Alarming News: I like Morgan Freeberg. A lot.
Anti-Idiotarian Rottweiler: We were following a trackback and thinking "hmmm... this is a bloody excellent post!", and then we realized that it was just part III of, well, three...Damn. I wish I'd written those.
Anti-Idiotarian Rottweiler: ...I just remembered that I found a new blog a short while ago, House of Eratosthenes, that I really like. I like his common sense approach and his curiosity when it comes to why people believe what they believe rather than just what they believe.
Brutally Honest: Morgan Freeberg is an intriguing guy...[he] asks great questions and answers others with style, flair, reason and wit. On the blogroll he goes. Make him a part of your regular blogospheric reading. I certainly will.
Brutally Honest: Morgan Freeberg is brilliant.
Common Sense Junction: Misha @ Anti-Idiotarian never ceases to amaze me. He keeps finding other good blogs. I went over to A.I. this morning for my daily Misha fix and he had found this guy named Morgan Freeberg in Fair Oaks, California, that has a blog, House of Eratosthenes. Freeberg says its "The Blog That Nobody Reads" but it may now become the blog that everybody reads.
Jaded Haven: Good God, Morgan, you cover a topic from front to back with a screwy thoroughness I find mind boggling. I'm in awe of your thought proccesses, my friend, you're an exceptional talent. You start by throwing in the kitchen sink, tie in someone's syphilitic uncle, bend around a rip tide of brilliance and bring it all home in a neat, diamond dripping package of an exceptionally readable moment of damn fine wordsmithing. I love reading you.
Mein Blogovault: Make "the Blog that No One Reads" one of your daily reads.
Philmon: When Morgan meanders, stick with him - he's got a point and it'll be worth it in the end. He's not a hit-and-run snarky quip kind of guy. The pieces all fall into place like tumblers in a lock and bang! He's opened a cognative door for you.
Rightlinx: Morgan at House of Eratosthenes is one of the best writers out there. I read him nearly every day because he manages to provide an interesting perspective, even though I don't always agree.
Poetic Justice: Cletus! Ah gots a laiv one fer yew...
And I’m not the one who made them that way, I’m not even the one who wants you to know about ’em either. It’s them. They’re very anxious to let the world know how much they despise men.
Rachel Lucas tripped across this sniveling screed mashed together by Leslie Bennetts, one of those “Everybody Loves Raymond” types…you know. The oh-so-intelligent but perpetually-peeved frazzled wifey juggling all the tasks that have to be done, and her husband is just another one of the kids, just a complete bumbling dope who lucked out the day he met her.
From the beginning of our relationship, I made it very clear that I wasn’t going to be any husband’s unpaid servant. If Jeremy wanted to be—and stay—married to me, let alone have kids, he couldn’t stick me with all the boring, mundane stuff nobody wants to do. We were going to share the work, or we were going to forget the whole deal…
That was 17 years ago, and while we haven’t exactly achieved equity, we’ve come a lot closer to it than most of our peers, judging by all the dreary surveys proving that men are slugs and their wives are superwomen. So how have I accomplished this? By holding my husband’s feet to the fire every single day of our lives, of course.
When my husband has lingered too long over the sports section and I’m feeling overwhelmed by the number of errands that must be run, I hand him a list.
“This is what I need you to do today,” I say in a tone of voice that brooks no equivocation. He may moan and groan, but the jobs get done. And while I still have to mastermind the operation — somehow he is never the one who remembers that our son needs new mosquito netting, baseball cleats, and basketball shoes for sleepaway camp — I’m not the only one schlepping around town checking items off the To Do list.
Dream come true, eh? I don’t want to read too much into this, but it would seem some of that mirror finish has been worn off the knight’s shining armor.
But if you think that’s a domestic nightmare — just wait until you get a load of what Nora Ephron jotted down.
Today, Nora Ephron has an essay on the Huffington Post titled: “White Men.” In it, we learn a lot of things about these elusive, mysterious creatures that we didn’t know before. Ephron, after all, is an expert in white men — her movies Sleepless in Seattle, You’ve Got Mail, and When Harry Met Sally were all about how wonderful they are to date and marry (after a brief variety of adorably neurotic hurdles). But it turns out Nora doesn’t think all white men are as dreamy as Tom Hanks. In fact, some are downright nefarious!
That’s putting it mildly. Flipping open this latest entry, we find:
To put it bluntly, the next president will be elected by them: the outcome of Tuesday’s primary will depend on whether they go for Hillary or Obama, and the outcome of the general election will depend on whether enough of them vote for McCain. A lot of them will: white men cannot be relied on, as all of us know who have spent a lifetime dating them. And McCain is a compelling candidate, particularly because of the Torture Thing. As for the Democratic hope that McCain’s temper will be a problem, don’t bet on it. A lot of white men have terrible tempers, and what’s more, they think it’s normal.
Aside from brazenly showcasing her hatred, Ms. Ephron is falling into the trap set for the weak-minded. Women and blacks can vote against a white guy without hating him, but white guys can’t vote against women and blacks without hating them. Odd, because I can tell you right now if someone demands I come up with a specimen of raw seething hatred I’ve encountered in the last two hours or two weeks or two months…I’m going to make a bee-line straight for Ms. Ephron’s essay on the evils and vices of white men.
Cassy did a great job of pointing this out, I thought.
And I hate to break it to you, but white men are not the only ones with awful tempers. In fact, I’d argue that women are worse than men are in the temper department. They may not be able to hit as hard or yell as loud, but women are malicious. They’re vindictive. They don’t forget anything. The quote “Hell hath no fury like a woman scorned” is in existence for a reason. Piss off a woman, and she will want to make your life a living hell. Settling the dispute won’t be good enough, oh no. This is because most women are, quite frankly, vindictive bitches — ask any twelve-year-old girl which sex is more cruel. I dare you. And that’s probably because most women are more emotional than men are. Men can be more logical; when they’re in an argument, most of them are able to keep their emotions out of it. A lot of women can’t.
But, we don’t need to wade deeply into the anecdotal evidence do we. We have Nora Ephron. Almost as mean and catty of a wrinkled up old bitch as Leslie Bennetts.
I’d sure like to know what the hell is going on in New York City. Ms. Bennetts and Ms. Ephron are both making names for themselves, writing articles that, frankly, it seems the world wouldn’t miss too much if they were gone. They’re both over fifty, they’re both female, they both have regular columns in the Huffington Post…which, in turn, are supposed to be all about making nice-nice, but in reality, are just nozzled outlets for regularly spewed bile.
One made her name by convincing Carl Bernstein to pretend to want to put up with her — the other one has a hubby who seems to put up with her. Although if he’s got a brain in his head, that’ll get re-thought toot-sweet once he sees how he’s been slandered on HuffPo.
How would you explain this to an ancient mummy re-animated in our current times, or a space alien who just landed here? Because it seems to a foreign or otherworldly consciousness, sufficiently intelligent to understand our customs but alienated from the recent history behind them, the conclusion would have to be inescapable: Men simply haven’t been doing enough complaining. They’ve settled for too little, and our women have turned into nasty, backbiting termagants. So many, among the “ladies” who are supposed to be sharing their lives with men, or at least aspiring to do that…measure their success by how much misery they bring.
We need to turn this oxcart around, pronto. We’re teetering on the brink of lunacy in which asking your wife or girlfriend to get you a beer and a sammich, is about to be declared a human rights violation. Even if you say please. Don’t say I didn’t warn you.
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