What can I get for a rib?

try to tell it right

First you need to know the one about the old comedian’s home where they sat around nodding until one of them delivered a joke punchline... just a punchline—and they’d all bust out laughing.

The advanced version has the jokes numbered, so old Sal would break the silence with “27” and they’d all crack up, fall silent, then 20 minutes later Murray’d say “41” and they’d all cackle, etc. This odd behavior was explained to a visitor as the rounds continued. Awhile in, Ricky broke the silence with “18.” Nothing. Dead quiet. The visitor was baffled.

“He told it wrong” came the reply.

There’s an old joke about Adam’s chat with God, who has just created Adam and is negotiating terms for creating a mate for him. God suggests Adam’s sacrifice of arms or legs for varying degrees of alluring, supplicant and obedient prospective mates. Adam listens and goes quiet, thoughtfully rubbing his limbs and chin. . . asks “What can I get for a rib?”

Creation myths have a prejudicial male bent to them. At least the ones that’ve been written down. A retired surgeon name of Shlain— Leonard Shlain— noticed this and wrote “The Alphabet Versus the Goddess,” a book that tapped a lot of misty mystical past with archaeological evidence of matriarchal societies and theorized that the invention of the written word rewired our brains from a pliant holistic right brain to a pedantic linear left-brain dominance.

The idea goes that this ushered in a power shift so evolved apes more often competed in chest-beating donnybrooks (*wars*), lacking developed instincts for cooperation.

There is an exception among actual primates—the Bonobos, whose female dominance gets periodic notice on the basis of them having tons more sex and virtually no violence.

I’ve noticed that testosterone is a controlled substance with scarce responsible users, particularly mixed with adrenaline—unless we’re talking about sports—mostly. Hell, even the randiest monkey needs a break from sex occasionally.

Dammit, seems I’ve again muddled topics, blurring Sunday Religion with sex, so tomorrow’s Monday Sex might be withheld. A cartoon follows which illustrates how a lot of such ideas of mine turn out.