New member of the garden family

From a vendor at the Farmer's Market in Williamsburg last week, I bought a fine-smelling pot of Winter Savory, a perennial herb that is new to my ken.

Yes, I am a guy. Yes, I also love herbs. Have since I was a teenager. I firmly reject the notion, revived on certain commercials recently, that "men don't bake," or involve themselves in other, similar activities.

I bristle anytime I hear the old, sad, tired myth that "Women don't" this or "Women can't" that. A Woman can hang sheetrock, fix a car, drive a truck, hit a fastball or pursue a career in science, as well as any man.

And I also get quite annoyed when told that men can't do this or that either, without compromising their manliness. In my opinion, a man can bake chocolate chip cookies, enjoy fine fashion or shopping, style hair for a living and any of the many other things supposedly the provenance of Women, and still be very much a man.

So this here man will find a good, sunny place for this new herb, and snip off a little tonight to put into the ham and butterbean soup that I am making for dinner. And I will cuddle with my Beloved as the darkness falls and enjoy Her delightful company whilst all the belching boneheads of the world who base their manliness on old stereotypes can continue to sit alone in their drab apartments gnawing on t.v. dinners.

Do you feel like a man?

I should not ever listen to Red Jumpsuit Apparatus and that song of theirs about domestic violence:

"Do you feel like a man, when you push her around?"

Because it makes me want to hunt down the kind of guy that actually does feel that way and deprive him painfully, with whatever instrument or object I can find at hand, of his manhood. Or maybe just beat him senseless.

Which is, of course, two wrongs trying to make a right. Violence begetting violence.

So instead, I will simply advise any so-called man out there who believes he has any right whatsoever to dictate any demand to a woman; to blame her for his bad moods; or to lay one finger upon her with the intent to cause pain:

You are a pathetic loser, the weakest of the weaklings. Get help. Get it fast. I don't care if you saw your daddy hurt your mother, or your boss at work is mean to you, or your IQ is too low for you to come up with better options for your free time. If you were a real man, you'd go punch a grain sack to get your anger out or just take a long walk.

My father had a rotten childhood with a chronically angry father who was no role model whatsoever for him. My father is a real man. He's put that behind him, broken the cycle, and he does not abuse my mother. He treats her like the gold that she is. If he can do it, you can do it. Stop making excuses.

Because eventually you will go too far. Little bruises will become big bruises and you will go to jail, where you belong, God willing, and you will be very badly hurt or maybe killed in there and no one will feel sorry for you.