trying men

Not counting work, I spend some 95% of my time with women. This is no accident, as I've historically found that women make 95% more sense than men.

But this identification wanes. After all, it's not guys who are thrashing around in my Burmese liar traps. After all, I've never watched with disgust as a man shamelessly comparison-shops women. I'm sure that men indulge in these things, but in my experience, they're uniquely female undertakings.

And thus do I hang out more with Dirt Glazowski.

"Look at how clean that city is," he says of Beijing on TV.

Yeah. I know. But it got better.

"We could learn a lot from the Chinese. Someone there causes problems, and WHAM! the gummint beats them down. No more problem."

Later on he switches to his favorite show, called MANswers. The first segment shows you how to dig a bullet out of your own body. This is a useful skill, if you're a felon. Or maybe if you're trapped on a desert island and happen to shoot yourself in the arm. Being neither, I would personally rather a doctor or even a plumber perform this procedure. Meanwhile, the show's next segment tells you how to get a "Happy Ending" in a reputable massage parlor.

"John, party of one," called a restaurant's maître d' later that evening.