Believe me, dear friends,
To maintain a woman, happy of course, is tiring labour:
She must be fed, bathed, dried, creamed,
She needs flowers, rings, diamonds, dresses; She demands time.
You may be of simple nature, perhaps to your advantage,
But aren't women's commodities expensive, time extensive?
And is not time money, and money laboursome to procure, and labour, straining -- on our feet, back, hands, head?
Must I advise you, as if, you have not already known, that excess stress and physical straining is defective to our health?
We have a single body and as such nature has designed us to work accordingly within its limitations.
Prey tell, is it not malignant to our longevity to carry on our shoulders an aching head, heavy breasts, black heart, to hear unnecessary crying,
not to tinkle freely?
But mother nature shall have it so.
After all, Darwin called it survival of the fittest, and I'll be damned if women shan't bury us.
Venison never cleans up its hunter's left overs, rest assured.
We men do not need women.
We men have eachother -- a brotherhood.
Sure, sure a vessel will carry us across the sea but what good is it on land?
Do not look at me thus suspiciously! Is what I say not the truth?
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