It is not a cat I'm calling but Pussy Galore. A column on marital infidelity among athletes and sports commentators defines the enemy as Pussy Galore, and it would be very odd if those big burly men were waging a war on kittens. So it's probably the vagina with its frightening appendices that is the danger of he-men everywhere. It causes them to lose their jobs, their sports and their families, And All That Must Stop:
There are moments in our history when common sense forces us to change the rules in deference to a unique, unprecedented force of nature.
In the aftermath of ESPN baseball analyst Steve Phillips' sordid affair with Monica Lewinsky II, we can no longer deny the inadequacies of America's current relationship rules as they pertain to the battle against Pussy Galore.
It's time to change the rules of the game.
There's been too much carnage. She shredded Rick Pitino's reputation. She pushed Josh Hamilton off the wagon. She sweet-talked Charles Barkley into driving drunk. She hoodwinked Dirk Nowitzki into falling in love with a fugitive.
And now a 22-year-old slump-buster has apparently cost Steve Phillips his marriage and his credibility to analyze baseball.
It's not right. A little off-the-books nookie should not infringe on man's ability to discuss bats and balls in October.
Enough is enough. It's time we had an adult conversation about Ms. Galore and her ability to ruin lives, careers and reputations. We have given her this power and it's obvious she's abusing it.
If we don't soon take action, she threatens to bring down our democracy and wreck the overtime budget of ESPN's human resources department.
Bam! Pow! Take that, you horrible pussy.
I love this so much that I want to do a reversal, about Dick Peter, that horrible enemy of all womankind and all the havoc he has created. But the writer of that piece would never get it. In his world the vaginas walk on two feet while gunning for men in a war of destruction. Poor penises just rise and fall on their own accord, innocently.
So what is the solution to the pussy war? To allow for male infidelity, naturally:
Yes, I said it. It's time for change we can really believe in, a relaxing of sexual monogamy laws for men. Our antiquated system nearly cost us a president. And now, just days before Halloween and in the middle of a terrific American League Championship Series, it has cost us John Kruk's wingman.
...
Let's redefine marriage by putting sex in its proper place. Reproduction should remain sacred between a married man and woman. Sex should be enjoyed between consenting, mature adults.
I say a moderately famous man earning between $250K and $500K a year should be allowed a mistress he can see weekly, one week-long, $8,000 vacation he can take with his mistress and five strip club nights with his boys a year.
A moderately famous man earning between $500K and $1 million a year should be allowed a mistress he can see weekly and every other weekend, a 10-day, $15,000 vacation with his mistress, a $1,500-a-month, fully-furnished apartment for his mistress and seven strip club nights with his boys.
Any man earning more than $1 million a year should come and go as he damn well pleases.
How sweet to have an income-gradient on the number of Pussy Galores a man can have! It could be because they all have to be paid for.
Indeed, the whole column is so sweet and delicious! I rarely come across an explicit contemporary view of the world where women have no say over anything while the success of men greatly matters! Indeed, the guy compares us to steaks! Steaks:
Man is most happy when he is free to experience her pleasure in her varied forms, textures and styles of dress.
I like steak. Capital Grille is my favorite steakhouse. I could eat at Capital Grille seven nights a week. But, especially when I'm traveling, I like to experience different steakhouses. My occasional trips to Shula's, Morton's, Ruth's Chris and Smith and Wollensky in no way infringe upon my undying love and support of Capital Grille. In fact, shortly after I've digested my meal at a different steakhouse, I'm reminded just how much I love Cap Grille.
Consequently, if a man can afford a no-disease, no-pregnancy occasional night on the town without it affecting his financial and lovemaking responsibilities at home, as mature adults we must reach the point where we can allow this without breaking up the family or running a man from political office/off the set of a popular TV show.
I don't want to be a steak. Perhaps boiled eyeballs of a cod?
My fingers itch so hard to reverse all this, because such a reversal would not only treat all men as dicks but also tell married men that it's up to other women or some weird public opinion to decide whether their wives can be unfaithful and how many pool boys or gigolos they can have. But it really would be a waste of my time.
So just enjoy the piece while reversing it in your mind.