The reason females are far more apt to be logically, emotionally and intuitively in touch with what's right (as in what works) is because women lack penises. Of course, if they had penises, they'd be men, or at least surgical imitations. (Though puzzled by women who for whatever reason seek a sutured solution to their gender angst, I can totally understand why men would prefer being women. But I digress.)
With the exception of the handy capacity to pee while standing, the male organ has little in its favor and is much to be pitied (as is the male who sports it).
It begins soon after birth. Infant girls are free to explore the world into which they've been thrust, unencumbered by a protrusion between their legs. Boy babies are burdened with a tiny bundle of flesh constantly demanding their attention. "Touch me, touch me. Look at me, look at me," it seems to say (or would say if penises could palaver).
This infantile preoccupation with a chunk of meat, whose size and shape bears an uncanny resemblance to the size and shape of some animal scat, sets the stage for a lifetime of enslavement and limited possibilities. Men, alas, are condemned from birth, and they know it.
They may not know it as in cognitively understand it--males are severely handicapped in the "understand" department--but they know it in every cell of their bodies. This knowledge partly explains the misogyny you'll find lurking in even the most mild-mannered of men. The poor dears can't help it.
Men know they will never be able to get through life as successfully as women. They may hold corporate, political or financial power, thus assuring themselves of sad substitutes for genuine achievements, but they lack the one indispensable ingredient women possess in abundance: strength. And we're not talking about muscles.
It is women who have the fortitude (and biology) to produce the progeny, soothe the hurts, act prudently in emergencies and assess and solve problems in the non-linear way life requires. (Despite men's chronic insistence that life can be measured, mapped and predicted, watch out for the law of unintended consequences as men--ever eager to control life since they can't produce it--dabble in the gene pool and eventually admit, "Oops, we goofed.")
While women are doing it all, men are stuck in an "if-A-then-B" type of simplistic, causal thinking. The penis connection? It's obvious: When a boy baby first discovers if he pulls it, it feels good, he has inexorably doomed his brain to a patterned belief in the notion that life is sequenced in an "off-on," "one-two," configuration. (This helps explain boy wonder Bill Gates and others of his ilk.) Hence, boy babies eliminate for themselves the ability to grow beyond mere mathematical progression and romp in the realm of chaos, confusion and unpredictability. Women, on the other hand, can comfortably work through whatever life delivers in creative ways without being mired in a swamp of undeveloped, festering brain cells.
So what are women to do? We know these truths to be self-evident, but for the greater part of hominid history, we have been largely reluctant, for good reason, to share them with the vaginally challenged.
Men are not prone to accept even the slightest hint of their imperfection. Should you have the temerity to tell a man there's a better, smarter, easier way to do something, you may risk, at minimum, an angry and offended outburst, or, in the most extreme cases, death at the hands of some penis-toting, oops, gun-toting, crazed, testosterone-driven maniac.
Consequently, women are well advised to do what they've done for millennia: lie. Though an unsavory method of interacting with the less-developed half of the species, wise women refrain from telling men the truth. Perhaps the sting of resorting to fibs would be lessened if women thought of their verbal actions not as outright lies, but closer to the fantasies we spin for children. This strategy should work, especially if we keep in mind that men are, after all, children playing at being adult. But that's not quite right: Children are usually more in touch with their feelings than men, who (according to one writer) would exhibit no feelings whatsoever if it weren't for sports.
To make matters worse, men realize that technology (ironically, the traditional bailiwick of men) is fast making them obsolete. Though not a big fan of the technological fix, I admit, in this instance, it's not a bad thing. Perhaps in a generation or two, we'll be rid of the less-evolved male as females clone their way to liberation.
A man-free planet bodes well for the future. Just think of it: Without the swaggering, conquering, nature-fearing, hormone-impaired male to clutter up the landscape, women will be free to pursue what we've always valued above all: play. No more vestiges of patriarchy translates to the end of rigid, confining systems and the full flowering of feminism.
With the end of male dominance--in fact, the end of males--our daughters will be free at last. Free to romp through a natural landscape recovered from the ravages of rapacious males. Free of male-generated notions such as "efficient" and "industrious." Free to worship nature without fear of being branded weird. Free of male fantasies of power and prestige.
An Earth inhabited only with women will be an Earth once more in tune with the cosmic dance. And who knows, maybe someday, long after the last man is reduced to compost, all women will again be in sync with the moon.