Monday, August 17


I am now certain that the world was created in conversation: God the Father, God the Son and God the HolySpirit gathered around the firmament in conference, considering how to create a lesser existence that would mirror their own but somehow would be inferior to and, thus, subject to them. And along the line, Jesus mouths with overwhelming compassion "They would be unholy, But I'd die before they let it all come to ruin." The Father and The Son, brimming with majesty, turn on him and smile: "You've got it, you've hit the nail on the head Jesus! That's exactly what we'll do!".

Abandoning all irreverence, I do think that is how the greatest of ideas and hitherto elusive solutions are born; in conversation. There are some conceited folks who will deny this and insist that they were all alone when their best ideas came to them (especially Newton who told alot of lies about that apple falling on his head to sell his autobiography), but knowing that all geniuses are mad, and all mad people talk to themselves (and permitting that talking to oneself be admissible here as 'conversation'), there do I rest my case. That is why I used the initial example of the creation of the universe- we all know that God the Father, Son and HolySpirit are one and the same.

So with that exciting bit of background information, I shall deliver to you the most important thesis ever created about man since God Himself stated "It is not good that man should be alone; I will make him a helper comparable to him" (New King James Version Bible: Genesis 2, 8). I was chilling with a bunch of people, all of them female, a couple of Fridays ago. The conversation descended as usual into this cess pit of derisory condemnation of one sex by the other. Being the stand alone man, I prepared to defend my own with as much imaginative evasiveness as I could muster. You know how we men can be so inventive, stylishly parrying every accusation with astoundingly varying versions of the indelicate "Women ask for it", and expecting that shit to fly. Eventually, having exhausted every thought from "But women ask for it though, the way they act", to "Well, women have always asked for it, right from Eve in the Garden", I deflated and waited to be crucified by these fulminating ladies.

And that was when We stumbled on it. The Truth. I say we because it was a collective effort to appropriately process this metaphor and ascribe basic everyday situations to each twist and turn of what I hope will become a major twenty-first century adage.

Men are dogs. Granted. But in the best of ways, the worst of ways. The general connotation of this statement is that a dog will hump anything and everything regardless. The dog will do a poo and leave the doo for you to clean up. The dog will run away for days without a thought as to the emotional restlessness you are experiencing. And, worst of all, a dog will run after a stick and fetch it and expect you to give it a pat on the head and a doggy biscuit. Sensational. This is The Truth: All Men are Dogs. There are these natural instincts in them that propel them to want more than is their share, take more than they deserve and expect more than is coming to them. So we are in agreement right? At the same time, the Men Are Dogs (hereafter M.A.D.) lobby forgets to factor in the other side of the story. The same Dog that will take off without warning will also run miles to get help for his owner struggling for dear life in a ditch; That Dog would risk his life to battle off attackers and invaders; but most importantly, that Dog is controllable. Give a dog a bone and he's alright.

I remember one author asking the question(and I paraphrase): If you see a person with a dog on a leash, the dog stops to take a leak and the person is forced to stop, the dog stops to drop a shit and the person bends over to scoop it up, who is boss and who isn't? It's an interesting conundrum that one. I'm sure the author was in favour of the dastardly dog, doing whatever the hell he likes. But I beg to differ. The power is in control, the power is in the leash. The dog is doing his thing, making you work and costing you energy but at the end of the day, you dictate that dog's schedule. You decide when he goes for a run, when he eats, who he plays with and at the end of the day, simply because of the quality of your doggy biscuits, he will always come home. Figure out that one for yourself.

Dustin Hoffman stated with no little conviction on the Jonathan Ross show (aye, that kills off all my credibility then) that for any male-female relationship to work "a man has to be terrified of his wife". Substitute 'man' for Dog and 'his wife' for you (speaking to ladies now) and you see the picture of things in High Definition. No matter what else transpires, no matter how doggy your dog is, if you handle it right and realise that you are the boss, that you hold the leash, the dynamics change. Even though, he will fight you when you wish to bathe him, you can still get him to take a bath with the right skill. It is the same way you can get your man to spruce up if need be so long as you are tactful in your approach. You need to give your man time to roam, to gambol free and wide, to get pissed down the pub (if that's what he is into) and to throw a barking fit. You need to make him feel like he's the boss. But inside he must know that you, in fact, run things.

Of course problems arise with the type of dog you find yourself with (for breeds of man-Dogs see, the size of the dog, levels of intelligence, personal hygiene (etc etc) but the principle stays the same: All Men are Dogs, granted. Now deal with it and stop complaining.

What's the point of this? You cannot suddenly change your man into a naturally monogamous penguin who will date the same mate all their lives and go as far and wide as possible to bring her the perfect pebble on the beach (I watch too many movies- this one's from Good Luck Chuck) but you can cultivate his loyalty. Men are Dogs, I cannot say that enough. And most men like to think they are top dog as well, so they will play even faster and even looser with your emotions than you can handle. All that is required is that you master your dog and keep him 'terrified'. This involves careful nurturing, several months of cleaning up shit, endless hours of shouted commands going unheeded, unimaginable expense (emotional currency that is) but ultimately you will get to the point where all you get from your man is love and adoration and vice versa.

Unfortunately I am no life coach and all I have is my philosophy. I will refrain from offering any 'real-life'
situations on which to test out this groundbreaking theory. All I'm saying is if your dog pooed on the carpet, would you start crying about it? No, you clean it up and lock the fool outside and watch him feed you unrestrained affection the next day. Know your dog and leash him, is all I say. And lay off all that other 'I hate Guys' talk. It's rubbish. Every real woman knows how to handle a Dog.

As for you muumuu guys reading this aghast. I just gave you a get out of jail free pass. If she stresses, just tell her The Truth- All Men Are DOGS.

PS It just occurred to me that Men Are Dogs can be acronymised (sic) as MAD. Random. So you can go ahead and call this a MAD theory.

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