I never saw one episode of Desperate Housewives, Sex in the City, or any . . .any Reality TV Show.
I was dragged to see first wave feminist movies back when I was a student at Loyola, right after Dewey took Manila from Spain. I went along to those strident 'woman must liberate herself!' soft core porn films - where some babe skanks around with pipe smoking professors from whom they learn secrets of sex and Blake's Poetry and then toss off the Jugs Harness and run through New York with other mini-skirted Feminists.
I dated a 'Dip-stick in Lip-stick' who thought Abortion was the signature of real Feminism . . .once.
Hell, I am a sucker for babies and detest the thought of murdering an innocent. I'm a Caveman.
The family is mocked in the film arts as well as plucked brow literature.
Women are never happy in these films unless they are slapping the mattress with a young Che Guevara wannabee and ditching their kids and their Old Man. Romantic Forbidden Love That ALWAYS ends tragically is the ideal.
I'm a hand-holder. I come from the very same place where I happen to live right now.
Last Night, my Daughter Nora and I ( Conor was frying fish at DiCola's) watched Clare receive the St. Cajetan's Computer Science Award at the 8th Grade Honors Ceremony. All the girls, text-message-ing little women who play basketball, volleyball, softball and work service hours at the two nursing homes in Morgan Park looked like run-way models and the fourteen something young men, looked like their Dads . . . sad to say.
I looked around at all the Moms, because Clare's Mom, my Bride, is an angel. Mary died when Clare was two and a half. However, Mary would have fit in nicely with Anne, Collette, Darleen, Sheila, Peggy, Kerry, Jennifer, Linda and all the rest.
Happy women. Not Cosmo guzzlers. Real women and not poor confused victims. Knockouts and most of them could care less. They are married to 'older versions' of the boys who struggled into an actual tie that you need to tie for the first time: Pete, Desmond, Declan, Jake, Jack ( about four by my count), Sean, Danny, Ray and Nick!
Their Moms are married to their Dads, their best pals. Their Moms don't need Botox. These are Real Women and they do not buy obscene numbers and qualities of shoes, read How to Be Happy Manuals by Skank Head-Cases, pop pills, 'take time for themselves,' wallow in self-pity. They are Happy Women. They have no tolerance, let alone capacity for Bitching. They are the Women that Feminists hate to the very marrow of their beings!
They are women of Faith, who do not seek some stupid alternative life-style, pierce their beautiful bodies, or Tattoo their limbs, or sculpt their personal destinies with Dr. Gaddam Gupta. They have it all. They have borne the pains of child birth and nurtured babies to a point where these babies too can become Real Men and Women.
They are the Breeders. They are the Real Family Core. The makers of tortilla roll-ups with lime and jalapenos! They know how to 'Work a Beer Glass' and a Mikita Power Drill. I love each and every one of these women.
The love of my life, lives in Chicago's Gold Coast and my Morgan Park neighborhood is familiar to this elegant and beautiful woman who sings at the Pump Room, because she grew up among Real Women in Chagrin Falls, Ohio as well.
I am a thrice blessed man. My love Mary went home to Christ. Not my call. I had a huge hole in my heart that Christ allowed me to patch up with my mistakes and stupidities, but allowed me to realize the majesty that is Woman. For better or worse I too am a Mom. A homely, lumpy, Mom, but a Mom nevertheless. I buy the Feminine Hygiene products in this house! Yet, I am blessed with the love and affection of another Real woman.
Whenever, I see the vapid, self-absorbed, shallow, and indulgent clothes horses portrayed in film and on TV, I click on Paula Deen on the food Channel. That is a Woman! Women make the home and in so doing create the world where kids do not need to take Zoloft, or fill their hours on the internet. The daughters of the Housewives of Morgan Park are women.
These Real Little Women play sports, play with make-up, but they also have learned to be friends and best pals with Ray, Pete, Jake, Jack (our by my count), Sean and Danny.
The Women of Morgan Park make a happy world. Thanks Be to God.
Today in Chicago Tribune, the sun dial for the changing times, there is another stupid couple of paragraphs about some stupid reality show that wants to further insult Women and the Family.
A show revealing the lives of upper-echelon housewives -- Botox parties, tennis matches and all the drama in between -- is coming to Chicago.
Towers Productions is casting for the Midwestern premiere of a housewives show similar to Bravo's "Real Housewives," which has focused on Orange County, New York, Atlanta and New Jersey.
The producers are searching for "a dynamic group of women" who have a unique connection to one another, whether through their lifestyles or social network, casting director Becky Cattie said.
Interested women can e-mail casting@towersproductions.com (a date for auditions has not been set yet). Include your name, age, the area where you live, contact information, a photo and some personal background information.
Reality my Broad Manly Ass!
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