Open Letter to the Ladies on International Women's Day

Hey, ladies! (Sorry, male femifarts and David Bowies; this one's strictly for the ladies.)

I just wanted to take a moment and say congratulations on your big 100th anniversary of celebrating how you're not equal to men yet. Or whatever this day is about. I'm not really clear on the concept, as they say. But I'm sure it's really cool, whatever it is.

Anyways, I was trying to figure out why women needed their own special day and shit, so I asked my Granny Pornstache, since she's almost as old as this celebration of ladies is herself. And she told me that when she was born, she couldn't even vote. And I was like, "No doy, grandma. I couldn't vote when I was a baby, either." She told me I was a nincompoop and then told me some long-ass yarn about some ancient grumpy chicks called the Suffragettes, who I can only guess were fat and single, so they couldn't get a man to vote for them or whatever.

I don't know if not being able to vote warrants a whole special day, especially since there are practically no women for you lady-lovers to vote for, anyway. Seems pretty suspect.

So I asked my stepmom Cheryl, who's been one of the smartest ladies I've ever known since we were in high school together, but she just started screaming at me about how she does all the housework even though she works, too, and me and my dad are perpetulizing gender inequality and some other shit. I think she's mad that I make more selling weed out of the garage than she makes as a nurse. Or maybe she's just on the rag.

In any case, I didn't get any good answers about International Women's Day from Cheryl, either.

So I asked my ex-wife/fiancée Tammy, and she started telling me about some boring story she read in People magazine about Angelina Jolie and humanitarian aid in some crap-hole country I couldn't find on a map, and I was like, "Angelina Jolie is hot," and she was like, "You're a jackass," and then we had a big fight about how I don't listen good or something.

I was no closer to finding out what International Women's Day was all about than when I'd started, and Tammy was all pissed-off at me, so I went over to my brother's house and I saw that my niece Sierra was working on a project about International Women's Day, so I asked her about it. And she told me the facts, man. Women still got it rougher than I thought, what with all the low pay and the laws that favor dudes in the workplace—like, at least for people who don't work out of their garage—and the not being represented by their governments and the violence and the not being able to say what happens to your own bodies.

I mean, fuck, man, even before you femifarts started rubbing off on me (that's what she said) and corrupting my grey matter with your high-falutin' ideas about ladyshit, I knew deep down, even if I wouldn't admit it for a lifetime supply of SlimJims, that women still had kind of a raw deal, but I figured that as long as women could manipulate men by being sexy and get cheap drinks on Ladies' Night, it was all sorta even-steven. I was way off base, though, man—STRAIGHT SCOOP.

So Happy 100th International Women's Day to all you ladies. I probably won't be around for number 200, unless my cryogenic brain-jar project works out, but if I am, I hope we'll all be lifting our space-martinis to celebrate some real goddamn equality and shit.

Oh, and before I go, I just want to say thanks to all the women who have made a difference in my life: My mom, Desiree Pornstache; my grandmas, Granny Pornstache (dad's side) and Granny Pornstache (mom's side); my ex-wife/fiancée Tammy; my stepmom Cheryl; my niece Sierra; Pamela Gorman; every teacher I had up to the seventh grade; Cathy; Loni Anderson; and, of course, Sarah Palin. God bless America and love the ladies.

Pornstache: Out.

[Previously by Butch Pornstache: Happy Taxes and Teabags Day, I'm a Proud Teabagger and Real American, Men and Trucks and Shit, Cats and Shit, Books and Cupcakes and Shit, Ron Swanson Kicks Butt, Dale Peterson is a Great American, I'm a Man and I Enjoy Mancations. Pamela Gorman is a Great American, Fireworks and Shit, My Great Review of Twilight: Eclipse, Farewell, Cathy!, DADT and Shit.]

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