I AIN’T HIDING my mouth: when it comes to men, we are the least among the least.
Even as li’l children they teach us this at school, ’cause as the poem goes, “What are little girls made of? Sugar and spice and everything nice”. But when it comes to little boys, we made from “snips and snails and puppy dog tail”.
If you doubt me, check and see if a ship is sinking and they looking to get people to safety. The first thing the captain does say is, women and children first, and once them safe and the ship ain’t sink yet, then the men could get off. ’Cause in life it is children first, then women, then dogs and cats and all manner of beast and fowls, and then in last position is men.
And I bet that you never noticed that everything that bad does get call a “he”.
For instance, last week my daughter pushed her foot in her school shoe and butt up on a centipede. Luckily it didn’t sting her, but she dropped the shoe and came screaming to me.
When I asked her if she killed it she said, “No, he ran under the chair”. Now I doubt she asked the centipede its name, or checked to see if it was wearing a skirt or pants, or even peeped between its legs to check the percolation utensil, but for her a centipede is evil, so it had to be a “he”.
Similarly, there was a dog in the district which used to come and drag ’bout people’s garbage. And I would hear my neighbours talking ’bout how lawless “he” was and how somebody soon poison he.
No lie, we once had a female cat and it had kittens, and everybody talked ’bout how sweet “she” and the kittens were. Then one day, this cat jumped on the kitchen counter and snatched up piece o’ chicken my wife had in lime and salt.
And suddenly, this cat which was a “she” when it was all cute with the kittens, became a “he”. My wife would complain everyday about how wicked “he” was.
Seriously, if a car looks good you would hear fellas talking ’bout how sweet “she look”, and how sweet “she sound”. It don’t ever be a “he”; it is always a “she”.
Now late a night last week, a cow came on our lawn and started to eat the leaves from a small palm tree we have. Mind you, this cow had so much boobs it should have been wearing brassieres, but my wife and kids wanted to know, where “he” came from.
Now Sunday gone during intermission at a show I was at, I gone in the male washroom. Suddenly, in rushed a load of women to use the men’s toilet ’cause, according to them, too many women were waiting to use their washroom. One lady even had the gumption to tell us to let them use the toilets first, and we could wait on each other to use the urinals.
Now let me tell you, the only way that a man could risk going into the women’s washroom giving orders was if he was a fireman telling them to get out ’cause the place was burning.
Then last Saturday, I watching some li’l girls playing ball. Out of nowhere, a cockroach flew in the crowd and had the girls scampering.
One brave li’l girl took off her shoe and smashed the roach on the pavement, then shouted to the other girls, “Wunna could come back now, I kill he, he dead”.
Yes, it had to be a “he”. See ya
Email: [email protected]; Twitter @madderic
