The Battle of the Sexes: Part 2

Physically Speaking

One of the few things a man can truly hold over a woman’s head is the fact that in general, men because of their biology are physically stronger than women. Unfortunately for some abused women, their men like to occasionally give a live demonstration of this physical prowess in ways that result in bruises, broken bones or black and blues.

This fact of biology is why at the professional level in sports, women cannot compete in the same league with men and why there are clear-cut distinctive separations in their organizations: for example, the LPGA, the WNBA and the Women’s Professional Tennis Tour.

There are also some esthetically plain and simple “lack-of-interest” lines that will probably never be crossed, accounting for why we will not likely ever see a woman’s NFL or a female professional baseball league. Even the WNBA basketball is only marginally interesting and close to being a financial bust for its team owners.

People just have an innate penchant to preferring brute male gladiatorial strength.

The only thing that might really fly then would be a Woman’s Professional Mud Wrestling Organization (WPMWO). This is only because of the perversely innate titillation that men seem to relish when seeing half-naked dirt covered women with heaving breasts and visible camel toes duking it out in an ersatz good old-fashioned catfight.

The contrived tennis match between Billy Jean King and Bobby Riggs was a pathetic attempt to show sexual parity in sports; an event just about as interesting as watching water boil. All it revealed was that no matter the gender, given enough disparity in age anyone can beat anyone else at anything.

On that subject, Patrick McEnroe but it bluntly when he said that the number 150th ranked male tennis player could hands-down beat the number one ranked woman’s player, adding that no one would want to watch a match like that anyway, because it would only be boring. 6-love/6-love/6-love, if there even is such a thing as “Love” in tennis matches to begin with.

But promoters will try anything; so much so that the hype surrounding Michelle Wie, dubbing her the ‘Female Tiger Woods,’ and then trying to push her onto the men’s golf tour not only ended in a catastrophic non-event because she could never even make a cut; but one must also wonder how much damage this failed fiasco did to the poor 16-year-old teenager’s psyche. It took years for her to recover.

Even the so-called Champions Senior Golf Tour is barely yawn inspiring because it lacks the cache of youthful vigor; and only highlights a bunch of gray haired stars of yester-year hobbling around on shortened courses.

This is just about as exciting as it would be to watch retired baseball players come back to establish an old-timers league: 70 foot base paths, 200 yard fences and underhand pitching.

But nevertheless, there are still five great equalizers women can always fall back on in the event they are ever assaulted or beaten up by some physically stronger, abusive spouse or lover:

  1. A concussive swat with a good old-fashioned cast iron skillet.
  2. A pot of boiling water poured on the head or crotch.
  3. A head shot with a full swing 9 -iron.
  4. A Lorena Bobbitt circumcision.
  5. A blue-steel .44 magnum bullet between the eyeballs

Tennis anyone?


How to Become Number One: The Breakfast of Champions

The Breakfast of Champions

Almost anyone in the United States can become a number one ranked national athlete because The United States has developed age related groupings in virtually every athletic competition. As such there are only three elements necessary to guarantee success.

First, have a mediocre grasp combined with at least some experience in any sport. Secondly then, remain moderately healthy and physically capable to continue to play that sport. Then finally, just live long enough to either be the only person left in your age group, or possibly have only one or two living competitors to contend with.

This also creates highly favorable odds for at least one defaulted round due to a fellow competitor’s relapsing illness or unpredictable infirmity. Or in the best case scenario, your competitor’s sudden death will  ultimately be the fortunate reason for a permanent bye.

This was illustrated by a TV news clip interview with the United States Tennis Champion in the ninety and over age group; a person of no particular prior notoriety. He was slim, lithe, wiry, and in very good physical shape, albeit the fact of looking Neo-Victorian in his nineteenth century tennis whites du mode.

Additionally he only had to play and win a single two set match to be crowned the champion, which he had done with quite some vigor, although not with what would also be categorized as graceful or artistic alacrity. It was not the sort of event that would have been showcased on ESPN, even it the network was out of ordinary filler for a baseball rainout.

When asked in his interview about the success of his longevity, he said it was due to a decade’s long routine of waking up every day, taking two aspirins, quaffing down three shots of Vodka, then followed up with a sirloin steak and egg breakfast. Knowing intuitively that the alcohol counteracted the cholesterol laden food, he also opined that if nothing else the booze-aspirin combination worked synergistically to loosen up his joints, while simultaneously imparting an immediate sense of un-abiding optimism.

All of this led me to believe that the only real mistake I had made in my high school dietary weight training program must have been omitting a couple of whisky chasers in the raw-egg milkshake before heading off for the school bus. I am sure this would have a long way to improve my somewhat pessimistic daily morning angst about everything from having to diagram sentences and learning algebra to rehearsing rope climbing, ship-sinking catastrophes in the gym for Coach Joe.

But it was not until many years later as a somewhat less athletically inclined, but still relatively active adult, that I was finally able to modify the perfect early morning routine that seemed to work the best.

“The Three Cs” regimen is a routine that is guaranteed not only to eliminate angst, dread, and non-specific pessimism; but also goes a long way to promote peaceful co-existence in the household.

This Breakfast of Champions comes highly recommended to anyone prone to being chronically bogged down by the routine boring humdrum of ordinary day-to-day life, the tedium of monotonous careers or prone to being blighted by the vaguely illusory syndrome of the TMBs: “Terminal Morning Blahs.”

The advice is similar to something your family doctor might recommend, is easy to remember, comes free of charge and has a smile back guarantee.


The Three Cs Breakfast of Champions: Coffee, Cornflakes and Cunnilingus

But not necessarily in that particular order.

3 Cs

Photo © Drexel University