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NOW and bras recruiting guy named Linda

With the last name Linda, I get lots of misdirected mail from businesses confused as to my gender.

I get all the very best of Victoria's Secret catalogues, as despite my nonordering, they seem determined that I am going to be their very best bra customer. I expect that such is not going to happen, no matter how determined and talented their sales department is. The word "talent" may not be quite appropriate; perhaps "endowed" would be better, as I doubt there are very many men working there.

Maybe there aren't very many normal women working there, either. I wonder if on their hiring criterion list they require at least a "C" for physical features, as opposed to academic prowess, in respect to them having at least a working familiarity with their subject matter?

At the end of a long day, I could admit to needing extra support and uplift, just not the kind they offer.

I wonder if they have engineers on their research and development staff? People who deal with materials stress, deflection analysis, and friction abrasion. What do you do? Answer: Oh, well, I'm a structural engineer. Really? For whom do you work? Answer: Um, mumble, mumble.

It's a fact that the business of supporting what bra engineers support needs some good engineers. I've never forgotten, now would I bet any other male who was watching have forgotten, watching Dolly Parton come forward to accept an Emmy or some other such award on national television. She only had one hand to accept the award with, as she quite proudly and unembarassedly had to hold a broken support strap up with the other hand. She said something like: "This is what happens when you try and put 10 pounds of mud in a 5-pound bag."

Above all else, she was demonstrating quite a bit of pride. Women can tell men that size doesn't matter, but when they're dealing with one another, it certainly does, and when they're dealing with bra size, men are guilty, whether they are or not. It's probably the real reason why most men think size does indeed matter. (Not me, though. I did say "most.") This ongoing attraction of most (Again, I said "most.") men to large bra sizes is probably connected in some fuzzy way to Darwin's survival of the fittest. Babies. Nursing.

Darwin should have called it, in this case--well, make that two cases--survival of the biggest.

What about college class reunions, when the bra engineers return to the scene of their student days, meet engineers who construct buildings, roads, rockets, and stuff like that? Would other engineers exhibit blatant jealousy? OMG! You have the job I always wanted! And they'd whip out a slide rule and calculate the stretch of .049 diameter nylon, just to see how it would feel. Um, not "feel" as in feel, that is; feel as in role playing.

Just the other day, I got something in the mail from NOW, the National Organization for Women. They were wondering if I would like to join their organization. I guess it would depend on which committees they would want me to serve on. Probably, judging from the fact they're sending me recruiting male (Ooops. Freudian slip, there. Should have been "mail."), I should likely be the most help at sorting out the people whom they're recruiting. Maybe try and keep people like me out.

Really, though, were they to offer me a position, maybe it would be best if I were in their survey department, where I could continue to broadcast my opinions on various gender-specific subjects, like about how really soft women have it in this country.

We even let them get jobs, and help with house payments and groceries. You know, it's a fact that lot of other countries won't liberate women to that point. Women who come here from other countries remark on how spoiled the women here are, like, they even get to pick their own husbands. Unbelievable, if you're a woman in a lot of other less liberated cultures.

Maybe that's where I'd be the most valuable to NOW. I could set up a prospective husband review committee, to which prospective brides could offer up their future spouse's attributes and such. Really, that's not so weird. After all, I've been a husband. Who better to tell women whether they've got a chance in hell of beating the divorce statistics.

I could recruit other husbands to help me with the great questions of matrimony: Who would make a great husband? We'd set initial standards to help us, build a cohort of values to cross reference the assessment process, use really big words to give us arguing room.

First and last question: Do you own either a hunting rifle or a fishing boat? If not, how about a snowmobile, an ATV, or a sculpture built out of empty beer cans?

Too bad.