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Feb-10-2010 12:41printcomments

Female Sportscasters: The Death Knell of Machisimo?

“I want you to get up right now, sit up, go to your windows, open them and stick your head out and yell - 'I'm as mad as hell and I'm not going to take this anymore!' Things have got to change.” Fictional TV anchorman Howard Beale’s speech in the movie NETWORK (1976)

Female sportscaster spoof

(LAGUNA BEACH) - Guys, who wants to dawg paddle over to the shallow end of the Salem-News online pool for a while? Tired of all of those intellectually demanding, complex articles, the ones which after you’ve read them and the mind-bending comments sections that follow, you only succeed in giving yourself a migraine-sized headache?

Take a breather, brother, have a Bud or light up some bud (or both), you deserve a break today and I don’t mean a steroid-laden, cardboard-tasting, PETA-opposed McDonald’s Burger. Want less, not more depth? Congrats, you’ve arrived.

This ODD MAN OUT has a reputation to uphold, so like Rod Serling (Twilight Zone) I offer you common pulp, a ditty about a disturbing trend that’s been burning in my head for quite some time. Consider this my XY Chromosome Valentine’s Day gift to my straight, albeit increasingly whipped brethren. I'll get back to environmental interventions later.

Pop psychologists and Oprah have been indoctrinating, actually hectoring or brainwashing men in the past 35 years or so (since the advent of feminism) as they appear hell-bent on erasing the differences between the sexes….All 3, 4 or is it 5 of them, I lose track.

I’m a “try-sexual” and with all due respect and apologies to gays, I’m hopelessly hetero. I’ll try anything once but only with my very girly honey-bunny. And yes, I’ve confirmed her physiological orientation, thank you very much for your concern in advance. Any So Cal college student, swabbie or Marine who was fooled by a“Lola” transsexual) hooker in a Tijuana bar back in 1964 knows what I’m talking about. ‘Nuff said.

Anyway, legislative actions have followed the trendoids. New or revised laws intended to level the playing fields in every element of our lives in domains like sports and jobs have proliferated in an attempt to recalibrate, to force egalitarianism. You know, that “ …with freedom and justice forall”.

We’re a relatively young country, so it’s debatable as to whether Americans have passed the pre-pubescence phase, and for these New Age thinkers I assume their intentions to progress some form of maturity are honorable, but I’d challenge real, not-girly-men to ask themselves instead of their lovers “Was It Good For You?”

In the award-winning song “Where Have All the Cowboys Gone?” Paula Jones (a traitorous woman, no less) laments the loss of tough, rugged men in America. Why was such a plaintive, mournful appeal about the modern American culture of increasingly feminized men such a big hit? Because it expressed truth, it resonated at some interesting and not even subliminal level of perception with both men and women.  Competent, take-charge men are being replaced by narcissistic, androgenous metrosexuals who, though they grow stubbly, rough beards, are as apt to dwell in front of a cosmetics mirror, to shave their chests and nether regions as their ladies. Straight women no longer wonder what a straight guy is wearing, boxers or briefs. Now it's g-string or thong?

The Gripe:

Who had the bright idea of phasing in eye candy as announcers in formerly macho sports venues in the last decade? What in the Hell are/were these corporate media imbeciles thinking? Why have they now limited, almost stopped panning the sideline cameras to dwell on those high-kicking pneumatic Dallas Cowboy Cheerleaders and their attendant, bulging rear cheek cleavage and camel toes? This stereotype of has become a commentator or analyst, but why? Did you, Mr. Mucho Macho Couch Potato, demand that they do that? Did your girlfriend or wife tell them they had to, or else she’d withhold favors?

I confess, I’m guilty as charged. Like an AA meeting (so I hear), I’ve got to confess my addiction, I've got a terminal case of chauvinist pig-ism. I’m a nostalgic kind of guy, and in the now-distant dinosaur past, if I wanted“T & A” I could (a) Wait for my Playboy to arrive, (b) Go down to the beach on a sunny day and “perv” on the squeekers (young bikini clad chicky-poos), or (c) Cajole my current main squeeze into a night-at-home dinner followed by dessert: A personalized, one man audience pole dance.

Sorry, I’m just not the strip club type; not in my choice of alternatives, and around here it’s a 20 mile round trip pilgrimmage minimum---That’s just plain, and unfortunately very expensive, desperation. Then too there's that going green, carbon footprint thing via the gasoline required. Plus you’ve got to hope there’s a bank open on the way that’ll give you $100 in singles for the table dance(s).

Now where was I? Oh yeah, female sportcasters. Am I the only dude to notice that the networks don’t really hire “Plain Janes” for the sports venues? No, they procure way above average, dreamy visual divas who range from the lean to the obviously voluptuous, the ones you formerly ogled in your garage magazines who are now interviewing your idols!

And c’mon men, admit it, haven’t you at least once been compassionately disturbed when seeing a coach or player coming off a court or field during a break, his team losing by 40 points, get asked one of those Dr. Phil questions: “How do you feel about getting your jockstrap handed to you in the first half? What are you going to tell the hopeless guys in the locker room even though no one, I repeat no one has EVER come back from that kind of deficit?”

The screechy women stabbing that microphone into their faces with fire engine red perfect nails are immaculately quaffed, perfectly peticured, glossy lipsticked and fashionably dressed----And they expect that a man in the middle of a testosterone-washed battle, a man who might lose his job, a man thoroughly pissed at the nationally televised humiliation of an ass-whooping in progress to make nice, give audiences a calm, quaint touchy-feely quote as if in therapy? “Uh-huh, and so would you like to share why you feel that way?”

Of course I know I’m shallow. But that’s just it. I like that part of me and my life. I like being able to have something left that helps define masculinity, something special. Even if the guy doing the interview or the analysis looks like Woody Allen, could never have played a competitive down of football, an inning of baseball or a quarter of basketball, never got his bell rung or his mouth smashed in a fist fight, he’s a guy, get it Oprah-phytes? He at least had a friend who did incur a concussion from contact, and I don’t mean the elbow-jostling at a Neiman-Marcus purse sale counter.

Forget My Fair Lady and Professor Higgins “Why can't a woman be more like a man?” Who said that men want women to be like themselves, and why should I feel guilty if I don’t? So what if it helps me define my masculinity by watching the Super Bowl in a room awash in testosterone, I’m not really hurting anyone. It's my ritualistic rite.

And puh-lease don’t give me that BS about sharing experiences for a better relationship. God, I’m frikking sick of hearing that crap. I’ll promise to never watch Steel Magnolias or Titanic or Howard’s End if someone would just stop parading smoking hotties during my male-bonding experiences.

And as for the ladies, has anybody bothered to poll them? They still end up feeling like they’re competing for a man’s attention, maybe now it’s worse because these pin-up types are ubiquitous on every station. In my opinion this conundrum propagates a false sense of equality as well. The networks are still using hunky-bod women as an enticement while they feign new social values in their broadcast team composition---Or should I be writing “make-up”?

A good solution is to require the hiring of women as technicians and the other media employees for female sports venues. Render unto Venus or Serena or Cheryl Miller that which is theirs. Let women compete with other women, let women watch women perform, let women criticize women’s athletic efforts. Croidy, they can run all of the feminine hygiene or menopause medicine commercials they want at that time. I’m not too happy about watching menstrual ads during my dinner hour anyway, and for that matter who is?

PS: They can dump that bogus “Ladies Lingerie Football League” while they’re at it. I’ll either pick up my Playboy or borrow my girl’s Victoria's Secret Catalogue when I want that---Or properly grovel, beg her on my knees for a pole dance when I want that particular type of less is More” simulacrum.

I say we return, yes embrace and regress to the days of yore. If I want sexual stimulation I’ll watch the now systemic weather girl segment on my local news feed. Nowthere’s some hot stuff, baby, this evening, some hot stuff baby tonight. And there’s something the National Organization of Women can remedy if they’re bored or have run out of level playing fields and windmills to charge.

So guys, I implore you, stop being so damned PC, stop letting our communal masculinity evaporate before our very eyes, in the presence of our Cheetos and brew-skis, in situations where you formerly could belch, fart and scratch or rearrange your goonies with abandon. It’s a proven fact that girls lust after, are attracted to problematic, slobbish bad boys. They just don’t usually marry them, but hey, if you’ve been divorced a few times what’s the big loss there?

Men: Define yourselves, don’t let the other half of the species---Or those of your own kind who in fear abdicate, do it for you. Carpe Scrotum. For me? I’ll become that brand of egalitarian when they tear the TV remote control from my cold, dead, chauvinist pig, cloven-hoofed paws. Vive la différence!

Also check this out: LA Times: Poor you: Super Bowl ads featured hen-pecked males feeling a little too sorry for themselves


Launched in 2010, Odd Man Out is the creation of Roger von Bütow and his OMO columns are written exclusively for Salem-News-com. Born and raised in the LA Harbor area, son of a German immigrant father, he's been in Orange County for 45 years and is a 38-year resident of Laguna Beach, Ca. In 1998, he began his professional career in environmental review processes (CEQA, NEPA, MND, MND and EIR/EIS). He's a rare mix of cross-trained builder, writer and consultant as he brings his extensive construction experiences dating back to 1972 into his eco-endeavors. He has tremendous field and technical expertise in successful watershed restorations, plus wastewater, urban runoff, water quality monitoring/improvements and hydrologic mechanisms. He's built everything from commercial spas to award-winning private residences, and provided peer review and consultant analyses for single homes, subdivisions and upscale resorts.

View articles written by Roger Butow Read Roger's full biography on the Staff Page

His resumé is extensive, try an online GOOGLE search of his personal journey and historical accomplishments. His consultation fees are reasonable and if you've got a major project that alarms you, that needs creative intervention, then he's your man. His credentials and "CV" can be provided upon request.

Contact him at his office: (949) 715.1912 or drop him an email:

End Israel's Unwarranted Murder of Kids


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Natalie February 12, 2010 12:01 pm (Pacific time)

Roger: Oh, that's so sweet. I guess you're not that 'ready to puke over all of the Valentine's Day hoopla' after all and can behave like a geltleman. Apology's accepted. You're welcome. I understand that philosophers usually have rich imagination but 'kids' might have 84 kids of their own. If I ever want to experiment with my present marital status I'll post in bold. It's gonna be a national news, so don't worry: you won't miss it. And a little jealousy helps to keep a man in good shape. Romantic evening usually follows. LOL

Roger von Bütow February 12, 2010 6:12 am (Pacific time)

Dear Natalie and Ersun: Gee, kids, maybe you two should "get a room." Just kidding. I jotted off my ditty as humorous therapy and my version of a "Funny Valentine," I didn't realize it would turn into an Advise-to-the-Lovelorn" column. I'm still in the metaphorical doghouse with my college professor girlfriend for writing it to begin with. You two, on the other hand, might want to exchange phone numbers or something. In my naivete I thought that a piece which broached the War of the Sexes issue in a jocular way could help us realize that we need to drop our weapons (the snotty verbiage) that creates a space between us, a chasm we don't have to have. I guess I'm into advancing, helping evolutionary progression of the mind half of the sexual equation. Women are rightfully moving into more typically male niches, and our biological nature's still lag....But our brains can begin to envision a neutrality that both embraces our differences yet celebrates our similarities. I mean we're only different by a measly chromosome. After my second divorce some 20 years ago, I became confused while dating: What was the difference between CHIVALRY and CHAUVINISM? I found strong professional women who actually demanded that I not open the door, not stand when they entered or left the room, etc. I was raised by a very strict German father and Catholic Mom. My Mom insisted that we treat women with dignity and courtesy. My Dad insisted that we never raise our voices or our hands against women, children and animals. I can honestly say at 64 that I've followed their guidance, though I've had my patience tested by cheating ladies in my life. So, at the risk of being slammed once again HAPPY VALENTINES DAY. You don't need to blow a bundle of $$$, here's a gesture that would be more important: Tell someone, anyone you love how you feel about them if you haven't recently. That, not diamonds, is priceless. See, I'm kind of a sentimental guy at heart though terminally macho---Men should be allowed to be contradictory too, then we'll ALL be liberated! :+) :+) :+)

Natalie February 11, 2010 6:05 pm (Pacific time)

Nice one. No, lying is not my way of communicating. Telling half-the truth is another thing. But it's different. It give us flexibility for manoeuvring. For example: if I say 'darling, I bumped into a tree while getting out of our driveway' is not a lie. The other half of the truth that the car is not repairable any more is not necessaryly has to be mentioned at that time. It's still money down the drain, so why make the man suffer from hearing how much exactly? And 'creativity' sounds better, I agree.

Ersun Warncke February 11, 2010 3:51 pm (Pacific time)

So Natalie, what you are saying is that you would admit you are lying, but only if you had actually told the truth in the first place, and the subsequent admission was thus false? :) Lying is such an ugly word anyway, why not just call it "creativity." That introduces an appropriate level of feminine ambiguity into the phrase, and elevates you to the status of a muse.

Natalie February 11, 2010 12:15 pm (Pacific time)

'Lying'? No, I will never confess to that. We always tell the truth. It's just we find it to be more interesting either to exaggerate or undertell the truth. Men would be 'lying' as much as we are. We just talk faster and when men finally come up with the idea how to respond, we already jumped to another topic thus they are left with nothing else but to listen or pretend that they are listening.

Ersun Warncke February 11, 2010 3:11 am (Pacific time)

Natalie, your comment reminds me of the saying: "how do you know when a woman is lying: when her lips are moving." Such an adage, passed down over untold generations, cannot be ignored. To others: The point of any game is to have fun. If you aren't enjoying a game, it is because you are losing, so step your game up. Continuing in the modern parlance: it isn't whether you win or lose, but how you play the game. I suppose that it is natural to men, and annoying to women, to reduce every woman to a metaphor about sports or meat; but women who are comfortable with this are having better sex lives. Most days I am happy swinging from trees and engaging in hostile confrontations with interlocutors trying to infringe on my territory. Whether this be primitive ("monkey"), or not, it undoubtedly provides a level of satisfaction unmatched by denial of this basic fact. (Now that I have said some grossly insulting things about women, and compared myself to a monkey, I will go back to my roll as a serious business and economics reporter)

Natalie February 10, 2010 9:50 pm (Pacific time)

By the way, I find Dr. Phil to be boring. And you, guys, can't handle us because it's in our nature to say one thing, thinking at the same time-another, and meaning completely different from what we say. You rely on what you hear, but actually should sense instead what we mean. How's that?

Natalie February 10, 2010 8:25 pm (Pacific time)

I'm not a feminist, and if a little teasing makes you go from satirical to angry, I rest my case. I'll find somebody, not so sensitive to my poking, to talk to. And who cares about your pricy gifts anyway? I prefer sweets and passionate... or well, whatever. P.S. I still think this article is hilarious.

Roger von Bütow February 10, 2010 6:46 pm (Pacific time)

Let's see, if we remain silent we're incommunicative brutes, incapable of the real courage it takes to open up emotionally.....So a guy tries to respond to criticism of a satirical piece he wrote, tries to communicate at length and you pull an ad hominem. So we say nothing and we're ridiculed. We respond in depth and we have "verbal diarrhea", this is what's frustrating us. What, you want every guy to be Alan Alda or Dr. Phil? By jumping us when we do share our feelings you only polarize, you only alienate. This type of woman assures things don't change----Sabotages any hope of eventual resolution. So you must like turmoil, being at war with men? Presently, this is a rigged game. It's a zero sum, winner-take-all, and we're screwed regardless by these standards. We're wrong no matter what we do. Why should I be paying the freight on my Father's generation of men and their mistakes? Gee, I think it is our APPENDAGE, not our appendix being removed. Some women come from a place of resentment because of the way the men in THEIR lives have treated them. But when we resent being treating generically, categorized, which both ladies herein are doing, if women are so superior, why do the same thing we do, why do you typify all men as cut from the same cloth and begrudge me my hormones, I'm a dying breed? Are those DNA jokes? I'm into the Yin/Yang thang, the symbolic representation of the need to have both functioning equally in a mixture. You two ladies (see, I don't call you anything disrespectful) seem intent on punishing, on being bitter. If you have men in your lives, wonder if they don't feel the way I do but are afraid to express it? I'm not trying to denigrate or take your sexuality away, why are you so intent on taking my half of the species away? What good is a castrated male, to be submissive and take out the garbage? Wow, thanks for the lesson. We might as well stay chauvinists---Even when one of them expresses his feelings he's still a testosterone driven thinker. Yeah, and women are just thinkers, we're no longer allowed to use estrogen-incensed or pre-menstrual, or the "B" word, that would be un-PC. All we're good for is breeding purposes, sperm donors to create more women, huh? I understand women are angry and upset, want to be paid equally, respected equally, but hassling us when we engage you in dialogue solves nothing. Mission accomplished, ladies. Maybe that's where you're comfortable, I'm not.

Natalie February 10, 2010 5:18 pm (Pacific time)

LOL Even if we really show compassion, men think that we mean something else and develop so called 'verbal diarrhea' understandable only to themselves as a sign of fear to be attacked by a woman. Or is it your guilty consciousness speaking?

Roger von Bütow February 10, 2010 4:34 pm (Pacific time)

Gee, I thought that I pretty much t-balled the satirical, tongue-in-cheek aspect here. ladies. I kept hinting. And I wrote this BEFORE the Super Bowl (see LA Times article hyperlink). I also was ready to puke over all of the Valentine's Day hoopla, all over a manufactured holiday for consumers, imploring men to buy diamonds to prove their love, diamonds the woman gets to wear and keep forever. The commercials do NOT feature women buying their dude a muscle car or a surfing trip with his friends ALONE. They start promoting this thing the day after New Years. We as men, if we don't spend thousands on our honey-bunny are considered unworthy failures----Another form of emasculation. At minimum we are expected to give flowers, designer candy, a dinner out at a restaurant we can't afford, maybe a play or opera we don't want to watch, or even a weekend getaway we'll spend the next week of work paying for. All due to societal expectations, our mutual love interests will all be picking up the phone on Friday to find out where THEIR friend's are going, or on Monday the15th to see what we (inept, flabby gut Homer Simpson's we are cast as) did for her----he's in love, well then ask what he did to prove himself worthy. That's real pressure ladies. Taking me to task over a few years difference in dates regarding feminism is a venal, not mortal sin, but OK, fine. These really aren't ALL my true feelings in this piece, my prejudices and preferences---Artists go from sculpting to painting to mixed media and critics understand that. I try to be a "Word Artist," I was experimenting, I actually tried to weave into it the things my guy friends whine about but won't utter in front of their ladies. Instead, they grumble about how these women want to go to every formerly male-only venue and they no longer experience traditional male bonding. The pendulum in this conundrum has been swinging through its arc since December of 1969 or whenever. As pendulums do, they reach the extremes, but eventually they usually slow too because of friction, they lose some inertial momentum. That stasis, that equilibrium will eventually occur regarding men and women. Equilibrium as in egalitarian, as in equality. Right now we, as men, are screwed, all because it's an era of flux while things get sorted out. I can honestly say though, that if I were in a party, and a man came to the glass door with a knife two things would occur: First, the women I know would expect the men to protect them and the children present. That's freaking biology. The second biological element is the ALPHA syndrome, embedded in our DNA as males. The alpha dawgs would be the first to confront that physical threat. Put a group of guys only in a room, and 15 minutes later they will have sorted themselves out in ALPHAS, BETA and DRONES, the man at the door would "jell" or initiate this response. Usually, and I think science sustains this, the bigger males if also somewhat intelligent rise like cream to the top of the Alpha list, the Alpha- de-la-alphas. It's biologically determined. Not sure how women do this if alone with the same sex, but I'm told a similar phenomenon occurs. Leadership is a function of aggression, and vice versa. And no, before you ask, I don't like women going to war zones. My biological instincts are still intact, maybe not PC, but my first response would be to physically protect them. War is proof positive that there is a madness, an inherent drive for aggression, but if threatened we will give up our lives to defend the nest. In fact, people in general sleep comfortably in their beds at night because men like me, men of rough character are willing to perform violence on their behalf, to protect them. I think George Orwell said something like that. Disinter him and ask him what he meant by that. I was just trying to write a piece that broached in a humorous fashion what I thought a timely subject, a sore spot that men and women need to dialogue more. So just shoot me, feminists: I'm the chauvinist, misogynist pig at the glass ceiling with a very sharp tongue. Hide your children and call 911!

Natalie February 10, 2010 3:18 pm (Pacific time)

'I wish, I wish with all my heart...' Masculinity was pronounced dangerous thus had to be removed ,like appendix, long time ago. Poor confused men finally noticed that something is missing. Haha. Like always.

gp February 10, 2010 1:25 pm (Pacific time)

Goddess knows why I read your bit here but it was very funny. I did some quick calculating to check your historical citation and found that you were off on the age of the feminist second wave by at least five years as I went to my first women's liberation movement meeting in December 1969. Other than that I have no complaints about your feelings, prejudices and preferences. But darlin' you are a dying breed though typical of testosterone driven thinkers. I don't begrudge you your hormones, they keep the race going, not that I am at all sure that is the best thing for the rest of theplanet's species. Now just one question, like most women, I am very curious, just exactly what day of the week is Super Bowl Sunday?

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