It's so angry!

Last night, Legal Counsel asked (from out of the blue), "Do you like vaginas?"

I responded with, "Are you going to ask me that every time you see me?"

"Seriously," she replied. Feeling like the slow wildebeest singled out by the stalking female lion (they're the hunters, you know), I didn't know what to do. Is this a trick question? Did I do something wrong? What's she going to do to me? Will castration hurt? Calm down, old boy. It's just a question. Think fast.

"Oh, cutie. I don't like vaginas. Vagina. Singular. Just yours." Or I imagine I would, I thought. She doesn't let me touch her or look directly at her.

"Do you want to go see The Vagina Monologues?" she inquired. That's a relief. No entrapment, just an appreciation for the arts.

"Sure," I answered, feeling as though the imaginary boa constrictor around my neck had just loosened.

So Legal Counsel and I went to see The Vagina Monologues. It was an interesting experience. As you can probably guess, the ratio of women to men was roughly 50 to 1. I felt like I was sitting in a Taco Bell. I was a little out of place.

There were vaginas everywhere. And not just with the audience members. They were selling chocolate vaginas, which i would feel ridiculously awkward eating there. There were shirts for sale which read, "Vagina Warrior." I should have gotten one for free in recognition of my pioneering efforts in the field of lady parts. They even had temporary vagina tattoos. On an unrelated note, I had a dream last night that I was piloting a rocket-ship alone through a vast field of black holes.

So what did I learn last night? Women love vagina. Let me rephrase that: women love vagina. Way more than guys do. If guys think about it every 8 seconds, girls think about it every 4. At least. And they take it way beyond love. It's an obsession. Here's a litle SAT analogy for you:

Male love of vagina : female love of vagina
Casanova : John Hinckley, Jr.

Guys will do a lot of things to get it. Women will shoot Ronald Reagan in a misguided effort to get its attention.

So what were the topics of Vagina discussion?

• How does it look?


• How does it smell?


• How does it feel?


• How does it taste?


• If you put your ear up to it, which beach would you hear?


• If it could talk, what would it say?


• If it was on a deserted island with one movie, one album and one book, what would they be?


• What clothes would it wear?


• If your vagina was the chairman of the U.S. Senate Appropriations Subcommittee on Agriculture, Rural Development, and Related Services, how would it feel about the fiscal year 05 budget, especially with regard to drought preparedness?

You get the idea.

Legal Counsel loved it. I think she is required to, seeing as how she has two X chromosomes. She laughed, she cried, she felt empowered. A genital tour de force. She later commented that there needed to be more discussion on the breasts. "Boobies Monologues," she said. I corrected her, saying that they would need to be dialogues.

I don't think this would work with penis. No "Penis Monologues" beyond the realm of satire. Sure, men obsess about size. but that's just because they want women to like it. Guys don't care that much about penii, except for maybe 10% of the population. I just don't think men are that obsessed with their junk. Of course, Freud would say differently. He'd say we have a president whose monument is based on that one thing. We smoke tobacco from them. The French have a giant metal one. We kill with things shaped like them. But then again, Freud was a coked up psycho.

But it's an interesting thought. Would things look different if women were in control (beyond the subtle control they've always had over men)? Would the Martha Washington monument be a well? Can you smoke tobacco from a donut? Would the French build a giant metal oval? Would wars be fought with Xena-style chakram weapons? Would we count "1,0,2,3,4..."? I guess we'll never know.

FYI, Legal Counsel castrated me anyway.