From the Homepage that is Jay Sun
I wrote this in high school. This could quite possibly be the only decent thing I've written in my entire life. I think, perhaps, I'd write more, but high school was my glory days and it's all downhill from there -- captain of the football team, valedectorian, student body president, homecoming king, prom king, all-around-great-guy. Okay, just kidding, I utterly failed to do any of those things ... I almost ran for student council once ... almost.
A Modest Proposal
by Jay Sun
I was walking through the magazine section of Hastings Books and Video in Houston yesterday and observed a group of young men ogling over the latest issue of Playboy - prompting me to think, "Miss December cha cha cha." No, actually, that's not what I thought. What I really thought was, "What would cause such an obviously fine, sturdy group of young men to behave in such a reprehensible manner (I, of course, find such magazines to be utterly tasteful, I mean tasteless, tasteless). Anyway, this behavior disturbed me, especially the fact that I observed no females anywhere near the, ahem, green wrapper magazines (you know, don't feign innocence) of, ahem, their nature. Upon closer examination, but not that close, I noticed that `those' magazines were never restocked, since not a single issue has been sold in the history of womankind. In fact, the latest issue was from January of 1847 - Bob Dole was the centerfold. This puzzled me. No, not Bob Dole as centerfold, but the lack of sales. Not that I think Bob Dole would make a good centerfold. Not that I would check out Bob Dole. Not that I would check out any guy. Uh, nevermind. Anyway, I walked on. At which point, I noticed something else of merit. Comic books are designed and drawn by men. Okay, big deal, right? Has anyone actually noticed what these females heroines and villainesses actually look like? Can you say 48-24-36? And again, I saw a group of males, significantly younger, discussing the `virtues' of Catwoman and her equally `virtuous' sidekick Black Cat as they acrobatically contorted their bountiful bodies . in spandex. Which kind of makes me wonder which is more beneficial to mankind. the super powers or the support on their outfits. Anyway, it occurred to me for a moment that something was wrong with me, insolently analyzing other people, but then I realized that wasn't part of my gentle, humble nature and I must be temporarily impaired with a case of intelligence. So, I continued walking in hopes it would fix whatever was wrong with me. As fate would have it, I tripped over a book. Luckily no one saw me fall flat on my ass, thus maintaining my usual irresistibly suave demeanor. But just in case, I picked up the book, pretended like it was exactly what I was looking for, paid, and left. Slightly relevant to the story was the Topless Defense Driving Class store to my left. Don't ask if I looked . or enrolled. I hopped into my car and looked at the book I had just purchased; it was entitled The Rules, a guide for women. Evidently, it prescribes certain rules that will enable the "snagging of any man." (Naturally, a book revealing the secrets of seducing and understanding the male psyche would be, quite logically, written by two women.) A brief sampling includes such brilliant techniques as "stand him up on the first date", "be unavailable", "don't take his calls", "stand him up on the second date", "if he asks for the time of day, don't give it to him", "don't accept his gifts", "don't talk to him", "stand him up on the third date", "back over him with your car a few times", "get a restraining order on him", and "plunge your hand into his chest, remove his heart, and eat it." Far be it above me to say, but I question these. For example, when I first met my wife, uhm, no wait. For example, when I first met my girlfriend, uhm, no hold on. For example, when I first got my dog, uh, no again. I have this fish, you see. And well, I feed it and keep it nurtured (I even give it Pepsi in hopes it will be like the fish in the commercial), and it ignores me, so I flushed it down the toilet (again like the commercial). This is a bad example. I have no good examples. My typical conversation with a girl goes like this, "Hey baby . wait come back, hey where ya going?!?" But nevertheless, something tells me this rules business is all wrong. I mean I can understand the restraining order - I have a few - but not returning my calls. That's going too far.
Thus, I have after much thought derived my own set of general rules
for women to follow. I would make a set for guys but we don't write ridiculous books which
lead to the extinction of mankind, or from the feminine perspective, rather than develop a
sure-fire method of success we prefer to flounder around in our incompetence -
incidentally, we feel floundering lends us a sort of boyish charm, but don't ruin it by
telling us what you actually think. So without further ado, here goes. There is only one
rule, and I have divided it into three parts to match the appropriate situation. Remember,
this is the guaranteed way to snag a man.
(1) If you see a reasonably attractive male, run (yes, run) to him as if you were running through a field of flowers, and he was running towards you also (except he won't be). Don't stop running. Hurtle yourself into him - the high velocity will render him asunder . or something. Ask him out. Offer to pay for the date and the dental bill on that tooth you just chipped. If he refuses, kick him and leave. If you really like him, hold him at gunpoint until he agrees. Then, kick him and leave.
(2) If you see an average guy, do something very subtle to let him know you are interested thus encouraging him to pursue you. I suggest licking his ear. Other suggestions taken from sources (male and female) who choose to remain anonymous include sending him dead roses, washing his car, stealing his car, kicking him in the rear, grabbing him by the rear. I'm sure you understand perfectly the systematic logic of these suggestions and should thus be able to derive your own. If however, to no avail, your efforts are awash, kick him and leave.
(3) If you happen to see an utterly repulsive male (a very rare species scientifically named Homo sapiegetawayfromme), a women pretending to be a man (there's a word for that I just can't remember, oh yeah, feminist), or some alien creature (even then there are exceptions - I'm sure many women would be happy to date Marvin the Martian or the Pilsbury Doughboy - I'm sure many guys would be, er, not me of course but, well you know.) anyway, see one of these and I give you permission to run away. Make certain to flee in such an angle that you can't see it even in your peripheral vision but that your back is not turned on such a horrid creature; it might be hungry and try to eat you. Or worse, it might take it upon itself to ask YOU out, thus forcing you to "Stop, Drop, and Roll." Uh, sorry, wrong motto, "Just Say No." I realize it's excruciatingly difficult for women to reject a male proposition, but for the sake of both of you, you must try. Don't forget the mandatory plausible excuse: "my late great-great-grandfather died again", "nope, I only date guys who wear Levi's Wide-Leg jeans or nope, your jeans don't have the fifth pocket - overlooked since 1873", "I'm saving myself from dating until marriage", "my dad's a cannibal", "nope, I only date guys", "sorry, just escaped from the asylum, GOTTA KEEP ON THE RUN", "I'm a nun, I can only date priests", and the one I get the most often "can't, gotta patrol the streets of Gotham City tonight."
Some have suggested the idea of not categorizing people, being yourself, and just having fun. HA, what a silly notion. Morons. If everyone did that, people might actually find someone they like, thus effectively removing people from dating and searching. Egads, talk about misguided priorities. It has also been said that good communication is the key. Ha, communicate this : [insert obscene gesture]. Cretins. Listen to those heathens and you'll find yourself married to Michael Bolton or one of those `Milli Vanilli' guys. Now, I understand that some of you ladies may question my theories (I know you guys don't, heh heh). Trust me. Would I deceive you? I have nothing to gain from this. I assure you that I have pure, unselfish motives for writing. Ask me if I care, go ahead, ask me . nope. I'm perfectly content with my current status. I can PLEASE honestly say ASK that I could not be ME any happier OUT with my ?!?! life. So, the next time you are wallowing in self-pity over another guy you turned down, remember, it doesn't have to be that way. I can fix everything. Call me; I'll personally counsel you.
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