Wednesday, March 6, 2013

The Hate Connection

Santa Monica, California must be the Pretty Woman capital of the World.

In the business park where I have been toiling lately there are literally hundreds of women of all shapes, sizes, colors and creeds. Fortunately, perhaps because my office is in such close proximity to, most, if not all, of these women are fond of the high heel shoe.

These shoes cannot be easy to walk in.

So on behalf of all the men in the business park, let me just say your efforts are highly appreciated. I read a NY Times article that documented how the high heel shoe alters a woman's posture which can in turn trigger certain mating responses in the male counterpart.

In other words, it's all about the hard wiring. And you can sense this Tsunami of Testosterone as soon as the lunch bell rings and the courtyard starts filling up with potential courtships.

I bring this up because last week on a mid-afternoon walk across the street to the coffee shop I caught the attention of three stunning women.

Mind you, I'm a spoken-for, married guy with a head full of places where hair used to live. And a waistline that belies my constant working out and mass consumption of protein. In short, I'm way past my prime.

So these thoroughly welcome smiles were completely unprovoked. They came my way by no dint of my own. Not surprisingly, they put an unexpected lilt in my step.

And that's what got me thinking about life in the Arab/Muslim world.

Imagine an entire culture predicated upon repressed sexuality. It's bad enough that we have states in the Bible Belt that believe you can Pray Away the Gay. But from burqa-clad Eastern Africa to the tip of Indonesia, you have hundreds of millions of women who may be initiating smiles and hundreds of millions of men who will never be on the receiving end of those smiles.

Is it any wonder we are treated to a 24-hour news cycle of angry Arab/Muslim men bombing mosques, shooting at each other and ready to strike out at anything that moves?

I once went with my wife to shop for curtains. I lasted five minutes before I retreated to the car for a nap.

If I lived in a sausage-world like these young jihadis and I were forced to mute my manly instincts and look at curtains morning, noon and night, I could be talked into flying a plane into a building.

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