Drunk Like a Fox

I attended a number of parties and bars this weekend and I found the number of women who wantonly threw themselves at me in a drunken stupor to be appalling — among other things. Women can handle their liquor about as well as a paper towel, and the second they consume it, they default to ranting, stumbling, harlots with a two second fuse for erupting into hysterics.

Of course, the only difference between this drunken women and a sober one is that this one will actually put out. It’s just a matter of when. Before or after she passes out.

Women’s entire lives revolve around excuses for behaving badly. PMS, pregnancy, crappy brains soaked with romantic chauvinistic delusions that they willingly embrace at every opportunity. They’re all the goddamn same. With that mindset, alcohol is like a magical giving tree that keeps on giving. If a woman feels like letting her guard and her hair down — and by both of those I mean her drawers; she turns to her best friend: Schnapps. Peach, peppermint or Danish; she loves them all. And when she does, she gives herself a golden ticket into Willy Wonka’s magical wonderland of behaving fucking terribly and “not remembering” any of it the next day.

Women’s memories are funny like that. They don’t work at all regularly, but then for some reason when alcohol is involved they work even less. I don’t know how they distinguish between the two, but I’d be willing to bet a high degree of horseshit is involved — just like it always is when women open their mouths. And I am a betting man after all — just like all men.

Men, completely unlike women, handle alcohol just like they handle everything else in life: with total class and respect.

Men do not guzzle alcohol down one sugar loaded alco-drink at a time and then throw themselves at our father-issues like a wet rag doll. We use alcohol to relax, we use it to bond, and we use it to pioneer. That’s why we discovered alcohol in the first place. To do all that shit that I just said. And that’s right, I did say pioneer. Let me give an example.

See, when sober, even men might not think that something like shaving a cat is funny — possibly due to some kind of social something or other. I don’t know what the word for it is, because it’s total bullshit and I don’t like filling my brain with such things. That’s where alcohol comes in. When properly inebriated, men will discover that not only is shaving a cat funny, but it is hilariously funny. It’s a joke that keeps on giving. Men’s instincts are right and true, and alcohol let’s us think with them unobstructed by incidentalous shit. And if I may be frank, there’s nothing more beautiful than naked man instinct.

Still not convinced? Ask yourself this. Without alcohol would any man have ever thought, I wonder if moldy bread will cure syphilis; I wonder if rolled cotton infused with carbon can conduct and sustain an operating temperature of over 2000 degrees; I wonder if the moon is all it’s cracked up to be.

The answer is ‘Yes’, but it probably would have taken a lot longer.

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