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He Said, She Said: Pick-up lines and aliens: Both are frustrating
Sunday, December 03, 2000 By L. Wayne Moss and Donna and Eve Shavatt
Men and women through the ages,
Have had opposing points of view.
HE said this...SHE said that,
Which one works for YOU?
He Said-She Said, a male-vs.-female point of view, appears weekly in Washington Sunday.
He said ... I was at a party late one night making small conversation with a little blonde who was sporting a long ponytail and eyeglasses that reminded me of two big blank computer screens. I had started out on second base with her, waxing poetic about the stars being jealous of her eyes and how the power of moonlight had its effect on ancient desires. I pointed out some constellations, then cleverly switched the conversation to astrology. Rounding second base, I correctly guessed her birth sign, then I began to tell her of one particular heavenly body I was interested in ...
To my surprise, she deftly switched the conversation into astronomy. Then, before I knew what hit me, she was into cosmology. Of course, I was losing ground because in the face of quasars, pulsars and black holes, the "Big Bang" was going to be out of the question. I was clueless.
So I got us two more drinks and slowly switched the talk to extraterrestrial intelligence.
I could be safe here, I thought, because no one knows anything about aliens except Capt. Kirk. She'd fumble and I could easily get off this boring stuff and tell her all about my boat, my new Harley and my 401(k) plan.
But she wouldn't let it go; she kept hitting on the drivel like crop circles and cattle mutilations. She was getting passionate about ancient astronauts building the pyramids, Stonehenge and Easter Island. Her eyes flashed as she asked: "Who do you think built these things?"
"Men," I answered. "Men just like me. Men planned them, men cut the stones and men hauled them into place. Now men sell tickets to look at them." Then she said something about being male chauvinist, and I said something about the futility of arguing with a blonde who went to a college that has the word "community" in its title.
Uh-oh. Runner stumbles. Tagged out. Game over.
But really, what are these young people learning in school? And do they actually believe our government is smart enough to successfully hide advanced alien spaceships?
C'mon, think about it: This is the same government that sets forest on fire in the Southwest. And then they had to organize a committee to figure out what happened. Those stooges couldn't cover up a $20 crap game. And look at NASA -- they have the cream of the rocket-scientist crop and they're out there losing more probes than a drunken proctologist.
And even if super intelligent life existed out there, why would they bother with us? We'd be considered the low-rent, high-crime borough of the galaxy. I can imagine a couple of aliens sitting in the Milky Way Bar 'n' Grill, sipping cosmic coladas and getting bored: "Hey Grok, what's say we climb in the star cruiser, fly halfway across the galaxy, and do some doughnuts in a wheat field and then tip over some cows?"
Anyway, there are three truthful arguments I came home alone with that night:
First: If you want to get to third base with a cute young woman, don't let the talk turn to arguing.
Second: When arguing, never use the B-word as a noun, only as a verb.
Third: Well, I guess I was never really on second base in the first place.
L. Wayne Moss can be reached by e-mail at wmoss@mlynk.com.
She said ... First: Your shallow, disrespectful description of the cute young blonde's eyewear doesn't seem to interfere with your obvious desire to remove them, among other things.
Second: How typical -- This articulate young woman simply wanted to carry on an intelligent conversation, but all you could think about was -- well, we all know what you think about.
And third: You've deluded yourself into thinking you're halfway around the field when, in fact, you never picked up the bat.
Anyway, extraterrestrial intelligence may be a relative term. The male of the species could, out of necessity, be compelled to travel to the end of the universe looking for new prey who might, at last, fall for their pathetic lines. Or is it the female who would gladly galaxy hop just to escape them?
There are many unexplained phenomena (not the least of which is that you men really think your pick-up lines will work). Sightings of UFOs abound. Think about all the reports, the similarities of the descriptions, the alleged abductions. We've come to the conclusion that if they do exist, then the male of the species must pilot these spaceships:
* By all accounts, they drive fast, with rapid, jerky movements. And they never stop to ask directions.
* They end up in the desert, then act as if that's where they wanted to go in the first place.
* They don't seem to have much to say, but they sure don't mind poking and prodding their abductees.
* They wear boring, drab gray clothing.
* They're bald.
The alleged UFO crash at Roswell, N.M., in 1947 further supports this conclusion.
Some hotshot alien dude was cruising the cosmos driving recklessly, showing off for his new main squeeze, when he tipped his molecular margarita all over the instrument panel. In a mad lunge to save what was left of it, he lost control of the ship and they crashed.
Our government officials (all men) recovered the alien bodies and performed intricate, extensive autopsies on them. They issued press statements admitting to the existence of the aliens, then suddenly retracted their statements the next day.
Why would they do this? The result of the autopsies revealed that the female of the species had 5,000 times the brain capacity of the male and were superior in every way. Hence the need for a cover-up.
True, our government officials are no Einsteins, but somehow when it comes to the ability to keep the fairer sex suppressed, they excel.
Then they fabricated a terribly clever story for the next day. Weather balloons, my foot. A prime example of the intergalactic good-ol'-boys network in action. Can't let those findings surface on Earth.
Can you just imagine the furtive whispers of the men as they pondered what would happen to their cushy roles in this world if the word ever got out? Doubt you'd find a man wanting to phone home or be beamed up to a galaxy full of females who outrank them.
Meanwhile, in a bar on planet Zoewar, Grok leans over and whispers into the antenna of a cute, young alienette. "So are your external extremities fatigued, 'cause they've been transporting through my gray matter all day!" Apparently, bad pick-up lines from the male species are universal.
Donna and Eve Shavatt can be reached by e-mail at dshavatt@aol.com.
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