And as you know, carbon is evil. Like me, but in chemical form.

So, here we are, sitting atop the nexus of lefty journalism, where the writer has managed to slap together two tasty slabs of PC red meat: feminism and environmentalism.

Yes, men are pigs, but not just to women. They’re pigs to the planet too. In an amazingly clever move, Time used a picture of Homer Simpson to illustrate the piece!

The caption: “A typical man.”

Which makes me wonder: what kind of picture would you need to illustrate a writer for Time?

My guess is, it would be the long gone Cathy, from the comic strip… Cathy.

She and her stringy-haired neuroticism will be missed. I loved her fearless take on lip gloss.

Or maybe it was her bumbling husband, Irving Hillman. Boy does he love gadgets -even if he didn’t know how to work them!

Ack indeed.

Anyway, I digress – the reason why men emit more carbon is because we eat more meat, and travel a lot. Women eat more leafy crap- and they’re less likely to fly all over the place, for work.

So is this where environmentalism takes you?

For women climbing that career ladder, and doing what men do – they must stop all that because their behavior can only harm the planet. To save the earth, they should stay home, wash dishes with non-phosphate detergent and change the baby’s recyclable diapers. Probably barefoot.

At least Time has the courage to point this out.

But I wonder if their female employees will take heed and go home.

After all, the planet is more important than their progress.

And if you disagree with me, you’re worse than Hitler.

Tonight:

Rick Leventhal

Kimberly Guilfoyle

FNC.com’s Chris Kensler

The first thing that grabbed me was the character work. The hero, Julia Powell (her real life blog is here) is a foodie blogger played by Amy Adams. I’m used to watching Amy Adams over my kid’s shoulder in “Enchanted,” which plays in our house on continual loop. I didn’t know Amy knew how to turn down the volume and play a “plain-Jane, yet interesting”… but she’s awesome. This isn’t her usual glowing, perky role where she turns it on like a fire-hose. And she doesn’t turn invisible like when she played a piece of cardboard in “Doubt.”

Back to the characters because “J and J” is a feast of interesting, appealing people I haven’t seen chew up the screen like this in a long time. The real Julia Child is already a great character, but Streep not only personifies this larger than life personality, she pulls off hilarious physical acting. She’s a comedic presence that had our audience laughing with every scene. And she looks huge, just like the real Julia Child. As a 6′8″ fellow, I appreciated the height jokes like when Streep reclines in a bed only to have her feet extend well beyond the mattress.

But Streep shows us sides of Child we probably hadn’t seen before: her sexuality, her competitive spirit, and the mourning for children. How painfully ironic that her name was Child.

I don’t know how Streep does it, but she makes her jowls look bigger. Her hands look big and mannish. Her shoulders rounded so that she looks like she’s playing a man in drag, which is kind of how Child came off to me. A refrigerator in a dress.

Stanley Tucci was in another favorite food movie of mine, “Big Night.” My friends told me to see Big Night then go out for Italian food. My Beloved and I saw “J and J” on date night then went out for dinner. It was one of our better date nights… much better than the time I made her see “Mimic.” But guys, don’t be fooled into thinking this is a chick flick. It’s a people flick. I’d take anybody to see this and if they didn’t like it, they’d need therapy. Yeah, this is the first sure fire Oscar contender I saw this year. At least this is the one I’ll be rooting for when they award it to some movie about a transvestite who marries a 12-year-old boy then murders him because Republican Christians fired him from his job.

Where was I? Oh yeah, Stanley Tucci. He plays the nicest guy in the world. He’s a great, understated character to provide contrast to Streep’s living cartoon. Hats off to Chris Messina as Julie Powell’s long-suffering husband and Jane Lynch who plays Julia Child’s sister.

This is for Nora Ephron: stop wasting your time at Huffington Post and make more movies. As a married man, you’re one of the few who seem to get marriage… even men in marriage. You seem to like men, which is rare among women writers. As someone who writes graphic novels, you’re one of the few who gets what it’s like to long for a significant project to find its way to publisher. You get the narcissism of working on one’s craft while someone else is in the house being neglected for some great piece of art. As someone who knows his way around the kitchen, you get the love of cooking, experimenting with recipes, even shopping for ingredients. Finally, you get Julia Child… including details like her love of sending post cards.

My wife went through a phase when she became an airplane pilot in the ’90s where she studied great women of the last century. She stumbled on the biography of Child Appetite for Life by Noel Riley Fitch. So inspired was my Beloved that she mailed Julia a birthday greeting for her 88th birthday. A few weeks later, she received a hand written post card from Julia herself! We were both so excited and my Beloved went into a cooking phase where I was the benefactor.

Man, this makes me wanna cook something. Maybe I’ll try making beef bourguignon.

So I received quite a bit of comment action from my last post, “The Wussification of America.” Most of it was positive and expressed similar views. Several on the conservative side actually missed a few of the points, but overall they got it. Of course, as expected, I received a few smuggalicious lefty responses decrying my opinion as barbaric and also as expected, questioning my manhood. As though bending over to the whims of actual barbarians is a manly way to live your life. Count me out, Sally.

Ya see, I live in a world where men take a stand. I come from a state that believes in the values of this great nation. I come from a state that believes that freedom is worth fighting for. I come from Texas, the sidearm of the nation. Undoubtedly the all knowing eyes of the left are rolling back in their head in their, “oh so better than thou” way at the knowledge that I, a redneck hick from a backwater Klan-infested swamphole could dare utter pride at such a thing. Well, to borrow a phrase from our brilliant enlightened leader, “Yes, yes I can.”

You see, I was brought up in a place where when something needed to get done, it got done. When your neighbor needed you, you were there to help. It’s just the right thing to do. We looked out for each other. And regardless of what the hootie tooties on the left want to think of everyone not living in a thriving Metropolistical stew of “progressive” thought; we did so regardless of race, ethnicity, religion, skin color or sexual preference. So there. Anyone remember Katrina? What city opened its arms to those hit hardest? Yep, my hometown of Houston. Which by the way is the 4th largest city in the country. Just an FYI.

Now, back to my point. When you take a stand, you can’t do so on a rolling platform. You have to know what you stand for and you must be willing to fight for it. And when someone comes to knock you down, you face them and hold your ground. When you know who you are and what you stand for, you are strong, firm, solid. And yes, that makes a man. Inside and out.

Now I want to say to some of the left that responded sans smuggery. I see and understand your points. Really I do. And here is where we see the true difference. I do not agree with you. Period. I do not think less of you as a person per se. I just know where I stand. I don’t feel threatened by your stand and lash out personally as so many on the left do when someone dares to disagree with them. I don’t feel that I’m superior to you because of my stance and opinions. I do feel that I am right. And I won’t go all wobbly in the knees and buckle like a liberal in the face of those who want to kill me simply to satisfy a false sense of self satisfaction at my attempt to understand the feeeelings of the guy sawing my head off. Your feeeelings are your feeeelings and that is alright. However; your feeeelings will get me and my family killed.

I had this very conversation with a liberal friend of mine. He was adamant about the “torture” issue. He said we were better than that and that it shouldn’t be allowed and that it made us as bad as the terrorists, blah, blah, blah. And then, in the midst of his argument, he uttered one sentence which summed up the feelings of every liberal I have ever met. I’m paraphrasing here, but he said something to the effect that “Well, maybe if I knew my family was in immediate danger…” or something similar in tone. BINGO! BANGO! BONGO! Can anyone say caveat!?! There it is folks. When it comes down to them, the rules are different. Tax cheats? Horrible. Unless you’re on the left. Ruthless Dictators? Horrible. Unless you’re on the left. Terrorists? Horrible. Unless you’re on the left.

Ya see, the thing that my friend and all you on the left who responded to my article seem to miss here is that the info we got from pouring some water down the gullets of 3 (that’s right fellas, only 3) worthless piles of human debris saved our fair city of Los Angeles from a terrorist attack that could have possibly killed your whiny flower-pickin asses! Oh, and how about if not your lives, what about everyone else’s? Do those not in your enlightened sphere of influence matter? When someone wants to kill you and has stated so, made arrangements to do so and is heading your way with a little “COEXIST” sticker on the bumper of their “chock full o explosives” laden love mobile; you don’t help them gas up their car, clean the windshield, and air up their tires. Ya, shoot em! Aaaaaaaaaaand, scene.

Is that so hard to fathom? Really? Bad guys do bad things. And I’m sorry, it may not be Biblical in the liberal sense, but when someone hits me on the cheek, the only way I’m turning the other cheek is in the midst of a solid roundhouse kick to their frickin head. I’m done with this silly feminized version of what a man is supposed to be. Will I open doors for women? You betcha. Will I share my feeeelings with a woman. Absolutely, at an appropriate time. Will I even write poetry, pick flowers, and have picnics with a woman. Yes, yes, and yes I certainly will. But what’s even more important than all that lovey dovey mushy romantic stuff?

I will stand firm in my convictions. I will stand firm in my support of those who fight for me. I will protect the lives and homes and freedom of those I love and their families and friends. I will fight the miserable evil that would make a slave of my woman. Stone her for driving a car, treat her like property, and kill her for being a victim of another piece of crap thug. That, my liberal friends, is the kind of man I am. I don’t want to hug a terrorist today. I want to hug a lovely, gorgeous, outgoing, outspoken, woman that can feel free to drive, read, vote, sing, dance, and choose the type of man she will spend her time with. And I’m pretty much willing to bet, that when the chips are down, she won’t go running to you for safety, there sweetpants. She’ll be looking for the manly guy ready to fight for her when the time comes…

And P.S.
It’s time!

Oh, and P.S.S.
Namaste