posted on May, 2 2014 @ 10:10 PM
Recent threads and current events have prompted me to write something intelligent, topical, thoughtful, and sophisticated.
But I forgot what that was so I'm writing about this.
Ever since Cleopatra told Mark Anthony that he could sleep on the couch because she had her pyramid that night, men have been relegated to the
subservient category of provider.
Women are smart. Have you even seen sizes in women's clothing? You need an advanced degree in intra-dimensional quantum mechanics to get sizes
right. And forget about cooking! A cup of this, two teaspoons of that, a quart of whatever. . . I can't even convert meters to Fahrenheit
Women are the smarter species. Yes, I said species. They are totally different from men. Have you seen men today? They try to emulate women by
shaving their chest, their arm pits, their legs! I watch the typical male on shows like MSNBC and all I can think of is "bikini wax"!
But women are a different species.
In the best selling book, "Women are from Venus and Men Suck" author and woman, Betty Something-or-other talks about . . um. . . well to be honest,
I bought the book-on-tape. And when women get to yacking, I kind of just tuned out.
But they are different. They smell better, and are soft, and curvy. Just like Justin Beiber.
Women are smart. (Did I already say that??) Imagine that you live in a harsh environment filled with lethal elements and an environment that could
kill you in an instant. Yes, just like the line to get pre-tickets to the new Godzilla movie. Well, women hang back at the cave, or loft, or house
and tend to the children and Facebook and drink all the good wine in the house. They never touch the cheap stuff. Oh no. As soon as the "man"
goes out in the wild to hunt and forage (or go to pick up more bleu cheese because she needs more for her salad) she immediately goes for the good
stuff. The French stuff with words like "vin" and "Le" and "Le Mad Douge".
The point is, the smarter species sends out the dumber species to do it's bidding. The man who says that he is in charge, actually is. Of the
hunting party to bring food and tribute back to his Queen.
Once back in the Palace, the woman resumes control.
If I could withstand the pain of a bikini wax and lotions to sit back and have a stereo-typical woman provide for me, I'd do it in an instant.
Though I do tend to cry if I even have to pluck a nose hair. Which is why I think we are a different species.
Forget waterboarding terrorists. Tape them to a chair and walk in with tweezers and pluck 3 hairs from the nose of terrorist Sala'd-bin-Dressing.
You'll have bank accounts, maps, plans, and his life history in an instant!
So in conclusion I can only say that in the "battle of the sexes" it was nice of the women to make us even think that we were actually competing.