I wish I had the kind of job that required me to wear steel-toed work boots.

That's a man's shoe. You drive a logging truck in steel-toed work boots. You weld. You pour concrete foundations.

I went to work this morning in boat shoes, khakis and a gray Hawaiian shirt with parrots all over it.

But, hey, it's not like I spent my whole life at home, trying not to get a bruise. I go out, and not just to get the mail, either.

And I've been among other men, rough men. I've boxed in a ring and drank in bars where none of the chairs and tables matched. I've worked on a loading dock, too.

So you know I've heard some rape jokes.

"Rape is impossible because a woman can run faster with her skirt up than a man can with his pants down."

Ba-boom-boom-ching!

"Rape is impossible because you can't thread a moving needle!"

These are the jokes, folks!

"She didn't know she'd been raped until the check bounced."

Don't forget to tip your waitress. I'll be here all week!

"She yelled, 'No! Don't! Stop!'

"Then, she yelled, 'No, don't stop!'"

I told you these are the jokes! Hey, I laughed when you came in! Is this microphone on?

Tough crowd.

Or maybe not steel-toed work boots. Maybe I want to go to work in a white coat. A doctor. Yeah, I'll be a doctor.

As a doctor, I'd know that when a violence-tinged, non-consentutorial rape violation occurs, the woman's infernal organ, which I believe is called the "uvula," shuts down and rejects the man's felonious contribution, causing the pregnancy to be impossitorial.

Yeah. I'm a doctor! Where's my BMW?

Of course, they're not going to let me be a welder 'cause I don't know how to weld. I don't know how to drive a logging truck, either. I'm too crude to be a stand-up comic, and I don't even know what "BMW" stands for, although I think it's something in German.

But I could run for office, maybe in Missouri, and I wouldn't have to lose my Hawaiian shirt, either. In a newsroom, where I work, a Hawaiian shirt marks you as a slovenly goofball who thinks he's funny but isn't. A politician in a Hawaiian shirt would be a "man of the people."

And I wouldn't have to KNOW anything to run for office.

I wouldn't have to know anything about a woman's body, and if I got cornered on some bit of woman's body knowledge, I could make stuff up and start talking about her "uvula" or maybe even her "spatula." I'd be fine, or at least I would be if I told people I went to church a lot.

Yeah. Ideology is a lot better than knowledge.

Knowledge tells you how and why to build a kindergarten in an inner-city ghetto. Ideology tells you not to bother because all those ghetto people are welfare-sucking subhumans, and the girls in the kindergarten you won't build will all have babies in their uvulas by the time they're 13 and so are not worth edumacating.

These are the jokes, folks!

It's 2012, and these are the jokes.

Still.

To find out more about Marc Munroe Dion and read features by other Creators Syndicate writers and cartoonists, visit www.creators.com.