing through, Pregno.

Come to episode 6 of Missing Through Operadio.

I broke my fucking headphones.

You have no idea what I say that I broke my fucking headphones.

You have no fucking idea.

What a fucking problem that's going to be for me.

I broke my fucking headphones.

I don't spend money on equipment, right?

Like I have my microphones and then I have really old computers and that's in the only other luxury that and afforded myself are a set of really nice headphones.

And I say really nice headphones with in fucking air quotes because you can spend as much money as you want now on personal listening devices.

You know, the Bose fucking quiet comfort earbuds are what 300 dollars 350.

These headphones I bought about 10 years ago for $100.

85.

I don't fucking remember.

I think it was 85 bucks.

85 dollars 10 years ago for headphones was

these Sony studio monitor headphones 10 years ago, I think for 85 dollars.

And those bitches broke today.

And I'm fucking devastated.

I'm absolutely devastated.

I'm wearing my fucking AKGs now, which I hate.

It upstairs.

I guess I'll fucking edit in my fucking sure headphones love sure everything about sure sure is great.

Their headphones are not good.

But I guess I will do my editing in the sure headphones upstairs today.

Fucking hell.

These Sony studio monitors I've had longer than I

think about it.

I've had these Sony studio monitor headphones for 20 years.

Let me think about this.

I went in the Navy in 2006 and I was in a radio before that.

I've had these headphones the whole time.

So, oh shit.

They're probably probably every bit of 20 maybe 21 years old.

So I mean, I guess they're allowed to break, but they broke into most fucking stupid way possible.

They didn't break through normal wear and tear.

They broke because basically I'm too fucking fat for my environment.

And I fucking sat on them.

My left ass cheek just fucking snapped the goddamn earphone off.

I didn't sit down here to talk about my fucking headphone catastrophe that just occurred upstairs.

But indirectly, I guess it does kind of tie in because I just had the realization while I was telling you the story about the fucking headphones.

I had the realization I've owned these headphones for two decades.

And what I wanted to talk to you about today was the moment of realization I had the other day.

I realized that I'm not an attractive middle aged man anymore.

I realized that I've turned the corner into that as yet unnamed 10 to 15 year window, where everything you do as a man is wrong.

I'm gonna call it the creepy era, the creepy years, the creepy decade.

I've officially turned the corner from middle aged and I'm on my way to elderly, but there's a 10 year downhill slide before you get to elderly.

And you're asking, okay, well, fucking how do you define that 10 year slide?

What are you talking about? Why do you think that there's a fucking 10 year slide, Lorenzo? Well, let me tell you, imagine you're on a plateau.

And you're cruising along on that plateau. That plateau is your 40s.

Now, when I say you're on a plateau, what I mean is through your 20s and your 30s, you're on a fairly steady incline.

Right? By the time you hit 40, that levels out. It may go up. It may go down a little bit, but from 40 to 49, you're on a plateau.

These are your prime earning years. This is your physical appearance and most importantly, and for the purposes of this particular podcast episode, you're on a plateau from 40 to 49 in the way people view you.

So in your 20s, when you're on the way up, you're a kid. In your 30s, when you're on your way up, you're still maturing into the man that you're going to be.

But then when you hit 40, you're there. You've arrived. You are the man that you're going to be in the eyes of everyone around you and everyone who meets you.

And then you are on a plateau. This beautiful flat plane that

you're making the most money you've ever made. Physically, you're holding up emotionally. You're getting a little bit more mature. You're on your way to gaining what people are going to view as wisdom. And then at 49, you start your downhill slide.

Physically, you're not holding up as well as you used to. People at work are starting to see you as a bit of an anachronism. But for the purposes of this episode of the podcast, it's how people see you in your everyday life

and in random social interactions that we're going to talk about here. Now if your 20s and 30s was a slow steady incline, slow steady rise to the man you're going to be going back down the slope, it's a fucking brutal crash.

Socially speaking, because the meaning of everything you do and the perceived intentions behind everything you do change at 50 years of age, a mere year ago holding the door open at the bank for the young lady to go in in front of you was just seen as polite.

That lady may think that she's just thankful that that man thought of her saw her coming and decided to hold that door for her and let her in. How gentlemanly, when you're 60 holding the door open for a lady at the bank is seen in a certain way.

She sees 60-year-old you holding the door open going, oh my gosh, what an adorable old man. Oh look at him, I just want to dress him up. He should wear one of those Thomas Shelby hats.

He's just so cute. Thank you sir, thank you for holding the door for me. But between the ages of 50 and 59, the perception that they have of you holding that fucking door at the bank is completely different.

Go right on ahead, miss, I've got the door for you. Oh my god, this fucking creep, do I dare walk in front of him? He's going to be looking at my ass. I bet he touches me if he fucking touches me, I'm screaming. That's right.

Between the ages of 50 and 59, you're no longer a gentleman, you're not old enough yet to be a kindly old man, you're just a fucking creep.

I had this realization that I've tipped over the fucking edge of the plateau and I've started heading down the fucking hill, what I sat down the other day in my chair and my balls were hanging out the bottom of my shorts.

I've had these shorts for five, six years, my balls have never hung out of them before. But I'm sitting there sipping my fucking coffee looking through the fucking news if that's not old enough already for you sipping my coffee and fucking looking through the news and my fucking testicles are hanging out the bottom of my shorts.

A fucking kick in the face. Slap me right in the fucking mouth. You're old now, bitch. But you're not, you're creepy old.

Fuck. That means I have to really fucking mine my pees and cues. I can't just go out and public and do the things that I've always done because now everything I do carries extra meaning.

From age 20 to 49, you're still kind of in that fuckable category. You're a gentleman, you're distinguished. You're in your fucking prime or at least you're on your way to your prime and then after fucking 60, you're the's a kindly old man who's harmless. So what if he looks at my ass in the line at the bank, he's just a kindly old man.

But between the ages of 50 and 59, you're a fucking predator. The same fucking chick. And I guarantee that this is true. I don't know of a way to fucking test it. But there has to be a way at 48 years of age you're walking into the fucking bank. You hold the fucking door open for this chick.

She looks at you gives you a quick up and down smiles and heads inside. You're a gentleman. You wouldn't dare creep on her or fucking grab her ass or anything weird like that.

You're in your fucking prime. You have too much to lose. And then two years later you go back to the same bank. The same fucking chick is walking in the same fucking door. You hold the door open for her and she immediately ties her fucking sweater around her waist.

What the fuck is it? I can't explain the phenomenon, but I know it's fucking real. No one would ever accuse me of being self-aware in any way, shape or form. But I know that this is fucking real.

Everything I do, the meaning is changed. I'm not really going anywhere with this bit. There's no payoff. There's no fucking punch line or anything like that. I'm just telling you what I realized the other day. And if you're not quite there yet, if you haven't quite hit 49.50 years of age, I'm just consider this a fucking public service announcement from missing through radio.

So once you hit 49 years of age, maybe 50 if you're lucky, you're no longer a gentleman. You're a fucking creep. And then you've got a fucking contend with creep status for the next 10 years. There's nothing you can fucking do. There's literally nothing you can fucking do to change the perception.

That everyone who meets you is going to have people are going to fucking put themselves between you and their kids. If you happen to be walking through the park, you could have walked the trail at that park every day for a decade.

But the moment you fucking cross that line and start on that fucking downhill slide, parents are fucking interjecting themselves, placing themselves between you and where their kids happen to be playing on the fucking jungle gym. And God fucking forbid you walk over and sit down on the swing set. They're calling the cops. They wouldn't call the cops at 48, 47 or 46, but 49.50. They're calling the fucking police. You're likely to catch a fucking charge for taking a break.

While you're walking the trail that you've been walking for a decade at the park because you have crossed this invisible line. You're no longer a gentleman. You're creepy. Like I was saying, there's no punch line. There's no payoff. There's no climax moment.

This was a realization I had. And I had the realization again to fucking recap because I sat down in a pair of shorts that I've owned for a very long time in a chair that I've owned for a very long time and put my feet on an ottoman that I've owned for a very long time. And I realized that my fucking balls were hanging out the bottom of my shorts.

Oh god damn. Add that to my list of fucking trauma. Please balls hanging out the bottom of my fucking shorts. They haven't hung in the fucking toilet yet. That's a day that I hope that's a day that I'm hoping does it fucking come for me.

That's a day that I'm hoping never fucking happens to me. Long sack. The phenomenon.

The phenomenon of long sack. The phenomenon of long sack fucking strikes and my nuts hit that fucking toilet water. I'm done. I'm like, well, it just fucking grab a bowie knife and walk into the fucking woods in northern Minnesota and take my fucking chances with the bears. If they take me out that goddamn it, I had it coming. I'm not useful to anymore anymore at that point.

Fuck. I'm not singing on the bottom of my fucking shorts. Son of a bitch. I don't know if I did a good job explaining my theory on the phenomenon of fucking aging as a man.

You know, women say all the time that they lose their fucking value at 35 or something like that. Like it's a really fucking steep decline into invisibility.

Once you hit 35 as a woman or 45 or whatever the fucking number is that they that they slap on that. But I think I would prefer it in all honesty. If you take a fucking 700 foot view of the situation, would you rather not taking out of the bottom of the fucking street?

The short side in and not saying into the fucking toilet water aside, let's let's take that out of the equation. Those personal fucking indignities don't factor into this 700 foot view.

Would you rather be on your fucking way up and peak at about 30, 35 and then start your decline and just kind of become invisible or would you rather have a nice 10 year plateau and then snap your fucking fingers wake up one day and realize you're a fucking creep.

And everyone sees you as a creep and every woman assumes you're a fucking predator and every man thinks you're trying to steal and fucking traffic their child.

Personally, personally, I think I would probably take the rapid decline into invisibility and irrelevance. Then having to fucking mind my pints and cords every fucking minute of the day for the next 10 years until I can put on that Tommy Shelby hat and grab a fucking mere Sean pipe and be a harmless old man.

And what's really fucked up is I'm an ask guy. I love me some fucking love me a big round ass. You know what I mean? Oh fuck do it. I'm doing it. God damn it. If I would have fucking said that line five years ago at 45 years of age, you'd have been like oh he's an ass man. I've got a nice round ass. Let me slide into his DMs.

Right? But no, I'm fucking knocking on the door of 50. I say I've got a I love me a nice round fucking fat bulb of ass. And you're like oh my God, the fucking creepy is dripping out of my fucking earbuds. It's gonna infect me. I'm doing it. I can't even fucking say I can't even fucking say that I love a nice fat ass anymore.

Son of a bitch. You see what I'm saying? A guy saying at the age of 45 that he loves a nice fucking fat ass hits different than a guy had fucking knocking on the door of 50.

The guy knocking on the door of 50 can't do it. I cannot I cannot publicly enjoy a nice fat ass anymore. Son of a bitch. God damn it. This sucks. Getting old fucking blows. When I get done with this today, I'm gonna call my dad. And I'm just gonna ask him.

You know, I distinctly remember when you were in your 50s, you would kind of be walking around talking about how getting old sucks. Is that because you had aches and pains? That's kind of what I chalked it up to at the time. Or is it because you realize that you can't walk around and admit publicly that you really enjoy a juicy fat ass anymore.

Well, I don't care if it makes me sound like a creep. I'll let me some thighs and an ass. Okay. Fuck it. Fuck it. I'm gonna ask him to if his balls ever hung out the bottom of his shorts.

And what happened and if so, what happened the first time is fucking nuts hit the toilet water? Definitely gonna call him. If I had a way to patch the call in to this podcast, I'd totally do it.

But I'm sure that there's probably some kind of fucking easy to use software that I get to incorporate into my current setup. I just don't know how to fuck to do it. You'll have to take my word for it.

Segment to my name is Lorenzo. And welcome to my TED talk. You probably haven't heard of me. I'm just a lowly podcast host. And I'm really shocked that the TED organizers gave me this platform in order to talk to you today about what I'm positive is going to be a comment.

I'm positive is going to be a controversial subject. My podcast is called Miss and Throat Radio. And if you're unaware, the word Miss and Throat literally means a person who disapproves of humanity and or society.

There has never been a word more perfectly applied to someone as the word Miss and Throat applies to me because I fucking hate all of you. For one reason or another, or maybe several reasons,

maybe if I went around the room, I could lump several of you into the same category. Like for example, everyone in this room who has purple hair or blue hair, raise your hand.

One, two, three, four, five, six, seven, eight, nine. Nine of you in the same category. And that category is loosely entitled unfuckable losers whose pussy guarantees smells like fucking fish.

Now by a show of hands, how many of you have facial piercings piercings, either in your cheeks or your lips or your eyebrows or your nose?

Oh, much larger number. Let's see. Two, four, five, six, seven, eight, nine, 10, 11, 12, 13, 14, 15, 16, 17, 17, 17 of you have steel and or some other fucking mineral jammed into your faces in some kind of way.

As are now categorized, categorized into unemployable losers who are going to do their best to inflict their fucking worldview on society at large.

I see two of you here have purple hair and facial piercings, so you're unfuckable, unhierable and kind of a cunt about it. Good for you.

You see what I'm saying? That was just an example. Everyone in here is hateable in some way, shape or form, including myself.

Missing throbes hate themselves, but they trust themselves to be the ultimate judge of society at large.

People say that missing throbes are just really irritable narcissists. And I would have to 100% agree.

I host a podcast and I talk about all kinds of things. It's very satir, and it's very silly, and it's very stupid.

But one of the things you will never hear me joke about is domestic violence. Domestic violence is not funny.

Domestic violence is not something that we poke at, you know, tongue in cheek. Domestic violence is a very, very serious problem in the United States.

Worldwide, of course, but in the United States in particular, I believe, and the Ted Foundation as well, believes that domestic violence can absolutely be eradicated.

Now I know what you're thinking. Domestic violence has almost been woven into the fabric of our society. It's just understood that if you're from Alabama, Mississippi, Tennessee,

Oklahoma, Arkansas, Georgia or Florida, there is a very, very good chance that if you're a female, someone has smacked you around, and if you are a male, you have absolute,

absolutely smacked a female around. It's just part of the Southern culture. But I'm here to tell you today that it doesn't have to be that way.

And I can also hear you thinking Lorenzo, what could you possibly have to say that hasn't already been said about domestic violence?

The approach is this. Why would you accept the risk that comes along with hitting your wife when emotional and financial abuse is much more efficient, much more satisfying long term, and not illegal?

No, I get it. I get what you're saying. You want to hit that bitch. I get it. I understand women are fucking infuriating. They're never happy. It's never enough. No matter what you provide, it's never going to be enough for them. They're unappreciative. They don't listen. They're difficult.

I get it. I'm with you. I'm one of you. I understand. But let me say this about that. Breaking

up. But training your mind to abuse her emotionally. Now that's something that you can do every single day with little to no legal ramifications. Look at it like this in terms of gratification.

Would you prefer to get your gratification in one fell swoop knowing that you'll probably never have the opportunity to get it again? And also knowing that seeking and embracing that gratification is going to have ramifications beyond the legal, beyond financial, but social ramifications that are never going to go away?

Would you rather have that one time of instant gratification,

daily pleasures that can last a lifetime? Well, I know which one I'd choose. I'm looking for the long term. I'm in it for the long haul. I'm playing the long game. And by the long game, I mean rather than walk it up to her

her and punch in her interface, why not just look at her and squint your eyes and kind of cock your head and ask her when she's going to realize she's getting fat?

The look of hurt and betrayal on her face you will find means so much more than a bruise. Now let's try some audience participation, shall we?

You sir, come on up to the stage. Welcome to the Ted stage. What's your name? My name's Bob. All right, Bob, and is this your lovely wife? Yeah. What's your name, ma'am? My name is Tina.

Tina and Bob nice to meet you. Okay, we're going to do a little role playing here. Now Bob, you're among friends here. This is a judgment free zone. Have you ever raised a hand to Tina?

Well, yeah, I'm not super proud of it, but I did hit at her one time about 10. Would you say 10 years ago? Yes, about 10 years ago. All right. And Tina, how did that make you feel?

I just flew off the handle and slapped her, but no, I don't, I don't never yell. Okay, well, Bob, you're going to yell today. So what I want you to do is walk up to her, get right up in her personal space.

and I want you to scream at the top of your lungs, shut that mouth, Tina. You think you can do that? Yeah, I'll give it a shot.

Tina, now you know that you know that this is coming, what do you think the effect is going to be? Well, I'd say that since I know what's fixed in the happen is probably not going to affect me in any way.

Well, Tina, I begged to differ. Now, let me set the scene. You guys are in the middle of an argument. She just will not shut the fuck up, Bob.

She's coming at you about this and coming at you about that and coming at you about playing golf and drinking your fucking past blue ribbon and she will not fucking let off.

What are you going to do, Bob? You're going to look at her and you're going to tell her to shut up. Okay, just like I

I told you, shut that mouth, Tina. I can't see how this going to have any effect on me whatsoever. I know it's fixing the happen. Now walk up to her, Bob.

Indu just like I told you. God damn it woman. You shut that mouth, Tina. Oh, God. You see what I'm saying, Bob? Emotional abuse, emotional abuse. I can't scream it from the rooftops loud enough. Emotional abuse, Bob. It's so much better than hitting her. Don't you agree now? Do you see? Do I have a convert? Yes, sir. You're absolutely right. That felt real fucking good and it was real effective.

Now you, Bob

We have to stop it right now and this is the way. Don't you see? Start crit

asking her why she walks so heavily. Do you have to bang your fucking heels on the ground every time you take a step? Why don't you do me a favor and walk on your fucking toes? The ball of your foot in your toes, hit on the ball of your foot, roll to your fucking toe, leave your heel completely out of the equation if you could. Because all I hear is bang, bang, bang, bang, bang. For someone who swears they only weigh 115 pounds, you sure do make a lot of fucking noise. It's all about behavior modification really in the end, isn't it?

What you're trying to do is change the way she interacts with you. What's the most effective way to cause change in a person? Is it through fear? Or is it through instruction in teaching, molding? Of course it's through molding. Mold this woman to be what you want her to be. Here's another example.

What the fuck did those cabinet dords ever do to you? It's like you're moving through this fucking kitchen, you're slamming every fucking cabinet door specifically to piss me off. Do you remember how much we paid for these cabinets? So tell me why you're fucking bashing them over and over and over again. Your food isn't that good. Okay? You can't run around in here and make a fucking bunch of noise like you're some kind of fucking world renowned chef. Your food is trash. Bottom line. Why don't you fucking me's in plus? Pull all your shit down on the counter and one fill.

I don't have to hear you fucking slam the cabinet doors over and over again. We can just get it all out of the way in about 30 seconds. That would be great. If you don't mind.

Now I know what you're probably thinking. Lowenzo, these are daily maintenance things. What about when she gets out of pocket? Well, when she gets out of pocket and most women do, they require a bit of discipline.

Disciplining your wife is a time honored tradition. It used to be a loving act and understood you would pull her over your knee, you would grab a hairbrush, a brick, an axe handle, whatever you happen to have available to you and you'd give her a good solid paddling.

Well, the 1970s and the feminist movement took that away from us, but that did not change the female need for discipline. You can provide that much needed discipline in 2025 without beating her ass.

And this is where financial abuse comes into play. Wherein' bygone eras, you would just pull her over your knee and beat her ass. All you really have to do nowadays is just empty the bank account.

When she gets up at the end starts making demands and telling you what you're going to do in your own house, just sweep the account and pretend like there was never any money there. Because gaslighting is one of the most effective tools in an emotional abusers arsenal. Practice with me. Here we go.

Oh, you really feeling yourself now, aren't you? Okay, right on. Well, absolutely. Go ahead. Get your fucking hair done. Go, yep, absolutely. Go buy groceries, get your hair done. I'm just going to fucking stay here and be the piece of shit you think I am.

She walks out the door. What do you do? You pull out your smartphone and you transfer all the money out of the fucking checking account into your slush fund account that we don't talk about.

Some time passes. Here comes the frantic call from the grocery store. Honey, oh my god, I'm here at the grocery store. There's no money in the account. Our card was declined. What do I do?

Ah, that's weird. I can't believe you went shopping. You didn't know we didn't have any money? No, there was a glitch with payroll or something like that. Yeah, it's fucked up. How embarrassing for you. Can't believe you went there and probably filled a shopping cart. And now you don't have any money. That's fucked up.

Well, nothing to be done. I guess just leave the groceries with them and come on home. Now she's going to know, of course she is. She's an intelligent woman in her own way. And she will understand the lesson has been learned. She can't just talk any kind of way she likes to you and expect there to be no ramifications.

Now doesn't that sound better than breaking her fucking eye socket? Of course it does. You get to do this every day, all day long, 365 days a year. You get to belittle her, you get to be rate her, you get to destroy herself a steam.

Give money out in small increments, make her work for it, make her understand that she is your vessel and you are the Lord. There is no God other than you.

These are small, beautiful winds that is going to allow you to create a body of work, a body of abuse that you simply cannot achieve with your fists and feet. Domestic abuse has to stop.

Domestic abuse is an epidemic and it's time for it to go. It's time for it to become something that we used to do and that we snicker and laugh about. We can't believe we were so barbar.

Domestic abuse must stop now. And I believe through my method of substituting emotional and financial abuse for domestic violence, we can eliminate beating up women from our society.

Remember, don't beat her ass next time she gets out of pocket. It's not worth it. It's not worth all of the consequences that come flying your way. Join me today in embracing a better way.

Emotional and financial abuse with a side of gaslighting. What's the worst part of domestic violence if we're being honest with ourselves? What's the worst part of domestic violence?

It's not given her that black eye she had it coming. The worst part of domestic violence is not even the legal ramifications. No, the worst part about domestic violence is how you feel about yourself.

Don't give in, don't become another wife beater, don't be that cliche, don't be that fucking stereotype, don't be that meatball husband who works on his truck and beats the shit out of his wife.

Don't be that, instead be smarter, embrace and implement a cleaner form of abuse, a smarter form, a better form. Emotional abuse tinged with financial abuse and a side of gaslighting. So much more rewarding.

I'd like to thank you for joining me today for my TED Talk. I hope you took something from it and I hope you enjoyed it as much as I enjoyed giving it. Thank you again.

Remember, Missing Throat Radio 2.0, come listen to me. Slide into my DMs. I don't charge for my consulting services and I can help you on your journey to becoming the type of abuser that I know you can be. Thank you again. Good night.

Thank you for joining me for this episode of Missing Throat Radio. Big things on the horizon, lots and lots of cool stuff on the way. I'm not sure what any of them are but I feel like there's big things.

I'm sure I don't have to tell you that this show is heavily steeped in sarcasm and satire. I don't think that we're in a place anymore where we take everything so fucking seriously.

But anyway, I guess that's my little disclaimer.

Episode 6, right? Wasn't this episode 6? I told myself I wasn't really going to promote or push this podcast in any way until I had about 10 or 15 episodes posted for you to consume.

I don't know about the wisdom of that. But I feel like if I really fucking came out of the gate swinging and talking about, oh Missing Throat Radio, you gotta check it out.

Missing Throat Radio, it's the greatest thing on earth. Missing Throat Radio better than vagina. Missing Throat Radio. Right? And then you fucking were like, okay, well let's listen to what this ass bag has to say. You click on it and there's two fucking episodes on there.

What's that? What's that do for you? Nobody likes somebody who doesn't have a track record. You're not going to get your car fixed at the Boreen New Garage.

So why would you devote any of your fucking time, your precious time that you spend listening to podcasts to somebody who has been doing it for two entire goddamn episodes.

So this is episode 6 and I think if you wouldn't mind anyway, let's just kind of keep this among us until I get to about 10, 12, 15 episodes and then by all means tell everyone you know.

I just think it's embarrassing to have less than 10 episodes. It's a mean thing. Once again, thank you for joining me for this episode of Missing Throat Radio.

Leave a review, don't fucking tell a friend yet. We just went through that. Okay, now I'm going to go call my dad and ask him about his testicles and I guess order some new fucking headphones. Fuck me.