Men: Love them, hate them
December 13, 2006 | 12:00am
A good friend of mine, Cyd Cardasis, who lives in Connecticut, sent me an e-mail about men that had me in stitches for a good 10 minutes. It was such a de-stressing, liberating, therapeutic, solitary exercise in laughter that the need to share it with everyone via this column became immediately apparent. However, I sat conflicted for several moments after having entertained the idea because of the possible ire that I might incur further from our male readers – this column appearing under the "M" section (M for male – duh!). It’s not as if I am not already beset by dagger looks and sneers from random men in malls, restaurants, etc. because many apparently misconstrue my writing for male-bashing, disguised under layers of humor.
This couldn’t be further from the truth, really, because I adore men (tongue firmly pressed in cheek). My best friends are my two brothers and I revel in their company and that of other male friends because they’re uncomplicated; they deliver declarative sentences in no uncertain terms; you never need to second-guess them; they eat, drink, laugh and burp like nobody’s watching; they can talk about football, golf, tennis and Bill Gates’ net worth for days on end; and they appreciate your cooking whether it’s good or not for as long as it’s edible. My husband is my eating partner; our marriage is strong and persevering – to my knowledge, at least – in spite of this column. The men in my life (i.e., husband, brothers, cousins, neighbors, driver, gardener and dog) always think that my articles are about them. There’s hardly a week when I don’t get a text that reads, "Were you writing about me?"
And so, to set the record straight, men are wonderful. And here are but a few of the reasons why:
1. Men are excellent travel companions; they put women last in line and always carry the luggage.
2. They are better at parallel parking and faster at changing flat tires.
3. Beside them, women will always look like dainty eaters.
4. They’re the best seatmates at spectator sport events.
5. Their thinking processes are less hampered by frivolity – i.e., what to wear, whom to be seen with – and are thereby quicker.
6. They do gossip, but not as an Olympic sport.
7. They stab each other in the back, not with words like women do, but with knives, so as to be done with the deed, and fast! Women conduct word wars that last for generations.
8. Nobody can look better than them in impeccably tailored trousers.
9. At strictly formal occasions, the best accessory to have is a man in a tuxedo.
10. There is nothing like a warm bear hug from a good man.
11. When an honest man says "I love you," time stops.
12. Jude Law, Orlando Bloom, Brad Pitt, Colin Firth, etc.
That should be quite sufficient to put anyone in a good mood and so to proceed with our main subject, the e-mail from Connecticut:
Men are like…
1. Laxatives – they irritate the crap out of you.
2. Weather – nothing can be done to change them.
3. Blenders – you need one but you’re not quite sure why.
4. Chocolate bars – sweet, smooth, and they usually head right for your hips.
5. Commercials – you can’t believe a word they say.
6. Department store sales – their clothes are always half-off.
7. Government Bonds – they take soooooooooo long to mature.
8. Mascara – they usually run at the first sign of emotion.
9. Popcorn – they satisfy you, but only for a little while.
10. Snowstorms – you never know when they’re coming, how many inches you’ll get, or how long it will last.
11. Lava lamps – fun to look at, but not very bright.
12. Parking spots – all the good ones are taken, the rest are handicapped.
And so the deed is done. It hopefully sets a good number of us off on that tension-releasing laughing spree. If for that alone, I am bound to endure even more scoffs from men who have no sense of humor; but having made just a handful of women laugh will have been well worth the exercise.
Cohen, a 35-year-old Brit, had already established a thriving career in England via the rapper persona Ali G. before landing on American shores to introduce his latest alter ego to the world, Borat Zagdijev. Cohen reportedly chose Kazakhstan specifically because of its geographical remoteness, which made crosschecking on the accuracy of his portrayal difficult and also for its economic incapacity to mount anticipated lawsuits against Cohen.
The highly educated Cohen is a Cambridge alumnus whose dissertation was about the Jews (he himself is Jewish). This often-mentioned fact somehow makes his antics less unacceptable to the viewing public.
What is fascinating about Cohen’s Borat character is that he says – no, trumpets – what we can only think. His racist haranguing of Jews comes across as extremely funny possibly because he is Jewish himself. Here’s a full-blooded Jew who has given anti-Semites their strongest voice yet. And Americans are loving him. They are lining up and paying to watch Borat and laughing their hearts out, clueless that the joke is on them. Borat shows the world that what foreigners love about America is their subculture of celebrity: Hollywood, in other words. Borat is making fun of America! Hello! And only Cohen seems to get the joke, while the rest of us continue paying to make him a millionaire many times over.
Borat, the movie, brings to light the supposed cultural practices of Kazakhstan. Herein lies much of the comedy. It is the unfamiliarity and seeming absurdity of it all – juxtaposed against Western ethnocentricity – that plagues all of us who look to the West for models of sophistication and protocol that come across as hysterical.
The movie begins in Kazakhstan, with Borat as journalist preparing for his journey to the USA, where his government has sent him to film a documentary on the cultural ways of America. In the US his misadventures are closely documented on camera, the format of which mimics American reality shows. It builds on scripted scene conceptualizations with Borat as the interviewer or main subject, running into freewheeling exchanges with real-life characters that he encounters along the road. What the viewers get are unscripted reactions from homegrown American nationals (rodeo aficionados, frat boys, conservatives, church-going Southerners, New York subway commuters, etc.)
Many of the scenes have nudity and employ toilet humor, the cringe-effect of which is intense. But the candidness and humor of their inception and innocence of the premise upon which the comedic situations are built cannot be denied.
Comedy is a most powerful form of social commentary. It takes the sharp edge off of outright exposition. The delivery of the message is made to happen in a light, spontaneous and funny way. Besides this, comedy’s power of recall is unparalleled. It may look easy, but in fact it may be one of the most intellectually demanding forms of entertainment because its success depends on its relevance to and resonance with real life. So go see Borat and have a raging good time!
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