Exploits and boys, well at least the late age of boyhood, somewhere around 12, 13, 14, …  (some would have other ages included.)

Seems like there is always a constant trial, a trial of some exploit that apparently worked back in the day (hormonally chronological).  The surrounding life has changed a bit but there hasn’t been much of a change in boys.

Exploits, counting coup  battling the other guys (tribal pushing and shoving), charging the sabertooth tiger (testosterone fantasy), stealing eggs from eagle’s eyries (petty larceny); exploits to gain the acclaim and the bragging and the bluffing rights.

Exploits once proving who is tuffest, best balanced, most capable of quickly grabbing the mouthful, or handful … ending puberty.

 

 

Exploits now deliriously digitally virtualized.

 

 

Eventually, if the exploits haven’t rewarded the boy with the babe, the vehicle, the lion’s share of the loot and repast,

the boy is left with …

just small trinkets and smirky mimicry of some tyrant’s buffoonery.

 

 

 

There was a day when when the boy could just run off to join the circus, to exploit fears and folly, and maybe … in the end …

exploit a bit of finese.