NEVER Eff with the Māori People . . .

and be exceedingly grateful if they take up or agree with your cause!

I love a manly man. What 100 percent red-blooded straight female does not? If you’ve had enough of effete white-collar or artsy males, I highly suggest you go blue collar. But it’s not easy, especially if you’re not a morning person. When you love someone who wakes at three or four a.m. to get to work on time, who breaks his ass making a buck, get up with him and make the coffee, and for the love of real men, don’t give him a list of chores to do after he comes home from a day of backbreaking work. Go watch him and his cohorts work, and come home with a new appreciation. And maybe, especially if you get to stay at home, learn to cook, for Christ’s sake, and make sure your man is well fed and happy.

At least that’s how I feel about it.

Māori men (indigenous New Zealanders) in many ways typify my kind of preferred male. No artists, academicians, or keyboard warriors for me. I am Libra, ruled by Venus, so give me a man moved by Mars.

I digress, though I hope I remember this in my next incarnation: Go straight to the Māori men and don’t waste time on the aforementioned Harvey Milquetoasts.

So feast your eyes on Māori men—and women!—standing for the Israelis.