After my roommate ate half my pizza in the fridge today (Dear Tom, Stop eating our food and contribute, you bastard!), I suddenly became convinced of something: If women ran the world, dumb things (war, disease, reality TV, etc.) would occur less frequently and in much smaller doses.
This conclusion comes after years of personal experience with amazing grandmothers, mothers (both genealogical and communal), sisters, girlfriends and female acquaintances, who have proven over and over again that, try as we might, men are still dumber than women.
But I guess the question that begs asking is, if women are so smart, why aren’t they in power?
And the next question is-who’s saying they aren’t?
Let’s face it: Eve knew that the garden was boring, and she managed to find us a loophole out. All of those who value TiVo and Seven jeans should be praising her wisdom, but instead we condemn her from all corners of Christendom.
Women solve their problems through communication-men hit each other. Which is the more effective method?
So while we men bravely spit and swear, women get things done-sometimes if only behind the scenes. Every time a great man made his mark in the history of this world, we can be assured that a great woman had her hand firmly in the mix. And she didn’t have to spit, swear or poke an eye out to do it.
It’s a wonder that men dominate the political world. We’re so busy blowing each other up, shredding our knees in sports or dislocating our thumbs on Playstations-where do we get the time to dedicate to the pursuit of happiness?
Luckily, women are becoming a little more obvious about the fact that they’ve been running the show since the beginning of time-starting with the looming Politician Death Match we’re all anxiously awaiting between Hillary Rodham Clinton and Condoleezza Rice.
One question, however, has plagued us since the beginning of time: Who is smarter in this battle of the sexes?
There is one test to discover the answer. The fact that women understand women and men, and men only understand?uh?
Picture, if you will, thirty apes gathered around a Rubik’s cube, scratching their crania, hooting, hollering and trying to puzzle out the enigmatic shape. They know that this figure is important, that it has a solution and that it has to make sense.
One adventurous primate picks up a stick and gives the rube a good whacking.
“Whoop, whoop!” Oh, joy! This is the most progress they have made in decades! Just wait until one of them figures out how to turn the rows!
Like the apes and the cube, men have been assembled stupidly around the multi-colored, impossibly complex Rubik’s cube that is the female mind for centuries, with few results. I often find myself wanting to scratch my head and beat my own chest, while clumsily fumbling for a big stick with which to whack the cube.
The funny thing is, men don’t often think about how to solve the puzzle better or if there is a certain technique we should use. Sometimes we don’t even stop to wonder if every Rubik’s cube is the same.
Our greatest worry? If our stick is bigger than the other apes’.
No doubt about it, be it pizza or politics, men ride the short bus. If only we could figure out how to drive it?or pull over and switch seats.