New Rule: Blogging About Women Is Forbidden

Dear internets: Please stop writing about women. Altogether. Completely. You're terrible at it, and end up sounding a) like the mythical basement-dwelling libertarian World of Warcraft fiend that every non-internet user assumes is the average blogger, or b) like the degraded Vince Vaughn avatar every schmuck devoid of an identity gloms onto being in the company of other men. Love, me. ↵

↵Even the normally tolerable are turned into drooling, febrile nitwits by the issue of "women+sports=WHAAA?" Look no further than The Big Lead, the US Weekly of sports blogs, for further evidence as to how a usually competent blogger may be struck with bolts of stupid lightning in the presence of a woman: ↵

↵
↵⇥Erin, here’s a bit of a newsflash: If you want to be perceived as a professional, you dress professionally. A blogger mentioned to us that Andrews was essentially a glorified “pharmaceutical saleswoman with a microphone and a press pass,” and if you’ve ever seen pharm sales reps in the doctor’s office, there are essentially two types: The ones in the revealing sun dresses and the ones in the business suits (regardless of the weather). If you choose door No. 1, you’re going to have guys like Rick Sutcliffe and Lou Piniella noticing. And commenting. ↵
↵Note: no accountability for Rick Sutcliffe or Lou Pinella. None. Being men, though, they're just lucky if they wear pants to work, much less avoid ogling and hooting at women, drinking themselves blind drunk before one o'clock in the afternoon, or blowing the mortgage payment at the track on payday. It's Erin Andrews' fault for wearing a sundress when it's blazing hot outside, since they just can't help themselves! Why, you should hear what they say to the regular beat writers, who feel like sad pieces of meat every time Lou Piniella comments on their moobs in a tight t-shirt. Those guys are the real victims here. ↵

↵I'm a man, or so I've been told, and the quasi-retardation creeping into any post involving women and sports floors me. It's a woman. They're everywhere. Get used to it. For fairness, we wish someone would follow Peter Gammons around and take pictures of his rump in tight trousers and of him eating hot dogs suggestively, and not because we're into the jockey-type, but because it would be hilarious to watch a guy put under the same scrutiny. Though Peter Gammons, I'm sure, is sexy to someone out there. ↵

↵

This post originally appeared on the Sporting Blog. For more, see The Sporting Blog Archives.

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