contemplate, the simple fact is that the sweet blush of success stems, always, from a willingness to lovingly and firmly deal in the barest realities, even when it stings a little.’ Now really, O’Neill, where is the message for women there? This hardly qualifies as sparkling spanking repartee.”
O’Neill: “Perhaps if you quoted from page fifty-two in the second paragraph where I provide some straight-from-the-hip talk about —”
Fontaine: “If I didn’t know better, I would think you were attempting to top me in this discussion. Perhaps the producer forgot to mention our roles. I am the host. I call the shots. You are the guest. You answer my questions. After all, one of us is paid six large numbers to be here today. And that person would not, I think, be you.”
The host simpers at the audience, who begin to look uncomfortable. O’Neill’s blue eyes narrow and he assumes a more erect position on the guest couch.
Fontaine: “Bottom line, O’Neill, you’re doing nothing but whipping up hostility toward women with this trash.”
There is a collective gasp from the audience as Breschetta Fontaine glares at O’Neill and tosses his books toward him. He manages to catch them and places them carefully back on the table, with the titles readable on camera. His smile is firmly in place as he makes eye contact, but his right hand strays to his belt momentarily and he caresses it, lovingly, before leaning forward and balancing his forearms on his knees, with fingers steepled.
O’Neill: “If my books did, indeed, whip up hysteria toward women, it is difficult to believe sixty percent of the book market would have contributed to their success. What I do advocate is simple, disciplined, and heart-felt attention to relationships. Sometimes, those ideas find their reality in —”
Fontaine: “Don’t try to switch the focus here, O’Neill. I can almost see you envisioning yourself steering this ship in the direction of your own choosing, but the reality is, Prof, you’ve got no real power behind you at all, just a mighty small paddle.”
O’Neill: “That may be true, but I have vast experience in using it effectively. I think many women who have benefited from my expertise and experience could attest to that.”
Fontaine: “Let’s be frank, shall we? I’m outraged at your chauvinistic attitude. And you’re taking my concerns and brushing them off as though they are of no consequence.”
O’Neill: “To the contrary, Miss Fontaine, I’m deeply concerned about your concerns. But I’m also concerned about the one-sided view of my work you are presenting. You’ve made some unsubstantiated accusations based on some knee-jerk reactions to carefully selected portions of my books. It wouldn’t hurt you to bend a little, Miss Fontaine. Or at least, it wouldn’t hurt too much.”
The audience murmurs in apparent agreement with the Professor and he smiles warmly at them as he sits back and spreads his arms wide, laying one of them along the back of the couch and balancing his right ankle on his left knee. Unflattering color climbs high in Miss Fontaine’s cheeks as she glares at her seemingly relaxed and very comfortable guest, who has swung favor in his direction.
Fontaine: “It’s clear you are nothing but a bully, and just because you’re a strapping big man you think you can get the best of me.”
O’Neill: “Not at all, Miss Fontaine. But if you’ve read the books in their entirety, you know I’ve enjoyed great success putting my theories in place from top to bottom. There are certain behaviors and attitudes that cane — excuse me, I meant ‘can’ — only be effectively managed with a firm hand and a highly disciplined approach. That approach — the one I advocate and practice — has proven dominant time and again when compared to other relationship models.”
Fontaine: “There’s nothing submissive about you, is there, Professor? But that’s clearly what you expect from women. All
O’Neill: “Perhaps if you quoted from page fifty-two in the second paragraph where I provide some straight-from-the-hip talk about —”
Fontaine: “If I didn’t know better, I would think you were attempting to top me in this discussion. Perhaps the producer forgot to mention our roles. I am the host. I call the shots. You are the guest. You answer my questions. After all, one of us is paid six large numbers to be here today. And that person would not, I think, be you.”
The host simpers at the audience, who begin to look uncomfortable. O’Neill’s blue eyes narrow and he assumes a more erect position on the guest couch.
Fontaine: “Bottom line, O’Neill, you’re doing nothing but whipping up hostility toward women with this trash.”
There is a collective gasp from the audience as Breschetta Fontaine glares at O’Neill and tosses his books toward him. He manages to catch them and places them carefully back on the table, with the titles readable on camera. His smile is firmly in place as he makes eye contact, but his right hand strays to his belt momentarily and he caresses it, lovingly, before leaning forward and balancing his forearms on his knees, with fingers steepled.
O’Neill: “If my books did, indeed, whip up hysteria toward women, it is difficult to believe sixty percent of the book market would have contributed to their success. What I do advocate is simple, disciplined, and heart-felt attention to relationships. Sometimes, those ideas find their reality in —”
Fontaine: “Don’t try to switch the focus here, O’Neill. I can almost see you envisioning yourself steering this ship in the direction of your own choosing, but the reality is, Prof, you’ve got no real power behind you at all, just a mighty small paddle.”
O’Neill: “That may be true, but I have vast experience in using it effectively. I think many women who have benefited from my expertise and experience could attest to that.”
Fontaine: “Let’s be frank, shall we? I’m outraged at your chauvinistic attitude. And you’re taking my concerns and brushing them off as though they are of no consequence.”
O’Neill: “To the contrary, Miss Fontaine, I’m deeply concerned about your concerns. But I’m also concerned about the one-sided view of my work you are presenting. You’ve made some unsubstantiated accusations based on some knee-jerk reactions to carefully selected portions of my books. It wouldn’t hurt you to bend a little, Miss Fontaine. Or at least, it wouldn’t hurt too much.”
The audience murmurs in apparent agreement with the Professor and he smiles warmly at them as he sits back and spreads his arms wide, laying one of them along the back of the couch and balancing his right ankle on his left knee. Unflattering color climbs high in Miss Fontaine’s cheeks as she glares at her seemingly relaxed and very comfortable guest, who has swung favor in his direction.
Fontaine: “It’s clear you are nothing but a bully, and just because you’re a strapping big man you think you can get the best of me.”
O’Neill: “Not at all, Miss Fontaine. But if you’ve read the books in their entirety, you know I’ve enjoyed great success putting my theories in place from top to bottom. There are certain behaviors and attitudes that cane — excuse me, I meant ‘can’ — only be effectively managed with a firm hand and a highly disciplined approach. That approach — the one I advocate and practice — has proven dominant time and again when compared to other relationship models.”
Fontaine: “There’s nothing submissive about you, is there, Professor? But that’s clearly what you expect from women. All
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