This week, Suzanne Venker of Fox News ‘splained to me about how bad men have it — we, the second class citizens of an America we founded — and she paints a harrowing picture of an America where the “pendulum has swung too far in the other direction.” To think, we invented pendulums, too, and this is the thanks men get.
Let me tell you what it’s like to be a man in Suzanne Venker’s world. Thanks for fighting for me, Suzanne, but I’ll take it from here. According to your article, it’s the man’s turn to speak, which means you can go back to helping women find a husband now. Scurry along now, and make sure to donate some of your 7/10ths of a man’s salary to me. It sounds like I need it.
Today I woke up scared and alone, the same way I wake up many mornings. I grabbed for my security blanket, the only protection I have in this cruel world), and I looked at my alarm clock — built for a woman’s eyes. I couldn’t read the numbers and squinted. Was if 7:30 or 17:30? I wasn’t sure, because I’m not very good at math. In school, they never taught us to balance equations or even long divide, always doing what the girls wanted instead (because of that awful Title XII). When I look at numbers, it’s like they move away from me, like the women at the coffee shop when I’m only trying to smile and be nice. They look at me like I don’t exist — because I don’t. I’m just another man in a woman’s world, no place in a society of Beyonces. Who run the world? Not me.
I tried to get out of bed, struggling because I never had recess as a child and we spent our time doing “girl things” like coloring, drawing, walking upright, eating, having discussions, using the restroom, science and reading useless books like Where the Red Fern Grows. When are you going to use those reading comprehension skills later, amirite? I stumbled and fell, picking myself up, and fell again, pushed down by the weight of all these expectations placed on me. In a world where women have all the advantages (like giving birth, menopause, putting on makeup shaving your legs, making less money and watching Katherine Heigl movies), a man must rise on his own.
I gingerly stepped to the kitchen, trying not to arouse attention and constantly apologizing for my lack of coordination, and went to fix myself some breakfast. I poured a bowl of cereal but couldn’t lift the Cheerios box. I tried to read to see what was inside it that made it so heavy but I couldn’t see past all these vaginal Os, clearly designed for a woman’s consumption. The yellow box was so bright, bubbly and feminine with it’s loud primary colors and didn’t have any sports references, so I just couldn’t understand. Where is Tom Brady to help explain things? Without these social nets to help me get through life, I just can’t deal. I’m too male to function.
I tried to open the cabinets, but the handles were made for female hands and I just couldn’t grab them. The knobs slipped through my fingers like all the job opportunities that I lost for being too white, too privileged, having too many opportunities because of my class status, having too much facial hair or taking up all this space with my maleness. Giving up on ever getting a decent meal and not having a woman around to show me how sandwiches work, I slumped down on the couch, too small and dainty for my man frame and I struggled to get comfortable.
Why won’t they make couches that allow me to get up and be active while I enjoy Ashley brand comfort? Couches are made for knitting and packing one’s hope chest and I need to be able to stand and proclaim my masculinity at all times. If I’m not actively opening my crotch to the general public, like the guys across from me on every train or bus, how will a woman notice me? How will people know I’m here? These men are the real men, unchained from the expectation to close their legs when the women of the world force them to sit. And then they dare to take our seats. Can we never win?
I tried to watch television to take my mind off the hopelessness of my predicament, but I couldn’t concentrate with all these channels for women. Lifetime, OWN, ABC, Oxygen, WE, CNN, everywhere I look I see a woman taking my seat. Everywhere I look, I see a woman out front as men hold the door for her, a slave to her needs. Fuck you, Joy Behar. Where is Boy Behar? Why can’t we have a Man Curry or Menny McCarthy? Everywhere I look, women are chatting and talking about their problems, plotting to continue their world domination over scones and jasmine tea. See, jasmine tea. Fucking female names. Even the tea leaves aren’t on my side.
Feeling distraught, like there’s no place for me, I turn to Fox News, intrigued by its masculine logos and male-eye-approved color palettes. You’ll never find any of those garish yellows here, only proud American reds and blues — but not those girly blues like aquamarine. These blues have first been lifted and benchpressed, then fed a protein shake full of bald eagle meat to ensure maximum masculinity. You’ll never find any of these blues sitting down. These blues stand tall with penile pride. These blues are ready for combat — against the terrorists, the gay agenda (but most of all) those privileged female dicks.
On Fox News, I can watch men debate the issues I care about, telling women like Greta Van Susteren to wait their turn to speak. Haven’t women had enough to say today? Haven’t you reached your quota of opinions for the week? I might be a second-class citizen, with all of my rights dispersed to Latinos and Jews, but right now, I feel like I’m on first, just ready to run home. I feel like I can finally run and be free, with Suzanne Venker around to help carry me. Fox lifts us up where we belong.
Feeling tired because the television set’s bandwidth is programmed for female brains, I went to back to bed — knowing that Title XII had failed me but God and Fox News are on my side. As for that mouthy Megyn Kelly, we’ll deal with her later, right after this manly cat nap.