World War III isn't going to be between the United States and Russia or the Middle East; it's going to be between men and women.
And it won't be fought with guns and bombs, because women are too smart for that. Instead they'll try to starve us to death because they know that although men can feed 300 hundred cows or 50,000 steers every day, we can't even fix our own lunch.
The biggest battles will be fought in Congress and courtrooms, boardrooms and bedrooms, and the only political parties will be the Ladycrats and the Republimans. The first volley in this war was fired by Michelle Obama at a Chicago battlefield, where she called men "self-righteous" and "entitled." She also said men are babied and women have to protect them.
Men, those are fighting words!
I don't know why women suddenly hate men, but I blame the women's magazines that have been engaged in a propaganda campaign against men for years. I know this because I wait in a lot of doctor's offices, and when I want to read something while I wait the mandatory hour-and-a-half, all I can find are women's magazines. There's never a Sports Illustrated or Popular Mechanics to be found.
So, I'm forced to read women's magazines with stories about retaining water and how all women's problems begin with men: MENtal illness, MENopause, and MENstrual cramps. That's why instead of cars and sports men are now into spas, vegan diets, ear jewelry, psychoanalysis, Zen gardens, sissy salads, man purses, cleansings, pied à terres (whatever that is) and manicures (which should be called womanicures).
Facebook isn't helping, either.
The male/female relationship used to be a beautiful thing: A hard-working and fairly decent guy would see a pretty gal at the gas station, he'd say something corny, she'd laugh and before you knew it they were married with three kids. Men put women on a pedestal, mowed the lawn and brought home enough money to live on.
If my wife wanted to work outside the home for 30 years, that was all right with me. We could use the dough. I thought it was a great formula and it certainly worked for us, but now traditional marriage is a thing of the past – 26-year-old guys are still living with Mother, and so-called men in the bedroom are like lions and tigers – they only come around at breeding time.
Women are trying to soften up their foe by turning males into a bunch of sissy poetry professors. For as long as I can remember, women insisted they preferred the strong and silent type, but now men are finding out it's only because they thought we were listening to them. (Men, just fake it if you have to.)
Today's woman would rather live with another female or a dog than they would a man – and every time I hear about a male mass murderer or a nasty movie producer, I can't say as I blame them. But there have to be some good guys left besides me who are handsome, charming, wealthy, witty, virtuous, sensitive and strong – don't there?
There are only a few manly professions left from which we can draft our army for this war. Volunteering will be farmers, ranchers, welders, heavy equipment operators, oilfield roustabouts, pumpers and drillers, roofers, fishermen, soldiers, firemen, machinists, septic tank drivers and lumbermen (both of them).
I used to think automotive mechanics would be with us, but I recently met a mechanic with a ponytail, earrings and fingernails painted black. (Although, it could have just been grease.) I thought truck drivers would join us too, but the last time I ate at the truck stop I saw a long hauler get out of his cab wearing pedal pushers. How appropriate!
The trucker ate at a table instead of the counter and ordered a quiche; what's worse, the truck stop had it!
My fellow males, the time has come to man up and win this war. Buy a Harley, kill your own food, play poker every Thursday, pee on some tires, belch when you want, forget a birthday or anniversary, throw all your shoes away except for two pairs and, for heaven's sake, start acting like a man, because it drives women crazy. The future of MANkind depends on it.
The views and opinions expressed in this column are those of the author and not necessarily those of Farm World. Readers may log on to www.LeePittsbooks.com to order any of Lee Pitts’ books. Those with questions or comments for Lee may write to him in care of this publication.