BLINDED BY THE SIGHT!
Recently, I read an article by a woman reporter who said that she was confused by the overwhelming percentage of attractive women who are married to or dating men who are, at best, average looking, and, at worst, just plain disgustingly unattractive. She cites Billy Joel and the husband on "King of Queens," as proof that women seem less concerned with outward appearances than men. To which, I would respond, "Where, where, where?!"
True, if one only looks at these examples - you forgot Elvis Costello and Diana Krall, sweetie - it would be easy to conclude that either women are far less shallow than men or they're just plain stupid, when they're not outright blind. But my personal experience has been just the opposite. Invariably, far from the seemingly lopsided statistics our dashing reporter volunteers, in the vast majority of places where men and women tend to get together and, one would hope, mix, if a guy doesn't have much more to offer than his bubbly personality, he will most likely be going home alone. Conversely, most women in these settings, unless they are hideous, are far more likely to get to first or second base.
The reasons for this are obvious. Men are still thought of as hunters and, as a result, perceived, whether justly or not, as having the hidden agendas. Really, when was the last time you heard of a woman who was fairly attractive going up to a guy, telling him that she found him attractive, and that she wanted to go home with him being rejected? Try that in reverse and count how many drinks said woman throws in his face before a yes is forthcoming.
Women aren't blind, they're not stupid, and, no, they are NOT less shallow than men. They just don't have to deal with all the baggage of centuries of being the aggressor in the cat and mouse game. As a result, far from being less picky, they just have far more leverage in the game of "My place or yours!"
No, the real question shouldn't be why do attractive women marry ugly guys, it should be why do attractive women marry dickheads? Yes, that's the real 64,000 question. I can't tell you how many stunningly beautiful women shack up with or just flat out marry guys who are about as emotionally available as a blade of grass in the middle of a desert. It defies all logic. You hear about it all the time, and not just in Hollywood where it seems the statute of limitations on successful marriages is about as long as a failed sitcom in August. Case after case shows that some of the most gorgeous and desirable women, when they can have their pick of any man they choose, end up settling for guys who abuse them, cheat on them, and when they're not doing either of those things, just flat out ignore them. Now here's the sick part. When these relationships break up, you'd think these beauties would learn from their mistakes, right? Wrong! After a brief period of mourning they end up right back where they started from with the next dickhead who happens to come along and is willing to neglect them.
I guess I shouldn't complain. After all I do belong to a gender who, for some strange reason, finds something attractive about Britney Spears and Paris Hilton. Common guys, no sense denying it, we've all seen the beaver pix. Maybe both sexes are a lot more shallow than we'd like to admit. When faced with a choice between substance and style, most of us, if we were honest, would chose style, assuming both weren't available in the same package. In the end, we all get what we're looking for, whether we deserve it or not.
Sunday, February 24, 2008
Tuesday, February 19, 2008
More rantings...
UNBAYERABLE!
File this under “You can’t make this shit up.” This morning while at the gym I saw a commercial for Bayer aspirin. It was a woman who stated, with a straight face, that she avoided a heart attack by popping a Bayer aspirin into her mouth and chewing on it two days before Christmas. Memo to the thinking public: if you’re having a heart attack and the first thing you reach for is a bottle of aspirin, you need to be bludgeoned to death; you are not allowed to make a complete fool of yourself in a TV commercial.
IF AT FIRST YOU DON’T SECEDE.
After considerable review and only after much soul-searching I have come to a decision. The South can leave after all. I know we fought a gruesome war there almost a century and a half ago, but I feel we owe it to them to give them their independence. It’s the right thing to do. No more red states vs. blue states. Just two countries going their separate ways. Really, it will be good for everybody. They can have their NASCAR, their rednecks, their country and western music, their creationism, their Iraq war, their moral values. We’ll take our balanced budget, our peace and prosperity, our scientific breakthroughs, and our rock-n-roll. One caveat, we get south Florida. There are more New Yorkers there than there are in all of Brooklyn, and besides I want a fucking palm tree somewhere in my new Republic!
BARE ESSENTIALS
Lindsay Lohan does her impersonation of Marilyn Monroe in this month’s New York magazine, and, like the blond bombshell of fifty years ago, nothing is left to the imagination. Apparently she didn’t quite understand it that when her A.A. sponsor told her she had to reveal everything she was talking about her soul.
I know we’re living in perilous times when I’m on line at the deli and the 40 something year-old mom in front of me is doing her damnedest to look like Paris Hilton. If you’re that desperate to win the approval of your 16 year-old, trust me, you’ve got more problems than not knowing what your little Suzy might be doing in the back seat with Brad. When I was a teenager we had posters of Farrah Fawcett and her protruding nipples; at least my mother didn’t dress up like a whore.
And speaking of baring it all, why is it that women, particularly older women, feel compelled to draw attention to their bodies at gyms. It’s getting so that a guy can’t get in a decent hour’s workout without some love-starved, soon-to-be-grandmother admiring her ass in the mirror. I realize your husband of thirty years hasn’t touched you in nearly a decade and, yes, I’m impressed you’ve managed to fight off the effects of gravity so impressively, but if I wanted to get turned on while I was on the treadmill, I’d ask the attendant to turn on the Playboy channel. So zip it up and tuck it in, please!
UNBAYERABLE!
File this under “You can’t make this shit up.” This morning while at the gym I saw a commercial for Bayer aspirin. It was a woman who stated, with a straight face, that she avoided a heart attack by popping a Bayer aspirin into her mouth and chewing on it two days before Christmas. Memo to the thinking public: if you’re having a heart attack and the first thing you reach for is a bottle of aspirin, you need to be bludgeoned to death; you are not allowed to make a complete fool of yourself in a TV commercial.
IF AT FIRST YOU DON’T SECEDE.
After considerable review and only after much soul-searching I have come to a decision. The South can leave after all. I know we fought a gruesome war there almost a century and a half ago, but I feel we owe it to them to give them their independence. It’s the right thing to do. No more red states vs. blue states. Just two countries going their separate ways. Really, it will be good for everybody. They can have their NASCAR, their rednecks, their country and western music, their creationism, their Iraq war, their moral values. We’ll take our balanced budget, our peace and prosperity, our scientific breakthroughs, and our rock-n-roll. One caveat, we get south Florida. There are more New Yorkers there than there are in all of Brooklyn, and besides I want a fucking palm tree somewhere in my new Republic!
BARE ESSENTIALS
Lindsay Lohan does her impersonation of Marilyn Monroe in this month’s New York magazine, and, like the blond bombshell of fifty years ago, nothing is left to the imagination. Apparently she didn’t quite understand it that when her A.A. sponsor told her she had to reveal everything she was talking about her soul.
I know we’re living in perilous times when I’m on line at the deli and the 40 something year-old mom in front of me is doing her damnedest to look like Paris Hilton. If you’re that desperate to win the approval of your 16 year-old, trust me, you’ve got more problems than not knowing what your little Suzy might be doing in the back seat with Brad. When I was a teenager we had posters of Farrah Fawcett and her protruding nipples; at least my mother didn’t dress up like a whore.
And speaking of baring it all, why is it that women, particularly older women, feel compelled to draw attention to their bodies at gyms. It’s getting so that a guy can’t get in a decent hour’s workout without some love-starved, soon-to-be-grandmother admiring her ass in the mirror. I realize your husband of thirty years hasn’t touched you in nearly a decade and, yes, I’m impressed you’ve managed to fight off the effects of gravity so impressively, but if I wanted to get turned on while I was on the treadmill, I’d ask the attendant to turn on the Playboy channel. So zip it up and tuck it in, please!
Monday, February 18, 2008
Cautiously Pessimistic
The cynic in me just couldn't resist, so with your indulgence, I will do my utmost to see the pessimism in the world of art, politics, religion, science, etc, and remain cautiously pessimistic that no matter how bad things seem to be, they will invariably get worse!
MUSIC, CRITICS AND HYPOCRITS.
I finally understand why music critics get so much shit from people for expressing their opinions. It’s not because they don’t agree that such critics have a right to their opinions, it’s just that they don’t feel they should get paid for having said opinions. What, everyone is suppose to have a boring 9 to 5 job that they hate so much they want to nuke a small mid-western town? Some advice to the minions: Stop behaving like penis-envying assholes, turn on your computer and start typing your own goddamn reviews. Or, just do what I do and get yourself a blog. It’s cheaper than therapy, and it’s better than cursing out Robert Christgau and Rolling Stone magazine. Really now, don’t you feel foolish getting pissed off at a publication that hasn’t been relevant since Spiro Agnew was the vice president?
HILL THE SHRILL!
Now that it seems obvious that Barak Obama is starting to pull away with the lead in the Democratic primary race, Hillary Clinton has announced that she will take the fight all the way to the convention, regardless of what that may mean for the party’s chances of winning in November. Like I always say, if you can’t beat ‘em, hold ‘em hostage. And for those of you who still believe that Bill is actually trying to get his wife elected, here’s some food for thought. She still hasn’t forgiven him for Monica, and he’s about as anxious to be the First Man as I am about wearing a prom dress. Every time this guy opens his mouth on the campaign trail it’s a classic case of passive aggressiveness if ever I saw one. The GOP should rent him out.
AND GOD SAW THAT IT WAS, WHAT?
On the sixth day God created man, and then he rested on the 7th. On the 8th day he created evangelicals, hence the first example of a now age-old axiom: Quit while you're ahead! No, that wasn’t suppose to rhyme, I just needed to say it. And speaking of evangelicals, can Pat Robertson be any more marginalized than he already is? His endorsement of Rudy Giuliani for President had a shelf life of a quart of milk out in the sun, and all but guaranteed the former New York City mayor and 9/11 poster child a resounding defeat in the Republican primaries. Really, if we were smart we’d take him to Atlantic City and bet on everything he said would lose. We could donate the winnings to all the progressives out there. You know, the ones who haven’t lost their minds or think the world is six thousand years old like Mike Huckabee does. And, speaking of the good governor from Arkansas, he was recently quoted as saying there were only ten laws we really needed to observe: the ten commandments. I guess all those other laws and regulations, you know like the ones in the bill of rights, the constitution, and such, are just window dressing for the Philistines.
TO TELL YOU THE TRUTH.
Why do supposedly intelligent people bother asking salesmen if they really need the item they are thinking about purchasing? Or if that item is really the best there is? What is the point? Hey shitheads, you’re asking people whose livelihood depends on you buying stuff from them to be the moral guardians of reason. What are you expecting to hear? “No put that down, you don’t need that, and while you’re at it, our stuff really isn’t all that good. Try down the block, they got some real good shit there!” The three universal lies that nobody should be shocked at hearing are as follows: “You look good in that dress, really,” “I can’t believe how big it is,” and “The sale ends today!”
CHUMP CHANGE!
I hear that mega millions is 220 million dollars. Loathe that I am at refusing wealth should it pass my way, I predict that the poor sap that actually does win this thing will, in all probability, be broke in five years. Power isn’t the only thing that corrupts absolutely. And speaking of going from the sublime to the ridiculous: Recently, Heath Ledger’s apartment went back on the market for a mere $25,000 per month. I’m sorry but I must protest. $25,000 a month for an apartment is obscene. Twenty two five, maybe, but I draw the line at twenty five. And besides, the parking is so scarce, where would I park my Bentley?
The cynic in me just couldn't resist, so with your indulgence, I will do my utmost to see the pessimism in the world of art, politics, religion, science, etc, and remain cautiously pessimistic that no matter how bad things seem to be, they will invariably get worse!
MUSIC, CRITICS AND HYPOCRITS.
I finally understand why music critics get so much shit from people for expressing their opinions. It’s not because they don’t agree that such critics have a right to their opinions, it’s just that they don’t feel they should get paid for having said opinions. What, everyone is suppose to have a boring 9 to 5 job that they hate so much they want to nuke a small mid-western town? Some advice to the minions: Stop behaving like penis-envying assholes, turn on your computer and start typing your own goddamn reviews. Or, just do what I do and get yourself a blog. It’s cheaper than therapy, and it’s better than cursing out Robert Christgau and Rolling Stone magazine. Really now, don’t you feel foolish getting pissed off at a publication that hasn’t been relevant since Spiro Agnew was the vice president?
HILL THE SHRILL!
Now that it seems obvious that Barak Obama is starting to pull away with the lead in the Democratic primary race, Hillary Clinton has announced that she will take the fight all the way to the convention, regardless of what that may mean for the party’s chances of winning in November. Like I always say, if you can’t beat ‘em, hold ‘em hostage. And for those of you who still believe that Bill is actually trying to get his wife elected, here’s some food for thought. She still hasn’t forgiven him for Monica, and he’s about as anxious to be the First Man as I am about wearing a prom dress. Every time this guy opens his mouth on the campaign trail it’s a classic case of passive aggressiveness if ever I saw one. The GOP should rent him out.
AND GOD SAW THAT IT WAS, WHAT?
On the sixth day God created man, and then he rested on the 7th. On the 8th day he created evangelicals, hence the first example of a now age-old axiom: Quit while you're ahead! No, that wasn’t suppose to rhyme, I just needed to say it. And speaking of evangelicals, can Pat Robertson be any more marginalized than he already is? His endorsement of Rudy Giuliani for President had a shelf life of a quart of milk out in the sun, and all but guaranteed the former New York City mayor and 9/11 poster child a resounding defeat in the Republican primaries. Really, if we were smart we’d take him to Atlantic City and bet on everything he said would lose. We could donate the winnings to all the progressives out there. You know, the ones who haven’t lost their minds or think the world is six thousand years old like Mike Huckabee does. And, speaking of the good governor from Arkansas, he was recently quoted as saying there were only ten laws we really needed to observe: the ten commandments. I guess all those other laws and regulations, you know like the ones in the bill of rights, the constitution, and such, are just window dressing for the Philistines.
TO TELL YOU THE TRUTH.
Why do supposedly intelligent people bother asking salesmen if they really need the item they are thinking about purchasing? Or if that item is really the best there is? What is the point? Hey shitheads, you’re asking people whose livelihood depends on you buying stuff from them to be the moral guardians of reason. What are you expecting to hear? “No put that down, you don’t need that, and while you’re at it, our stuff really isn’t all that good. Try down the block, they got some real good shit there!” The three universal lies that nobody should be shocked at hearing are as follows: “You look good in that dress, really,” “I can’t believe how big it is,” and “The sale ends today!”
CHUMP CHANGE!
I hear that mega millions is 220 million dollars. Loathe that I am at refusing wealth should it pass my way, I predict that the poor sap that actually does win this thing will, in all probability, be broke in five years. Power isn’t the only thing that corrupts absolutely. And speaking of going from the sublime to the ridiculous: Recently, Heath Ledger’s apartment went back on the market for a mere $25,000 per month. I’m sorry but I must protest. $25,000 a month for an apartment is obscene. Twenty two five, maybe, but I draw the line at twenty five. And besides, the parking is so scarce, where would I park my Bentley?
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