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Unquotable quotes: Gals, Dolls, Bitches and Broads – XXXVII

( No aspersions are being cast here, willingly or otherwise, on the fairer, stronger and infinitely more sagacious sex. Even if these over-used words are somewhat overloaded with derogatory connotations, depending on the circumstances, their use here in these “effete efflorescences” are not meant to affirm or deny the original sacred conception of womanhood which is made up of the qualities of the most refined, and, not to mention, the most beautiful “creatures” among the human or even animal species. No attempt is made to sidestep the issue: the spectrum of life forms include the best and the worst specimens, of course.)

No apologies are tended, here, for the use of these terms: gals, dolls, bitches and broads since what they represent are the salt and spice and also alas! the vinegar of our daily existence: take a pinch or sip and feel the itch twitch for the rest of your days.

Given the traditional roles of “Mother” and “Sex-Object” that gals are called upon to assume, it would only be fair to remind them: You can’t have your banana and milkshake it as well!

The choice is plain: Either you opt out of being a mother or you make the ultimate sacrifice – multiply the population of the world, but  PaLEASE! Stick to one or the other! 

The quality of human life and the human race depends on your choice.

All forms of morals and the enduring values of human existence depend on/await your choice.

Not to make the choice by continuing to assume both the roles is the fatal error: you can’t be a virtuous mother and loyal wife and – let’s admit it – a “bitch” as well. 


Life would be an interminable Sunday morning liturgy on TV if gals, dolls, bitches and broads didn’t make us sink deeper into the quagmire, that is, late Saturday night - only to wake us up early the next morn.

Who is the more despicable a character: the thieving hound who hides out in the basement or the stairways till the husband shunts off to work or the adulterous bitch who hurriedly kisses her children and bundles them off to school? OR, or the husband who drops off the commuter train to bounce some other babe on the way home?

If you’re a gal and some guy called you “bitch”, or even – excuse the word – “bloody bitch”! What would you do? Take it all lying down like a putdown paid broad? Or would you mount your charger and pound the guy in broad daylight down your street, cheered by all the dolls in your neighbourhood?

Why is it an axiom that a really stunning-looking gal when ogled at would be generous with her poses and rewarding with her smiles whereas the opposite is the case with the passably pretty bitch or broad?

Wouldn’t wives give half their gold reserves to know what their husbands tell broads about themselves?

Doll-makers know as much about the art of sowing wild oats as dolls about dark matter.

If dolls can bitch about what kids did or do to them in a year, even a broad’s ear will shrink from shame.  

Even if guys who play with dolls all day long keep bitching about it all, they’ll sooner or later get them enthralled.

Guys who fall for gals but refuse to tie the knot tend to make their dolls bitch, look and talk like sods.

(End of Part One)

(c) T. Wignesan - Paris, 2016
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