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Lynn Burton

How come more women aren’t slapped around on TV?

Which one would you bet on in a dog fight – a pit bull or pink poodle?

Why don’t Democrats understand the definition of war?

And isn’t it time everybody talked slower when they leave phone numbers on answering machines?

There’s so much a regular guy can’t understand these days, so let’s start with women not getting slapped around enough on TV. The logic goes something like this.

It’s OK for women to just haul off and punch men in the face on TV. On “Seinfeld,” George Castanza got hit by Marisa Tomei and his fiancee, Susan, all in the same episode. Nobody objected, including domestic violence awareness groups.

Here’s a current example that nobody has protested.

A Budweiser commercial is set in a bar. The punchline comes when a guy is putting the moves on a gal. She eventually punches him in the face, which knocks him to the floor. When the guy crawls back up on the bar, she decks him with the back of her hand without even looking.

Ha!

So how come it’s OK for women to punch men on TV, but not the other way around? Shouldn’t genders be treated equally? If so, how’s this for a beer commercial?

A woman sashays up to guy at a bar, bats her eyes and says, “Hi.” The guy quickly gives her an undercut to the chin, which lifts her off her feet, and he says, “Is that high enough for you?” It’s even got shades of the Simpson’s “Itchy and Scratchy Show,” which would appeal to younger viewers as well, thus making it another successful TV beer commercial.

In the great debate of pitbulls versus poodles, which would you rather have your 4-year-old child get bitten by – a pink poodle that nibbles its food or a pit bull with the jaws of an eight-foot alligator?

Assuming that any dog will bite, doesn’t it stand to reason that pit bulls are more dangerous than most other breeds? So, how come high performance dogs like pitbulls aren’t specially licensed? Licensing requirements would include a psychological test for the owner, because nobody in their right mind would want to own a pit bull because they are too dangerous.

Now, on to hyperbole-prone Democrats and the environment.

You hear it all the time from them these days. “George Bush has declared war on the environment!!!!!” The exclamation points usually come from Teddy Kennedy.

This indicates that Democrats don’t understand the definition of war, which is sort of scary because they have the power to send people off to die in them.

For Bush to be at war with the environment, he’d want to destroy it.

If Bush were at war with the environment, he’d dispatch heavy tanks to the Alaskan tundra to grind it to bits. Bush would napalm old-growth forests, then machine gun wildlife as it tries to escape. He would drop depth charges in wilderness lakes to kill all the fish. He would order oil tankers to dump their black, gooey loads into pristine rivers from Maine to California. Anything to defeat the environment.

All that’s war, and about as far as you can get from whatever Bush is doing to the environment.

Finally, here are a couple of technological annoyances that are difficult to understand.

The first is when you call a government office and their automated system leads off by telling you the office’s hours of operation. Nobody wants to know this. Nobody calls a government office to find out their hours of operation. They call because they want to talk to somebody, and this only slows down that process.

The other annoyance is new. It happens when someone leaves their phone number on your answering machine like they were an auctioneer or something. They go, “Gimme a call at 9631549,” like they are racing out of the house because it’s on fire.

The really bad ones start out fairly enthusiastically with the first number, but their voices immediately trail off, and it sounds as if they are so bored they are about to fall over.

The solution to all this? There are no solutions, just annoyances.

Sounds like a variation to John Lennon’s, “There are no problems, only solutions.”

Things are only getting worse. Somebody hand me a Budweiser.

Lynn Burton is a staff writer for the Post Independent.


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