Women are from Venus, and are therefore Aliens.

"You need to go check on the geese."

These words were uttered to me as my wife came down the stairs one night. And it began a simple process in my brain. You see, after 32 years of marriage, my brain has taken on a liver like function of filtering.

As the words entered both of my ears, they were compared to each other to ensure correct receipt. Having been validated, they went through the ID function to determine authorship. Identifying the message as originating from my wife, they were then passed to a series of logic functions of simple yes/no criteria. The first was the Sex function. Did she say anything that would suggest me getting laid, or any form of sexual encounter? Since I'm not into water fowl, this was no. Next up was the Feeding function. Was there any indication of food or eating? Since we weren't planning on eating our geese, again no.

Finally, the Fight/Flight functions. Did anything in her message indicate danger? Simple yes or no gave way to Possible. Further filtering was needed. Immediate danger? No. Caution or concern? The ears were queried as to tone. No. Therefore, the message was sent to the Intel section for deciphering. It was compared to recent events of the past 12 hours, roughly how long I had been up. Geese had been fed, watered, and new hay laid out within the last 4 hours. Intel determined no immediate cause for concern.

The message was passed to Public Relations for an appropriate response. A quick update from Operations revealed I was busy watching TV, and surfing the net. Operations issued a stand down for up to 30 minutes. Public Relations reviewed the canned responses for an appropriate reply, issued orders to the mouth and vocal cords, and I said "Okay, in a minute"

This was a simple process which lasted just on the outside of 2 seconds. As you can see from the initial statement, the process was straightforward in identifying an appropriate response.

The problem was not in my response, but in the original message. Five minutes later, my wife came back in and said "Did you hear me? There're coyotes out there!"

The ears, having picked up on the tone, issued a General Alert. Logic functions were bypassed as Operations went to DEFCON 5. (This is an immediate response to a general alert.) Intel was notified, and the Security Alert Force was activated in hot standby. Intel reviewed the message, compared it to 48 to 72 hour data, and notified Operations that Fight/Flight logic had returned a positive, with Fight dominate. Operations released the Security Alert Team which went about manipulating the mechanical functions of grabbing my coat, night vision goggles, and armament.

But, Intel also passed the message on to Internal Affairs. Now, IA gathered the messages for the last six hours, and noticed the conflict between the first message discussed above and this one. IA notified CID, who immediately issued a "No Fault, Faulty Message" defense. More Intel was needed. IA, through Operations releases CID to the vocal cords and mouth.

"Woman, why didn't you tell me?"

"I told you to check the geese!"

"Yeah, well that can mean a hundred different things! Why didn't you say there were coyotes out there in the first place?"

"What do you think I meant by check the geese?"

And this friends, is why Women are from Venus, and are therefore Aliens.

As discussed above, processing messages is a fairly simple task for the male brain. Note the basic logic functions: Sex, Sustenance, and Fight/Flight. Men are simple. We have basic needs, and deal with them on a basic level.

Let's look at a few differences. Take the Intel Department. Men tend to keep this department updated for short terms, with some long term files kept around for posterity. First car, first kiss, first BJ and so forth. But immediate recall is limited. And if those Intel guys like to drink, it's limited even further.

Women on the other hand have a vast Intel department. They have Cray Supercomputers which catalogue and store data for decades. I am reminded at times of things I have said to my wife from 1985, and I can barely remember our conversation from this morning. As a general rule of thumb, if I have screwed up, however minimal it may be, she can download the data to include what I did, where I did it, with whom I did it, to whom I did it, time of day, temperature, barometric pressure, moon cycle, and top 5 songs on the Billboard 100 at that time. I am fully convinced that their Intel department is somehow connected to the Venus mother ship hovering in orbit on the dark side of the moon.

And I am not too far off in this assessment. Because for some reason, women think we are supposed to be able to read minds. Perhaps they feel that since their brain waves are somehow connected to the mother ship, we should be able to gather some of those waves and understand what they mean when they say something.

In my example, my Intel Department should have gathered enough waves from "You need to check the geese" to know that she actually meant: "I just heard coyotes howling outside near the geese. Oh loving husband, strong and protective as you are, won't you please take up arms and defend my poor helpless geese from harm. In return, you may at some point in the near future ravish my body for your carnal pleasure." Okay, there were probably no brain waves for that last part.  That's a male line of thinking, where sex is simple. 

But sex is another example of why Women are from Venus, and are therefore Aliens. I mentioned the vast female Intel department, but I didn’t discuss how this department works with the other departments in a woman’s mind. Here is how a woman’s brain processes a message:

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I have no fucking idea. If I knew that, I would have a bestseller, making the rounds of the talk shows on Ellen, and The View. I would have any woman I wanted, as many as I wanted, as often as I wanted. But the fact is no man on this earth knows how to decipher the logic in a woman’s mind. Well, actually there are two men who do. One is hidden away in Tibet, and the other hasn’t been seen in over 40 years.

And this is the problem. A man’s mind is an open book, written long ago, and containing just a few short paragraphs. Whereas a woman’s mind is larger than the Library of Congress. Now don’t get me wrong. This doesn’t mean that all men are dumb and all women are smart.   I’ve met a few women in my time who have completely lost contact with the mother ship. What I’m saying is a man’s mind is easy to understand.

As I stated before, Sex, Sustenance, Fight/Flight. For a man, sex is easy, and often times connect with sustenance. We see in Red and Pink. Red for the red meat we crave, and pink for…..well, you get my drift. Women see in a color palette that defies definition. Sex is convoluted with such things as nurturing, bonding, afterglow bullshit, seduction, jealousy, and so forth.

Have you ever heard the phrase “The way to a man’s heart is through his stomach”? Are you aware that there is a second part to that? “Give a man a BJ, and he’s putty in your hands.” That part is usually left off, but I have it on good authority that they go hand in hand. We rednecks have boiled it down to an even simpler phrase: “Bring beer, show up nekked”.

Consider this: When Recon, using the Mark 1 Mod A eyeball captures a vision of what Meatloaf termed “paradise by the dashboard lights”, that image is sent to Intel. Intel compares the image with its sexual classification database (which incidentally is one of the largest databases in the male mind).   This database is tied into the Sex logic function. If a positive is returned, an immediate Flash Traffic: Bent Spear is issued to Operations. Operations declares an SCR (Sex Code Red), and electrical pulses are sent down the spinal cord to the Gate Keepers, who open the blood gates and awaken the One Eyed Purple Headed Warrior of Torrid Passion. (A quick note: When those Intel assholes get to drinking, they often times ignore the Sex logic, and the database. That’s what is meant by beer goggles.)

Show this warrior in all his glory to a woman, and she will likely shriek in terror. You here things like “Get that thing away from me!” or “Didn’t we just do this last week?” (Well, at least that’s what I hear.)

Noooooo. If the warrior is to conquest, we must start with touchy, feely, kiss kiss, more touchy, kiss kiss, feely, kiss kiss, touchy, touchy, and on and on. And finally, as if they are doing us a favor, the gates to paradise spread open, and our warrior is sent into that dark battlefield. Soon we hear things like “Aren’t you done yet” (Well, sometimes I hear it.)

For a man, sex is simple. Get in, leave a deposit, get out, roll over, go to sleep. For a woman it is a complex evolution that involves foreplay, surrender, and some bullshit called afterglow. And we men put up with it because we haven’t figured out that women are aliens controlled by the mother ship with the ultimate goal of world domination. Make no mistake, it is ALL about control!

Let me give you an example: I woke up one afternoon (I was working the night shift, sleeping during the day) to get ready for work that night. My wife had dinner ready, and I fixed me a plate and began eating. After a few minutes my wife remarked “Do I tell you now and piss you off”.

“What?”

“Well, I scratched your truck.”

I was out the door before my fork hit the plate. I went around the side of the truck. She didn’t scratch it; she gouged the hell out of it! I went back inside. “God dammit! How the hell did you do that?”

“I was trying to get close to the dumpster, and I got too close”

“And this couldn’t have waited until I got up?”

“It’s just a scratch!”

“It’s not a scratch; it’s a gouge the size of the Grand Canyon!”

And here folks is where she contacted the mother ship, and received guidance on how to argue this out.

“Well, it’s only a truck!”

“What? It’s only a truck? It’s MY damn truck, and you scratched it!”

“I thought it was a gouge?”

“Don’t get smart! You know what I mean!”

“Well, I don’t know why you’re getting so mad about this! It’s just a truck!”

And with that she left the room in a huff.

And just like that, like every argument ever argued between man and woman in the history of time, I lost. She had gouged my truck, and managed to turn the argument around so that SHE was mad at me.

It was at this point that the Gate Keepers sent an urgent Priority Flash message to Operations. They informed Operations that the Warrior was worried, and if he was going to see poontang again, Operations had better fix this right now. And so, walking into the room where my wife was, Operations issued commands directly to the vocal cords and mouth, and I heard myself say: “I’m Sorry”.

And there was much rejoicing on the mother ship.