What Do You Expect?

Last night, I got an email from one of my precious few readers who has the misfortune to know me not just as a blogger but as a human being. The email directed me to a post on a blog called "The Art of Manliness" and the post was called What Can Manly Men Expect of Women.

You can read it here, if you're the bookish, sensitive, intellectual type of person who likes to know both sides of a story before just blindly trusting me and letting me touch you in the dark while you're asleep.

What?

The post makes the argument that men ought to be manning up, in many various ways, but that women ought to be expected to follow suit-- by feminizing up, as it were, because that-- like the handlebar moustache and the word "hosiery" seems to have gone out-of-style.

The article even quotes some "professor" as stating the following:

"But the younger generation is looking at getting dressed up and making their mark,” Mr. Cohen continued. “It’s a real generation gap here. I teach at three different colleges, and I am amazed how dressed up some of the students are. Girls still come in their hoodies and pajamas, but boys come in their suits.”

That's funny-- I care way too much about my suits to come in them.

But seriously, folks-- where the fuck does this guy teach-- the Sorbonne? My freshman year roommate barely attended class and, when he did, he sported a wifebeater and track pants, if he was feeling chipper. The amount of smelly, unshaven, hair-across-the-eyebrows guys who came to class wearing flannel pajama bottoms and hoodies outnumber the amount of recall notices on the Ford Pinto.

The post then goes on and on to whine about the "double standards" that exist in this world that have heavily stacked the deck against men. Well, let's all just back away from our monitors and have ourselves a good old manly cry about that, why don't we? Of course, if you look at the media, you start to see that it's true. Look at any situation comedy. You've got a rail-thin, high-titted, intelligent, world-weary wife inexplicably married to some semi-retarded, usually obese fuckjob whose job makes inappropriate choices like it's his job-- if he has one. You want to rise up and say, "Hey, wait-- that's not fair!" until you realize that all of these fucking shows were created and written by men.

Oops.

The post then goes on to point out the following contradiction:

"Could we perhaps say that equality shouldn’t mean embracing and outdoing men in things that were traditionally considered masculine? That making out with other chicks for attention and lifting your shirt for beads and getting smashed and burping the alphabet and dressing in sweatsuits really has very little to do with being “liberated?”

Wow. Sounds like the writers of this blog (apparently a hubband-and-wifey team-- awww!-- almost makes them immune from critique, don't it?) have been watching too many "Girls Gone Wild" videos, or at least too many episodes of "COPS: Live & Tasin' at Mardi Gras" to me. What percentage of the population of 18-24 year-old women behave like this, I'd like to know? And, while we're on the subject: how many of them have webcams?

The article also makes lots of claims, presenting them as fact but without citing any sources or evidence, such as "did you know that 2/3 of divorces are initiated by women?" Well, define "initiated." Does that mean the actual legal proceedings? Does that mean bringing it up at the breakfast nook? Does that mean that she was the one who took her ring off first?

Oh, and does that figure include all the instances of divorce that began due to the husband's sticking his dick in a hole where it didn't belong at a Motel 6 during his lunch hour?

The post ends by asking a very simple question, though, and I think it's a question that I should be answering on this here blog of mine because, really, I have a big mouth and sometimes I feel like I need to use it for something important.

And the role of men and women in our society is important. Isn't it?

Here's what I expect from women as a whole:

Nothing.

And I hope to God they expect the same, or less, of me.

You know why? Because I'm a human being, and I fuck up a lot. I say the wrong thing and I use the steel wool on the bundt pan and I zone out at work and I can't spell "synagogue" correctly without really thinking about which vowels go where and I spend too much time fantasizing about owning some impractical, crazy fucking car like a 1973 Mercedes 220-D with tan leather interior and wood inserts on the dash and I have anxiety about dying all the time and I'll never play the banjo as well as Steve Martin.

We're all hopeless, even those of us who make it big. Especially those of us who make it big. Christ-- look at Steve Martin. If you think his Inspector Clouseau is funny, you can just un-follow this blog right now, because you're dead to me.

Actually, maybe I mis-spoke a while ago when I said that I don't expect anything of women. I guess maybe I expect them to not be assholes. You know what I mean-- the kind who feel they are entitled to things. When a woman budges in line at the post office or reams me out at work, she's a bitch. When a man does the same things, he's a dickhead.

But those are just words-- they're just names. Would I be some kind of kerchief-mouthed revolutionary if I started referring to annoying women as "dickheads" and annoying men as "bitches?" Look, I'm too tired and too insignificant to start reinventing the wheel. I already tried that with "LMT" and "Keep Fucking That Chicken" and I don't think it worked.

I just want people to be good to each other, for Christ's sake. Figure it out, people. Start fighting fair with each other. Stop accusing and blaming, take responsibility. If one of you doesn't like doing laundry, then make that your thing. She'll walk the dog or iron your pants. Who gives a shit? Stop looking for excuses as to why your life is so unfair and why your race is so downtrodden and why your gender is so maligned. Stop complaining to each other over cosmopolitans or coffee. Stop writing into Dear Abby. Actually, don't do that.

Today, my wife and I went outside three times and did battle against a foot-and-a-half feet of snow with a shovel each. First we dug out her car, and then we dug out mine. She shovelled the walkway, I shovelled the sidewalk. Why? Because we're goddamn partners. I didn't go out there myself because I felt the need to prove that I'm "the man" with my big dick and balls, and she didn't do it to prove that she's a modern, empowered woman with a clit of steel and a snarky New York-state-of-mind disposition.

Man-- fuck that.

Gender roles and gender stereotypes are what we make of them-- they were invented long ago and we insist on either inventing new ones or perpetuating the old ones. Either way, we do a disservice to each other when we do it. What do you expect of women? What do you expect of men? You have to start smaller, by expecting things of individuals. We wouldn't permit, as a polite society, reading a post entitled, "What Do You Expect of Blacks?" or "What Do You Expect of Jews?" would you? Let's just take each other one at a time.

And those of us who are lucky enough in this life to have partners, well, we can start there.

A Poor Sport

A certain Philadelphia sports team has been in the news quite a bit recently. Yes, the hit-ball-with-stick people. But thank goodness that's all over and done with, and now we can turn our attention to the throw/catch-ball-slam-into-eachother-at-high-rate-of-speed people.

And, no, I'm not talking about the Eagles.

I'm talking about the Passion.

Yes, for those of you who are not in the know, there's a new pigskin team in town, and they're certainly showing a lot of skin of the human variety. The Philadelphia Passion, created this year, is one of the newest members of the "Lingerie Football League" (I'm not kidding) and this team is a squad of "professional indoor football" players.

Here's a picture of their uniforms:

Good thing she's wearing that wrist-guard, right?

Since the team has started playing, they've won one and lost one, but that's not really relevant, is it? I can't imagine that people are attending these games because they care about the score. Just like people don't attend the Miss America pageant because they care about the contestants' answers to questions about vital social issues. Right, Carrie Prejean? I was highly entertained by one picture of four Philadelphia Passion players (that I wasn't allowed to copy, damnit) holding their hands over their, um, hearts during the National Anthem, and they're standing right in front of the first row of the crowd. One guy in the crowd is clearly craning his neck to look down one of the player's cleav, and, two fans over, another guy is staring straight at another one's ass.

God Breast Assmerica.

Now, before everybody gets mad at me (this happens sometimes) I'm not against women playing professional sports. In fact, there's a piece of me that thinks there shouldn't even be gender-segregated teams: if you're a woman and you're tough enough to play football-- get your ass in there with the men and have at it. I do think, though, that if women are to be taken seriously in athletics, that a "Lingerie Football League" is not the way to go. I can't think of anything more embarrassing or degrading to a woman than going out to play football in a ridiculous get-up that would look more appropriate on a go-go dancer or a streetwalker celebrating St. Patrick's Day.

I have no doubt that these women are real athletes who could tear my shit up in a matter of milliseconds, but the question is, are they being treated that way by the exhibitionist nature of the "sport" in which they are engaged? When I heard of the formation of a "Lingerie League" I thought to myself, "Is this really 2009? I mean, really? Are we still engaged in the practice of essentially mocking women and at the same time pretending to idolize them and revere them for their "talents" at giving us hardons-- I mean, "scoring touchdowns?"

Seriously-- I'm no prude, but this whole thing is kind of stupid.

And maybe that's the hypocritical nature of sports, and the gender double-standard. Maybe women sports fans have been getting gooey in the pants over Shane Victorino's tushie (they certainly aren't doing it over his nose) and they've been lustily oogling John Elway's package since the 1980s. I don't know. I'm not a woman, and I had to Wikipedia John Elway just to make sure he was actually a football player who played in the 1980s so I wouldn't look completely stupid.

Here's what I don't really understand: if women want a professional football league, why can't they just wear the same uniforms that the men wear? Women athletes shouldn't have to concern themselves with waxing their bikini line before a football game because they don't want their muff-stub showing on the Jumbotron. The whole concept of a Lingerie League kind of sullies the word "professional," doesn't it? Unless, of course, you're using the word "professional" as a euphamism for "prostitute," as in, "She's a professional." Because, really, that's what these women are. We're paying them to watch them bend over and wrastle each other to the ground and fall all over each other and slap each others' scantily-clad asses so we can get our rocks off.

Really, they should be called The Philadelphia Pros.

Women have definitely made strides in this country, but sometimes there's a cost. What would the suffragettes have said if they were allowed the right to vote, but were told they could only do so if they showed up at polling places half-naked and that three dozen photographers would be there to record the event for posterity? Kind of a hollow victory, no? Apparently, if you're a woman in the Philadelphia area and you want to play pro football, you can go right ahead and try out for the team.

Just leave your clothes, and your dignity, in the end-zone.