Some Things Can't Be "Talked Out."

It’s time to “lighten up,” I think. A few minutes ago, a friend sent me this list of cute rules. The caption says, “We always hear ‘the rules' from the female side of things. Now here are the rules from the male side.” I’ve copied them here, and added my own notations. I hope you get some laughs, but you know I have a serious point to make. You’ll see.

Now, it should first be said that I don’t make rules for other people, male or female – how they live is up to them. Oh, yeah – you’re read my John Wayne quote, the one that goes, “I won’t be wronged, I won’t be insulted, and I won’t be laid a hand on . . .” That’s it and I don’t see why that’s so hard to follow. And I not only don't see why that somehow makes me a Neanderthal, I don't care. Now I'm Neanderthal to the power of three. I still don't care. But, otherwise in the way of "rules," all I ever do is offer my help – that’s all anything I say on the Mongoose Trick pages means. Anyway . . .

"Please note that these are all numbered 'one' ON PURPOSE!"

“1. Learn to work the toilet seat. You're a big girl. If it's up, put it down. We need it up, you need it down. You don't hear us complaining about you leaving it down.”

Hal’s comment: THE TOILET SEAT?! Honey, if I ever get to where I complain about anything this damned “metrosexual” girlish, you’ll know I’m probably gonna start losing my "wood" pretty soon, too.

“1. Birthdays, Valentines, and Anniversaries are not quests to see if we can find the perfect present yet again!”

Hal’s comment: I don’t do “birthdays, valentines, anniversaries" or any of that infantile crap. I stopped keeping track of dates – week, month, or year – a long time ago. It’s called “freedom.” On the other hand, I like – I love – to buy the woman I love gifts just because it occurs to me. Which it does, often – it’s not the day on the calendar that reminds me of her. She does that. She'll "live with it" - count on it

“1. Sometimes we are not thinking about you. Live with it.”

Hal’s comment: Hmmmm. I think about sex about twenty times a minute on the average (hell, I’ve thought about sex during combat a couple of times). If you’re the woman who turns me on, I’m thinking about you at least ninety percent of that time. Yeah, that means I think about Paul Abdul, too.

“1. Sunday = sports. It's like the full moon or the changing of the tides. Let it be.”

Hal’s comment: Well, okay – I’m not perfect (but we can fool around while I watch, can’t we?)

“1. Don't cut your hair. EVER! Long hair is always more attractive than short hair. One of the big reasons guys fear getting married is that married women always cut their hair, and by then you're stuck with her.”

Hal’s – well, you know: Geez, they do have hair don’t they? I never noticed that before.

“1. Shopping is NOT a sport. And no, we are never going to think of it that way.”

Hal: What’s “shopping?” When do they do that?

“1. Crying is blackmail.”

Hal: “Crying.” Hmmmm. Blackmail (I think he means "extortion"). Hmmmm (again). Yeah, I can see that it might be. But I thought that was mostly what the roses and that other stuff I use to make her feel sexy always does to her eyes? I thought tears meant she was horny.

“1. Ask for what you want. Let us be clear on this one: Subtle hints do not work! Strong hints do not work! Obvious hints do not work! Just say it!”

H: Yeah, that pretty much gets it. And "Honey, take your clothes off when you say what you want. You’ll get it every time – even if I have to kill something (even somebody) to get it for you."

“1. We don't remember dates. Mark birthdays and anniversaries on the calendar. Remind us frequently beforehand.”

H: I said that in number one number two. I don’t like to repeat myself, except – well you know . . .

“1. Most guys own three pairs of shoes - tops. What makes you think we'd be any good at choosing which pair, out of thirty, would look good with your dress?”

H: I wear boots – one of two pair (I’m breaking in the second set slowly). What kind of wimp wears “shoes?”

“1. Yes and No are perfectly acceptable answers to almost every question.”

H: Yeah, but I hear everything even better when you’re naked; and then I don’t care whether it’s yes or no – or what the hell ever. One question, though - why would you ever say “no” to me (naked, I mean)?

“1. Come to us with a problem only if you want help solving it. That's what we do. Sympathy is what your girlfriends are for.”

H: Well, yes and no. I spell sympathy s-e-x and you can have all you need. I’m sure your girl friends will sympathize.

“1. A headache that last for 17 months is a problem. See a doctor.”

H: Well, you can’t disagree with that. But Seventeen months? Sex with a woman standing on her head is a lot of fun, but they do get a headache if you take too long, and every day for seventeen months is sure to do it.

“1. Check your oil! Please.”

H: Well, actually – as long as she’s standing on her head . . .

“1. Anything we said 6 months ago is inadmissible in an argument. In fact, all comments become null and void after 7 days.”

H: Yeah, that would work. But I don’t argue with women – period. Anyone who argues with a jackass makes a jackass of himself, and the same thing applies to arguing with a woman – except he’s a woman and a jackass.

“1. If you won't dress like the Victoria's Secret girls, don't expect us to act like soap opera guys.”

H: Geez – here we go again. The hair and clothes thing. Who cares what the hell they wear?!

“1. If you think you're fat, you probably are. Don't ask us. We refuse to answer.”

H: No argument from me here. But how can she be putting on weight if you’re doing your . . . job, shall we say?

“1. If something we said can be interpreted two ways, and one of the ways makes you sad or angry, we meant the other one.”

H: Just answer yes or no? Check my method for this kind of female-posed dilemma later here. I may be a Neanderthal, but I was taught my way around women by a very wise . . . woman!

“1. You can either ask us to do something or tell us how you want it done. Not both. If you already know best how to do it, just do it yourself.”

H: Common sense again. But why not do it both ways (we are talking about sex, aren’t we?)? Why do you talk to them about girl stuff? Maybe you need to go back to the “sympathy” question.

“1. Whenever possible, please say whatever you have to say during commercials.”

H: Pals, I don’t know what to say to anybody who watches commercials on TV. YOU’VE GOT A WOMAN, AND YOU’RE WATCHING TV? Jesus!

“1. Christopher Columbus did not need directions, and neither do we.”

H. Nope, I know right where it is, I know how to get to it, and I know what to do when I get there. Turn off the f------ television!

“1. The relationship is never going to be like it was the first four months we were going out. Get over it. And quit whining to your girlfriends.”

H: You know, baby, we’re really starting to get good at this your standing on your head position; but maybe you should quit bragging to your girl friends (Sue’s beginning to make insinuations).

“1. ALL men see in only 16 colors, like Windows default settings. Peach, for example, is a fruit, not a color. Pumpkin is also a fruit. We have no idea what mauve is.”

H: Yeah, he’s got me there. But it goes with hair, the toilet seat, what she wears, and all that. Who cares? Mauve? I thought that was a name for women, years ago.

“1. If it itches, it will be scratched. We do that.”

H: Yup, we do. We fart, too. Whether she cares has to do with things other than manners and hygiene. Who taught you about women?

“1. We are not mind readers and we never will be. Our lack of mind-reading ability is not proof of how little we care about you.”

H: Hmmmm. Are we talking about the ones with the small print, or the large? I don't read her mind, either - why do I want to read her mind when her body is telling me everything I want to know?

“1. If we ask what is wrong and you say "nothing," we will act like nothing's wrong. We know you are lying, but it is just not worth the hassle.”

H: He’s got me there. Remember what I said about my "dilemma defense?" That’s when I pull out my “hide-out gift.” You don’t know about hide-out gifts? That’s one you buy on the sly and put away, to keep handy in cases like this. Of course, you have to be like me - the kind who pays no attention to dates, and just buys things for her on the spur of the moment. Perfect cover. I get laid a lot this way, too, you know . . .? No, you probably wouldn't.

“1. If you ask a question you don't want an answer to, expect an answer you don't want to hear.”

H: Now, see – that’s your “metrosexual” male for you. This is the same instruction as “one” number eight, “one” number 17, and “one” number twenty-six. Talk, talk, talk! Man, if she wants to talk about girl things all the time, doesn’t that say something about the guy she’s talking to? Where the hell did you grow up?

“1. When we have to go somewhere, absolutely anything you wear is fine. Really.”

H: Same-O, same-O. Honey, what we’re interested in where your clothing is concerned is: will it come off easily in case of opportunity for a “quickie?”

1. Don't ask us what we're thinking about unless you are prepared to discuss such topics as navel lint, the shotgun formation, or monster trucks.

H: NAVEL lint? SHOTGUN formation is for sissies who throw the football - real men run the damned thing, block, and tackle; and the only monster trucking I ever had anything to do with was called an Abrams tank. This guy ought to run for Congress or something.

“1. You have enough clothes.”

H: Clothes, clothes, clothes! For Christ’s sake, man – get your priorities straight. Hell, you’re obsessed with what they use to cover the good stuff. Repeat after me: the only interest you have in what they’ve got on is how fast will it come off (or will they do it with their clothes on).

“1. You have too many shoes.”

H: Well, there you have it – the metrosexual male, again. Son, as long as you keep talking about their blasted clothes, that’s what you’ll talk about. That’s ALL you’ll ever be talking about. And what kind of a man wants to talk to a beautiful woman about clothes? And how do you know that - beautiful, I mean - if she’s got her clothes on? Jesus – no wonder all our wars are starting to resemble a divorce proceeding. All those women and effeminate guys in Congress think of war as a family fight and the UN as a marriage counselor.

“1. It is neither in your best interest or ours to take the quiz together. No, it doesn't matter which quiz.”

H: Well, this is probably right – with this guy, it’ll be about hair or clothes.

“1. BEER is as exciting for us as handbags are for you.”

H: Finally, a good point, well made. Succinct. I’ll bet his grandfather told him.

“1. Thank you for reading this; yes, I know, I have to sleep on the couch tonight, but did you know we really don't mind that, it's like camping?”

H: "THANK YOU FOR READING THIS?! Perfect ending. Talk about your pussy-whipped metrosexual! Mack, sex on the couch is just as good – sometimes better (the backrest, you know) as anywhere else, you know. So is in a tent. Take a big pillow (for the backrest positions). You can do it standing up anywhere you know – if you’re strong - man - enough.

So there you have a look – another of those “microcosms” (I really was trying to lighten up - be funny, even; sorry) I’m always talking about – at the reason we’re in such a helluva shape as a nation. Try something. Go back through the list here, and substitute U.S. relations – suppose the U.S. is the guy who made the list, or the guys he's talking about – with other countries.

Where the hell did we get the idea that everything is talk-able, that you can talk everything out? Guess. Think about the women who wear next to nothing, parade around, and just dare nature to do its damnedest. When the guy's got her spread-eagled on a dumpster in some alley, she's going to talk him out of it? Maybe her spoken threat to yell "rape" will take the starch out of hanging Johnny? Sure. Hell, yes - tell it to the Marines.

More, I don’t know which is the chicken, which the egg here, but I do know that as soon as you let a woman think she’s a man – substitute her mouth for muscle, that is – you’ve done the equivalent of putting all your biggest-military-in-the-world in the closet and gone to war with small arms. You are going to “talk-fight” forever. And, if you've been paying attention over the years to divorce court - another talk-fest, incidentally - you know that the guy who lets that happen to him always loses his ass.

Chicken or egg? I don’t know. What I do know is that a man – or a nation - who acts like a woman is going to get no respect from - and that means have trouble with – both, forever. Want to know what will happen in the Iraq, Iran, the Middle East, and all the rest? Go back through the “cute” list here and make the necessary replacements. See how it comes out.

As long as the Home of the Brave acts like a metrosexual male or a woman – sends a woman to represent the nation, for instance – the murderous carnage in Iraq and Afghanistan situation will continue. And, you know damned well, things will get worse and worse everywhere in the Middle East and with the Arab world.

The Arab world treats a woman like a dog, so what do we send to represent us with the Arab world? Tell me, if you can, that's reasonable. Which point are you trying to make? Which is more important to you?

And that’s the only reason I give a damn about the latest in the battle of the sexes (that's really what this is, you know). All those bodies and fresh graves. They're there, being filled every day, because we’ve somehow acquired the reputation that makes us the equivalent, the national personification of a woman. Al Qaeda and Arab extremism intends rape, knowing that we'll submit before we call a cop.

The natural law operating here is like that of gravity - immutable. It's the law of the wolf.

And it's violation of that absolute law by the effeminate, talk-instead-of-act society that explains things like schools turned into prisons, teachers afraid of the student inmates, and no one daring to establish discipline by way of any kind of corporal punishment. And more. There isn't any doubt about any of this, but we'll go on debating it - "let's talk" until the system, and the nation, die.

I grew up with a grandfather I saw violent just once. Oh, Gramma and he had disagreements like any other married couple. Their kids and grandkids talked back and argued like any normal extended family. But when my grandfather said, "Das ist Genug!” - "enough," in German and that way he had – I swear that the wind went calm and the birds outside silent. There was no more argument or quarrelling. In a few minutes, everyone had thought better of it all, and everything went back to normal. It didn’t happen again often, either – not in front of Grampa.

Once, when I was about six, we were driving through our town and happened to pass by a young couple just as the man hit the woman, hard. It knocked her to her butt. My grandfather slammed on the car’s brakes, blasted out of the car, and raced over to the guy. There were no words - none! Picking the guy up with a hand between his legs and an arm around his neck, Grampa snatched the man up off his feet, whirled him in the air, and body-slammed him on his back so hard I could hear the impact in the car sixty feet away. Holding the guy with a hand on his Adam's apple, my grandfather spoke for a time and earnestly to the man, then briefly to the woman. She nodded. The man lay there, frozen with fear. I didn't blame him.

Having left them and come back to the car, my grandfather said taughtly, “By god, boy – don’t you ever let me catch you hitting a woman.” None of it was ever mentioned again.

I don’t know if I’ve made my point or not. Time was when I would have. No any more. You’ll want to talk about it.