taking a shot at the XX-chromosome crowd. The poor dear just can’t seem to help himself. It’s like he’s compelled. Driven.
There, there, Stace. It’s going to be all right. Now how’s about you go kill a bison for me or somethin’?
These poor creatures are prisoners of their testosterone, you know. It’s not their fault.
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Now how’s about you go kill a bison for me or somethin’?
You’re gonna cook it up, right? no, no, better I do that. Men are naturally better at grilling things. Why don’t you run along and gather some nuts, berries and other fruits so we can have a proper feast? And the beer. Don’t forget the beer.
Hey! Why aren’t you barefoot and pregnant? sheesh, give ’em the vote and they get all uppity.
You ought to know that Stacy is just about as serious with that as I am when I tell my Linda Lou that I’m going to give her a fat lip.
You sometimes remind me of those who that Ralph Kramdem (the Jackie Gleason character) was a symbol of male violence whe he shouted “to the Moon, Alice!”, when in reality he would have no more hit her than Stace would demand that a woman act as his servant.
You know he loves the attention. 🙂
Now, Peter . . . did I sound serious?
Now there’s no reason to get all emotional about this. And I don’t want a cup of coffee, so don’t get up off the sofa on my account.
Say, are those bonbons you’re munching? While watching the soaps?
And don’t pretend you want a bison. We all know you’re gonna have the cup of soup and the pear half with cottage cheese.