Sunday, September 18, 2011

Fish Tank

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I don’t like girls.

Now that I said that, I can hear them go crazy : «Look, he's coming out. I knew it, single at 44, I told you something was wrong with this guy. He doesn’t like football, fast cars and silicone breasts. He doesn’t go hunting. Doesn’t smoke cigars and doesn’t show off his credit card at any given opportunity. If he’s not a queer, I don’t know who is. »

Sorry sweethearts, I despise men even more than I dislike you.

So, I was saying : I don’t like girls.

But it would be unwise to put them all in the same net, so to speak. There are nuances between them. Not social, racial, cultural or religious nuances, as one might think. Not even age differences. Girls can actually be found across generations.

To make things easier, let’s imagine them as fish. Let’s imagine a tank full of tunas, eels, sardines, shrimps and sirens.

Tunas are recognizable by their belly dripping out of their tight jeans. By their even tighter T-shirts. By their bleached hair and their long fingernails, often painted with unlikely colors. They dream of Brad Pitt but settle for a balding overweight schmuck, as long as he can pay the hairdresser’s bills.

Eels have a nicer body than their tuna cousins.
More elegant and more sensual. We can usually find them swirling around the wallet of rich tourists. But the true predators of the species can be seen firmly wrapped around the neck of young fools, heirs of old fools, ensuring a warm and cozy nest for their offspring. A nest of future eels and future fools.

Sardines are the fish tank’s main population. Colorless and tasteless, they act like nuns or artists, depending on their parents’ bank account. The poor have short nails and dress like boys, the rich have dirty nails and dress like gypsies. They claim to be driven by a generous ideal, charitable, left wing and third world friendly. But their real ambition is a world shaped like a box of sardines.

Shrimps are the cutest. They are found at leisure in bars, pubs, nightclubs or any kind of drinking establishment. They sway their hips, hoping to attract a male. Their aim is to become Samantha Jones, but only manage to look like her X-rated gonzo version. They have the same life purpose as tunas and eels : lay eggs and never pay rent.

Sirens are the hottest, the sexiest. They have the beauty of a woman, and the slime of a fish. They can be very deceiving as long as they manage to hide their true nature. But when the veil is lifted, we come face to face with their inner protruding ugliness, more hideous than Karl Malden's nose. Sirens usually leave behind a trail of broken, shipwrecked imbeciles. With a one way ticket to the nearest dingy bar. Or to a monastery in the remote mountains of Greece.

I really don’t like girls.

I don’t like girls because I love women. I don’t like girls because they are the opposite of women.

Not only the opposite, but the enemy, the nemesis of women.

Girls are men with vaginas. As useless, as mediocre and as uninteresting. Imagine if they take over. Imagine the world crawling with men. Men with penises and men with vaginas. Copulating and multiplying. Giving birth to a multitude of baby men. It will be a world deprived of grace, beauty, tolerance and compassion.

A world without women. A world without the most incredible and most perfect creation of nature.

Nature, the primal woman.

Womanhood is not about mere gender, it’s a way of life, a state of grace.

Even some men can sometimes reach it. Artists, inventors, creators, writers, and all those who are not afraid to tap into what they hold most dear and most sacred : the woman inside all of us.

We shouldn’t delude ourselves, the woman inside is what’s best in us. It’s the muse poets talk about.

Anyway, I have to run now. There’s a ferocious crowd, half men, half fish, seeking to lynch me.

Quickly, the fire exit !

© Claude El Khal, 2011