First of all I was able to breeze through his text before the traffic went through the roof and made Kim’s rant inaccessible.

Next, to take accountability for the off-hand comment I left at Michele’s when she commented on his entry, mine, to wit: “Honey, there’s no point to rebuttal, calm or not. He’s made it clear in his language.” I was dismissive, because his language was dismissive in the sense that it hardly leaves any elbow room for a middle ground. Hardly the kind of approach and rhetoric that I’d enter into a debate with, but, peeps, it’s Kim du Toit (and I think it’s pronounced “toht” not twat as some of the other loving commenters blurted out almost reflexively). We all know how Kim writes, so, let’s leave it at that.

The comments at Michele’s is where the real discussion is, as long as you can sift through the personal attacks on Kim and Connie. I warn you though, on Michele’s behalf, not to jump in on account of the comments there alone. Wait until Kim’s rant is again accessible.

Kim does make an excellent argument on the pussification of men: I’ve grown through it a little bit as a young ‘un but I’ll take it in good faith that we grow up a little and find out that there are things about men that will always be about men. Though his rhetoric and arguments might touch on Queer Eye (yep, everyone’s favorite whipping-boy) and in general, the “improvement” of men, his sentiment is not unique as a commenter mentions. Dean Esmay also has come up with it, and so has Cam Edwards.

I do not, think though, that Kim is pushing the “Real men don’t eat quiche” sentiment. (Or does he? After the initial speed-read I couldn’t load up his page.) I have no right to assume on Kim’s behalf his sentiment, but I will shamelessly lift something off I read at Cam’s comments (link to be dug up tomorrow I’m practically on the run here): Real men will eat quiche if they want, and kick you in the ass for telling him not to. Or something to that effect.

Maybe in the end, sans any rabies from anyone, we all know what being a man is all about: we don’t let anyone tell us what to do or how to be.

(P.S. I also would like to apologize to Michele if my off-hand dismissiveness added fuel to the fire — even if it’s but an ounce compared to the litres of poison flung about — since I did take some modicum of umbrage at Kim’s entry. I am hardly the stereotypical caveman: I dress well, eat well, don’t do sports, but I do go down and dirty. For half a second I felt the urge to actually try and convince myself. I must take a page from your book: Blog not when enraged.)