I feel like his royal majesty King George III when the American colonists declared their independence from the realm. I feel like Captain Bligh being floated far out to sea in a leaky lifeboat away from the safety of his beloved Bounty by treacherous mutineers. I feel like the displaced Romanovs being taken care of once and for all by the bloody Bolsheviks in a lonely basement isolated from past glories and comforts and buried in an unmarked grave for nearly a century. I feel like the first proto-human to get clobbered to death with a bone by the other proto-human at the beginning of 2001: A Space Odyssey. I feel like Gaius Julius Caesar gasping in disbelief from dagger-punctured lungs on the floor of the Roman Senate in a pool of his own blood, contemplating cold glares from conspirators he counted as friends and puzzling over how it had come to this.
Et tu, Diana?
Sure, fine. I understand that a woman needs her space. And much of that space should be reserved for the nice things that she enjoys: shoes, clothes, hats, jewelry, accessories, and so on. A closet serves this purpose nicely, but what happens when the woman’s closet has become too small to contain her gathered hoard of many treasures and she begins casting covetous eyes on the man’s closet, hatching plots to secure it for herself? Should he accept this as the natural course of human events and use his clever monkey brain to figure out where he’s going to put all of his things once the closet has been ceded to the woman’s ultimate dominion? Should he accept compromise of any kind? Or should he stand firm his ground and insist that his closet shall remain his closet, and preservation of pre-treaty borders will be conditional upon surrender of hoopla?
With the potential for shifting territories on the table, it almost seems certain that the geek shall inherit the couch. 🙁
I would bet my bottom rupee, dollar, peso, pound, or euro that R. Kelly never had to put up with this kind of nonsense!