No Oscars for Str8 Acting

If you aren't familiar with the gay community, you may not have heard the term Str8 Acting before.  Let me assure you, it’s a more offensive label than fag or queer.  In essence, a gay man pretends to be straight in public, hitting on women, gay bashing, etc. while in private he pursues gay sexual relationships.  There are so many things wrong with this term it’s hard to address them all.  But I’ll try to hit the main points.

#1

The term implies that there is something wrong with being gay.  It’s no different than fundamentalist Christians claiming that there is something wrong with same sex attraction.  Men who refuse to accept their sexuality are incapable of forming romantic relationships.  Fitting into society becomes all consuming and the only connection they are able to form is sexual.  Its Don’t Ask, Don’t Tell for the civilian world and it’s just as empty.

#2

It’s just an act.  It’s in the freakin’ term.  “Str8 Acting” What does this mean?  It means that it isn’t real.  Anyone man who claims to be str8 acting is just pretending.  These men want to be masculine, but they’ve bought into what society, and to be honest, the gay community has made gay men; superficial, body image obsessed, teen aged girls.  Instead of being strong enough to resist societal pressures, they have accepted these false images as truth.  They should be ashamed of their weakness, not their bro-ness.

#3

True masculinity doesn’t require an advertisement.  Men who are secure in themselves need only be themselves, without apology and without judgment.  The actions of others gays don’t reflect poorly on masculine men.  Anyone who believes they do, is pathetic.

#4

Lastly, the reason why these Str8 Acting men can publicly seek sex with other men is because of the Stone Wall riots.  A group of drag queens and bar queens who had finally had enough of police harassing them fought back.  What does this mean?  It means that the masculine, butch men who blended into society weren’t man enough to say, “No more.”  It means that Str8 Acting men today have drag queens, who were the only gays who acted like real men, to thank for their freedoms.

The once conclusion we can all come to is that Str8 Acting is an embarrassment to the gay community.

Different

Once, I met a guy while walking my dogs.  He was a supervisor for a security company that services many of the contracts throughout Los Angeles County.  My dogs took an instant liking to him and we struck up a conversation.

For those of you who don’t know me, I’m gay.  Sometimes I feel the need to say that just to remind folks.  They tend to forget and, to be honest, I tend to forget as well, until a security guard in the park points out the barely covered ass of a model as she walks by.  Then it all comes back to me in a blaze.

            Do I tell him I don’t care?

            Do I remind him that he’s on duty?

            How do I work into the conversation that I prefer men?

These questions suck, not because I’m ashamed or scared of saying, “I’m gay,” but because the other guy is going to be embarrassed.  I suppose that’s a move in the right direction.  Years ago, he would have spit and walked away in disgust, panicked and ran, or just punched.  That happened once.  I hit back, several times.  Doubtful he tells the story of getting the crap kicked out of him by a fag.

But back to my new friend.  If I go ahead and say, “Hey, buddy, I’m gay,” I will be regaled with stories of his exploits into gay bars, clutching his girlfriend like a shield against evil, or the night his army buddy came on to him when they were drunk.  But what really annoys the crap out of me, is the inevitable, “That’s cool.  I mean, I like pussy, but whatever’s good, man.”  It’s as if Lucifer himself is dragging that line out, grinning as both my new friend and I suffer through its utterance.

I’ve found that men, in general, don’t give a damn about who I sleep with.  They only care about knowing.  Effeminate and/or affected gay men aren’t threatening.  They’re easy to spot and easily outted, as if having spotted one, a straight man can quickly accept the differences in sexuality.  They fit the stereo type and are easily dropped into a mold.

From there, any straight guy can decide if he wants to be amused at the antics or walk away.  However, the more masculine the gay man, the more complicated the situation for both men involved and there isn’t an easy solution.

It says something about the advancements in our society that I no longer worry about telling people I’m gay.  Only the reasons for telling are important now.

Is it more important for me to let someone know just for the sake of telling them or should I have a reason to telling?  That’s a good question.

SO YOU WANT TO BE A PATRIOT? ASK ME HOW!

Recently, I was informed that just by paying taxes, a person is serving their country. Really? All you have to do is pay taxes and you’re a patriot? Does that mean the more taxes you pay, the better a patriot you are? If you’re poor and you don’t pay much in taxes, does that mean you don’t love your country or care for its well-being?

The answer is, “ARE YOU KIDDING ME?” How pathetic do you have to be to think that paying taxes is the equivalent of serving your country?

If you don’t know, taxes are payment for services rendered. Such services include military protection, police and firemen, public services, courts, building and maintaining roads, food safety, and any number of things we utilize on a daily basis and don’t think of.

So, NO, taxes are not service to your country, they are payment for services other people are providing for YOUR country.

Here is how to be a patriot:

1.Join the Military.

People say, “I couldn’t live with someone telling me what to do all the time.” Well, hmmm….bullshit! What they mean is, “I think I’m too smart. The military is for dumb people.” Well, hmmm, bullshit again! If you’re so smart, and you think military service is easy, then it should VERY easy for you. It’s just one more excuse to not do something for your country. So, if you’re physically capable and mentally fit, get off your ass and serve.

2.Volunteer

Not everyone can serve in the military. Some people are too old or physically unable due to injury or genetic defects. That shouldn’t stop them from doing something for their country. Not all service comes with deployments, weapons, and long hours away from your family.

*Every community needs extra hands, whether that’s at your local school, cleaning up a highway, or raising money for projects. Find out what your community needs and search for innovative ways to fulfill those needs. Look for other volunteers, businesses to donate materials or services, and organize those for your community.

The key is that you don’t need permission to do any of these things. Go to school board meetings, city council meetings, and meet with local politicians. Those who run things are always looking for funds or for people to lead civic projects. Let them know you can help.

*Volunteer to work for non-profit organizations. Find something you believe in, search for a non-profit organization that is working to fix the problem and volunteer to work for them. Here’s the deal. If there isn’t an organization, start one! Use the internet. Find out how to begin, start online with friends of like mind, spread your network, and see below for a few ideas about how to influence policy.

*Volunteer for candidates you believe in. During election years, they need volunteers to help run rallies, do work in local communities, and spread policy messages. Contact the campaign and offer your services. In most cases, they’ll be happy for your assistance and you’ll be working to do something you think is right for your country. Even local officials are important. There really isn’t a level of government so small that it’s beneath your notice.

3.Get Involved

Do you dislike a certain government policy? Maybe you want legislation passed that will ensure a better life for all Americans. What if your school system’s budget has been cut so that your children lack proper materials for an education?

*Contact your local politicians. That’s what they’re for. They are supposed to represent your wants and needs, but too many people just vote and think that’s the end of it. WRONG!

Make a list of your concerns and then make an appointment with your representative; whether it’s your senator or congressman it doesn’t matter. Know his/her voting record on the issue. Ask and expect answers as to why he/she has voted a certain way. If he/she sites a study or report, ask for a copy or a website from which you can get a copy. A politician is not a noble from medieval times. They are accountable for their actions. They are supposed to represent you, not a political party. Just because they are a member of a party, they don’t have to toe the party line. A person was voted into office, NOT a mouthpiece for a political party. If your representative isn’t doing an adequate job, then begin disseminating information to help defeat him/her in the next election.

That isn’t all, though…

*You might think letter writing campaigns and petitions are a waste of time, but they aren’t. They let politicians know what the public actually thinks, instead of just relying on polls.

The internet makes petition signing easy. There are programs online that can facilitate your wants/needs in a variety of ways, including forwarding signers’ responses to the politicians in question.

As for letter writing, there’s nothing wrong with good ol’ fashion paper and envelopes. Flooding a politician’s most used office with thousands, maybe hundreds of thousands of letters, is a good way to get your point across. Remember that a politician’s local or state office may not be the most used. He/she may spend most of their time in Washington. Find out!

You may not be able to serve your country in uniform, but you can serve. My mother volunteered as a social advocate in her community. She did initial counseling for victims, abused women and children, and people who experienced traumatic events. She didn’t start until she was in her late forties, but I’m exceptionally proud of her choice to serve.

It doesn’t matter if you’re a man or a woman, a liberal or a conservative, a republican or democrat. Listening to talk radio, reading like minded op-eds, and paying taxes isn’t patriotic. It’s the lazy citizen’s way. Those are for someone who takes from their country instead of giving back.

You don’t have to spend your life serving, but everyone should serve in some way for some time. Also, you may have to serve at different times throughout your life. Be ready. When the opportunity arises, jump on it and get to work.

Your country needs you.

A Rose By Any Other Name....

Dear Some People,

I’ve thought long and hard about how to broach this subject, since it’s a delicate one. It pertains to hygiene and Some People have difficulties hearing certain things. If approached in the wrong manner, Some People may take offense and that’s something we should all strive to avoid. So, in the most sincere tones, I offer my humble and respectful aid.

Your perfume/cologne fuckin’ reeks! Seriously, I would rather sit in a closed car with four smokers than spend one elevator trip with you. The air around you is toxic and nauseates people. It’s so bad that my dog sneezes and runs out of the elevator in search of something dead to smell, and possibly eat. I’ve been in locker rooms that smelled like sweat and shoes and it isn’t half as bad as three seconds in a confined space with you.

I don’t know what’s wrong with your sinuses that you can’t smell it, but it must be serious. See a doctor, preferably one willing to go to MOP 3 in order to treat someone. Otherwise, he/she might asphyxiate and, God knows, I don’t want someone who is willing to risk that cloud of chemicals to die. That’s a brave soul.

What surprises me is that you can’t actually tell that you’re polluting the air. For the love of God, it’s like you bathed in it. Now, there’s nothing wrong with a hint of scent, something tantalizing that hangs just at the edge of olfactory detection, but you’re walking around in a fog of noxious, rancid, cheap-smelling crap that could be considered a Nuclear/Biological/Chemical Weapon. I don’t know which kind of weapon it is. I suppose I’ll have to wait for the symptoms to tell.

For Some People, wearing perfume/cologne is a way of covering their own body odor. Because you must be immune to scientific advances, such as deodorant, a new MAGIC device has been discovered. It’s called a ‘shower.’ One just has to step into a small room, turn the mystic dials and water spews from the wall. Warm or cold, it’s your choice. With this water, you can rinse your body odor away, thereby negating your need to bathe in your perfume or cologne. It’s like magic!!

And for Other People, cousins to Some People, you don’t need scent to attract a mate. No one wants a mouthful of chemicals as they sexually explore Another Person. Actually, in the middle of acrobatic sex, I doubt Anyone wants to be breathing hard and filling their lungs with your cloud of cheap stink.

Whew! It had to be said, and I’m glad I was the one to bring it up. Thankfully, it was Someone like me, Someone with tact, Someone who understands your gentle nature and who can help you. I greatly respect you and believe we all should treat Others as we have been treated. Hence, I have opened this topic with the delicacy with which you wear your perfume/cologne.

Sincerely,

Everyone Else

Renewal Of Faith

For those of you thinking I have suddenly returned to the fundamentalist conservative Christian roots of my childhood, I have only one thing to say, “Have you lost your damned minds?"

I’m talking about faith in people.

It’s no surprise that flying anywhere on any airline at any time has grown so miserable that many people just refuse. Most of us remember a time when you could arrive at the airport thirty minutes prior to take off, race from the airport entrance to the gate unchallenged, bags trailing loose socks, only to slide into your seat like it’s third base and you just stretched a double into a triple. The men in the next rows would smile and often laugh with you and the women would roll their eyes and go back to their magazines.

Of course, things have changed. They always do. It started small, stretching your arrival to an hour, then an hour and a half, but these days, if you get to the airport two hours in advance, it isn’t a guarantee to board. There’s a long snaking line to CHECK YOURSELF IN! Then there’s the line to check your bag, which you then must drop at the screening station.

Then you get to stand in the security checkpoint line where you’re asked to show your I.D. twice, take off your shoes, unpack your bags, remove your belt, hat, wallet, phone, condoms, keys, etc. By the end, you’re barely dressed and standing like Christ on the cross while a large woman in a tight uniform passes a spanking paddle over your private parts. It’s like some S&M club in the Sweden without any of the sexual gratification.


It was here among the frustration and misery, the panic and anger, I rediscovered my faith in humanity. I didn’t find it in the acceptance of humiliating measures designed, not to keep people on the plane safe, but to ensure the plane itself is never again used as a weapon. My faith didn’t return as I entered the high ceilings and white-blue fluorescence. There were no bright flashes of heavenly light, nor was there a choir of golden angels singing. Most depressing about the situation is that I didn’t hear any 1980s inspirational power chords signally a cathartic montage.

My faith in humanity was given back to me by an individual who, at one time or another, has thwarted each and every one of us—the Airline Check-In Representative. Ah! You all think I’m joking. These people have been the bane of travelers since their despised ilk appeared in the first airport. Yet, I’m not kidding, not in the slightest.

She was a dowdy, middle-aged woman, working the morning shift at LAX. I had already fought through traffic, self check-in, and the line to drop off my bag. When I approached her kiosk, she put the white barcoded tape on my bag and said, “Honolulu? Business or just a nice trip?”

I suppose there were a million things I could have said: Visiting a friend. A working vacation. A quick trip before a long year in another country. Yet, for some reason, I chose the truth, with a touch of humorous self deprecation and no small amount of sadness.

She didn’t say anything as she took my boarding pass and verified it against my driver’s license. Then she scribbled on it and handed it back with an understanding smile. “Drop your bag over there and then go to the First Class Security escalators, not the standard one. Show them my note and they’ll let you pass. It’s a faster line. You’ve been through enough, already,” she said. She patted my hand and looked over my shoulder to call for the next person in line, leaving me blinking and a bit dazed.

That was it. I’m not kidding. There wasn’t more to the moment, but it was enough.

Yes, the world needs gigantic charities to feed hungry children, provide food and clean water for disaster survivors, and bring modern medicine to those who might otherwise die without it. Those faceless organizations often save lives that, in all probability, might be forgotten before they even get started. In a way, that type charity is a necessity for mankind. It isn’t optional. We don’t have a choice, and if you think that letting people die is a choice, you’re fucked in the head.

I’m no elitist, self important, pathetic left over hippie from the 60’s. I don’t think we should all sit around campfires, playing acoustic guitars singing about loving our brothers and sisters while we smoke ditch weed and engage in irresponsible sex. That kind of “brotherly love” was shallow and indulgent, a way for an entire generation to claim they were bringing about a Golden Age while they lived off their parent’s money and eschewed responsibility in favor of empty speech.

No. I’m talking about a simple everyday choice, an unnecessary kindness, freely offered with no expectation of reciprocation. There were no cameras to capture the moment, no celebrities with whom to shake hands, and no one other witnesses. A type of person who had, for years, been a scourge to travelers had made my life just a little easier and for no other reason than that she empathized with a fellow human being.

It’s a little thing, but the little things add up. Each act of compassion, no matter how small, renews something deep and complicated in the human psyche—for both people involved. Those things are necessary. Without them, we grow distant and cynical.

Like everything, our trust in humanity can be used up, but it only takes an occasional kindness to refill the vessel.

The Tonsillectomy Diet

I’ve always had a minor weight problem, nothing serious, just a few extra pounds here and there. It’s never prevented me from doing the things I love, playing sports, serving in the military or seeing my private parts. I have just enough gut to say that I have one.

Needless to say, in this day and age, I’ve tried every fad diet on the market; no carb, low carb, protein plus, South Beach, Long Beach, Daytona Beach, Slim Fast, Slim in Six, vegetarianism, veganism, and everything in between. Yeah, they all work to some degree until you get a craving for a big slice of greasy pepperoni pizza. While you’re chewing through gooey cheese, the number of carbs you’re swallowing scrolls through your mind like a ticker tape. Don’t even get me started on a Dodger Dog and beer!

Still, nothing quite works like exercise—until now.

Introducing the Tonsillectomy Diet. Yes folks, you heard it here first. The Tonsillectomy Diet works fast, and since you don’t have many taste buds afterward, it’s delicious too. In as few as 10 days, just10 days, you too can lose up to 20 pounds.

Here’s how it works.

First, get sick. Not just any kind of sick, miserably sick for months at a time. Wait anywhere from ten to fifteen years while different doctors tell you different things, all of them remaining unsure if taking your tonsils out would really be for the best. Then, when you’re in your thirties and you’re fed up with the getting the run around, get real angry and start yelling at doctors to find out what’s wrong with you. They’ll run straight for your tonsils like a berserker Viking a heads for a drink.

Second, have the surgery. Now this isn’t the old “Cut and Sew” style which is painful for a few days. This is the new “Vibration Slice and Cauterize with Caustic Chemicals” version. Yes, it’s as wonderful as it sounds, folks. The chemicals burn the blood vessels, preventing bleeding and leaving behind thick white scabs of scorched tissue in the back of your throat. You lose a few taste buds here too.

Third, go through the recovery. Now, if you have the procedure done in your teens, the recovery period is shorter. You may be up and around inside of a week. After age 20 up to 25 it’s anywhere between 7 and 10 days. However, if you’ve had doctors putting you off until you’re passed thirty, like me, you have a hard road ahead. At a minimum, you’re looking at 10 days before you can eat anything solid. Often ice cream and popsicles, staples for children in this situation, don’t do the trick with adults. In many cases, people refuse to eat anything at all and here’s where this innovative diet comes in.

Everyone can lose weight on a strict regimen of vicodin and ice water. Imagine 10 days of being absolutely stoned, nauseated, and in screaming agony while you drop pound after pound. Swallowing is a misery. Waking us is so painful you don’t want to sleep in the first place. Eating is out of the question. Nothing could be simpler.

Now many of you may be thinking to yourselves, “How can I get the Tonsillectomy Diet?”

Well, if you’re younger, chances are your doctor will keep putting off the surgery, using excuse after excuse to keep you from losing weight. He’ll play on your naiveté telling you how they don’t like to do tonsillectomies very often anymore. The entire procedure now takes about an hour, including 15 minutes of actual surgery. If you’re older, they’ll use the recovery period to scare you and tell you how painful it’s going to be. Don’t take, “No,” for an answer. Keep at them. You will keep getting sick, getting poor sleep, and sore throats until you get those bad boys ripped out.

And think of the weight you’ll lose. I can’t tell you how nice it is to fit in pants that are a whole size smaller. I’m glad I went on the Tonsillectomy Diet and you will be too.

Baseless California Liberal Bias

I know a guy who’s going to change film making forever. A native Californian, he’s in his thirties and an unemployed college dropout, but hey, once he’s done playing xbox, he’s definitely going to make that movie which will earn him an Oscar. Though he remains a master at swiping the ammo icon from the third bunker to the left, up the stairs and laying low to pwn the Korean twelve year who lives in Seoul and is playing with him over the Internet, my friend has yet to begin preparations for his film.

He has a common problem.

The liberal population of California suffers from the same malady. For decades liberals have considered California a bastion of progressive thought, a state where people can go to walk the streets with tattooed faces, pierced nipples, and bright orange spiked hair. Children dream of coming to L.A. to be famous or going to San Francisco to change the world. Dreams are places where anything is possible, a state of being where liberal thought flourishes.

Like in conservative states, in California image is more important than substance. Instead of Christian values, Californians believe in personal expression and individuality. And just like conservatives, the reality is a far cry from the image.

California is the most expensive state in which to live. There are more plastic surgeons than dentists. Every parking lot’s compact sections are filled with giant SUVs parked by pampered house wives who have never worked a day in their lives. Coffee shop terraces are filled with “writers” tapping away while drinking four dollar cups of espresso drinks, sugar free non fat, of course.

Drive through almost any neighborhood. Each lawn is manicured, pruned, weeded and fertilized. Home Owner’s Associations are all tiny little Gestapos, running their districts with economically enhanced efficiency. Grass that grows too high is punished with fines. Trees that aren’t trimmed are punished with fines. The wrong kind of car, sun baked grass, un-raked leaves, a barking dog or a yowling cat are punished in the name of preserving the value of every other house in the neighborhood. Each house looks exactly like every other and the landscape police aren’t cutting anyone any slack.

Recently, Californians passed a constitutional amendment to prevent gay marriage. The state that claims to be progressive, liberal and democratic took the first opportunity to prove that it is no such thing. The passage of Proposition 8 surprised activists, residents, gays, lesbians, bisexuals, and liberals up and down the pacific coast. Dumb asses!

A friend looked me in the eye and asked if I found that California was more open minded than the rural state in which I grew up. That pride Californian liberals feel is such a baseless empty thing that it should be embarrassing, and yet it isn’t. Pathetic, ineffective twits carrying placards and chanting outdated slogans still tout California as a haven for the people conservative states aren’t willing to accept.

Ironically, Californians are obsessed with money and status while claiming in the same breath to understand some sort of higher social consciousness. From anywhere on the map that looks, unsurprisingly, like hypocrisy, the big bad accusation liberals scream at conservatives. There’s nothing wrong with Californians being shallow, greedy and image crazed, but there is something wrong with claiming this state is the most liberal in the union while forcing every home, every person, every marriage to be exactly like every other.

Until California liberals are willing to admit they aren’t the majority anymore, if ever they were, they will continue to lose fight after fight, sacrificing the rights of individuals to their own misplaced pride. Liberal Californians have a great deal in common with the unemployed college dropout playing xbox and claiming to be able to change the face of film making. They both need to quit buying into their own bullshit.

Just because you scream something loud, proud and often, doesn’t make it true.

Things They Taught Me As A Boy, But Learned Differently As A Man

1. One day, you’ll like girls.

Parents are playing sexual Russian roulette with this one, hoping their son will end up chasing skirts instead of jockey shorts.

It’s a good chance that a boy will be heterosexual, but there is a 1 in 10 chance that he won’t. Only about 90% of the male population actually ends up “liking” girls. Those numbers take into account the bisexual arena where men still like women while keeping their options open.

2. When you start growing hair on other places besides your head, you’ll be a man.

They don’t tell you that your nose hair trimmer is more important than any other grooming tool you’ll buy. This thing is a requirement and if you get the wrong kind, it hurts like hell.

True, when you start growing hair due to your body displaying secondary sex characteristics, you will have begun to sexually mature. However, what they don’t tell you is that in American culture, the more body hair you have, the less attractive you become. Magnum P.I. was a long time ago and Tom Selleck is no longer a sex symbol. Hairy chests, backs and bellies are not sexy. Our culture values androgynous male physiques with sculpted muscles lacking any hair at all. Remember that and try to ignore it when you look in the mirror.

3. Everyone grows out of pimples and breakouts.

Even those men whose body chemistry has balanced will still get pimples now and then. This means you’ll get them in the worst possible places: right where your underwear or your wallet rubs, in between your thighs, and around your waist where your pants rub. They hurt like hell and there’s no way to prevent them (See #2 where hair grows).

Teenage acne is primarily caused by three factors: over production of oil due to increased hormone levels, the growth of hair (where previously there was none), and stress. There are other causes, but these are the big ones. Most people stop experiencing extreme breakouts because hormone concentrations level off and people pass out of puberty. However, because of a genetic link, some people do not. Don’t panic. Jessica Simpson can help.

4. You’re adorably chubby now, but you’ll drop all the baby fat in a few years.

You may drop the baby fat and you may not. You may spend ten years being svelte with a flat tummy, able to eat pizza and cheeseburgers all day every day, but beware!

As you pass into your thirties, your testosterone production begins dropping off at an average rate of 1% each year. Testosterone helps you burn fat. Here is where you’re going to find the baby fat you lost. This time around it won’t be so cute. American culture is growing fatter every year, but conversely, what we consider sexual doesn’t include love handles. Irony, why do you punish us so?

5. You could grow up to be the President.

You’re probably not going to be the President. The divine recipe for this job doesn’t happen all that often and begins long before a candidate makes it to an election.

For most of the rural U.S., children lack the guidance to begin a major political career. As for President, the political contacts needed don’t exist in rural Wyoming or any other rural state for that matter. They only occur in cities. This is just the way it is. I’m sorry, but our country values city education while our politicians court rural votes. Down home values mean little to U.S. politics and are only carted out to get “ma and pa” to vote against gay marriage.

6. You’re my handsome little boy.

You’re certainly your mother’s handsome little boy, but let’s face it, she’s biased. She’ll ignore your back hair, zits, snaggle-tooth, and wall-eye, but the rest of the world won’t. Thank god, beauty is subjective.

Of course we can all agree that Daniel Craig is sexy. Even straight men find themselves a bit uncomfortable when facing the magnetism of a swim trunk clad Craig, as James Bond, stands up out of the ocean. However, we all have different standards of what constitutes an available attractive mate. What one person finds sexually irresistible, the next person may find resistible, very resistible. It’s a good system for adults, but you still shouldn’t believe a word mom says.

7. You’ll use algebra every day.

No, we don’t use algebra every day. Not even once or twice in a week. Even at those times when we do use it, it’s the simple stuff, not a Quadratic Equation.

This is one of the biggest lies they tell you. The truth is that you have to learn Algebra because it may open up doors for your education and your future, but you won’t use it while you’re driving, mowing the lawn, making dinner or folding laundry. You’ll rarely even use it when balancing your bank account. The four basic mathematical operations, addition, subtraction, division, and multiplication are the only functions you’ll use EVERY day.

8. Don’t talk back.

I’m tired of seeing men with purses!! For the love of god, talk back. If you don’t want to hold your wife’s purse, then tell her. She’s a grown woman, capable to taking care of her own things.

People who don’t talk back are boring. If you intend to live your life that way, you might as well hang it up now. The world doesn’t need or want another passive participant, even in relationships. Of course, we all need our husbands or wives to just shut up and follow along once in a while, but if your spouse demands this of you all the time, I say run for hills.

9. Be polite

Yes, this is a good rule of thumb. However, try this experiment.

Hold the door open for people and count how many of them thank you. Even the older generation who claim they were raised “better” will walk through as if they are entitled to a young buck making their lives just a bit easier. Through my own experiments, I’ve found that men will thank me more often than any other demographic. Interesting, right? Perhaps parents should be teaching little girls to be polite as well so that when they mature into women, they can learn the foreign phrase, “Thank you.”

10. Don’t hit girls.

Really? If someone hits you, then you hit him/her back. This is no different because the person hitting you has a womb.

The point is that we shouldn't be hitting anyone, male or female. Physical violence should only be used as a defense against assault. Husbands shouldn't be hitting wives and wives shouldn't be hitting husbands. As a society, we should do everything in our power to curb domestic violence.

DISCLAIMER: Equality goes both ways, gentlemen. If you grab a man’s ass, he’s probably going to deck you. If you’re too stupid to keep your hands to yourself, expect the same treatment from a woman.