Weak is a relative term. When it comes to constructing a house, a flower is weaker than a brick. On the grace of fragrance, the rose is the stronger by far.

Men and women are similarly equal but different. Our brains and bodies demostrate commonalities seasoned with unique talents. That’s a good thing. Contrast seeds balance and thus advancement.

We live in a time where the word “diversity” is nothing more than a hollow progressive slogan licensing deviance and division. True diversity would find culturists celebrating gender differences and strengths.

In that weirdness and wisdom seldom sprout in the same space, left-winded Asheville comes up short on the latter. One manifestation is the wacky notion liberating women requires they become like men.

When did dumbing down become a measure of progress?

The result is a culture mass-producing almost as many angry women as immature men. That’s not a good thing – no matter what kind of wee-wee one sports.

A chance encounter

On a recent morning jog, I came upon a female pedestrian about 12 feet to my left. As I passed, her head turned. She followed-up with a “look of death” and enthusiastically projected middle-finger.

I found myself laughing at the combo and returned a salutation of “Bless you, girl!” She was not pleased, and doubled-down with a diatribe on the hopes I get COVID, die, and burn in Hell forever – or something thereabouts.

I offered no reciprocation beyond the suggestion, “You might want to get on top of that anger, it will eat you up.” Further animosities marked my unsuccessful conciliation. I kept my run, recognizing I’d just encountered yet another of Asheville’s growing army of crazy cat ladies.

Release the kraken

Crazy cat ladies do not necessarily own cats. What they do own is a license to indulge their anger, opinions and behavior without expectation of consequence.

Anger is their bedrock. They slurp it up like catnip and unleash it like a residual hairball.

The problem for all such mad people is that anger and depression mate like peanut butter and jelly. Over time, those who thus indulge find themselves increasingly unhappy. That requires additional anger for distraction and, well, the cycle repeats itself into an ever-darker corner.

Cats are cool — crazy 

cat ladies are miserable 

I like cats almost as much as dogs. Dogs teach us how to receive love. Cats are special because they teach us how to give love.

Crazy cat ladies have little to do with either.

That’s because crazy cat ladies are sad ladies and often take up the mission of making everyone around them miserable, too.

Anyone believing we need more critical, negative, hateful, self-absorbed or mean-spirited voices, please raise your hand.

A special mission

Crazy cat ladies matter because their spiral diverts them from a very important charge – civilizing our world.

Whether it’s bringing balance, beauty, warmth or an irreplaceable angle of view, women have a vital capacity for making our hard world a little softer.

Lest we forget, there’s also that minor additional civilizing contribution of creating, birthing and nourishing the species.

How’d we get here?

In attempting to balance the equality equation, our society predictably swung from one extreme to another. We’ve swapped disparity for entitlement, suppression for promiscuity and courage for rage.

Ironically, much of this current social folly can be tracked to two things that were supposed to liberate women – the pill and abortion. There’s no argument that both have worked, but to what end? Mostly. it’s boys who’ve been more liberated to misuse women as toys.

Sorry guys (a gender-hazy acronym for men, women and others), when you neuter the essence of one’s ability to bring new life into the world, you do great harm to that one.

There are more reasons for why we’re where we’re at, but this one tilts the cart.

Help?

Cancer doesn’t cure itself.  

Candor coached in concern is warranted – surrender isn’t. The power of anger and hate should not be rewarded.

Remember that behind that angry armor is a child, daughter, sister or mother who’s been dupped into a bad script by social predators masquerading as social justice warriors. Reject the behavior not the person.

Remember that real women – not crazy cat ladies – civilize our world and thus deserve our best measure of consideration, love and honor.

The sooner immature men up their game and the mumbling majority confront our society’s misguided notions of gender truths, the sooner we can get back to some semblance of normalcy. You know, that sustainable place between social constipation and diarrhea.