We have a stand-up comic saying something like, “No, I love women. I do.” Typical stand-up rhetoric. With the pauses and the wry demeanor. “But man,” he says. “What’s with all the shoes? Am I right, guys?” A man in the audience leans over and whispers to his friend, also male, beet-red and practically asphyxiating with laughter, “He’s right. My wife has like fifty, sixty pairs of shoes, easy.”