"Men-Taurs," My New Breed of Men
A Man-Taur, what a nifty idea for us men
FIRST, LET ME SAY
I'm not God. And on how glad of that I am. I could not manage that much power and authority. To say nothing about His endless wisdom. I am just glad to be the weak, unknown, and obscure man that I am.
But, and I do mean a sincere "but," if "I" were God in the beginning when all things were made, "I" would have created one thing differently. I would have made men into centaurs. Shocked? Well don't be because after you finish with this story, you will be saying to your wife, "you know what? That Kenneth might just have something with his 'man-centaur' idea." Or you might just grin. Kiss your pretty wife. And go to work.
Think of it, guys. And forgive my enthusiasm, (for ideas such as this only happen to me once maybe in 10 years), there are endless possibilities for us, the males of the world, being centaurs and men all rolled into one being. Endless. That's a lot.
Okay, allow me tie-up one loose end. I realize what the Bible says about mankind's creation. God said, "let us make man(kind) in our own image," and I am in no way implying that God looks like a centaur, and that's great. It is us guys who could benefit in more ways than one from being a centaur.
Hey, if the Greeks in their highly-intellectual thinking believed in centaurs and their contributions to their way of life, then I am all for this. Just "please," have an open mind as we venture further into my man-centaur creation.
First we would have to have a universal name that combines "man" and "centaur." What about "mantaur"? "centaman"? Alright. No quibbling. Let the new men that "I" create be called "mantaur's." Catchy if you say it fast.
One morning at the office.
Boss: Morning, "Jim, you are one muscular mantaur!"
Jim: Thanks, sir. I have been doing laps at Church Hill Downs."
No controversy. No stupid questions. Just plain, flat-out working convenience. That's us. The menaturs. I love this, don't you?
Now do not go off thinking that I would have mentaur's walking around with no clothing on. What do you think I am, a pervert? I would have mentaurs fitted with adjustable pants, shirts, and comfortable shoes. Not like those awful steel horseshoes, but Florsheim, the shoes of successful executives everywhere. Some more-distinguished mentaurs could wear hats of their choice, and yes, I have the problem of our tails already handled. Mantaur pants would have a neat little notch in the seat for our bushy tails to hang free and blow in wind during a hectic March day.
Ahhh, we menataurs would be the envy of creatures everywhere. Birds, fish, snakes, and raccoons would turn green with jealousy at our streamlined bodies and bulging muscles. And the womenfolk would be as they are now. Pretty, soft, strong, funny and intelligent. Why would I want to change "the" perfect creation?
"Ken, you mentioned something about endless benefits?" I heard you ask. Well I am a mentaur of my word. I deliver (if possible) on all promises I make. That's only right.
So here are my
"Benefits to Men Being Centaurs, uhh, Man-Taurs"
- We could say goodbye to car-pools. We could simply trot or gallop to work.
- We could work 18-hour days for when the strength of men and centaurs are combined, you talk about a "super employee?" That's us. Mentaurs, the employees with "no quitting" in them.
- We would always get the right-of-way at a traffic light. Policemen would have to take special seminars on "Why Rare Creatures Like Mantaurs Always Go First," and thus, no traffic jams.We could "pull our own weight," (I hate that easy pun) at work. When something heavy, say a copier needed moving, a mantaur would be the ideal creature for the job. No risk of a human man suffering back injuries, so the company's insurance premiums would be nominal.
- And so what if we were to get laid off? There is always a farmer or two in the mid-west that could use our services to help them save money on diesel fuel for their huge John Deere tractors. The farmer's grand kids would love us and give us free apples. What a gig.
- And when we pick up our "sweeties," for a night out, hey, she could ride our backs to the restaurant. No, silly, we wouldn't wear those saddles worn by horses. They chaff too much and absolutely no bits in our mouths. We are meantaurs. We know how to get to a place where we can "tie on the feedbag." And the best part, no more pollution from a car that we would have used if we were created like we are now, males who follow the crowd.
- Mentaurs would be a perfect conversation piece. CNN, Fox News, TIME magazine, and major newspapers would "pay through the nose" for an interview with us.
TIME magazine: Say, Ken, what's life like for you, a mantaur?
Me: Well, Bill, I tell you. I first thought as a youngster that four legs would be awkward, but you know, I can outrun most any vehicle on the street and I feel special too at being among the world's first mantaur. It's cool.
When bedtime came, we have the choice of sleeping standing up or laying down. Forget about monotony.
Our homes would be very-economical. Just give us a big red barn-type of home with air conditioning, DirecTV, a cupboard full of Quaker Oats and we are in heaven. Pretty soon, everyone will want to be a menatur.
And if we want to do odd-jobs for extra money, we can pull fancy buggies for "males" that I chose not to make a mentaur and their female sweetheart. The tough part would not be the weight of the buggy, but how to keep the female woman from tearing our clothes off and "ditching" the less-than-perfect "male" that wasn't sharp enough to be like us, the mentaurs.
When we mentaurs have our days off, we could hang with other menaturs--sipping suds, talking horse races, and having friendly four-foot races to stay in great shape. Of course, the female (women) would hide behind the available bushes to see our sweaty manes spray sweat as we "run like the wind" around the city park where we hang-out.
And have you guys thought about when we "mantaurs," get ready to marry?
Let's take a quick look at a marriage ceremony between "Dirk, the mantaur," and "Joanie Delaney, his steady girl for over six years.
PREACHER: "do you, Dirk, the mantaur, take Joanie as your lawfully-wedded wife?
DIRK: (Paws floor Three times for "yes," then speaks) "I mean, I do."
PREACHER: "and do you, Joanie, only a human female, take Dirk, the mantaur, as your lawfully-wedded mantaur?"
JOANIE: (eyes tearing up) "I do. I really do!"
PREACHER: " I now pronounce you, "mantaur and wife!" "You may now kiss your bride." "Ladies and gentlemen, I proudly give you, Mr. and Mrs. Dirk, the menatur!"
Joanie climbs on Dirk's husky back and the ride-off through the throngs of friends and well-wishers and even Dirk doesn't know that his menatur friends have tied old shoes and tin cans to his tail. What a happy marriage ceremony.
NOTE: on their wedding night at the Holiday Inn Express somewhere near Phoenix, Arizona, the desk clerk accepts Dirk's Visa card for payment for their room, but he controls his shock to see a mantuar dressed in an expensive top hat and tux with a nervous bride, Joanie, waiting outside. The desk clerk is an okay guy and says to himself as Dirk runs back to Joanie, "Sheesh. Takes all kinds."
So what do you "guys," think now?
Man? Or mantaur?
Oh what a minute. What if I, as God again, combined a man, a centaur and the mythical Pegasus into one "creature of wonder" . . .
a "Pegamantaurus." Hello, National Geographic.