This week, kiddies, I shall tell you about Nature’s most fascinating and necessary, as well as most exasperating creation — WOMAN!
I wish to deal particularly with one of the great movements of this century, women’s drive for equality with men in almost all fields of endeavor except, Russian women to the contrary, weightlifting.
Through some marvelous feat of self-deception, modern women have come to feel that they are as good as, or better than, any man, intellectually and emotionally. Bah, humbug! ! Women are only more sneaky and underhanded than men.
In my humble opinion, women’s suffrage is one of the worst catastrophes ever to befall our nation. Benedict Arnold did us a favor compared to the atrocity committed by Susan B. Anthony.
The South often condemns John F. Kennedy and his administration for the nation’s ills. Although I harbor no affection for the Kennedys, I cannot honestly place the total blame on them for our multitudinous problems.
How was Kennedy elected President in the first place? By women and their own private method of choosing a candidate.
Many of our intelligent and level-headed females looked closely, carefully, and deeply into the many controversial and important issues involved and thoughtfully made their choice. “Humm,” they said. “I’ll just have to vote for that sweet Jack Kennedy. He’s just so darling with all of that hair, he’ll make a yummy President. Besides his wife is so very, utterly charming and lovely.” Therein lies the story of the election of “Cute Jack” Kennedy. Enough said.
Women take a great deal of pride in the fact that they live, on an average, about five years longer than men. Women attribute this rather disturbing statistic to their supposedly great emotional strength and the claim that they can better stand up to the stresses of life. Tommyrot! This is a false assumption. After all, which sex cries more often, Women do, of course, although men have a right to after being subjected to Modern Woman and her presumptions!
I shall continue this daring expose of these creatures who consist of “a rag, a bone, and a hank of hair” (nary a word about common sense or intelligence, you will note) next week if I survive the feminine onslaughts sure to come. Until then, my thought for the week is this: Should a Playboy Club be established in Starkville?