Why are men such morons?
Every little while, I’ll go digging deep into the metadata here at A Dude’s Guide . . . to Everything and what I find is sometimes a big of an experience.
For instance, take that question a couple of sentences above here. No, really. Take it. This kind of thing just annoys the heck out of me.
I mean, let’s look at the assumptions behind this, all right, dudes? First off, since the Questioner was asking about men being morons, that would imply that being a moron is something only men do? After all, Q didn’t ask about people being morons. This interrogative simply assumes that men are, in fact, morons and is asking the reason for this totally believable state of affairs.
Yes, I’ll readily admit that some men are morons. Huge, drooling, mouth-breathing morons. No question. However, that state of being isn’t reserved simply for those sporting a Y chromosome. I’ve run into plenty of the ladies who wouldn’t know what to do with an original thought if it snuck up on them and slapped them in the face with a semi-conscious cod.
Morons cross the gender barrier with a great deal of ease.
But you don’t see anyone asking why women are morons, now do you? Instead, the most common question you hear asked about women is something along the lines of “What do women want? I’ll never understand them.”
Basically, both questions are looking to pierce the same heart of darkness: they don’t understand the motivations that drive the opposite sex. However, in both cases, in both questions, the dudes are to blame Either men are morons because of the way they act, or they are morons because they can’t figure out what women want.
Seems as if the deck is a bit stacked there, yeah?
And, really, neither gender is all that hard to figure out.
Women want what they want, when they want it because they want it. Unless they don’t want it.
See? Dead easy.
Men aren’t morons. Really, we’re not. We are simple beings at heart. The vast majority of us seek physical comfort, a group to which we can belong, and a chance to run riot every once in a while, as long as we’re not causing permanent damage.
Again, dead easy.
If anyone sat down and thought about this seriously for about five minutes, it would all be solved and we could go home early, maybe score some steaks for the grill and sit in our chairs watching football. Or something.
The problem isn’t in what men and women are. The problem is what we say.
Which is a perfect time to say I’m outta here for the day. We’ll reconvene tomorrow and I’ll finish my thought. Provided I can actually come up with something semi-intelligent sounding between now and then to fill in the space.
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