Archive for November, 2006

It was Sigmund Freud who concluded that man’s own apprehensions, hatreds, fears and jealousies develop into a physical illness and that by probing his past, his psychosis could be healed. From a human viewpoint his conclusions rank high in medical history for they erased the stigma attached to insanity and proved it to be a disease. However, Freud’s theory of the cause and cure incited competition in the profession. He seemed to think that sex “repressions” were responsible when someone went off the beam and that biological bugs were gnawing on him. But his chief disciple, Alfred Adler, theorized that an inferiority complex was the reason. Adler added “introvert” and “extrovert” to party patter about psychiatry.

Yet another pupil, Carl Jung, emphasized a primeval racial complex as the underlying cause. These three learned men started separate schools of thought in man’s restless exploration of his own mind as he struggled for knowledge and control of the driving force within him. It seems that these separate schools of thought can travel together just so far-so that the neophyte who knows nothing of his “unconscious” conflicts finds himself in the same fix as a heathen who learns that there’s a hereafter-but he doesn’t know whether the one to help him on his way is a rabbi, priest or preacher!

Another branch of eggheads rarely in agreement is made up of economists and business analysts. When a youngster asked his Dad to define an economist, he was told that that’s someone who dishes out ordinary business advice dressed up in a black coat, striped pants and a big fee. As an example of their methods, if you pour out the last few drops of Pepso so you can return the bottle and collect 2 cents, an economist jockeys the simple act with a definition “expediting financial liquidity.”

In line with their unpredictable predictions these experts start their services by asking a client, “What sort of business analysis would you like to have? Are you interested in our cheerful finding, our cautious conclusions or our dark outlook?” Thus it seems that if economists were laid end to end, we’d come to a far better end.
The secret of sound economy is to live as cheaply the day after payday as you did the few days before.

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In their oval, high-browed heads, eggheads carry a heavy mental load. In their highly intellectual way they keep preoccupied with matters of the mind and disregard those of the moment (except maybe for a few of the practical ones considered “hard boiled.”

A sensible girl has enough sense not to look sensible but her intellectual sister usually is low-heeled, high-minded, wearing her hair plain and her clothes the same. She’s the exact opposite of the sensual gal who holds a man at arm’s length without losing her grip. Since Stevenson introduced the egghead into politics, Washington’s crowded with more of the same in plush political jobs. They’re the noticeable fans at horse-races, because they roll the daily scratch sheet inside a Foreign Affairs Quarterly. In addition to wielding political weight, many of our foremost professions need these mental giants.

There was a time when people thought of psychosis as being something one caught from a sick parrot. Today’s psychoanalysis is on a level with “my operation” as a conversation piece. Psychiatrists sit in their overwrought iron and nutty pine offices waiting to tune up, normalize and simonize ailing minds. They’re ready to tell for a price what your wife told you a thousand times for nothing. The only difference is that if you don’t pay the psychiatrist promptly he’ll give you your mania back. Psychiatrists try to find an alter-ego for every patient whether it’s for a man’s gears that won’t mesh-or for the wife who gave her husband a piece of her own mind every day until she finally lost it.

A sane person who sees a psychiatrist ought to have his head examined. These mind-men seldom see things eye to eye. Their profession has as many crackpots as a porcelain factory and it isn’t easy to unravel the talk of technicians when they can’t agree. Their own conflicting opinions add a neurosis to the patient’s problems. That’s the same as a psychosis except it makes one more nervous.

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Generally speaking, women are generally speaking. They’re particularly hard to beat at small talk. Rhetoric refers to the Mother tongue because men so seldom get a chance to use it-which bears out an incident involving a group of archaeologists. When they uncovered an ancient Indian burial ground, a woman on the sidelines reminded the workers that they were committing a crime; that even an ancient Indian is entitled to privacy in his burial ground and the diggers should be ashamed of disturbing the dead.

Finally when a skeleton was identified as that of an Indian squaw the annoying bystander insisted on knowing how they could be so sure. One of the weary workers looked up from the pit and told her, “Well, M’am, for one thing the lower jaw’s worn out.” A man seldom has a chance to be heard because women talk so fast, so long, and so often that his own words choke to death behind his bridgework. If a woman could talk out of two sides of her mouth at the same time, a lot would be said on both sides (as evidenced by the fact that more divorces are granted because women talk too much than for any other single reason).

Little boys learn not to say everything they think because if they do, someone will knock their blocks off; nobody does that to a little girl so she says what she pleases until she grows into a garrulous old lady. Women are said to be unable to keep a secret yet a woman-not a man mind you-keeps our most closely guarded diplomatic data . . . secrets that could affect all of our lives. Should it ever become necessary for the President to push the panic button, this woman will be the one to point it out for him. She is Secretary to the Secretary of State.

A boy begins early to wonder about women. Little Tommy pondered why God had made Adam before Eve if it’s supposed to be polite to let women be first? Knowing Mom had gone off to market, his Dad told Tommy, “He didn’t want any advice while He was making Adam!”

Women live longer than men because they are girls for so long; they want to stay around lest they’ll miss something. A woman’s promise to be on time usually carries a lot of wait, and when she shows up late she’s all peaches and cream. Her tardy arrival is a studied plan to make her (for the moment) the center of attention. It’s only when she’s trying to park her car that she doesn’t like being that center of attraction.

From now on, men will have to hanker in vain for a hideout since women have invaded every off-limit province that men once held sacred. The zany Prohibition era was born because women were barred from entering saloons by the front door. After repeal those saloons turned into lounges or taverns catering to the petticoat trade. Feminine advancement has chilled chivalry; since men stopped flipping their lids in a lift, let women stand up in a bus, let her light her own cigarette . . . it’s because she’s been smitten with her own might.

God made woman beautiful so that man would love her, and He made her foolish so she’d love him. But for every woman who makes a fool out of a man, there’s another who makes a man out of a fool.

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Feminine faults (Reading for men only)

These bits about feminine doings and dealings have been gleaned from countless marital bouts; veterans of the skirmishes identify women as the feline sex because of their catty characteristics: they preen by the hour, purr when buttered up; get huffy when rubbed the wrong way; and like to scratch in a fight. Fashionwise, she’s poor with a hole in her sole-but in style with holes in the toes. Why do women who aren’t slack insist on wearing slacks . . . and then think they look spick with all their span? You can count on the one with a cucumber silhouette (that only a kimono could hide) to show up in toreador pants.

Funny thing about women; they give two reasons for everything-a good one and the real one. A famous poet once said of a woman that she may not bite-but her wiles can sure gnaw on a guy. Medical evidence upholds the Bible’s story of Eve’s creation from Adam’s rib. This missing cervical is described by Webster as “a supernumerary rib sometimes found in the neck above the usual first rib.” According to medical men it’s an old crooked rib that sometimes causes a man so much pain that it has to be removed. Thus, the saying that women give men a pain in the neck.

Recently a couple of gals were enjoying the isolation of a peaceful, primitive spot. They wrote home saying that they weren’t one bit lonely because they had each other to talk to; all they needed was a third to talk about. A woman may suffer in many ways-but it’s never in silence: in one breath she hasn’t anything to wear-and in the next there’s not enough space in the closet. With the same inconsistency she’ll drive half a block to the drugstore to pick up her reducing pills.

Any time you ask a woman how old she is you’re asking for a youthful figure-she could add years to her life if she’d just tell the truth. A woman is as young as she thinks you’ll believe she is, and along that line did you hear of the economical gal who put 30 candles on her 40th birthday cake? The average woman isn’t old at fifty because she’s never even fifty; she doesn’t begin to grow older until her friends start telling her how young she looks; and one of the hardest decisions of her lifetime is when to start middle age. I remember telling one dolled up dame that her stocking was wrinkled and was my face red when she said she wasn’t wearing any. She’s the one who distinguishes a “girl” as one who goes for bulging muscles, whereas a “woman” wants a bulging billfold. It’s typical of women to be attractive at 20, attentive at 30, and adhesive at 40. All of which goes to prove that men can never tell about women and if they can-they shouldn’t.

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While most men don’t resort to either cosmetics or subterfuge for added appeal-most women employ every available means to improve their appearance, boost their morale, -and hold their men. Literally, men in business fight their way through every day in competition with other men, whereas women resort to a coy approach. They rely on intuition (another name for suspicion in skirts), rather than reason, and so prove that the plural of whim is women.

It is a male characteristic to promote brain power, just as it is a female trait to encourage beauty. Could that be because the average man can see so much better than he can think? Thus the weaker sex seems the stronger-due to the weakness of the stronger sex for the weaker one. Small wonder that women go their own smug way well aware that their strength lies in their weakness. You might cuddle her like a kitten but don’t ever call her a cat-and when you say she’s a vision take care not to slip and say sight. Any man who believes that women are non-explosive had better not try to drop one of them. A popular misconception is that men are given to givin’ women the works; in reality the women are given to givin’ men the business! Women like men to wait on them and to dance to their tune but not let them lead the lush life. In the Book of

Genesis, our earliest history of humanity tells us that Adam and Eve received the gift of life and were allowed to take up rent-free housekeeping in the Garden of Eden. It was a heavenly spot. They were happy, contented, surrounded by beauty, and free to raise Cain. The fields and forests around them were abundant with fruit and in their presence tigers and dinosaurs turned gentle as cocker spaniels. All was at peace with the world. But today man no longer enjoys that carefree life-and all because Eve urged Adam to do her bidding and try the forbidden fruit. Thus ended the lush life. Ever since that time devoted husbands have excused the devious ways of their women as mere “illogical thinking,” or even refer to it as “ladylike logic.” But there’s plenty of “practical” logic behind women’s illogical habits!

When women want something tender about their men, legal tender is what they have in mind. Considering that the same woman who’s scared of a mouse is eager for a date with a wolf-could it be because the mouse has no money? After all, gals who never know what they want are surprisingly adept at getting it. During her bone-bodiced prime, Grandma would only faint to win her point when a man was close enough to catch her, and her calculating daughters grew into their weepy teens well aware that if at first they didn’t succeed, they could cry, cry again.

Although women are chided for changing their minds, some of those changes bear touches of practicality as with the housefrau who asked the price of porterhouse, but bought the codfish cakes. She said they were easier to carry. She has a practical sister who takes her knitting to a tea, so there’s something to think about while she’s talking. Statistics show that a woman spends three-fourths of her husband’s income, plus nine-tenths of all she herself earns. It’s hard to convince the gals that even bargains cost money; and whoever said, “It’s the woman who pays,” forgot to ask where she got the money in the first place. A man who wraps his lady love in romantic frailty overlooks the actualities which indicate that she’ll probably outlive him. Life insurance charts show that the average man survives his widow by a year and a half, whereas the average widow can anticipate delaying the Grim Reaper to the light of some fifteen more candles on her birthday cake.

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Men are pretty much alike regardless of race, color or means. As a tree is bent so can manners be modified by environment. Every one of us is self-made, but only the rich or the famous admit it. The majority of us have characters that lend themselves to legend, but only a few have the knack of drawing attention to theirs. To begin with, the trouble with men is their trouble with women. Eve started it all by making trouble for Adam, trouble that continues to stick in every man’s craw. For the first twenty years a man’s Mother asks where he’s going; for the next fifty his wife wants to know the same thing; and when he dies even the mourners wonder.

Up to the age of five, man is God’s most helpless mammal; abandoned, he will die. A male won’t fight his own kind except for food or for a female-yet he will maim, murder or commit hayhem over an idea or a philosophy. Men are capable of splitting an atom-but incapable of keeping the peace. They know how to improve everything but human behavior . . . that’s why some beaches ban bikinis and jewellers stopped putting watches on garters. They couldn’t regulate the hands. Men along with all animal life become emotionally disturbed if life doesn’t follow a familiar pattern; while women go half crazy from boredom if it does. Men don’t gossip- they just exchange ideas . . . and they’re logical and literal. Women, though, are imaginative and exaggerative. Why- a woman can even go into raptures over sheer empty stockings!

Gals make buying a business; they approach it with all the joy of the hunt, elbowing their way up to the bargain counters. Men are more gullible and prove to be ready prey for mechanical gadgets and expensive gimmicks. Yet, when a bargain-minded doll spends five elbowing hours and ten gallons of gas working her way to buy stockings for fifty cents less, she’s way off the beam. On the other hand, when a man drives an air-conditioned car to an air-conditioned office, eats in air-conditioned comfort, walks down an air-conditioned arcade and winds up paying to sit in a steamroom so he can sweat like a harvest hand- that’s just one of his idosyncrasies!

While a middle-aged man trusts that his lean years are behind him, a woman hopes that hers are ahead. Men think women can’t be trusted too far, women say men can’t be trusted too near. A good man’s known by what he does, a good woman by what she doesn’t. And who says women’s minds are cleaner than men’s? They should be- they change them often enough! Only one man in 998 is a leader of men; the others are followers of women; and men have more problems because they have to put up with those women. Sometimes this makes a fellow wonder whether men really are super-mammals; who ever heard of a monkey dumb enough to get married?

But why write a chapter about how to get along with women? One sentence can cover the whole subject. . . just do as they tell you. Despite all this sass and sarcasm, breathes there a man with soul so dead he’s never turned his head and said, “Not bad!” A man finds it more difficult to understand other men than women do; often he’s taken in by another’s public (or company) side, not by his private (or at home) side. With men as with nuts you never can tell about them until you get them out of their shells. The real makings of a man usually come to light when he’s out fishing, hunting, hiking or on a horseback trek. That’s when the inadequate social scion is most apt to claim that all the game is his; or to duck the dust by not riding “drag”; whereas the crustiest cuss tried to outdo the rest of the gang as an “after you, my dear Alphonse” kind of guy.

Sociologists separate humans as being hard- or softheaded; and hard- or soft-hearted. The most wholesome man is balanced somewhere between the hard-headed, hard-hearted-and the soft-headed, soft-hearted. Among those hard-headed, and hard-hearted, is the grasping calculating cynic who’d like to be God if possible -and it comes hard for him to admit that he isn’t. All men are his natural enemies-an attitude that makes him the natural enemy of all men. The soft-headed, soft-hearted person is responsible for as much of the world’s mischief as his opposite type-for he looks through rose-colored glasses-stays unwrinkled by woe and uncorrupted by ego; not because of any sentiment in his make-up, but because he’s too much of a coward to face reality. Thus he stays childish in his simplicity. When it comes to a soft-headed, hard-hearted individual, he is no more a realist than his hard-headed, hard-hearted companion; he’s just more sneaky in his own cynical way.

The choice (but rare) combination is in the man with the hard head and soft heart. He’s strong, uncomplicated, outdoorsy; with a strength and tenacity free from fear. He loves life and makes those with whom he comes into contact feel the same way. Deep inside he’s just as sentimental as a schoolgirl-eager to find good in every man and-to overlook the rotten spots.

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The battle of the sexes began long before we “were” and it will go on long after we “aren’t”, for there can be no armistice and no victory until there’s no longer any such thing as fraternizing with the enemy.

Women bemoan their lot as having been put on earth for the sole purpose of catering to men; rearing their kids in the daytime and listening to their gripes at night . . . along with pampering their assorted aches and pains to boost their deflated egos. Thus the American wife considers herself as nurse, housekeeper, governess, book-keeper, gardener and seamstress-to mention just a few qualifications.

But as the men look at it, push-button fingers have replaced dish-pan hands. At breakfast ladies heat water for instant coffee, slam a milk carton on the table, drop bread into the toaster, take a quick puff or two-and stagger back to bed. After several extra hours of sleep, they waste what’s left of the morning over coffee and dawdle the afternoon away watching silly soap operas or gossiping by the hour on the telephone.

Men feel that “waiting on them hand and foot” involves nothing but light labor with the help of automatic sweepers, automatic laundry machines, automatic stoves (set not to burn the TV dinner), and automatic dishwashers to clean up the cups for more instant coffee. Is it any wonder men’s hearts bleed for these poor overworked women?

Once women were free of their whalebones and bustles, they stopped swooning and found themselves with sufficient strength to take up golf. Medical science has eliminated most of the hazards of childbirth, and even made women physically stronger than their forebears. Industrial prowess has given woman push-button this and automatic that, and so lessened the exhaustion of her housework.

These advances have given her free time for reading and thinking, time for entering politics and promoting her own independence. With the help of new cosmetics, everything from pink toenails to lavender hair-she’s able to look younger longer. The upshot of the whole thing is that these combined changes in her way of life tear away the old legendary veil of weakness that once enveloped her; but at the same time those changes have increased the stress and strain of man’s way of life in an effort to supply those push-button conveniences and to cope with a new independence.

The sexes cling together privately but are given to mingling with their own gender in gatherings. Men choose to golf with other men and women to gad with other women. Neighborhood get-togethers have a way of ending up with men exchanging man-talk in the kitchen while women gossip in the living room. The girls scarcely get together before one of them starts off with, “Now that us girls are together, let’s talk about the men!”

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