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« The trips we never take, the effort we never make | Main | The poor we will always have with us, if the Republicans have anything to say about it »

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blue girl

Really great post Mr. Mannion!

I'm not in the demographic either, because I do not understand why just reading the words "sexual power" would make you queasy. Really. I can't relate to that at all.

I have to ponder this post. Will comment more later.

Campaspe

Books like that and reviews like that are why I keep reading poetry and 19th-century novels.

coturnix

Oh, but those are just the kinds of book reviews I write!

Amanda

I think for women it's a different thing because we are saddled with so much unnecessary shame about these things that the simple act of discovering we aren't the only ones with such secrets is a monumental relief.

Kevin Wolf

Excellent dissection.

You had to go and mention Robertson Davies, reminding me to add him to my list of authors and books I would like to get to. I'd rather think about those than about the many books I'm not interested in.

Shakespeare's Sister

There are things women don't like to admit to each other, those dark little details and shameful episodes that we hide from the world like unsightly patches of body hair.

I've had the same best girlfriends I've had since I was 11; there's no admitting anything, because we've all witnessed each other acting like total assholes. In fact, one of our favorite things to do when we all get together is torment each other mercilessly about our most embarrassing moments. "Remember when...?" followed by some hideous thing we'd rather forget, followed by BWAH HA HA HA! And round and round it goes. Nowadays, two of the four of us are even likely to hear, "Remember when you married that idiot? What was THAT all about? BWAH HA HA HA!" It never changes. No shame; only amusement.

And I'm pretty sure they've seen all my body hair, since friendships old enough to vote (and then some) mean you had gym class together, too.

mrs. norman maine

I'm with S.S. I can't imagine keeping trying to keep my foibles and psycho chick moments -- though I'm well past 17, the hits just keep on coming -- from my close friends.

Quite the opposite: just about the only thing that keeps me from sinking into despair after some wretched incident is the anticipation of turning it into a good joke on myself and entertaining one of my sisters of mercy with the tale.


Exiled in NJ

I am not going to jump into this briar patch, but I am amazed with SS' last comment. That is exactly what my men friends do, or did when we were younger, and I am of the male persuasion.

Cruising one day, we saw cows in a field and Ralph nodded his head and said, "Look Jake, buffalo!" "Nah, Ralphie, they are cows." "No they're buffalo." and thus was born the legend of Buffalo Brunansky. He never heard the end of it. Men pick up some foible from each other's idiotic past and never let it be forgotten again, or at least until the subject does something even stupider.

mrs. norman maine

This has nothing to do with anything, Lance, but your trapped-on-an-island scenario reminds me of a British commercial I saw once and which cracks me up every time I think about it (prompted by New Yorker cartoons, et. al.)

It's the usual ravaged guy on the usual circle of sand w/ obligatory pair of coconut trees. Suddenly he spots a crate floating by, but can't quite reach it from shore. So he hacks down one of the trees, uses ot to fish out the crate, and sits under the remaining tree to open the crate.

Inside? A hammock.

The Green Knight

This is why I hate the show "Sex and the City." Again, a group of thirty-something women acting like spoiled teenagers. Ptooey.

Vern Akular

How do you tell a glossy positive review that is from the heart and from one that is a two bit commercial?

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