In Praise of Feminists

It’s depressing reading guys like Dawkins or Pinker. If these nabobs of negativity are to be believed, I (the average human male) was born a lying philanderer, a remorseless deadbeat, an incessant brag, a violent, megalomaniacal brute, a perpetually horny ape and a rather crass specimen for an “evolved creature”, all in all.

If you believed that shit, the policy implication would be to write draconian and sexist (anti-male) laws, with respect to marriage, divorce, alimony, child custody, sexual harassment, violent crime, workplace discrimination and a host of other things. Not only should we be sent to boot camp to prepare us for civilized society (hoping there is enough in the prefrontal cortex to eventually override the utter junk elsewhere), there should also be the perpetual threat of the whip to keep us in line. No salvation, only discipline and toil.

That’s being optimistic. Depending on how strong the evolutionary tug is supposed to be, solutions could be more drastic. I won’t be too surprised if Dr. Pinker recommended a complete quarantine, with all bearers of the Y chromosome breaking stone on some island in the south Pacific, while nubile women cavorted in lesbian bliss on the continents, raising test tube babies created from sperm shipments that arrive from time to time in the harbors of our brave, new world.

It made me turn to religion for a while. At least Eve gets some of the blame, if not a major share. But being paraded around everywhere, with a sign saying “Original Sin” around the neck, is not much fun.

Then I discovered feminists. Apparently, boys won’t be boys as soon as they change those grade school textbooks, and replace the plastic guns on the shelves with Barbies. At any rate, it’s not a character deficiency, just a curricular glitch. Don’t blame us, blame the school board.

Clearly, women just can’t stop loving men, be they attired in corsets or burning bras.

I have cancelled my Penthouse subscription. Who needs it as long as there is Ms magazine?