Monday was tough. Up at 5. By 6:20 aboard a B737 from Myrtle Beach vacation to Newark via Charlotte. Lucky to have an aisle seat next to a sleeper. No such blessing the next leg; center seat next to a smeller. Using age-old diaper-changing technique, breathed through mouth for a full hour and forty minutes, praying BO couldn’t be airborne and absorbed in skin or clothing. Lucky the gate was near the Newark airport monorail, but the line at Dollar Car Rental neutralized that advantage. When you’re in line, why do transactions take 10-15 minutes; then, when it’s your turn, you’re outta there in three minutes? Simple. You were the only customer who spoke English. Got the car, hit the gate, down the up-ramp, up the down-ramp, merged into a six-laner and reenacted the chase scene from Speed. Two toll booths and one illegal turn later, joined a meeting in progress somewhere in N.J. Sat down, started to say something, but the Hoagies arrived, and being situated at the end of the table, you fortunately were able to serve as director of luncheon refuse. Meeting resumed, with simultaneous comments from three people. Lucky you’re a speed listener. But your plastic pen suddenly leaked, forcing you to find a bathroom sink. Made it back to learn decisions couldn’t be reached which was just as well because you only had 50 minutes to make the hour’s drive for the flight back. Luckily, the freeway traffic was only bumper-to-bumper which left the emergency lane wide open. Last passenger on board US Despair 934. Made record time which extended the two-hour layover at Charlotte to nearly three, providing ample time to ingest a year’s allotment of fat over 65 obituaries in three newspapers. Arrived balmy MB International and 45 agonizing minutes later your ride showed. Seems the clock on the beach house stove was on the fritz. Time: 10:22 p.m. Early the following morning, the Atlantic was a lake. Glistening mullet plopped here and there on the gentle swells. Figured yesterday was 17-hour day …14 travel, 2 meeting, 1 eating and scrubbing ink stains. Floating lazily, wondered aloud … “Was it worth it?” Luckily, the mullet weren’t interested.

In the course of human events (to borrow a phrase), individuals came along with Big Ideas that changed everything. Christ said nobodies could make it to Heaven. Newton was cool with the apple. Jefferson unleashed the human spirit. Edison lit up the place. But, except for spiffy technology, nothing big, nothing revolutionary, nothing cataclysmic, has altered the fundamental human experience for centuries. Until now. The newest Big Idea of this third millennium is what we now christen “The Gender Doctrine,” hereafter known as GD. Adoption of this tenet will rid the world of injustice, intolerance and inequity. It will lead to ultimate tranquility. It will save billions. It will alter the course of human history forever.

The Gender Doctrine: In the spirit of oneness with the universe, and in honor of total equality among all people everywhere, gender is prohibited, without exception, as a prerequisite to the creation, operation and use of public and private institutions, facilities and activities.

What does this mean? John Lennon would have put it this way: “Imagine there’s no gender; it’s easy if you try; no more male denials, or women asking why; imagine all the sexes, living just as one.” This unity is good news and bad news for feminists like Martha Burk. Remember her? The GD would prohibit Augusta National’s all-male status. In fact, 50% of the membership would be women and 50% of the Master’s field would be women. But, Gloria, NOW would be obsolete. As would the LPGA, WNBA, etc. All sports teams, professional and amateur alike, would include 50% of each sex, as would all civic, social and business organizations. Without question, Congress would be divided equally. The beauty of GD is its profound fairness, not to speak of its efficiency. Imagine coed bathrooms and locker rooms. As the sexes shower together, use toilet facilities together and dress together, we will witness true equality. Oh, there could be awkward moments in the beginning; but in time, imagine the benefits of unisex facilities in airports and other public places. As men and women, total strangers, literally face each other, shall we say, during life’s basic moments, the walls of bigotry come crashing down. GD would put an end to mean-spirited arguments over discrimination. Think of it. Very likely, GD would eliminate pornography and reduce crime. Essentially, the peeping toms, perverts and other sexual sadists would have no real incentives. As the sexes co-mingle, we would emulate the wholesomeness and freedom of primitive tribes who let it all hang out. Imagine the simplicity of college sports. Universities would field only one golf team, one basketball team, one soccer team, each needing only one coach, one weight room, one locker room. Imagine the end of sexual harassment in the work place. Productivity would rise dramatically; lawsuits would fall precipitously; marriages would be more secure. Dozens of agencies like the ACLU would disappear. It’s time for enactment of The Gender Doctrine. The Human Race has been stuck forever with the same old tired song. To be sure, there will be sticky issues to work out. Good job for Oprah. Or will we need her?

Let’s hear it for the Dark Side. Where would Goodness be without Sin to kick around? Take away evil, corruption and vile behavior, and this country would qualify for third-world status. If everyone walked the straight and narrow, did the right thing morally, spiritually, physiologically and psychologically—why, for Goodness sake, the gross national product would drop precipitously. Thud. Millions of jobs devoted to bettering mankind. Gone. Millions of jobs dedicated to punishing mankind. Axed. Millions of jobs consecrated to healing mankind. Slashed. Millions of jobs directed to governing mankind. Eliminated. Innately, we must be aware of our dependence on iniquity and misfortune. Somehow we know it’s okay for good guys to win as long as bad guys survive to once again flourish. As we mobilize thousands of sects and societies to benefit the unfortunate among us, we can be sure their numbers will grow exponentially. Were it not so, it would be the end of Oprah and her ilk. Goodbye Sally. And what would the boob tube be without COPS and GANGLAND and COURT TV? You get the picture. So give Old Harry his due. We need him and his cohorts to give birth to our heroes, to fuel our great achievements—to, in fact, help us learn the Meaning of Life. Anyhow, we need the jobs.