House of Eratosthenes

Buck didn’t like this bank ad, which personally I found to be about as amusing as it was supposed to have been. Better than most TV commercials, not as good as a Super Bowl ad, but okay all around. Something about it really rubbed him the wrong way though…something to do with naked women. Well, I’m not going to pretend I can’t see his point, since I can. Get into the frontward-located gray matter of a guy’s brain, and you’re going to find…a doppleganger of himself watching TV just for the sake of watching TV? Really?

Looks like a specimen of the fairer sex was retained for writing ad copy on a topic completely outside her expertise.

Speaking of which, Buck went on to find a Snopes article, and dealt the famous urban-legend web site some overdue criticism. The same sin committed all over again, really…the subject is how often guys think about sex, and to figure out what makes us tick, the famous urban legend debunkers entrusted the question to Barbara. I have to take Buck’s side again on this one. David Mikkelson is right-freakin’-there. David…Barbara. Husband…wife. Boy…girl. The subject is how the gentlemen think, and what bubbles to the front lobes of their melons, and how often. Barbara gets to write this one up? Why? What happened, was David in a horrible accident or something? If so, couldn’t you just bring in a temp?

On Snopes being overdue for some kind of a smackdown, my comments on Buck’s blog, stand. I don’t think they’re due for a big one…their reputation for diligence and accuracy is well-earned, overall. Sometimes, I just get the impression they don’t know their limits. Putting the lady in charge of writing about how men think, well, that’s just one more example.

She Who Does Her Laundry With Me, and I, were watching some over-sickly-sweet glurgy movie in which Katie Holmes goes out on a date with some studly dude…and I was given cause to think about this when the studly dude started telling Katie about the first time he rode his bike without training wheels. I checked the credits — under writing, you have girl-boy. Jessica and Jerry. You know, I’m inclined to think Jessica was responsible for that line. Us dudes, we do not talk about the first time we went riding without training wheels, when we’re out with our dates. Not on the first date, anyway. We don’t talk about how scared we were to go to kindergarten, or how we cried when we watched Ol’ Yeller, or Mom kissing the first boo-boos we got on our knees. We do not go there. Not gonna happen.

Of course, such movie credits would have me to believe Michael Crichton wrote this movie, with the help of some dude named Paul Attanasio and…yeah, sorry. Not buying it. You may recall there is this scene in which Demi Moore gives a hummer to Michael Douglas, and he’s like desperately fighting her off, to no avail, because she forces herself on him, and she finishes up while he yells no, no, no, no, no…

Nope. A man didn’t write that. I’ll bet my bottom dollar.

And that goes for this movie, while we’re talking about penises. Four writers. Four masculine names. These four studs put together a story, a movie is built around it, and in that movie a guy goes into an airport lavatory and starts talking audibly to his wang when he is by himself. Oh, I do believe there are a lot of chicks out there who would like to think we do this. It simply isn’t the case. Now, if the credits say four guys wrote this thing, well maybe there’s a grain of truth to it. But there had to be some help from somewhere. This project went co-ed, be it credited that way, or not. Otherwise, there’s just no way you’re going to have a guy standing around in solitude, getting ready to pee, talking out loud to his dick. I repeat: We don’t do this. We just don’t.

Next up, we have this fine thriller written by a couple of guys. It’s probably good enough to own, and maybe I should, I just never got around to buying it. One problem: The guy makes up with his girlfriend after promising never, ever, ever, ever, EVER to cheat on her, AGAIN. And then the psychotic chick dresses herself up as the girlfriend, sneaks into the guy’s hotel room and starts going down on him. He’s aaaaaaalmost there, and she reveals her true identity to him. He’s horrified, of course. Horrified! But just then, he finishes.

Um…you know, having not been in that particular situation, I’m not sure whether I can state definitively what a guy would or wouldn’t do. But it doesn’t seem credible, and it is highly doubtful the scene would play out the way it was shown on film. Could it really have been written by a couple of guys, directed by yet another guy, and assembled into the product that was delivered? Maybe. Perhaps. But obviously, the product was intended to appeal to women, and it’s probably fair to say it held more allegiance to female whim than to reality. To the feminine mindset, maybe this seems realistic, but to us dudes there is an abundance of suspension-of-disbelief taking place here to keep the story moving forward. Just can’t see it. The psycho-bitch could have finished the job and then let the guy know what was up. It would have worked just as well.

I could probably add a few more items to this list if I really worked on it. It seems, though, that just about everything, writing-wise, is credited to the guys, leaving a lot of questions unanswered. I suspect shenanigans are going on here, for reasons that may be now be evident. There’s something peculiar going on when women start writing about how men behave when women are not around; a lot of them seem to lack the ability to say, even to themselves, “this is just my opinion, but…” They know what they know, and they aren’t the least bit concerned about being wrong. They see us doing stuff, they describe what they see, and even if it’s a work of fiction it’s played out in front of a real man and we say — the who the what now? Nuh-huh, not me, not any guy I know.

Nevertheless, I’m willing to seriously entertain the possibility that guys really wrote all this nonsense. To entertain the remote possibility, I should say. With all those examples…except the one about Demi. Not buying that. Who thought it was a good idea to leave that the way it was, anyway?

Thanks for the link, Morgan. I was by in the wee, wee hours this morning but wasn’t coherent enough to leave even a “thanks” kinda comment. Reaping the dazed harvest of waaaay too much football and associated barley-based libations, I was…

We operate on vastly different planes, Morgan. You tend to be much more serious about this topic and delve much deeper. And that’s not a BAD thing, just different. I tend to be much more superficial…which probably IS a bad thing! ::big ol’ grin::

I checked the movie links you posted and wasn’t surprised to note I hadn’t seen any of ’em…given I watch maybe two movies a year. But I’ll take your word for the quality of writing about the subject. I agree with all your points: men simply do not act this way. Ever. Period. Full stop. The possible exception might be gay guys, but my experience with guys of that persuasion is limited to those I met in my SFO work environment. And they didn’t strike me as the sorts that would act in the manner you’ve described.
- Buck | 09/30/2007 @ 14:14
Buck,

Other than your rather scathing comments about the bank ad, I’m in pretty much full agreement with all your remarks (as you know from my comments on your end).

I should add one thing, if you really haven’t seen any of these: In spite of my nitpicks, they’re all good. Even that silly snake/plane thing. If I wasn’t enjoying the storytelling in the first place, the unrealistic and surreal behavior of any one of the characters, wouldn’t have even registered. Based on what I know of your likes and dislikes, I’d recommend Single White Female first and Disclosure second. Really, if you miss those, you miss a lot.

But…I suppose it might bear repeating in case the horse isn’t dead yet: Men just don’t act this way.
- mkfreeberg | 09/30/2007 @ 14:26

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On Women Writing About MenSaturday, September 29th, 2007

On Women Writing About Men
Saturday, September 29th, 2007