It is far easier, I think, being a male in this world than a female. That I am spared the tremendous amount of frankly frightening realities of femality is a relief to me. The physical realities, such as menstruation, child birth, and menopause, are the obvious ones.
From the outset, it must be understood that any notion of progress is a subjective one. Progress is perceived movement from one perceived status to another perceived status, where the perceiver considers the final status to be more desirable than the original.
The things that one puts into one’s body is, in my opinion, a matter that is taken all too lightly by many, many people. Even those who are conscious of the importance of knowing what they eat are often not aware of the ingredients that compose their food when they eat at restaurants, or when they purchase packaged food at a grocery store.
When a person asks another how the latter is, or how he or she is doing (which is, by the way, a greeting in essence; not a literal question), it is commonplace for the recipient to respond with, among other options, “good” or “well.”
I saw a bumper sticker that said, “If you’re not outraged then you’re not paying attention.” I could not agree more, especially as it relates to driving a motor vehicle. A 30-minute cruise down any major highway (and certainly no less on interior roads) is bursting at the seams with instances of legal infractions. Everywhere you look, people are breaking traffic laws.
For quite some time, I have been frustrated when attempting to microwave something for half a minute. Instead of entering the cook time as 30 seconds, which would be half a minute, I am consistently inclined to enter 50 seconds. This is because I automatically interpret 1 minute as being composed of 100 units rather than 60.
For those who don’t know, circumcision is the removal of the foreskin from the shaft of the penis, at least as it relates to males. Female circumcision, otherwise known as clitorodotomy, is a wholly abhorrent practice, but well outside my current frame of knowledge, so I will not discuss it further.
Any trip to a museum of modern art can cause one to wonder what constitutes art. It is certainly not an infrequent thing to hear such remarks as, “That’s just three blue circles on a white canvass. That’s not art.” Or, “That’s just a box of tissues glued to a chair.
