WOMEN ANOTHER EXPERT PERSPECTIVE
By: Alan Stang
Your Intrepid Correspondent had thought that Joe Blow was etherzoneís only resident expert on the opposite sex, but now that the redoubtable Sartre has weighed in with his usual perceptive analysis of the subject, it seems to us judicious to take our own look. Some astute readers may object that this could take precious time from our continuing analysis of the illegal war with Iraq or whomever (I havenít yet hit the net, so I donít know for sure whom we are at war with today) but rest easy that these comments are perfectly relevant in many respects to the present situation. May I also point out that both Mr. Blow and Monsieur Sartre offer their observations from the safety of anonymity. I certainly have no wish to accuse either of these dignitaries of cowardice; anyone who says what they say makes Richard Coeur de Lion look like an alley cat. But it certainly deserves mention that while these gentlemen operate behind literary pseudonyms, your obedient servant sets forth these comments under his own name.
Please open your New York Times Index to the year 1975, a pacific year, a rare year of peace, except for the Communist takeover of Southeast Asia arranged by the billionaire totalitarian Socialist conspirators who rule us. Gerry Ford was President, and Washington politics were relatively benign. The Democrats merely were saying that Gerry had played too much college football without a helmet, an impression to which he unfortunately contributed by tripping once or twice in public and bumping his head.
In that pacific year, two people tried to kill the President. One was Lynette "Squeaky" Fromme, a devotee of the Manson gang. Charles Manson was the monster who led the murders in Los Angeles that included the bestial killing of pregnant actress Sharon Tate, wife of movie director Roman Polanski, who has a taste for underage girls and still canít understand why he canít return to this country.
The other individual who tried to kill the President was Sara Jane Moore. Thank God alert bystanders stopped her and that both these criminals are still locked up. Why anyone would want to kill a man as inoffensive as Gerry Ford is one of those mysteries history probably will never resolve. Ford only became President by accident, when Richard Nixon resigned rather than be impeached because of Watergate. Nixon was the Keynesian Socialist traitor who originated the present treason with China and left our POWs behind in Vietnam. Poor Gerry Ford couldnít get elected in his own right; in 1976, he was defeated by Jimmy Carter, the traitor who gave our Panama Canal to Communist-occupied China. Again, why would anyone want to kill Gerry Ford?
Along these lines, I often had lunch with Sara Jane Moore in the delightful writersí retreat known as an FCI (a Federal Correctional Institution) to which I had been sent by the IRS because (they said) I had failed to file a form. It was there that I wrote Taxscam: How the IRS Swindles You And What You Can Do About It. (See amazon.com for details.) The federal government graciously supplied everything I needed to do so, including typewriter, office, supplies and law library, and they let me stay a few months, just barely enough time to finish it.
Sara Jane was there when I arrived and probably is there still. I once asked her whether anyone else was involved in her attempt to kill the President, whether there was a conspiracy. She replied: "I have never answered that question, and I never will," and, sure enough, that was all she ever said on the subject, despite my continued wheedling. In your Intrepid Correspondentís opinion, this tended to mean that there was indeed a conspiracy; sadly, we donít know what kind of conspiracy it was and probably never will.
So, in 1975, 100% of the people who tried to kill the President were women. Yes, Iím as familiar as you are with the old clichť that figures lie and liars figure, but, as I see it, there is no getting around the fact that all (just which part of that word donít you understand?) all the people who tried to kill the President in that year were inhabitants of the opposite sex. Yes, weíre talking about a man who played too much college football without a helmet, but he was the President and we must do whatever we can, however preposterous, to protect the President.
Indeed, this is even more important now than it was in 1975, because now things are normal again (weíre in another war), the nation is riddled with Islamic terrorists, some of whom stupidly bear our President ill will and would do him harm if they could. They should be saluting him; some of them were admitted to this country because Bush has continued the Clinton policy of eliminating our borders because "we are the world." It doesnít matter. Whatever one thinks of him, Bush is the President and must be protected. Any repetition of the potential disaster of 1975, starring some younger versions of Squeaky and Sara Jane, would be intolerable.
On behalf of etherzone, we hereby propose federal legislation that would require the immediate registration of all women. The short title of the proposed legislation would be An Act to Create Well Regulated Women. The legislation would mandate that every owner of a woman be required to register her within 30 days at the nearest post office or federal building. Needless to say, the legislation would forbid the acquisition of women through the U.S. mails, or males, as the case may be.
Similar model legislation should also be approved by the states and localities. Picture identification would be issued to owners, who would be required to present such identification to peace officers during traffic stops. We believe that the Act would go a long way toward the happy goal of ensuring the safety of the President, but, if it is insufficient, we would of course go all the way to confiscation.
For those who have their doubts, remember that no less august a personage than Alan Greenspan, chairman of the Council of Economic Advisers for Gerry Ford, made clear his belief in the Whip Inflation Now campaign that American women are too stupid to buy groceries on their own. (See your Intrepid Correspondentís commentary on the subject, entitled Scumbags I Have Known: This Week, Alan Greenscum. Go to the etherzone archives on page two.) Along these lines, we shall soon start a new series of commentaries entitled, Scumbags I Have Not Known.
One possible explanation of the danger we have been discussing was the assertion your Intrepid Correspondent found a while back in a magazine piece by a psychiatrist, according to whom women arenít fully awake until 11 a.m. At the other end of the day, he says, they can stay up late. Now, all we need to find out is what time of day Squeaky and Sara Jane tried to kill the President. Need we add that, like the distinguished Mr. Blow and Monsieur Sartre, the psychiatrist wrote under a pseudonym for his own protection, which creates the problem that we donít know who he is. For all we know, he is Mr. Blow.
Despite that fact, we have found by empirical observation that there could be considerable validity to the psychiatristís contention. We keep a woman at home as a pet, a woman we have no intention of registering, by the way (Come and get me, coppers!). Often, as we drift off to a guiltless sleep in the shank of the evening, we hear the Love Priestess happily doing some chore; for instance, she could be doing the wash and I hear her dancing in the laundry room before the dryer, singing paeans to her detergent.
But, in the morning, be careful. This recalls the fact, certainly known to experts like Mr. Blow and Monsieur Sartre, that it is extremely dangerous to awaken a sleeping woman. If you must do so, speak very softly and make sure you have access to a convenient means of egress.
Speaking of well regulated women, every well-dressed man needs a valet, but, in these pedestrian times, that crucial, cultural function has gone the way of the dodo. Would you like to know how to acquire a valet at no personal expense? Obviously, you canít just ask your wife to lay out your clothes. In these emancipated times, she will guffaw in your face.
This is how I did it. As you know, men are live-and-let-live people. If you want to wear white socks with a tuxedo, your typical man will have no complaint. Because women do not believe in live-and-let-live, your typical woman of course will erupt in conniptions. I have certain garments and ensembles I treasure. Often, when I would try to leave the bedroom thus begarbed on my way to an appointment, the Love Priestess would take one look, scream, stand in the door and refuse to let me out. "Not while Iím alive," she would yell, presenting me with the alternative of either changing or fighting my way out, which could result in unsightly scratches.
A woman will do that because if you are allowed to wear, for instance, white socks with a tuxedo in public, other women will ask each other, "What kind of woman is stupid enough to let a man out of the bedroom wearing such a preposterous outfit?"
Soon, the inspiration came. I merely told her that since I was obviously too stupid to choose my own clothes, she would have to, or run the risk that I would choose my own clothes. Now, without protest, she lays out my clothes, which explains the mystery of why your Intrepid Correspondent is not only well dressed, but also perfectly color-coordinated. I owe it all to my personal valet. So, the secret is just to let them keep talking. Very soon, they will talk themselves into a corner.
By the way, Alan Stang is not my real name. My real name is . . . .
Alan Stang has been a network radio talk show host and was one of Mike Wallace's first writers. He was a senior writer for American Opinion magazine and has lectured around the world for more than 30 years. He is also the author of ten books, including, most recently, Perestroika Sunset, surrounding our Government's deception in the POW/MIA arena. If you would like him to address your group, please email what you have in mind. He is a regular columnist for Ether Zone.
Alan Stang can be reached at: email@example.com