1950

I've been known in this column to praise the wives and other women of Dartmouth. However, this month I will excerpt from Mike Barnacle, a columnist for the Boston Globe, who wrote in the week before Super Bowl Sunday under the heading of "Here's one for the guys."

GUYS RULE! At least that's what we've been led to believe for the past seven days. First, the top guys at CBS, FOX and ABC whip out billions to show NFL games, to lure the most attractive audience possible: guys between 29 and 54.

Then, the big guy himself has to rearrange his schedule to deny under oath that he whipped out his...never mind. Despite the embarrassment, only fringe lunatics are yapping about Clinton's alleged behavior because he's, well, a guy.

Clearly, guys rule.

Maybe it's because we don't cry a lot in public. Or can fix toasters and open jars. Don't panic at self-service gas stations. Get paid more for doing less than chicks. Guys quickly moved on after the tragic loss of Princess Di. Guys don't freak out when another guy at work shows up wearing the same outfit. Guys regard Roe vs. Wade as a couple of different ways to cross a lake. Guys figure things are OK if we can find the click er and the Doritos.

For guys, tall, short, white, black, brown, straight, gay, right-handed, left-handed, ambidextrous guys; doesn't matter. After decades of self-loathing, sexism, and incredible PC abuse, guys are back.

Guys are solid. We don't fake it or get headaches. We can shoot the breeze with car mechanics without worrying they're looking at us, thinking impure thoughts. We can pull over to the side of the road when we have to. We can be in a bad mood all during March and nobody says, "Oh, oh, must be the time of the month." Guys are dependable. We wear the same color underwear every day, sometimes wear the same shorts more than one day. We can shovel snow, change flats, do stuff with tools.

Guys are worth the networks' and advertisers' investments.

However, there's one small wrinkle, one tiny flaw in the strategy that leads so few to lavish so much on pro football: Guys can't buy anything without permission. Guys make a salary, save and invest, sure. But, your average guy 29 to 54 couldn't buy a Snickers bar without asking the true boss of the family. A track? A van? A computer? A camera? Surely, you jest. Guys are like pets. We get trained and housebroken, then we're told to fetch bread and milk at the supermarket. Drive to a hockey rink. Shave. Wait in the car. Don't yell. Things like that. Be good and maybe you'll get a treat later on.

Guys rale all right. In our dreams.

Jack Kent, 2 Central Green, Winchester, MA 01890;