Killing Me Softly
Since the beginning of time, man has sought to cheat death by doing the dirty deed himself. Yes, that’s right. I’m talking about suicide.
While I don’t personally think suicide is the way to go, I understand the mantality of it — a mantality that can be expressed as simply as, “That’ll show the bastard.” It’s the way we men have lived and loved since Mother Earth felt her first Five Across the Eyes in the form of plowshare and a patch of turnips.
“Herd be damned,” said primitave man. “Because of my mighty mangenuity, this is where I’m living from now on. Right where I planted these turnips. And if I so chose, this is where I’ll be dying, by lifting a massive boulder and then dropping it on my head.”
You have to respect that.
Men are four times more likely to successfully commit suicide than women.
Women are three times more likely to unsuccessfully attempt suicide than men.
Typical. Of course you could replace the word “suicide” in the above text with absolutely whatever the fuck you wanted and it would still be accurate.
Men are four times more likely to successfully commit to a monogamous relationship than women.
Women are three times more likely to unsuccessfully attempt to balance a family and a career — or a simple fucking checkbook — than men.
We all knew where that was going. Men get the job done, plain and simple. Be it for reasons of gambling debts, desperate loneliness, or simple oldness; men know how to do everything with their lives, including end them, while women just know how to fill out credit card applications, adopt another cat, or keep draining the system until it’s as dry as they are — respectively.
So why are the success rates so wildly different? It seems obvious, that women who overdose on pills or try to tip a vending machine on top of themselves are just crying for attention, but is that the case? Maybe, but what if it’s something else?
What if women just don’t know how the body works. Here’s an example: if you ask a man how to get in shape every single one will tell you the exact same thing, “Eat less, exercise more.” It’s the miracle diet that has kept men in their primes for thousands of years. Ask a woman the same question, however, and you’re likely to hear some fancy sounding bullshit.
“Resolve your emotional issues with your mother by taking a class at the learning annex.” Wherein she means snacking on Doritos in the back of a Religious Studies seminar whilst learning about the prevalence of angels and fairies and other mystical shit.
“Carbs are the devil.” Right. Too bad we’ll never know what the effect of a woman not gorging herself on carbs is; seeing as how none of them can keep the fucking sugar loaded coffee drinks and snack foods out of their gaping maws.
And then comes the mother of all fitness fuck ups: “Yoga”.
My point is, women are so lousy at suicide because they actually don’t know how the fuck the human body works. It seems simple enough to us men; put a bullet in the brain and it stops working, however, the same principle of put a donut in your gut and it gets bigger is completely lost on women. They just don’t understand cause and effect like us men do.
Then again, maybe it’s a little of both: attention whoring mixed with women and their rampant dumbness. There’s only one thing we know for sure, and that’s no man has ever killed himself while he was pregnant. Sadly, the same can’t be said for women.
