Ms. Paula's Wild Ride.

"Let me clear my throat…"

Eh-h-h-hem.

That's a Lutheran custom. It's used to express great displeasure and disdain. Had this been a true emergency of Biblical proportion, it would have been followed by a stern and orderly shuffling of feet.

This wasn't.

There won't be.

There is still a loud throat clearing. It wasn't expressing great displeasure though, so maybe I'm abusing my cultured powers of ire. Maybe I should just raise my hand.

…

…

Nobody's calling on me. Hmmm. How can I be heard if I don't know what's expected? I could wait here forever, suspended in anticipation. According to D360 Paula, that's tough. I should know. And if I don't know? Well this is her post, maybe she'll tell me.

Thanks Paula.

Actually, that's not sarcasm either. I mean it. Pensively proud Paula posted (damn! I just really wanted to say that!), "There now you know." except now I don't know. She filled her post with questions. How can I know? Now I'm less filled with answers than I was when I began to read pondering Paula's post.

"There's a hole in your bucket, dear Robby, dear Robby…"

Paula wanted express her stance on women's lib culture vs. cultural chivalry, or the cake and eat it too clause in gender relations. She also wanted men to grow up. She asked why she had to wear the pants and carry the balls to work while hubby stayed chained to the home, saving his Xbox from certain damnation. What happened to the good old days and knights?

Persistent Paula penned and panned man for not painting her in Penelope Trueheart fashion, complete with white picket fence. Me? My heart pumped a sad pitter-pat for poor Paula. It really did. Still, as she said, there are two sides. She gave her side, and I wanted to give mine.

Allow me to retort…

I've come to represent the league of Robby man-boys. I can't speak for all mandom--just the Robby man-boys. I do have insight to the questions that perplex you. I will do my best to impart it without making too big of a mess.

First I wish Posting Paula had proved precognizant and posted this a few weeks ago, when I could have answered confidently, "Hey! I have a job!" Now I'm dancing back and forth on the subject like I'm locked in a pee-pee dance. So excuse me while I hip-hop around this one for now.

Second I think posting Paula presents apples and oranges--or in her crate, Barbies and Kens. Both are plastic fetishes crafted in the image of the ideal, and yet both are missing all the important parts that individualize us. Gender generalizations rarely work. There are always too many exceptions.

Be patient Paula, I'll answer your questions. I'll tell you what to expect.

I'll tell you everything, even though you already know.

I'll tell you...tomorrow.

There! the fuzzy bunny slipper's on the other foot. How does it feel to have all the questions with only the 42 answer? Here, have the controller, try not to get Master Chief killed, I'm going to work. When I get back, everything will be revealed.

…ask me a bunch of questions with no answer! I'll show you...

Tomorrow…