Daniel Gingras

In the 550 words that follow, I will complain about “plumage.” I will focus my superpowers as a writer of commentary by complaining about the various obnoxious instruments of seduction you women are employing to attract men. By this, I mean clothing, accessories, makeup; things that as men we are completely in the dark about. But ignorance does not deny preference.

You have been warned.

Ladies, where does your inclination to bear large and hideous purses, which seem better suited to smuggling severed heads or transporting bowling balls, come from? If you actually produced from your poke a handle of Ketel One vodka or a chocolate cake, that would be a different story, and I would be enticed. Presently, they are either pointlessly vacant, or pointlessly loaded with a clutter of tampons, nail files and your 128-shade collection of multi-purpose lip-gloss. It is an embarrassing but true fact that men are often stuck carrying these abominations. We do not like lugging your useless crap in a big ugly sack. Put something in there for us to snack on or reward us with sexual favors in exchange for this effeminizing chore. Equally but oppositely frustrating is your tendency to carry handleless purses of such petite creation that no practical object will fit within them, and still they are barely too big to function as a wallet. As men, we know that the superior place to store all valuables that must be carried on your person is flush against the right buttock.

Ladies, why do you insist on cladding your feet in large pointy-toed shoes? In China women have gone to the trouble of binding their feet for centuries. Now you oppose their progress by employing shoes that make your feet more ogre-ly. We burned witches once in this country, and for your crimes in the name of seductive fashion, I would not hesitate to begin the burnings anew. And we know that your toes are not really shaped like that. You are not fooling anyone.

It is also doubtless these air pockets between where your toes really are and the false front of the shoes are conducive to your problematic foot odor. I spend my nights at dance clubs paralyzed in the constant fear that one among your witch pact will become over enthusiastic in dance, high kick and impale my unoffending eyeball upon the tip of her overpriced footwear.

And, to paraphrase the words of Marge Simpson, “the makeup gun is set on whore.” No matter where you are going for the evening, I assure you that they are not holding the tribal war paint contest that you appear to be painted for. Personally, I have bought lipstick, and I know that, among other things, it is overpriced. I have also worn makeup, and I will share with you the only reason for this that I can see fit: to hide the world’s most violently black and purple hickey.

I am so worked up at this point that I am not able to start in on the lunacy of your oversized sunglasses.

Ladies, what I do like is the lingerie. Thank you, Victoria’s Secret, for being the one constructive source in a female fashion world that is littered with foolhardiness.

For questions, comments, or to write Daniel an extremely angry email defending your ugly clothing, write to dgingras@calpoly.edu.

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