This just in - men and women are wired differently. Not just physically, but mentally and emotionally. This has been known... Well, forever, pretty much, or at least as long as there have been men and women. There's an old, humorous note that exemplifies this difference between men and women: "Men insult their friends and don't mean it. Women compliment their friends and don't mean it."
That's not always accurate. My wife, for example, has always been very straightforward and never offers a comment she doesn't mean. And as we've gotten older, both of us have gotten more open in expressing our opinions, having reached the age where we have no fire trucks left to give.
Democrats are now trying to figure out why they are losing appeal with men. They're trying all kinds of things that won't work; bringing in obese women "influencers" to advise them about appealing to young men is only one of the more amusing tricks they've tried, and it's hilariously off-course.
Obese Democrat influencer Olivia Julianna says she has what it takes to bring young men over to the Democratic Party.
— Collin Rugg (@CollinRugg) May 29, 2025
“I love young men. I love frat guys.”
“Even the ones that identify as conservative are almost always pro choice. They're almost always pro gay marriage. You'd… pic.twitter.com/7efODFECN5
This is cluelessness measured on the Richter scale. My colleagues Nick Arama and Brandon Morse have also written quite a bit on this Democrat tomfoolery:
See Also: Watch: Viral Clip of Jake Tapper Bashing Dem Party for How They Talk to Men
Democrats Will Never Attract Men Because They Refuse to Speak to Them in One Simple Way
There is one other thing Democrats should try to absorb, too, and that's how men interact with each other. Yes, including our best friends.
Case in point: I used to spend a lot of time hunting, fishing, and just mooching around in the outdoors with two brothers; I'll call them Carl and Rich. Names have been changed to protect the... Well, let's just say I changed the names and leave it at that.
I think it was 1997 when we went down to the desert south of Arivaca, Arizona, on a javelina hunt. We had a ball; camping in the desert, hunting javelinas, enjoying a few beers in the evenings. The illegal immigration problem wasn't quite so bad then, although we did have one guy in the camp who didn't have a license and so spent the days in our camp with a .30-30 Winchester at his side, and yes, he saw a few groups of illegal aliens passing by, who saw him, his rifle, and kept going.
The last night in camp, Carl brought out a bottle of hooch and had perhaps a little too much. OK, he had a lot too much. He was of no use in the morning and sat watching miserably while Rich and I dropped my old pop-up trailer, loaded my old Bronco, and hitched up the trailer to go home. When we pulled out, Carl was already asleep in the back seat, white cowboy hat over his eyes, wrapped up in a serape he had bought the day we went down to Nogales to buy some souvenirs.
Now, on this trip, one left Arivaca and hit Interstate 10 in Arizona, then went east to Las Cruces, New Mexico, where you turned onto Interstate 25 north to Denver. Just north of Las Cruces, we hit a Border Patrol checkpoint. Every car and truck was being pulled off the highway. When we pulled up, a Border Patrol officer took one look at us, asked us for ID, which he glanced at while we avoided mentioning that we had enough guns and ammo in the truck to equip the Andorran army. Then the guy looked into the back seat, where Carl was still asleep.
Consider how he looked back there. Passed out in the back seat of my old Bronco was a guy with a white cowboy hat over his eyes, wrapped in a serape, with jeans and battered old roper boots sticking out, a week's worth of jet-black beard on his jaws.
"That guy with you?" the Border Patrol agent asked.
Rich and I traded a look. Rich said, "No, he's a hitchhiker, we picked him up in Las Cruces."
Next thing we knew, the Border Patrol had Carl out of the Bronco, leaning against a Border Patrol SUV with his hands up, checking him for ID while he protested, "That's my friend and my brother over there in the truck!" Then, after confirming his ID, what appeared to be a senior Border Patrol guy stomped over to the Bronco.
"Rich," I said, "I think we're going to jail now."
"I suppose you guys think that was pretty funny," the officer snapped.
I tried the honesty approach. "Yeah, actually, we thought it was pretty damn funny." Rich just nodded.
We were subjected to what my Grandma would have described as a "darn good talking-to," and after a while, sent on our way. Rich and I laughed all the way to Albuquerque, while Carl turned the very air blue. That story passed into legend: For years after that, when the three of us got together, Rich or I would say, "Hey, remember the time we almost got Carl deported?"
That's how guys behave. We squabble, we insult each other casually, we play horrible practical jokes on each other. And we remain friends. Few guys have been friends for very long who haven't become annoyed with each other to the point where a poke in the snoot was delivered, and yet we remain friends. My best friend in the world, outside my family, is a guy I've been hanging around with for half a century, and to this day, when we get together, our talk is laced with casual, humorous insults.
I've never known women to do this. Not to the level that guys do. We're just wired differently. Oh, and we like trucks, too. That's something that today's Democrats just don't seem to get - and let's hope they never figure it out. Men and women are different, not just in degree but in kind. That's a fact.
All I can add is this: Vive la différence!
