Men: Not Unlike Velociraptors

Today’s inspiring tale comes from an experience I had this morning with a coworker (as usual).

“I hate men,” Cordelia (name changed to protect my career) mumbled as she passed me this morning. Then I did what I normally do when I need to ponder a comment or question: I sat on the toilet for a few minutes.

The Revelation According to The Post Apocalyptic Cowboy as described to Cordelia:

It’s not that most men are scoundrels… we’re all scoundrels (potentially). Men are hunters. Men are warriors. That is, we used to be these things. In today’s world we’ve become Abercrombie and Fitch wearing pansies. What happened to us?

Because of this sudden (in the eye of time) transition to a comparatively mundane existence, our chemicals are going nuts. We’re supposed to be routinely strategizing and killing things with our bare hands.

Men like sports because we all want to be beating someone to death on a battlefield.

Ladies, when we become combative when we’re asked to do something trivial like take out the trash it’s because, in reality, we know we should be wrestling an elk to the ground. We should be plundering a village. We should be creating and destroying empires. Alas, we are separating recyclables.

It’s not that we don’t want to confess these feelings and be held in your caring arms. We’d just rather be held in the cold arms of death in a wintery field and clutching our intestines that have recently been spilled by an enemy’s swift attack. It’s just not the same. You understand.