Don — You’re a jerk!

Some folks just have a way with words.
As proof of my contention, I give you the People’s Evidence, Exhibit 1-A. It’s an e-mail from a reader, who really didn’t like when I opined on ‘The Women of The Chamber.?
The writer, a ‘she,? was in disagreement with just about everything I wrote regarding local chambers of commerce expending hard-to-come-by resources based solely on gender. Luckily, my sharply-honed ‘spidy-sense? was tingling so I donned my handy-dandy, thick-skinned Neanderthal suit, which enabled me to withstand the slings and arrows that were pitched in my general direction. (Try saying that in one breath, three times. Can you say run-on sentence?) I knew I was in for some verbal abuse as soon as I read the e-mail’s subject line.
Ah, hem, and I quote, ‘You’re a Jerk!?
* * *
Dear Bone Head,
I can see you are very lonely man.
It’s an obvious deduction by the subject matter of this week’s column; the majority of your column’s followers (or rather responders) are women. As my deductions go, we women are not waiting with baited breath by the mail box for your divine thoughts, observations and rantings. Life is beautiful, birds are signing, flowers need tending, lemonade is to be made, fireflies to catch, sprinklers to be danced in and hammocks that need to be swung.
I can only imagine you sitting at your desk, refreshing your ‘Check E-mail? button over and over ’til it hurts. Donny Boy needs some attention.
‘Ding? (your overhead light bulb illuminating), I’ll irritate the masses, undermine the progress women have fought tooth and nail for, criticize the present/future of women’s issues all the while hiding in the past in the safe distance of millions of years ago. Maybe then someone will give me some attention.
You’re a Bone Head and I have wasted too much writing this e-mail. I’m going back out to the pool. With all the love and affection a dim witted man like yourself deserves.
— Lynn Middleton
P.S. Yes, I have to admit by my own deductions you won, you got some attention. BUT, that doesn’t mean you are anywhere close to the vicinity of being right.
P.P.S. Could you see a Men’s Health Expo??? Oh yeah, three guys show up, only because each man’s wife forced him to. One has gangrene from toe to knee, one has oozing hives covering half his body and the last has a nail protruding out of his forehead. All three grouse to one another what nags women are for even SUGGESTING they have any health issues.
* * *
I was gonna? ask the Lynninator what she really thought, but being lonely, I wanted to check my e-mail one more time. When I clicked my ‘check e-mail? button for the gagillionth time that morning, I received another e-mail from the Divine Ms. Middleton.
In People’s Evidence, Exhibit 1-B. the subject line was changed, though only a little. It read, and I quote, ‘You’re a Jerk part deux?
I took it to mean she hadn’t e-mailed me back to apologize for overreacting, maybe offering to buy me lunch.
And, the mail reads:
P.P.P.S. – I’ve been informed by the men in my life that the three guys in my P.P.S. would never have gone to a doctor let alone an Expo with their ailments, they would have gone to the bar.
* * *
So now I ask, ‘Lynn, what’s your point?? The bar seems like a perfectly logical place to hold a men’s expo — wait a cotton-pickin? minute! Lynn, you’re a genius! We could sell tickets and fill the joint and make a buck in the process. I can recruit a couple of other Neanderthals to set up the details, and some chicks to be the beer-babes! Thanks, Lynn. Without you I never would have come up with this idea.
Does anybody else have a thought on this subject? E-mail Rush,

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