House of Eratosthenes

Get the impression I can’t get this repeated enough? That’s because it defines her very existence. Listen to these poison words she has for her own sons, the poor little guys. And her husband stands around, when she’s got stuff to do, with his hands in his pockets. On that point, I actually have some empathy for her. Been there, done that…yes, it is truly aggravating. But guess what? You’re making it happen, beeyotch! He takes the initiative to do X, it’s wrong — he takes the initiative to do Y, it’s wrong. Of course, there will not be a Z. He won’t try. If he tried, and there was a Z, there’d be something wrong with him. Why f*cking bother after awhile?

Yech. How many kids is this, six or eight? What kind of child support would be involved in that? Thinking persons cannot escape entertaining the possibility there is a crude economy involved in this. If he’s semi-screwed in the event we split up…I can act like a halfway-nagging-bitch…if he’s completely screwed, then I can go full-tilt.

My advice?

Pick a woman who cares about making you happy. I know that’s out of style. But there’s a funny truth to be reckoned with here: Lack of middle ground. Women, by and large, are concerned with making their men happy, or with making their men miserable — no-in-betweensies. Ms. Gosselin seems to be from the second of those two camps…poor Jon. So start with a good hand, or else it doesn’t very much matter how you play it.

Hey Princess! Bring Me A Beer! Even good women have that “off-night.” You did this wrong. You did that wrong. You did some other damn silly thing wrong. I have a technique for dealing with that, too. “Sorry, dear, that’s the second thing you caught me doing wrong today.” “Sorry, that’s three things you found about what I did wrong today.” “Sorry, that’s four things I did wrong today.” By the time you get up to seven or eight, she’s wild about you.

Maybe not wild in a good way, but still wild.

The point is, you aren’t willing to put up with it. And that’s the thing you really have to get across. That’s the paradox about women; so many of them seem to be on a quest to acquire “permission” to make their men miserable. But it’s the kind of permission that, once they get it, they become very unhappy to have it. It’s like a test you have to go through, from time to time, to prove you’re a “real” man — one who thinks highly enough of himself not to become a whipping-boy.

There’s something way down deep in the primal layers of the female psyche, on this stuff — something that doesn’t seem to be entirely within their knowledge, or under their control. It’s like they’re hard-wired, down in the BIOS, with the software having nothing to say about it at all. They’re programmed to test their men, to make sure those men are real men. But with these substandard specimens, there is something else. The genesis of discord seems to take place as Kate Gosselin figures out such-and-such has to get done. How does she figure that out? She figures it out on her lonesome. Hubby Jon doesn’t seem to be up to the task of anticipating what she’s going to want to have done…and maybe he shouldn’t see himself that way. Kate’s accustomed to working in a bubble. It’s just Kate’s plan. If it’s just Kate’s plan, then of course Jon won’t know what’s coming. He’ll be waiting around to be told what to do.

Many a red-blooded man is familiar with the search for the “generic” task — that thing she doesn’t have time to do, that definitely needs to be done, regardless of what her plan is. See, after a little bit of experience with the fairer sex we figure out you’re better of predicting which way a football will bounce, than to figure out what your wife or girlfriend is planning to do. So we look at what’s guaranteed, or almost-guaranteed, to be harmless. Running the dishes through the dishwasher, maybe. A load of laundry.

And if we get that going, and end up chastised as a result for having done it wrong — babe, it’s all over. Fingertips…pocket liners…say hello.

My God, I would face the wrath of a woman who didn’t like the way I asked her to get me a beer, over and over and over again, before I could spend one precious minute of my remaining lifespan with a shrew like Ms. Gosselin. That’s why about the time my thirties came to a close, I stopped trying to be helpful and concentrated my energies on telling them what kind of beer I liked. They can insist on a “please”; they can insist on a “thank you.” That’s all fair, since Mrs. Freeberg didn’t raise any barnyard animals. But in my household, it is not unheard-of for the Lady to bring the Lord of the Manor a damn beer once in awhile. No E-Girls Allowed, period. Since then, my woman-situation has vastly improved. Now way back when, in my early twenties, during my “starter marriage” and in the years before then…heh…don’t even ask, m’kay?

Hmmm, a beer would taste pretty good right about now.

Update: Hah! That’s awesome, Rob. Thanks.

Jesus, what a nightmare. That’s exactly what I grew up with, only there were three of them and one of me.

I finally figured out that Pat Boone had it figured out with “Technique” in the ’50s.

http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=hRbZ8EwRZFE
- rob | 05/25/2009 @ 22:26
I watched that show exactly twice and couldn’t for the life of me figure out what was so appealing about this family. The wife needs meds (harridan was perfect, with a large helping of OCD on top), the husband needs to grow a sack and the kids could use a few swats on their little tushies and a tough English nanny (we know they can afford it).

I would never have drinks with that woman, in fact I’d avoid her like the plague because you’re right, she doesn’t like men. She’s of the kind who constantly run down their husbands to anyone who’ll listen, because, you know, making him look like an ass somehow makes her look good. How fucking stupid is that? You’re brilliant for marrying a cretinous retard? And these wretched women act all surprised when their husband hooks up with a woman who makes him feel like worthwhile human being who can actually manage to tie his own shoes or wipe his ass without detailed instructions from a mommy/spouse.

Women can be so stupid.

**this opinion is why I only have three and a half women friends.
- Daphne | 05/26/2009 @ 19:16
She’s of the kind who constantly run down their husbands to anyone who’ll listen, because, you know, making him look like an ass somehow makes her look good. How fucking stupid is that? You’re brilliant for marrying a cretinous retard? …this opinion is why I only have three and a half women friends.

Yeah, there’s something peculiar happening on the girl-planet. It’s kind of like that diet where you spend all your time standing next to fat people — now you look thin. Same principle with looking smart.

Works almost as well.
- mkfreeberg | 05/26/2009 @ 19:41
Women are their own worst enemy most days.

I take that back about the kids. What they need is for the cameras to leave their house. I think these two are bad parents for subjecting their small children to twenty four hour public surveillance.
- Daphne | 05/26/2009 @ 20:06
Yeah and just to clarify, just because your bride is an intolerable wretch, that’s no excuse for the fellas to avoid work altogether. Hands-in-pockets just ain’t manly. A lot of women are too brittle and feeble to tolerate a genuine peer, male or female. They’re micro-managers. If you try to help out as an equal, you get your head bitten off because you’re stepping on their toes.

So instead of waiting for the next command to come rolling around, you can always try to get three or four car-lengths ahead. Think of things before they do. It’s not that hard, if they’re concentrating all their energies into their minute-to-minute micro-management.

Of course — I say that. But in real life I find it much easier to get snarky. My favorite is, “If nobody ever does anything that someone else doesn’t expect, nothing gets invented, and that’s why us men have to do all the inventing.” It isn’t really true (women have the windshield wipers and elevators, as I’ve noted, a zillion times before)…and actually, by the time I’m mouthing off like that, I’ve given up.

I’ve been male-refuse — cast aside, finances ruined, just workin’-and-sleepin’, living like Gollum in some shitty apartment, she-gets-the-assets-I-get-the-debts. I’ve also been coupled-up and unappreciated, entrusted with all the responsibilities of a six-year-old boy. Hate to say it, but I’d much rather be the male-refuse. That kinda gets into what Robert Heinlein said: “The human race divides politically into those who want people to be controlled and those who have no such desire.” Nasty women like Ms. Gosselin divide the male sex up along exactly that line. Those gentlemen on the other side, who prefer things that way…I honestly don’t know whether to pity them or not. They’re jolly singing birds in a gilded cage.
- mkfreeberg | 05/26/2009 @ 21:06
My wife liked this show, but I think it’s grating on her now. Haven’t seen it in quite a while.

I’ve watched it with her. Neither one of us can stand Kate. Daphne has it right. John needs to put his foot down and tell her to back the hell off, his way may be different but it’s just fine (and probably better) — if she wants his help, it’s gonna be on his terms, and flippin’ shut up or take over again. And Daphne’s right again about the TV cameras. The kids will grow up to be prima donnas like their mother, only with the damage caused by her control-freak personality.

I’m really starting to like this Daphne chick. 🙂

And Daph, there’s lots of women out there who aren’t like “those” women. And a lot of women are that way because men let them be that way.

On the other hand, now that I think about it, my wife doesn’t have that many female friends, either.
- philmon | 05/26/2009 @ 21:53
I’m guilty of shushing my man out of the way when he ventures into my realm trying to be helpful. I appreciate his altruism, but hey, we laid down lines in this game more than a decade ago – he needs to stay the hell out of my kitchen and laundry room. I’ll try to stay out of his toolshed and place of business, unless I need something for banging in nails that my shoes won’t accomplish or he needs a new assistant because he’s stressing like a madman.

It actually peeves me when he grabs a broom or a dust rag – makes me feel like I’ve not done my job well. That sounds so lamely pedestrian. I’ve lived a commercially successful life and chose to be home with our small boys, with his full support. We’re lucky – strike that – we can afford that option because he’s extremely successful professionally and we choose a less status conscious lifestyle compared to our neighbors. I like chickens more than Lexus SUV’s, that’s just how I roll.

I’ve known more men like you, Morgan, than the Arthurs of the world who think women shit rose petals because we house fur trimmed pink. Owning a pussy doesn’t mean you’re holding a golden ticket on universal wisdom, kindness, moral clarity or intelligence. It does mean you get a free pass when you behave badly; blame it on the hormonal cootch or sexism and escape hatches open post haste.

I find way too many women morally reprehensible. They have no code of decent conduct, relying on the easy pass they know their sex conveys.

My written opinions seem at odds with certain aspects of my life, but I’ve always tried to live honestly without manipulating or riding on another’s back. In other word’s, I own my shit and don’t make excuses for my choices. I dislike people who do.
- Daphne | 05/26/2009 @ 21:55
I already liked you Philmon.

I know you’re right that there are many like minded women in your wife’s mold. Problem is we’ve learned to conceal ourselves in casually social situations to avoid the eye rolls and freeze outs of the Kate set. Finding each other is difficult.
- Daphne | 05/26/2009 @ 22:13

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Kate GosselinMonday, May 25th, 2009

Kate Gosselin
Monday, May 25th, 2009