Ah me. This is hardly what I thought would be mah first post-Lent post.
I jes' left a comment at Moi's post on no women at Augusta /Master's that may raise an eyebrow, 'specially Moi's. Why, I'se surprised a wee bit to find mahself on the opposite end of the thang.
I ain't intendin' to be controversial or antidiluvian, but does any of y'all think thar' oughta be someplace left whar' menfolks can congregate, affilate, an' cogitate wif'out it bein' a sign of MC rather than PC, or meanin' anythang anti-woman or anti-21st century?
This heah story be a true account of a local situation.
Thar used to be a local club fer gentlemen who wuz alumni of universities (mainly Southern). "Used to be" is the operative point. What caused its demise? Women.
Pushy, demadinin,' pouty, brassy women. No woman I knowed would have dreamed of applyin' professional pressure to force this club to open itself to women members. The ladies I knows were whoopy happy to have a polished atmosphere, female-free, fer their menfolk to enjoy.
BWM (Before women members) this club loved ladies, an' it showed. The staff (all male) treated the wives of members like royalty. One Friday per month a magnificent dinner was offered to which ladies were invited as special guests--and oh! --The flowers, the music, the civility of it all is sorely missed.
BWM, menfolk had a place to workout that ain't a coed meat shop.
BWM, menfolk had lounge whar' an after work drink could be had in a relaxed decent environment--minus the prowlin' cheetahs.
BWM, menfolks had a place to get a shave an a haircut, have their ears/ noses trimmed wif'out women present--'cause barbershops have all been invaded.
BWM, fellas had their yearly Snuff Smith Poker Tournament.
BWM, the menfolk who did enormous thangs fer this community could identify a public need an' tend to it forthrightly, no fundraisers, no taxes, no payola.
BWM, disputes among menfolk could be settled privately --no wives or secretaries need be witness to such unpleasantness.
BWM, a fella had a place to take a nap if he needed to escape his office fer an hour or two wif'out the long trek to the suburbs.
BWM, wives were 97.5 % pleased to have their spouses spend 4-10 hours per week at the Association's clubhouse. It was a healthy outlet where men could enjoy camaraderie an' boys became men under the tutelage of elder gents.
Then came Ms.
She insisted that, as a partner in her law firm, she WOULD be a member of the Gentleman's Alumni Association.
Because, by George Sand, unless SHE could, no male member of the law firm
could remain in the Association.
Other women in upper management an' professional positions took up the ugly stick to beat the tar-baby outa the menfolks. It became a Big Deal in the local newsrag (now bought by a Chicago coven). Pressure was applied by all the public agencies (many wif' a Ms at the top rung) to Association members who held any sort of contract wif' any public entity. If yore engineerin' firm did bidness wif' the city, the city demanded you "sponsor" a Ms. as a new member. If yore company sold fertilizer fer the city golf course, then the city said it would sign wif' another dung seller unless ya' took Ms members down at that club yore execs belong to, now doan'cha know?
Lemme spare y'all the long sad tale. The result? Yep, the Ms.ery won membership. Is they happy? (is any fishwife evah happy?)
Soon the gym had only wimmen in it. The barber left on day 2 of the Ms. arrival. By year's end fewer an' fewer men would stop in fer a cocktail. The lounge wuz filled wif' lipsticked piranhas frothing a deal, a scheme, or trollin' fer well-fixed man.
Next, the predictable: Wives at home said, "It's time to leave, Dear." When it be all male, no wife worriet about a fella bein' tempted to mischief.
Bet'cha guessed the fate of the place, huh? Now it is the sad run down province of Ms. Matador an' her wannabe junior execs in tow. The onliest fellas that still belong are "progressives" needin' to prove how open-minded they is. An' even them fellas pay dues, but not respect. They doan go thar' now either. It jes' ain't fun no more. Why, I heered tell it ain't even civil no more. Who'd evah think that the addition of women would coarsen a place? But it did--ya' know, tough talkin' wimmen who need to prove they can swear good as any rapper an' hold more likker too. Besides which, very little bidness is conducted thar' anymore--an' wuzn't that the whole reason them wimmen execs claimed they's needin' to be thar'? To have equal access to the movin' an' shakin' ? Onliest movin' these days is ole' staff who done took their early retirement an moved on--they cain't stand the new atmosphere.
I'se jes' wonderin', is thar' any structured place whar' menfolk can git together fer the express purpose of bein' menfolk together? Whar' it ain't against wimmen, jes' for men?
I'se sad 'bout this--it ain't the most serious thang to discuss--people still starve in this city, after all. An' we's facin' a crucial election this year--oh, thar' be many a more weighty topic. Mebbe.
On second thought, we's lost far more than male clubs when Ms. came dinner.