Rick Nelson and Claude Peck dispense unasked-for advice about clothing, etiquette, culture, relationships, grooming and more.
RN: I know the following statement is going to hurl me, willy-nilly, smack dab into Oldmanland, but, oy, my aching back.
CP: You and me both, codger. When you sign up for the Relax the Back store credit card, it's a watershed decision. And not in a good way.
RN: Last week at the mall, I seriously considered shedding what little dignity I still retain and parking it for 15 minutes with one of those chair-massage guys.
CP: If I had passed by while you were undergoing the procedure, which often seems to include drooling through that headpiece thingy, I would have pretended not to know you.
RN: I understand. My main hesitation was fear-based, as I mulled the repercussions of stepping out on the 23-year relationship I have with my gifted massage therapist. He and my genius of a chiropractor are the only two reasons why I remain mobile and, as such, I feel it is important to remain faithful.
CP: For many years, I thought chiropracty was in a class with chiromancy, or bleeding by leeches.
RN: I know. I used to hear the word "chiropractor" and my mind would immediately flash to the Melanie-giving-birth scene in "Gone With the Wind," where Prissy thoughtfully suggests placing a knife under the bed, to cut the pain in two.
