A dying breed

Environmental activism isn't something that comes naturally to me.  But lately I've noticed a significant decrease in a certain population and I am increasingly nervous that, if something serious isn't done soon, we'll lose an incredibly important species forever.  I'm talking about men.  Real men.  Where have all the men gone?

There was a time in the not so distant past when men were men and they weren't afraid to act as such.  But starting with Rosie the Riveter and that broad with her fish driven bicycle we have spent the last fifty years undermining men under the guise of 'sensitivity' and 'equality'.  So it begs the question, 'what makes a man a MAN?'  We can rule out physical traits, such as ownership of a penis (because for $14.99 plus shipping and handling I can own one of those too) and assume that it is character traits that make one qualify. It seems that the inherent qualities of a man (work ethic, confidence, take charge attitude....all those wonderful benefits of testosterone) have been twisted into something negative and as a result we are left with a bunch of lazy, overly emotional, sniveling wimps who can't tell a torque wrench from a tea cozy. 

It's we women who have done it.  We are the ones who demanded r-e-s-p-e-c-t and turned good old fashioned chivalry into a mortal sin.  We are the ones who spent decades feminizing men, demonizing masculinity and 'talking' the toughness right out of them.  Newsflash ladies: Men aren't women, and when you finally get your wish and eunuchize him into one, you lose all respect for him.....as well you should.  Call me old fashioned (please, it would be a wonderful compliment) but I believe that the man should take the lead.  The man should be the provider.  The man should usher security and guide God into his family.  The man should be the man.  Go to work, fix the toilet, change the oil, repair the fence, open the doors, make decisions, take a stand.......be a man. 

While I consider myself a connoisseur of a great fart and I appreciate the art of a well executed groin scratch I am not advocating macho, ape-like behaviour as a prerequisite for manhood...but I also don't rule them out.  I would argue that, especially now, we need men to behave primitively.  We need them to get back in touch with their masculine side.  Certainly refinement is a desirable trait (I like a man who can put on a suit and enjoy and evening at the symphony with me) but I wouldn't trade it for the guttural, inherent, testosterone driven attitude that has compelled every single advancement in the history of civilization. 

So please, if you're living with a lad who is more adept at advancing the levels of his PS3 than providing a pay check....or who is content to have Paco do his yard work rather than get his hands dirty,  PLEASE, for the good of society, encourage your guy to man up.  And if he does, reward him with a b.j.   You'd be surprised what a motivating factor those can be....

A terrible pattern...

This was first posted last year but since it happened again today I thought it was worthy of posting again.

We descend the steps and place our things on an adjacent surface. Something catches his eye. The ground below our feet is hot but he is not phased as his swift pace keeps him from feeling the heat. As I proceed he darts back and forth, always a few steps ahead. I've decided that in spite of his warnings, his frantic warnings, that I must reach out and take hold of this perceived threat. My arm is nearly fully extended, my hand just about to touch what is hanging from the wall, when suddenly he crashes into my legs throwing me off balance. I let out a frustrated cry. "Relax. It'll be okay" I yell.


After what seems to be an inordinate amount of time I finally posses what is wreaking such havoc in the mind of my companion. I don't understand his apprehension. Why does this thing, this inanimate object create such a frenzy? It's merely a tool. But not to him. To see it through his eyes it is a dangerous nemesis; something that must be conquered sooner rather than later.

As I make my way his anticipation grows with each passing second. He tries desperately to knock it out of my hands. All the while letting out terrible ear piercing hollers. It's become a dance. He leans in, I step back. I step aside, he lunges across me. He's begun to circle me now in the hopes of...I don't know what? Frustrate me? Cause me to fall to the ground thus loosening my grip and allowing him to finally prove his dominance over this terrible foe?

I am vigilant. I must continue with my quest or our trip will be for naught. As I proceed, my friend has begrudgingly resigned himself to the position of usher. He guides me through the process with fast paced breath and a heart rate in the hundreds. It is almost finished. Soon we will be able to partake of the refreshing experience that has brought us here today. With one final stroke of the hand my job is complete. But there is no time to celebrate. I must still make way to return this tool. My friend senses that we are nearing the end and knows these moments mark his last chance for success. I move quickly hoping to end this confusing and difficult incident; understanding but not accepting the fact that it's actually not an incident but a horrible, horrible pattern and all will be repeated tomorrow

I've managed to take the lead and am in sight of my destination; my protector is circling me once again in a last desperate attempt to seek and destroy. But alas, I have won......

I've managed to replace the pool skimmer on the wall without Copper chewing it to bits. He runs full force at the wall and leaps through the air with all his might. Once he pounces off the wall and lands back on the deck he glares at the cleaning apparatus.

"Some day" he seems to say. "Some day I'll get you pool skimmer."