Many thanks in advance! Oh, make sure you exclude me, of course.

There are certain things in life that I simply cannot abide by, such as broccoli, rap music, humidity, and last but not least, obnoxiously rude Christians.

I was on the wrong end of this when I emailed no less than five girls on a social networking site who proudly proclaimed their Christianity… and got ignored by all five.

Now I’d expect this kind of rudeness from the French (or people from Brooklyn, where I would have been insulted if they hadn’t flipped me off), but Christians?

Really, let’s think about this. You say you’re a Christian, I say I’m a Christian. At the very least that makes me your brother in Christ, does it not? If I email you expressing interest in getting to know you better, even if it’s just as a penpal, what the *&%$ does it take to fire off a quick but polite message letting me know you’re not interested, or you don’t have time, or whatever? Honestly, you wouldn’t blow off a flesh and blood sibling like this, would you? Well maybe you would, I dunno. You certainly got icy cold water running through your veins, so who knows, if your mother was having a heart attack you’d probably step over her crumpled body on your way to the beauty salon.

Now naturally, because I think the world revolves around me, I’m of the opinion that Christians exist for no other reason than just to frost my cookies. But I got IMed from a girl living in the Bible belt the other day, and she actually turned out to be a pretty decent person. What she told me about her dating experiences was pretty telling. Every guy that she’s dated in the past few years claimed to be a Christian or attended her church. And yet EVERY single one of them wanted booty, and when she wouldn’t give it to them, they dumped her.

I could understand if one or two wanted to roll around in bed with her, probably just faking their way through church so they can get a little Christian butt-cheeks action.

ALL of them though??? In the Bible belt??

If that doesn’t tell me that the destruction of America’s churches today have become a foregone conclusion, nothing will. That’s what happens when you turn once holy gatherings into social clubs to cater to our every whim. Congratulations Rick Warren, this is what you have wrought, you fat disgusting pig.

Still, I’m glad to see I’m not the ONLY one out there struggling, and for now at least, I have a penpal who gets me… at least until she realizes what a belligerent crab I can be.

I recently got an email from a reader who said I was the perfect match for her sister, so I sent her sister an email and we shared a few things about ourselves. Here’s what I learn about her:

She loves to fish in Alaska and went to college on a football scholarship. Even worse, she’s from Tennessee. No offense to the natives of the state of course, I just think you’re all a bunch of donkey hicks (though I’ll make an exception for this gal here, only because she knows me and if I didn’t she’d hunt me down like a dog and saw my legs off.)

Anyhoo, after inquiring a bit further about this football thingie in the vain hope that colleges also extend football scholarships to cheerleaders as well, evidently she got the scholarship as a result of being the equipment manager for her team, and has been entertaining a life long dream of being a contracts agent. She majored in sports admin and now works as a… paralegal.

My final “Oh My God Get The &^%$ Away From Me!” note to her went as follows:

Dear “Meg,”

You’re either a man or a very, very ugly looking woman. If you’re wondering why you might be having trouble finding guys to date, the spitting and scratching your privates (of which you have none) while you hang out with your football buddies might clue you in somewhat. Maybe it’s not your fault though, just the fact that you live in a state with an in-bred population that rivals only Utah in numbers, and as a result it’s often hard to tell the gender apart.

I’m not sure why your sister thought I’d be a good match for you though. Maybe she felt I’d be able to help you discover your feminine side by offering you the love that only a fine, studly man like me could give. Yet despite the fact that I have been known to work miracles every now and then, sad to say, I simply cannot bend the laws of physics to my will in order to transform you from a hairy, lumbering, mountain man-thing to a soft, doe-eyed work of womanly art that I would be proud to roll around in the hay with.

So, best of luck to ya, hope you do fulfill your dreams of being an agent, and who knows, maybe I’ll read about you someday in Sports Illustrated, though it quite obviously won’t be the swimsuit edition.

Much Love,
Lincoln

Ever since I’ve began to get some feeling back in my hands once I started tying up icepacks to them, a thought occurred to me.

Women are to blame for all of my health issues.

Wait, I’m going somewhere with this. See for guys, when it comes to taking care of ourselves and improving our general health, we’re pretty much… what’s the word, a bunch of schmucks.

We could wake up with the left side of our bodies completely paralyzed, but as long as it doesn’t stop us from getting our clothes on and driving to work, we won’t really think much of it, the same way we won’t concerned much if a car backblows 3 quarts of oil out its exhaust pipes, as long as its considered otherwise drivable. Minor things like half body paralysis (or a black cloud of smoke bellowing out of the engine of a car) don’t really bother us too much, so long as we can still get from Point A to Point B.

Women though, have this tendency where if they so much as suffer a mild discomfort, they’ll go into a complete system shutdown while they conduct extensive full body scans to determine what’s going on. But more importantly, they’ll do that for the people they love too. It’s what helps them make great mothers and doctors.

Unfortunately for me though, Mommy thinks I’m quite old enough to take care of myself now, yet I still have to reminded that there are things out there such as bandages and Tylenol, so no, I don’t have to go to bed with unbandaged scrapes oozing blood onto the spreadsheets, or wail over a pounding headache that a little Motrin IB could have fixed up right away.

Had life not have been so cruel, had I met a special girl early on, she could have kept me healthy, bandaged up my wounds, and kissed all the booboos, especially the one that was in my heart. So I blame women, (or rather the absence of one), for my current plight. You could have fixed me up and made me a better man, but instead, all that’s left of me now is a wounded rabid animal hellbent on ridding this planet of your vile kind. May the skies rain down hellfire and brimstone on all you filthy harlots of Babylon, all because one of you just couldn’t wubs me.

YOU GIRLISH MANIACS!!!! DAMN YOU!!! DAMN YOU ALL TO HELL!!!!

One of my slim shady friends shared a link (warning: profanity) listing the terms and rules of a forum for Marine wives.

Wow. Nothing quite like seeing a bunch of catty women making like they also carry a set of balls and a rifle just cuz they married a Marine.

I don’t know about you, but I for one happen to LIKE a snuggle filled, Happy Kitty Hug Land. This world is an ugly, mean and nasty place, multiplied by a factor of 10 if you’re a Marine. Coming home to Happy Kitty Hug Land can help remind us that there are still some good things left in this world. We cherish the kind of innocence, love and affection that only a good womanly woman can provide.

Here’s some advice for you gals. Whether we’re Marines or not, we likes our wimmins to be, well, wimmins. We like you to keep your hair long and bat your eyelashes at us and wear dresses and do cute, adorable girlie things. If we were drawn to those who take pride in picking their noses, letting one rip and dropping f-bombs when the team we’re rooting for is losing, we wouldn’t be sharing our beds with you. So please, save the profanity, the spitting, and the ass scratching for us men, and be the ladies that us men so desperately need you to be.

I was just reading a blog post by Miss O’ Hara discussing how women should ignore or drop men who still live with their parents because they don’t have the wherewithal to survive on their own or be good husbands. She does allow for mitigating circumstances where the local economy and the real estate market can make this virtually impossible, or if you’re supporting parents going through a rough patch (I think). Still, this type of thinking makes me uneasy. Even if you provide legitimate reasons for staying with your parents, I can’t help but wonder if whatever girl you’re interested in had already written you off on her mental checklist the minute she heard about your living situation, despite you giving reasonable explanations for it. After all, being with your parents tells a girl either A) He’s not rich enough for me, or B) he’s burdened down with caring for his ailing parent(s), so he’ll have no time left over to shower me with any attention. I know plenty of girls will swear until they are blue in the face otherwise, but I suspect they can’t help but think this way. Just as it is supposedly in man’s nature to be the leader, it is also in woman’s nature to be cared for (by the man).

I also think Hara’s reasoning here that snubbing guys who live with their parents can have the opposite effect. A guy could resign himself to believing that is truly no one out there waiting for him, and thus he may lose the necessary incentive to improve his life and gain some independence.

I surmise that this mentality is really borne out of an innate desire to find a guy willing to coddle them, and who makes enough money that they can stay at home and freely sponge off his salary. I personally know a few women who are like this too. Rather than being a help mate, they are instead a burden to their husbands, who find themselves caring for their wives the same way you’d care for a pet dog. Not surprisingly, such wives tend to show a complete ineptness in handling even the most basic tasks of paying the bills, balancing the checkbooks, and so on. Some don’t even have driving licenses, creating yet another unnecessary burden on the husband.

In spite of the exceptions some women profess to make for men who live with their parents, the fact is such a trait is undesirable regardless of whether he has good reasons for doing so or not. The bottom line is that such a man would be unable to care for her because of his financial difficulties, or because of his obligations to his family. In this vein, women aren’t looking for a man to love: they are looking for a man capable of coddling them for the rest of their lives.

And stupid me, I always thought marriage was all about true love, not something to be judged on external circumstances such as what your living situation might be. Would it be so terrible to get to know a guy first instead of immediately writing him off because he lives with Mommy? Maybe he has a heart of gold, but is just afraid of going off on his own, and just needs a woman to encourage him or (God forbid) HELP him find the moxie he’s been looking for. Would that be so terrible? The Bible does say that a man shall leave his father and mother and cleave onto his WIFE. Ideally then, the man is never truly alone wen he goes out into the world, for God himself has said that it is not good for the man to be alone. He is ready to leave when he has ALREADY found someone. Yet the Gospel according to Miss O’ Hara demands that he already be independent BEFORE meeting someone.

Personally, and for the record, I live with my parents because we can only survive for the time being by sticking together. It just hit me that out of all of us, I am actually the only one who is self sufficient. Neither of them can live independently of me, but it is through no fault of their own. There are times when I can sense my mother’s grief and how she feels she has let me down because of it. But sometimes it’s just the circumstances of life, and I don’t believe it’s always going to be like this either. For now I take it as a lesson on how important it is to stick together as a family through thick and thin, and I believe that’s a learned trait well worth taking into any marriage.

Do I resent it at times? Of course, and sometimes more often than not. But the times I truly resent it is when I see picky women quickly ready to pass over me because my living situation is something they find unappealing. I guess loyalty and a sense of duty for honoring your parents counts for nothing these days. Nope, it’s all about showing them the MONEY.

Yep, we’re smarter, deal with it.

Update: Uhhhh, then again, maybe not:

Recently, a blogger named Simon Owens ran a social experiment on Craigslist. He wandered into the “Casual Encounters” section of the personal ads where countless men and women were soliciting for no-strings-attached {chicken dances} and wondered, Is it really that easy? As a test, he composed several ads with different permutations of assumed identity and orientation…. He then posted it to New York, Chicago, and Houston, and tallied the results.

Overwhelmingly and instantly, the ads from the fake women looking for male partners were inundated with responses, sometimes several per minute. All the other ads received lukewarm responses, at best. These results weren’t surprising, but some of the observations were… Many of these men used their real names and included personally identifiable information, including work email addresses and home phone numbers. Several admitted they were married and cheating on their spouses. Many included photos, {often in their birthday suits.}

As the Orbit White gal would say: Brilliant!

I didn’t link to the original post because the links that followed were quite graphic and disgusting. And here I thought my posting a profile on eHarmony was pathetic. Nyet, nyet.