The Proof of My Credibility

By Dr. Jeff Mirus ( bio - articles - email ) | Feb 16, 2011

I have a cold, my dear friends, a bad cold, and from this unfortunate fact you will learn beyond doubt that I am an authentic witness to the truth, an honest retailer of How Things Are. This is the case because I have the kind of ferocious cold which every man must loudly and frequently declare to be the worst affliction in the known universe. What, then, would such a cold do to a woman?

A woman—and this is the first and most important proof of my credibility—would ponder the mystery of the cold in her heart, say nothing about it, and get on with her responsibilities without dropping continual hints about the need for sympathy. But I am not a woman, and so naturally I want you to know about it—a second proof of my masculine authenticity.

It is true, of course—and here is a third and minor proof that I am a trustworthy witness to the very fundamentals of life—that there are as many personalities as there are persons, and so we must presume that somewhere there is a man who complains less about his cold than a woman would about the same symptoms. However, you may take my advice on this score as the final proof of my exemplary judgment: Do not place anything significant on a wager that such a man will turn up soon.

Now a woman, incredible creature that she is, sees a cold as something to be endured. I except, but only to a very small degree, those women who always think they have a surefire herbal remedy. For everyone knows such remedies work more because of the woman’s fortitude than because of any real change in symptoms they may effect. Hence even the herbally remedial woman rather more proves my point than not. I repeat that in general a woman believes she should endure a cold, and she responds accordingly.

But, Great Heavens, endurance is a foreign concept to a man except in one circumstance only. He can endure stoically, but only on the path to victory. A man sees all trials as intolerable nuisances about which Something Must Be Done. Thus he can endure considerable stress and discomfort if he has a plan of action. But without a plan of action, he tends toward despondency, and his fine nature has no recourse but to complain.

From reason and past experience, however, a man knows very well there is nothing to be done about a cold. Therefore he objects to the cold not because of its pains, but on principle: Something which cannot be effectively attacked ought not to exist. It isn’t right. And this sense of injured rectitude only causes the physical symptoms to be more bothersome. The man’s injury at the hands of a cold is an injury to the right order of things. It cuts to the very root of his role as an Upholder Of The Way Things Ought To Be.

You will admit, then, that I am indeed an Authentic Witness to reality. And this will doubtless give you pause before taking exception to anything else I might write. Rather, let your slogan be, “Mirus knows his stuff.” For you can see here that I do. And I can prove it once again. This cold stinks.