Monday, March 12, 2012

Let Your Sister Play

When we were boy, we owned the outdoors. We fished, fought, climbed trees, and cross swamps; we hunted, and trapped; we fashioned every weapon imaginable and then tested them upon each other. We pitted antes and waged acorn wars. Then, our mother would holler out of the back door, "Let you sister play."

"Oh, mom…"

Well, the girls want in, again. They want - and will be allowed for the first time - to box in the Olympics. They want to be stationed on the front lines in our wars so that they can advance themselves by killing and dying.

On the home front, the older women have set their sights on younger men. Some of these women have axes to grind. They want to chase like the boys chased. They call themselves "cougars" - these nouveau chasers - and they will take down boys. Their dynamics here - no pun intended - are absolutely screwed.

Older men have always chased younger women. It was no big deal because the women controlled the situation. the man would say, "Come sit on my lap." The young lady would say, "Get lost." No harm, no foul. That man is working at a 10% success rate, at best. In the end, reputations are saved simply because the lady said "No" - "no", as in no diseases, no pregnancies, no regrets.

Comes the "cougar". When she says, "Sit on my lap," the young guys come a'runnin. Her success rate is phenomenal - that young man will not say "No." Follow, the deluge; there may be arrests.

Certainly, women should enjoy many of the same opportunities as men. But there are limits to what society can legislate; limits to what women should do. It may be a simple matter of biology. For instance, women want to drink like men, but they are not built for that - they lack the muscle mass necessary to absorb the punishment alcohol inflicts. They go down quickly, and more completely. Once down, some get raped. When men get smashed, they end up on somebody's floor.

Once, after a beach party, I returned to the scene the following morning and found a lone reveler face down in the sand. How was he able to breath, I do not know. I did not try to wake him. I simply turned his face to one side so that he could breathe. Man's game.

There is a limit to how deeply women should go into the pool. A man can walk from one end of this country to the other, and the worst that might befall him is that he is chased by a dog. A women cannot walk around the block at night. It has nothing to do with politics; it is biology Women are wanted; men are not.

And speaking of cougar-dom: It may be the most backward, upside-down social experiment ever - the equivalent of people growing younger as they age. Here, the woman presumes that she has turned the tables on man by replicating his rakish behavior. It it is respect she seeks, she will not get it - not like the men who notch the names of women on their bedposts like gunslingers once boasted notches on their belts.

The cougar's conquest of young men, by contrast, is hollow because there is little, if any, resistance. She is being used, and everyone knows it. Only now, she seeks her debauching, when before she guarded against it.

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