It’s no secret what makes the world go round; it’s not money or politics or governments. It’s vaginas. Sure, we can pretend that men run things and women can pretend that men run things by griping about a glass ceiling or whatever, but scientists know the truth.

And it’s not enough that women have all the advantages in life - never having to hit on girls in bars at 2AM, having doors opened for them, getting to date scientists - no, now women have conscripted evolution to help maintain their world domination.

I picked up this month’s issue of ESQUIRE, partly because IEEE SPECTRUM was on my nerves ( we’ll get to that later this week ) but mostly to find out who the ‘Sexiest Woman Alive’ is and to be baffled why 2006 fashionistas think that men want to wear pants that are too short combined with suit jackets that are too tight.

And there it is: “What It Feels Like… To Have Two Vaginas.”

At first I was like, ‘Whatever - getting multiple vaginas happens every other weekend when you’re a scientist’ but I still glanced at it. Turns out the article isn’t about an orgy of unprotected sex with cocaine-fueled supermodels at all. The girl has two vaginas. First things first, I demanded Fernanda Tavares submit to an inspection. I don’t like being the last to know:

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You know when you get me, Detroit and brisk winter weather, weird scientific stuff will happen. Add in Tommy Lee and you get weird scientific stuff please a whole lot of strippers who love guys with tattoos.

Now, I was there for the football and without question my boys came through at the end. So not only did I predict that the Steelers are the greatest team in the NFL and why, I predicted they would beat the spread. And I would much rather have hung out with Hank Williams, Jr. and Kid Rock, but Tommy Lee turned out to be a pleasant surprise.

I was never a glam rock guy - I was in ROTC so they wouldn’t let me grow my hair while that sum’bitch Reagan was in The White House. And Heather Locklear was nowhere near as hot as my chick when Heather Locklear was young much less now, so I think I have Tommy Lee beat all the way around. Unless he’s one heck of a scientist. But we stumbled across him at The Flight Club in Detroit and he recognized us because he had been at The Landing Strip too. So he bought us a drink - and since he was paying, I ordered a Macallan 18-year old Scotch, neat with a water back. And drank precisely none of it. But I looked cool holding it. I was tempted to ask about his keen interest in Absinthe and hookers but it was pretty obvious from where we met him that he is a connoisseur of both. Some questions just don’t need to be asked.

So if you were face-to-face with Tommy Lee, what would you ask? About that video with Pamela Anderson? No way. I saw three seconds of that video and said, “These two are in love so that is just wrong to watch.” Because I like my porn to be amongst professionals. Or involving me. Otherwise, I don’t want it at all. Would you ask about the tattoos? I have none and he has a gazillion so that’s one topic I can’t converse about. Well, I wasn’t stumped like you are. I asked him about his canoodling with a transvestite in Toronto.

I says to Tommy, “Tommy, if there’s one thing I know it’s transvestite strippers. As your attorney I would strongly advise that you take me along - for your own protection - next time.”

“Cash, dude,” says Tommy, “You could not have known. That Nina dude was one convincing chick.” And then he thinks about it for a minute. “How the f*** did you hear about that anyway?”

Well, what can I do? Go to a PC and show him my blog? I did happen to have my Dell Axim X51 in my pocket and I could have shown him everything he ever wanted to know about Thai transvestite hookers but I just mumbled something about reading The New York Post. “Yeah, I hate that f***ing rag,” he says.

Suddenly, the phone rings. It’s Lady Scientist. I think I know what this is about. She is not happy about the blog from the bar in Japan. Knowing that, I fail to mention Tommy Lee or the strip club we are in. Oops, no, that is not it. I still leave out the strip club, just in case.

She’s angry about vaginas. Specifically, stories involving vaginas that are not hers.

ME: You didn’t think my remark about the ‘line of women willing to offer me their vaginas is so long it can be viewed from space’ was funny? What about vaginas exploding because I am so hot. Is that funny?

SHE: I don’t think you and vaginas in the same story is funny, no.

ME: Come on. That’s funny stuff.

SHE: It’s actually not that funny.

ME: You’re repressing me.

SHE: I’m informing you.

ME: What about third person jokes involving vaginas?

SHE: Still not funny.

So I tried to disract her with stories about fat French people and a James Bond Director getting busted in drag during a prostitution sting but she was having none of it. Since that didn’t work I offered to buy her a vibrator that plugs into the USB port of a computer. That seemed to settle her down. She’s such a sucker for romantic gifts. Tommy Lee offers to serenade her to smooth things over but given his penchant for creating porn stars out of normal women, I don’t take him up on it. If she’s going to be a porn star, it can only be with me.

I’m all for nutso chicks. Especially nutso hot chicks. I am kind of like the Air Traffic Control of crazy women. I don’t care which airline you are on, I just want to make sure we all land safely. So bring it on.

But Sienna Miller is something special. Now the word is she has kicked out that Jude Law guy again, who has some shockingly awful taste in women, and is canoodling with the older dork version of Darth Vader. Not the annoying little kid from Episode 1 but the pouty, whiny adult from Episodes 2 and 3. You know, the one you actually enjoyed seeing get chopped in half because he was such a putz. Speculation is this is yet another publicity stunt of hers.

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