Well, the ridiculous debate over who’s funnier – men or women – is trending all over the Internet again. I’m quite sure this competition goes back to caveman days when one guy would club another in the balls, igniting guffaws amongst the other dudes and polite chuckles from the ladies – survival chuckles, if you will, so the men would just get the hell out of the cave already and kill some damn dinner – at which point the chicks would crack themselves up with sophisticated (for the times anyway), observational humor at the expense of their Neanderthal husbands.
Ah, plus ca change…
Anyway, if you distill all the studies, it seems men are just funnier to other men — even though they are, ironically and pathetically, mostly using humor to get laid.
If you ask me, of any group, gay men are more naturally amusing than anyone – at the other end of the spectrum being the Lutheran choir director.
Now, I’d like to bring up a premise that I fear will be much harder to prove, but I believe has merit – at least as it pertains to me personally.
Women know as much about sports as men.
I know, sounds crazy, but let me rephrase a bit: Women who do know about sports are often more knowledgeable than their Y chromosome-bearing counterparts.
I’ve got no hard data to back this up – just years of experience – but I can tell you I am sick of hearing: “Wow, you really do know a lot about football.”
Actually, I kind of love hearing it, even though it’s a slam to my gender.
I cannot tell you how many dudes I have taken down (and as an all-too-often unpleasant side effect – turned on) with my football prowess. And though I admittedly know the most about my beloved Packers, I also know the game inside out, and keep up on all the teams – to the point of winning a Chicago Bears trivia contest (know your enemy!).
Just yesterday at our friendly neighborhood video store, I felled three male Bears fans single-handedly – torching one cocky dude for mixing up Vince Lombardi with Curly Lambeau and smoking another for having zero knowledge of Jay Cutler’s QB stats.
A few weeks ago my unsuspecting victims were two pumped up young guys decked out in authentic NFL jerseys. Mistakenly assuming I was sporting my Clay Matthews attire because I “loved his hair” or thought his “butt was cute”, they stepped into a heap of statistical whoop ass in a Packer-Bear offensive strategy debate.
It got so bad at one point that the friend, who had long since surrendered, was begging his buddy to give up, oozing an air of desperation that rivaled that of a reluctant sidekick in a botched robbery.
“Yo, step off! You’re making a fool of yourself, bro.” (Nervously looks around.) “She knows her shit.”
That one was a little tougher than the video store victory, but the ending was even sweeter as the six-foot-plus Bears fan shook my hand on the way out, shaken and jittery, muttering “Hey, go Pack, unless you’re playing us.”
For one of my proudest moments, we need to travel back in time to the 1980s when, in a nightclub, the innocent, interception-prone Mike Tomczak, (Bears quarterback at the time) walked into my web, offered to buy me a drink, then eventually fled our conversation, confidence shaken, admitting his team was ill-prepared for Sunday’s game against the Pack.
SACK! KERPLAT! OOF!
So, as Faye Dunaway articulated so well in Mommy Dearest – “Don’t f#@k with me, fellas.”
And hey — go Pack!