My Gift to the Planet
by Julian Hernandez
I am a veteran in the war between the sexes.  I have the scars to prove it on my heart and on my- AHEM, yes.  Well.  Anyway.  I am not special.  All men have these scars, but even worse, many have open wounds.  Cut deep by love gone wrong they bleed continuously, festering a bitter attitude toward women.  I can write about this for days.  And I will be.
Women have trouble with relationships, too.  As many things as men can come up with about women, they can about men.  The difference being that men are right and chicks are crazy.  Now hold on, stay with me here. 

Women are told incessantly from birth how to behave.   They are told what to wear.   They are instructed on what to say and how to say it.  They're told how to do everything.  And if they deviate from these prescribed parameters, even in appearance, our society has generously provided a plethora of negative labels that must be hurled at them immediately.  Gendered epithets like whore, bitch, slut, cunt, skank, old maid, frigid, prude, dyke, bimbo, sexpot, tramp, bed bunny, alley cat, floosie, free-for-all, prick gobbler...  I mean, I can go on and on.  And I will.  Right now.  Shagstress, nympho, cum dumpster, cum catcher, sperm recepticle, cock-happy, open slot, soft jaw, halrot, harpie, hooker, hose-bag... You get the point.  No?  Okay.  Just a few more, but then we have to move on.  Fish, jailbailt, strumpet, NO!  That's it.  The point is that women have a lot of labels.
Goddamnit. 
I don't even know where I was going with this anymore.  SIGH.  Something about women getting a lot of mixed signals and having to live up to stricter standards of propriety.  I don't know.  If I can help them with some clear advice then they'd be less crazy and therefore men would better off, too.  Sounds selfish. 
Hmm...  I'll remember eventually, it was a good point.  Come back later.
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