[FONT="]It’s our fault. We’re to blame. We start the wars, fight the fights, cause the divorces, gamble the money, drive the economy to bust, and horde the gold. We’re the pigs of the planet, the dogs of earth, keepers of the garbage, fuel for stupidity, and kings of injustice. We make stupid laws, practise patronage, keep the flames alive in the old boy’s clubs, continue stoking fires of ignorance, and act out our condescending ways amongst all. [/FONT]
[FONT="]We’re the lousy navigators who won’t use maps, the guys who spend too much time on the couch, the ones who can’t cook, the teachers who are full of themselves, the dirty old men, the creeps in the white vans. [/FONT]
[FONT="]There is no changing us. It’s far too late. You’re stuck with it. We like our booze, no herbal tea for us. No yoga, no sissy games either. We play hockey and ball. We drive fast cars, love to curse, go fishing, eat steak, and do the house repairs. We shop quickly, hate the malls, shake hands firmly, and carry the groceries. We play poker, not bridge. [/FONT]
[FONT="]We change the flat tires, walk on the outside, hail the cabs, and clean the garage. We know the difference between a Phillips and a Robertson, and we drive standards. [/FONT]
[FONT="]Nothing’s changed principally about the treehouse, other than our age and its complexity. The “No Girls Allowed” sign still hangs proudly, if somewhat more subtle than when we were ten. [/FONT]
[FONT="]We give up, confess, hold our hands up, and wave the surrender flag. We’re males. We just can’t help it. We was born this way. [/FONT]