HUMOR: The 10 Commandments for Husbands - By Doug Giles

The 10 Commandments for Husbands
By Doug Giles

I hate to sound like some religious nut job here—but I really felt (sort of) for certain that God gave me, and me alone, the 10 Commandments for Husbands, last Wednesday while I was watching American Idol.

“God inspired you to write this?” you say. Yep, God did. The way I’m almost certain it was maybe God speaking to me is that every time He speaks to me about something (and it’s pretty often), I begin to smell WD40, packing popcorn begins to fall from the ceiling of my trailer house, and then a voice begins speaking to me in English—but with an angry and commanding high-pitched Chinese accent. It’s quite an experience.

Given all these divine attestations, who can doubt that what I have penned for you husbands is anything but inspired. Stand in awe, all ye husbands, because herewith are 10 things that thou must doeth . . . or I guess not doeth—actually, there’s both—to have a successful marriage.

1. Thou shalt not demand that thy middle aged wife look like one of Hef’s 20-year old chicks. Staying attractive for each other via exercise, diet and, possibly, a little nip/tuck, is one thing. Demanding that thy 45-year old wife look like a 19-year old Hillary Duff after she’s received multitudinous stretch marks from giving birth to thy three kids puts thou solidly in the running for the “Ass of the Universe” crown. Yea, such an attitude officially ticketh off the Lord thy God.
Palm Pilot, listen to the prophetic word, thou must be content with loving thy wife and appreciating her as an attractive and mature woman. She’s not 20 any more, and by the way, neither art thou (or is it thee?). As a matter of fact, thou probably art a paunch gut sluggard with severe halitosis whose hair is both turning gray and loose. Thou shouldst be real thankful that she doesn’t turn the plastic surgery/male enhancement gun on thou and thy . . . uh, shall we say, challenged areas.

2. Thou shalt not hang out with horndogs. Hanging out with guys who hateth their wives, who loveth to indulge in the superfluity of naughtiness and who are out to convert the faithful to the Cult of Infidelity is muy goofy. Be not deceived: bad company will land thee in a strip club or an illicit affair which will causeth thou to meet with the chainsaw of Jehovah. Be afraid.
Husbands, if thou hast failed in the fidelity field, followeth these simple instructions: own it, tell thy wife that thou art an idiot, beg her forgiveness, goeth to counseling and have the sage tell thee what a bass ackwards brutish fellow of the baser sort you are. From there, go on, thou penitent one, to don thy frame with sackcloth, sit thyself on the front row of a goodly church and let God divinely redirect thy blood to thine big head so that thou can thinkest with that for a change. After that, pursue ye goodfellows who diggeth the whole married/family experience and let their light give thee light.

3. Thou shalt get a frickin’ job. Thou sluggard, here’s a little 411 regarding what thy wife is really thinking about thou not working: your unemployed state is getting really, really, really, I’m talkin’ really old. Sure it was okay for a fortnight. But after a year of thy lady bringing home the drachmas while thou surfest porn sites and watcheth Flavor Flav—I’m sorry, I mean, as thou lookest for employment online . . . well, that’s not cutting it any more.
Not only should thou get a job, but thou should be aggressively making certain that thou art constantly excelling at what thou doest and thereby, securing for thine homestead some serious flow. Hold on a sec . . . I’m smelling a fresh whiff of WD40. Yea, it’s God instant messaging me . . . here it is: God IM’ed me just now to tell thee that thou needeth to roll out of bed, quit looking for a job out of thy window, feel the responsibility to feed thy family, be a big boy and do whatever it takes to provide for thy house—or get ready for Him to kick your butt (BTW: that was a direct quote).

4. Thou shalt lead thy family. (Duh.) Guess what, O man? You’re to be king of your castle. I know, I know, metrosexual devilish misandry has taught thee to be thou a little princess; however, God would like, thou squeamish one, for thee to rise up and play the Spartan in the spiritual, physical and financial well being of that which you betrothed and spawned.
Therefore, cease thou from shoving everything onto thy wife. Okay, thou passive twit? Learn how to manage thy money, get involved in thy teenage girl’s life so she doesn’t end up on a hip-hop video having beer poured down her cleavage while being called a “bitch and a ho” by a some punk thug that the hypocrites, Al Sharpton and Jesse Jackson, still won’t condemn.
Get thou spiritually briefed and then establish for thine offspring a moral foundation that’ll assist them to withstand the hedonistic hailstorm thy kid will face in . . . kindergarten. Pull thy head out of from thy buttocks, shake the irresponsibility from thy soul, reject passivity and now go . . . lead your family courageously, thou formerly neutered Nancy boy.

5. Thou shalt not fart at the dinner table. Another thing that maketh thy woman want to trade thee in for something that runs on batteries, or for the young squire which cleanest thy cement pond, is to not treat her with R-E-S-P-E-C-T. Lo, in all the places in which thee dwells and at all the times in which the Lord thy God allots your crippled butt to live, thou shalt show thy lady love.

This means that when thou sittest down to eat thou shalt not release thy fecal fumes. Unless of course, she does it first and bids thee to compete with her. Other than that, pinch it or excuse thyself to the land which is in back of the house in which thou liveth.

6. Thou shalt not speak down to her. Do not at any given time during the day in which God grants thee breath talkest thou to thy wife as if she is an ignorant and deaf dromedary. Yea, leave off being cruel if thou carest for the law of God, thy reproductive organs and if thou doesn’t liketh thy coffee to strangely taste salty and if thou wishes to forego thy good lady lacing thy chocolate chip cookies with ExLax. Which leadeth me to the next decree.

7. Thou shalt cherish her. Thou shalt scrub from thy barely used brain the notion that tenderness is for wussies. Never taketh who she is and what she doeth for you and thy family for granted. Yea, the mother of thy offspring and the wife of thine youth is to be treated better than thy bass boat, West Coast Chopper and thy custom guns.
In addition, know this: the Lord thy God mandates that thou be courteous to thy mate, showing unto her gratitude and honor even when thou art so mad thou could spit.

8. Thou shalt give her time to chill. O man, that likest to sit back, relax and scratch thyself, guesseth what? So doth the woman. Therefore, relieve her of her duties and provide unto her the opportunity to do whatever the heck she wanteth to do. Thou diggest?

9. Thou shalt apologize when wrong, PDQ. If thou hast wronged thy wife, then thou shalt own it with sincerity and zeal. If not, the festering root of bitterness will develop and cleave thy union. In addition, thou mayest wake up with thy skivvies super-glued unto thy privy parts for being thou the stubborn unrepentant jackass. Selah.

10. Thou shalt cut off communication with and never talk about your old girlfriends. Art thou so thick that thou needeth God to explain this one further unto thee?

Blessed is the man that obeyeth what has been written right here by this mediocre scribe. Woe unto the husband who thinketh that he can blow off the above and not feel the Lord’s deep displeasure—not to mention the woman He fashioned.

Amen.