At Least They're Committed

I can’t get it out! It’s stuck! “That ain’t no way to treat a lady, no way to treat your baby, your woman your friend. That ain’t no way to treat a lady no way. But maybe it’s a way for us to end.” Is that a double negative or a triple negative and if so does that mean it’s OK to treat her that way or not? Really. How on Earth did that loathsome song get stuck in my head? It was Helen Reddy’s follow-up to “I Am Woman,” and it always struck me — even as a 13-year-old — as horribly wrong on many, many levels. First of all, the grammar. Oh my God! Ladies do not say, “That ain’t no way.” He should beat the shit out of her, no, I’ll beat the shit out of her for talking in such a way.

Secondly, what’s it going to be bitch? You just said “I am woman, hear me roar,” aka I am your equal, and now you’re saying, “How dare you treat me like that! I’m a lady!” Typical.

So why, why, why . . . . think, think, think. Oh, yeeeeaaaaah, people wanting it both ways. Funny how the brain circles around. “Well, we’re this so treat us like this! Unless it works to our advantage to be otherwise, then, by GOD don’t you dare!” I could have bitched about that for another hour and I got the feeling you could have, too. And as I was looking at you during the whole bitch fest it occurred to me that as far as superhero powers are concerned it’s a damn good thing that you can’t read my mind . . . because that would be awkward. And if you actually were to read this, that will stick in your mind and it will be awkward, but only for you because I won’t know any better and I might in truth only be thinking of playing horseshoes, the merits or lack thereof of Steinbeck, or pondering why Lola Montez, an Irishwoman, passed herself off as a Spanish dancer. HAND!