Sex and the City and the Case of the Interminable Media Blitz

Women are glorious, mercurial creatures.

They subject themselves to beauty and fashion regimen that are as elaborate and inconvenient as they are unnecessary. (Skin Rev-er Upper? Really?)

They view cell phones as purely hypothetical devices, storing them in soundproof compartments of their purses, always turned off when any amount of remote convenience, efficiency, or planning might be achieved. The only time a woman can be reliably reached by cell phone is when she's about to turn you down for a date.

They smell nice and they're soft and stuff. (This one's not so much funny as it is tributary.)

Anyway, for more hackneyed riffs on the universal differences between men and women, tune in to TBS for The Bill Engvall Show, ABC for According to Jim, or MSNBC for ongoing coverage of the Clinton/Obama primary race.

This article is about surviving just a few more weeks of Sex and the Goddamned City hype.

Sarah Jessica Parker is a golem, but the sexiest golem I have ever seen.

The thing is, the only reason this series gets so much attention is that stupid jokes about dicks and getting laid aren't traditionally feminine, an angle latched onto by the lazy media and recycled for years as empowering or refreshing.

But stupid jokes about dicks are our thing. Women are better than this:

Miranda: After years of odd men, God is throwing me a bone.
Carrie: And possibly a boner as well.

One of our genders should be, anyway.

Why do men hate Sex and the Goddamned City? It's not that we don't want women to have activities they can enjoy away from us. It's not that we're threatened by women getting together and laughing about our shortcomings. We get it; we're hygienically deficient and emotionally stilted. We're okay with being made fun of if it means we don't have to improve ourselves.

No, it's that we're terrified by the prospect of women degenerating into the sort of male juvenilia that we occupy well into our forties, thereby accelerating the downfall of our precarious society.

Just saying. It may be best for the gene pool if you let this guilty pleasure die and go back to reading Brontë, or People magazine, or whatever crap Oprah is pushing this month.


P.S. Last night's New York premiere was plagued by poor planning:

Security officials said up to 2,000 people - who had gotten tickets through promotional giveaways authorized by movie studio New Line Cinema - were shut out of the screening.

...making Tuesday night's Sex and the Goddamned City premiere New Line's worst prediction of audience participation since Semi-Pro.