In all my travels around the world, studying the most rare and exotic species of each continent, I've yet to find a creature more confounding or bewildering than the Taiwanese Riddler Monkey. But a real close second to them would be women. Beguiling and mysterious, possessing of powers seemingly beyond my own as a simple male, they have, for years, enchanted and fascinated me. Unfortunately in my career I've had little opportunity to study them; their packs are notoriously difficult to infiltrate, and can at times be dangerous to pursue. During an expedition in Kenya some years ago I happened upon a small group of them, resting in the shade of a lush Terminalia. Our jeep slowed on approach, and I paused to gaze upon this rare sight. But one of the larger females, certainly the alpha of the group, rose up on her haunches, bore her teeth, and snapped her fingers thrice in a "Z" formation in the air as her head cocked backed and forth. It was clear our presence was unwelcome, and I instructed Wamukota to drive on.

Thus, we as scholars are forced to accept the next best thing; If we cannot study them, we study what they study. In learning about what entertains them, what teaches them, what they are drawn to, we glimpse insights into how their minds work, how they think, their perceptions of reality which, in turn, reflect on them as beings. Much as the artist draws the negative space to reveal the figure, we must map the observed to reveal the observer.

This in itself would be a considerable undertaking for many of my esteemed colleagues. However, with funds resulting from my recent Nobel Prize-winning study in which I took to task decades of firmly held beliefs and uncovered a secret plot between the United States Department of Agriculture and the Vatican, entitled "Soylent Green is Papal: The Catholic Beef Conspiracy," I was able to procure a satellite dish and gain access to hundreds if not thousands of television channels. Amongst these are programs and even whole networks entirely devoted to women, and it is here where we begin our research. These programs will undoubtedly be the key to unlocking the enigma that is womanhood.

Starting Over

A popular trend in television now is the "reality TV show", in which we the viewer grit our teeth through our work day arguing with obnoxious, loudmouthed people so we can go home to watch obnoxious, loudmouthed people argue with each other. The concept for Starting Over is that six women from all walks of life will live together in a large house with two "life coaches," an unfamiliar term which as best I can gather means "high school guidance counselor in more expensive clothing." The six residents all feel that they are not where they want to be in life, so with the help of the coaches, they set goals for themselves to improve themselves. Perhaps here we will find the heart of the matter: What troubles the woman of today?

Andy's primary goal was to win the Miss Robert Z'Dar 2004 Pageant. That dream fulfilled, she moved on to her next goal, "trust yourself." It seems Andy had been deeply hurt some time ago when she caught herself in bed with another woman, and since that point she's been unable to fully disclose herself to herself the way she had before. With the help of the life coaches, Andy finally forgave herself and the two got back together in a tearful reunion. Andy later boasted to the other residents of the house that the make-up sex with herself had been fantastic.

Christine had a hard time letting go. Daughter was certainly a wonderful song and an example of Pearl Jam at the top of their form, but it had been out for more than 10 years now. Five more albums have come and gone in that time, seven if you count the live and rarity collections, and there were all new songs to listen to. There was a painful episode in which Christine regressed even further into her problems and refused to play anything but Even Flow, Alive and Jeremy, but eventually came to understand that even though they're not really grunge or alternative anymore, PJ is still a great band and it's well worth her time to listen to the newer albums.

She also learned to stop being fat.

Cassie faces the challenges presented to many young people. She's attempting to strike out on her own, but she's unsure of how to start. The Starting Over coaches help her through this difficult process by laying out a simple series of steps needed to progress to adulthood. By looking at this chart, what once was a confusing and frightening prospect has been easily broken down into the twelve labors of Hercules. After finishing all the tasks she arrived at her clear and precise goal of "build a future", in that indeed she was now existing in a chronological period subsequent to that in which she had begun. And her life is much more fulfilling now because she gets a special letter each month telling her to pay back her student loans or she'll be struck down with a tire iron.

Fresh from her success as half of the rap team Kimbalyn & Magoo, Kim came to the Starting Over house looking to overcome the one obstacle that had always stymied her. Unfortunately her plan to better herself did not include an entry for "stop being a lazy slub", because she goofed off until she was asked to leave the house. She was unable to complete a task which 95% of the people in the world have done by age 15. If I were a cynical Internet humorist I would call her an moronic jackass. But seeing as how I am a well-respected leader of the academic community, I will simply call her a lackadaisical ignoramus, because it has more syllables.

Maureen was a 62 year old woman who wanted to be a stand-up comic. I feel the coaches took a misstep here, and did not provide Maureen with a chart with a single goal on it that read "realize this is a really stupid idea." Instead, they encouraged her to work on her performance and develop material, making probing observations about how food on an airplane is not of restaurant quality. She continues to work on her act, and now even has her own website, which is decorated entirely with photos of her repelling like the microphone just farted in her face.

Nyanza's goal was to be authentic. What began as a fun trip to the Antiques Roadshow had revealed that she was, in fact, a reproduction made in China as early as 15 years ago. To her horror, she learned that she wasn't even black, but was just an old Neil Patrick Harris with a quick coat of paint.

Insights Gained: Women seem to require a frighteningly large support group to undertake any major personal endeavor. This may suggest hive mind operation. That would explain the difficulties in studying them, as each female would only be one small piece of a greater process. This would also mean if I made it with one woman, I could say I had made it with all women everywhere. Request further inquiry along these lines immediately.

The View

"I had an idea for a show. I would bring together every stereotype from every corner of the female gender and pretend I was being diverse: The aging soccer mom desperately clinging to the last shreds of her sexuality, the sassy fat black woman, the idiot young person, and a comedic jew. I'd call this show Suck My Fat Cock Oprah."

So begins each installment of The View, a daily talk show hosted by the aforementioned five women (four if Barbara can't be bothered to roll out of bed), who discuss newsworthy topics and interview guests. This seemed prime hunting ground to gather new information, so I sat down to watch an episode.

Meredith Viera, the show's moderator when Walters is too drunk to come on stage and the most humanoid representative of a race of bunnywomen from another world, was explaining a new product she had recently discovered called Whizzy. I was so stunned into submission by the mere existence of the item in question that my recollection is a touch hazy, but the scenario is something like this: A woman is in a restaurant or other public area and needs to use the facilities. She pulls this "Whizzy", a folded piece of manilla paper, out of her purse and secrets it away in her hand so no one can see she's leaving to the bathroom with various accoutrements in tow. Upon arrival at the toilet she unfolds the device, wedges it in her crotch, and uses it to urinate no more cleanly or efficiently than she did before, quite the opposite in fact, but now she's doing it standing up. She finishes and exits the bathroom, striding confidently, still dizzy with the pleasure of standing high above her former porcelain captor and raining down golden freedom as she reads all the filthy notes on the wall behind the toilet that she's never seen before, and walks triumphantly back to her table carrying a paper funnel soaked in her piss.

This was the last episode of The View that I watched.

I am certainly no stranger to the dangerous wilderness presented in many public bathrooms. Some toilets look as if the previous occupant did not have a chance to properly evacuate his bowels before the entirety of his nether regions exploded, sending a starburst of viscera and fecal material to coat the stall in some strange form of abstract art that he then half-heartedly attempted to cover with several randomly strewn rolls of toilet paper. His lack of motivation is somewhat understandable, however, given the recent loss of his lower quarter. But these problems seemed of no concern to Viera, who only testified to how "empowering" the experience was. I realize I speak from a point of bias, but I find it hard to believe it's worth the inclusion of makeshift equipment into an otherwise natural process in exchange for the ability to pee on things.

Insights Gained: Women desperately desire penises. Unfortunately, they do not desire them in the manner that most pre-existing penises are designed to accommodate.

Lifetime and Women's Entertainment

These are two entire cable networks devoted solely to television programming for women. Certainly here, I believed, we will find our motherlode; two separate sources directly tapped into the heart of the modern woman.

Then I looked up the program guide for each channel.

If this is the heart of a woman, then the delicate flowers that have inspired my awe for so long are truly soulless husks, entertained by the glimmer of shiny surfaces and bearing the intellectual capacity of the cheesecake they will desperately attempt to work out of their thighs. The whole of both networks can be easily divided into three basic categories:

Sitcoms - More specifically, any sitcom involving women to any major degree. Whether the characters are strong or whether the show has any particular interest specifically to women is irrelevant; the only qualifying factor is whether two or more of the people on the show's billboard back when it was popular possessed vaginas. Hence we get five hour long sprees of Laverne & Shirley and Designing Women and Golden Girls, which when viewed consecutively has been shown to cause tumors in lab rats. Women's Entertainment's qualifications seem even less selective: they simply pick up any sitcom that's cheap because it lasted half a season and has a female in it somewhere. The result is a lineup including the likes of The Naked Truth, starring a woman famous for marrying a block of wood, and Ned and Stacey, a sitcom about the guy from Wings and the chick from Will and Grace bitching at each other because they're both irritating people.

One does take notice of Golden Girls, however, for the presence of Bea Arthur. Despite all our failures over the years, here is a man who has managed to place himself in the confidence of a tightly-knit group of women through clever application of make-up and dress. We should contact him as soon as possible to see if he's willing to report from the inside.

Made for TV movies - Almost half of the airtime for both stations is taken up by movies made back when the big three networks actually had "movies of the week." Somewhat disturbingly, all of the movies shown involve some violent crime being answered by vigilante justice. No dramatic custody battles, no stories of courageous dogs pulling their owners out of burning canoes, no sisters doing it for themselves, unless "it" is "stabbing a rapist in the balls." One hopes this doesn't indicate a latent, subconscious bloodlust in the gender.

Infomercials - Practically any timeslot that isn't in primetime is filled with infomercials. Even as I type I am learning on Lifetime about how I can look more youthful and vibrant by beltsanding the old off me.

In fact, the majority of the spots are about ways to look better with less work, often vividly demonstrated by models who are lightheartedly bemused at their inability to buy properly sized clothing. That or they're simply enjoying the fact that they're exposing their privates while looking right into your eyes, which admittedly can be a particularly fun hobby to employ at the beach or synagogue.

There's only one show that doesn't fit into these categories, and it is, of all things, Unsolved Mysteries. I confess I am at a loss to explain the appeal to women here. As far as I understand it Robert Stack does not have a vagina. Perhaps females have a hitherto unknown instinctive attraction to the cast of Strike Force. Or maybe, as many of their relationships with men seem to imply, they have a fondness for lost causes. I'm reasonably sure that if miss Tina Palgers was not found in 1992 after last being seen dragged into an unmarked white van on the highway, she is probably not going to be found now.

Insights Gained: Women are obsessed with crime, abs, and spry old people. Research possibilities of sitcom following the lives of elderly burglars with six-packs.

Oxygen

Unfortunately, despite the breadth of viewing available to me, I do not receive the Oxygen network, the third cable channel aimed at women. I can, however, visit Oxygen's website and pretend I'm watching TV. Upon arrival, I'm greeted with this:

Which immediately raises several questions. I would have a hard time opening up to "talk sex" with someone who looks like the elderly lady next door who yells at the kids who steal her newspaper, especially when she seems to be poised to nonchalantly disregard whatever I'm about to ask. Ellen Degeneres and The Rock seems like a strange pairing, but it's alright because I'm assured she has a cute website. The employment of an unfrozen cave man to write the ad blurbs was an interesting choice, but the abandonment of traditional marketing slogans for the more straightforward "GIRLS GOES TO STRIP, YOU WATCH FUNNY VIDEO" may alienate some readers. But hell, I've got time to kill. Then I notice it's a hidden camera show, in which women do slightly bizarre things and film random strangers having rational, unemotional responses, to which they add Yakkity Sax in the background and it becomes a wacky laff-a-minute. I may have time to kill, but not so inhumanely.

Against my better instinct I click on the Talk Sex link, with it being "Most Popular Web Video" according to Trogdor and all, and am greeted by the shrugging old woman, now dressed like the old piano teacher you had when you were 10, demonstrating with a dildo how to give a blow job. At this point I regrettably must end my research, as blood has begun to trickle from my eyes and I must find a Kleenex.

Now if you'll excuse me, I'm going to go turn gay.