I just finished reading an interesting book. And, no, it wasn’t Noam Chomsky’s “Hegemony or Survival: America’s Quest for Global Dominance.” Speaking of which, are you aware that simply because Venezuela’s tinhorn dictator/book critic Hugo Chavez referred to it at the U.N., it became the number one best seller at Amazon.com?
Although it doesn’t take the sting out of the fact that it’s selling better than my delightful new tome, I predict that Chomsky’s attack on the U.S. is destined to become the most bought but unread book in publishing history, replacing Bill Clinton’s massive memoir at the top of that particular list. After all, the only thing more unreadable than a book written by an academic is one written by a Red academic. Especially one who puts the word “hegemony” in a title!
Anyway, as I was saying, I just read “Why Men Never Remember and Women Never Forget,” by Marianne Legato. As the title cleverly suggests, it deals with many of the differences between the genders.
A lot of what divides us, according to Dr. Legato, is due to chemicals, hormones, and even brain size. And she’s not merely dealing with sex, but the way in which we hear things; the way we deal with parents and siblings; and even how we deal with stress, friends, and arguments.
Being a woman, she is in a better position than a man would be to get in the middle of the nurture versus nature debate. Most ardent feminists would have us believe that, although women are naturally superior, there are no innate differences between the sexes, and that it’s only societal, patriarchal, pressures that prevent more women from pursuing careers in, say, the NFL or the boxing ring.
In another instance, a 21-month-old girl, given a Tonka front-loader as a gift, put a diaper on it.
But there is another obvious difference between men and women. I refer to older, usually wealthy, men who date young women.
I realize that such men believe the message they’re sending out is that they’re studly fellows, but that’s not the message we’re receiving. What we really think is that a nubile young woman, with a 25-year-old boy friend on the side, has hooked herself a sucker, and that she’s going to take him for all he’s got.
My advice is that you start acting your age. I mean, after you stop bragging about what a smart guy you are and how much money you have, what could the two of you talk about? How long can you possibly pretend to enjoy hip-hop or give a hoot whether Brad Pitt and Angelina Jolie last out the year? Best of all, you’ll finally be able to relax and quit sucking in your stomach.
If you have this insatiable need to let people know that you have oodles of disposable income, a Rolex on your wrist beats a doxy on your arm. And, best of all, you won’t have to buy it a diamond necklace in order for it to give you the time of day.