The saying used to go, “Behind every great man is a great woman.” Then through years of sexual revolution and its politically correct reception, the saying changed to, “Beside every great man is a great woman.” But I see it differently. I think there’s a great woman behind every great man—but she’s back there with a whip.
You may raise an eyebrow when I tell you that women’s brains are more highly evolved than men’s. It’s not only easily recognized, it’s scientifically supported. On average, women’s brains are 10 percent smaller, but efficiently house just as many neurons and neural connections. Women have a measurably larger corpus callosum connecting their brains’ left half to the right; their cell structures for neural communication permanently double during pregnancy. And while aging, men will typically have a 30% increase in peripheral cerebrospinal fluid—an indicator of brain shrinkage—whereas women will only have a 1% increase.
Think of it like this. Back in the days when the hot new technology was “starting a fire,” men were hunter-gatherers. We wore ridiculous little loincloths and scurried around eating anything and everything to see what would kill us. That was our job.
On the other hand, women were responsible for everything else. They raised the children, developed the social fabric of the tribe, and fulfilled, by hand, just about every domestic need—which leads me to believe that the loincloth thing was one of their first practical jokes. “Kilu, I saw the man-skin you made yesterday. It was so funny! I’ve seen bigger flaps on a hummingbird.”
As our civilization developed, women’s roles became broader and deeper. Men went from hunting and gathering to punching the time clock. Women advanced intellectually far beyond men and were able to take on more and more duties. By the time Coco Chanel came around, just keeping up with fashion would have been a full time job for men. But women took that on peripheral to hundreds of other tasks. (Want the litmus test? Ask yourself, “Do black shoes look OK with navy blue pants?” If you answered “sure,” you were not only talking to yourself, but you have no idea that a parallel universe exists around you). Women are making seventy percent of what men make, but they’re running the show.
Anyway, men kept bringin’ home the bacon dressed in butt-hair and body odor, and because they felt like they were providing “all the basic needs,” men elevated their pig-headed arrogance to the point of never considering that women might exceed them on a cognitive scale.
Now I’ll really let the cat out of the bag. (Guys, buckle your seatbelts, because it’s much worse than you think). While studying communication in college, I started recognizing the power women possess. Women communicate on verbal, non-verbal and “other” levels that men have yet to understand. After silently observing for years, I’ve figured out women’s secret. You can call it “Victoria’s Secret” or “Secret Antiperspirant” or the “Dirty Little Secret,” but I know what it is. Women are telepathic.
I’ve figured out that when you take 11 year old girls into a private room to talk about “our changing bodies,” you start weaning them from the limited verbal communication used by men, and start teaching them how to read minds, transfer thoughts and manipulate men with the power of suggestion. I’m on to you, and you’re going to have to rub me out to keep me from spreading it.
I theorized about it for many years. Then I was at a party with my girlfriend Kat (who’s now my wife ((and the origin of that is becoming ever more clear)) ). I said to my friend Frits, “Hey, let’s go listen to Back in Black.” Kat immediately piped up,
“Oh, just go smoke.” She was on to us. I quickly back-peddled.
“No Honey, Back in Black is a song by AC-DC.” She knew.
“I don’t care if you smoke, I just don’t want to smell it.”
So there it is. I know that you know, and now I’m gonna let everybody know. All I can say is Estrogen is my friend. It evens the playing field just enough to keep it fair. Without it, men would be wearing leather masks and pulling women around in little Fem-chariots.
As they say, behind every man…