My Grandson was listening to the rap music the other day, and I’ll be damned if I didn’t hear one of them rap musicians say “time for sexing.” Time for sexing? I never knew the boy was into love songs? That’s curious.

Sexing is what happens when a man and a woman love each other. Granted, I never said the words “time for sexing” when I was courting his grandmother, but back then all you needed was a good pair of bedroom eyes. I can’t even imagine how grandma would have handled that, had I taken her out for dinner and dancing one night and then suggested it was “time for sexing.” Holy lord. I don’t think that would have gone over too well with the debutantes. But apparently that kind of thing is the norm now, and maybe romance is a thing of the past.

It must be nice, being a young person. No money spent on flowers, no dance lessons or worry about manners. Love is just a phrase away. One “your horny, let’s do it” and the boots come a-flyin’ off. You say: “ride it.” And if she asks “ride what?” you say: “my pony.” It’s as simple as that.

However blatant it may be, the rap music can’t be all that bad if it schools the lad in the ways of modern courtship. I don’t want the boy to be deprived of receiving some “ill nana.” Now that he’s going to be starting school at Devry, he’s bound to hook up with some hoochies. So let him have his fun, I say. A little ill nana can’t hurt, and maybe it’ll knock some sense into him. His saddle’s waiting, ladies! Come and jump on it.