Manly Men and such forth
Be a Manly Man, Man!
Hands off, snatch! This is JUST FOR MEN!
While watching TV the other day, I was witness to something so baffling that I could scarcely even begin to understand it. Although television has lost a stunning amount of quality in recent years, I still occasionally turn on the box to justify the ridiculous cable bills that have to be paid each month. Every time I watch, I come to the conclusion that TV is an insipid pool of trash, stupidity, and 7th Heaven. With the possible exception of Adult Swim on Cartoon Network, and Conan O' Brien, television is simply just not entertaining in the least. The programs aren't really what bother me on TV however. By now, I've grown accustomed to the idiotic cancellation of the brilliant show "The Family Guy," the intense downward spiral of "The Simpsons," and the irritating phenomenon of local Latin news reporters whose accents only manifest during the pronunciation of their last names. Instead, it's the inane, banal commercials that bother me most about the boob tube. Ads become increasingly moronic as time goes on. Someday in the near future, I assume all products will be advertised by skateboarding dinosaurs who rap hip catch phrases while high-fiving a person of every ethnicity and disability. The only actual mention of the product will come in the form of the logo emblazoned on the dinosaur's t-shirt or x-treme biking helmet. Worse still, the products themselves are growing increasingly stupid. There are still some ads for products that I desperately need such as recreational tampons or flavored diapers. But these are few and far between, and as time moves forward toward the futuristic city in the clouds known as the future, many new products appear that are just bewildering. This brings me back to the mysterious thing I was talking about in the first sentence that baffled me so, which anticlimactically turns out to be Maxim hair dye.
Indeed, Maxim magazine currently has its own line of hair dye. Now, I would like to say that Maxim is probably my favorite magazine in the whole world. Its combination of well-written articles and boobies outdoes even Cat Fancy in entertainment value, and makes for a great reading experience. That's why it pains me so to speak ill of anything they do. But having their own line of hair dye, produced by "Just for Men", is utterly ludicrous. Furthermore, what the hell is the point of having a hair dye called "Just for Men"? The Maxim version of this product is clearly aimed at white males, age 18 to 40, but the point of it completely escapes me. It's as if using a dye with a woman on the box will instantly cause a man's penis to fall off and a gaping vagina to grow in its place. Apparently, this is the selling point that the makers of "Just for Men" are shooting for, because commercials for the Maxim hair dye come just shy of being an angry white male age 18 to 40 shouting "Using a dye with a woman on the box will instantly cause a man's penis to fall off and a gaping vagina to grow in its place!!" These atrocious ads involve attractive twenty-something males and females rolling around in underwear, with occasional, brief shots of blonde highlighted hair. Wow, I haven't been doing enough naked rolling lately, and this product nearly guarantees it. SO SIGN ME UP!
He's the ideal man, fellas! Aspire to be him!
This whole concept of repackaging exactly the same product in a different box got me thinking about how pathetic the male ego really is. Why do we men need constant reassurance that we're masculine and macho? Why do all our products have to feature box art that involve a rugged man who's fishing, or playing football, or both at the same time? What does hair dye have to do with football or fishing? Everything, to an insecure man who fears he might have the dreaded "gay". The greatest fear of the average straight male isn't something dangerous like terrorism or wolves or acid. It's the fact that somebody, somewhere might mistake him for a gay...or worse still, that he might actually BE gay! The common man is very insecure about his sexuality, and must prove to the world that he's as opposite of gay as possible. The constant pursuit of masculinity leads people to do idiotic things including, but not limited to...
Telling women to stroke their beards
Cursing for absolutely no reason
Wearing a beard of bees
Cursing while fighting
And even as the men of America do these things, their insecurity continues to increase, forcing the creation of an undying cycle of complete idiocy, with one stupid maneuver after the next being committed in the name of heterosexuality. Some even go as far as "gay bashing," the act of beating up gay guys for no good reason other than the fact that the gays enjoy man sex. Now, I'm not exactly the most tolerant person in the world. In fact, I'm a total jerk and probably would spit on you if I met you in person, because you're probably a filthy minority here to steal my jobs and my precious white women. But to me, the idea of gay bashing just sounds a little...gay. Think about it: A guy walks into a gay bar, waits to be accosted by a young, possibly Latino gay man, agrees to leave with him, then proceeds to pound the other man's body as hard as he can. That description could be used to describe an incident of gay bashing, or the plot to a disturbingly graphic homosexual erotic internet fan fiction, one which most likely involves beloved characters such as Ernie and Bert.
How wretchedly masculine.
The entire idea of machismo is one giant pissing contest between men, one which often involves actual pissing contests which are judged in both in distance and accuracy. As a guy, my hands aren't completely clean of this though. Probably the biggest, most prominent activity I partake in to increase my masculinity is working out with weights. I go to the gym three to four times a week usually, a habit that I started in order to make myself look appealing to the opposite sex. However, it's been so long since I've interacted with someone of the opposite sex that I've forgotten what the "opposite" sex is. Thus, I really just go to make me feel better about myself. On the other hand, many men go there to show off. The most prominent show off at the gym is "the Screamer." If you've ever been to a gym, you understand who the screamer is. For those of you who have no idea what I'm talking about, here's a recent example: A friend and I were going about our exercises as usual, when something odd happened. A sound.
A scream that pierced my ears more painfully than an untrained goth at an earing shop in the mall rang throughout the gym. "Uh oh, is someone hurt?" I wondered. Suddenly, it happened again.
" AHHHHHHHHHHHHHHGGHH!!!! YARRGH!"
At this point, I thought someone was surely dead, and these hideous howls were the sounds of their soul being ripped from their body by Lucifer himself. I look up, and finally see where the noise was coming from. As it turned out, nobody was dead. But the people screaming most surely deserved to be. There stood two sterroid-fueled jackasses screaming like little girls about bench pressing a fairly unimpressive amount of weight. They thought they were such hot shit that every gym member needed to know about the amazing 175 pounds they were lifting, and the thousand decibel cries were just the way to get everyone to respect them! Even as I went upstairs to the opposite side of the gym, their yelps were still clearly audible. The only thing that kept me from going insane was the fact that the only thing louder than the screaming was the jokes people were making about the idiots downstairs, giving me some hope for humanity yet. Unfortunately, most of these "jokes" were just other people mocking the screaming with screams of their own, creating a combined volume which damaged my ears irreparably.
Next time you're faced with a situation in which you're challenged to prove your manhood, think twice about it. While it may sound like the toughest, manliest thing in the world to pound nails into your urethra or whatever the challenge happened to be, think about what I said today. Hopefully the power of my powerful words have reached you, my children. It may actually help you save the few measly scraps of dignity that you have left. Then again, if you back down, you'll be considered a little pussy wiener boy and will lose the respect of those around you. So, actually, forget everything I just said. I'm off to do steroids, have sex with many anonymous large-breasted partners, randomly attack homosexuals, and lift weights. AAAAAAAGHHHHHHHH!!!!!!!!! I AM A MAN'S MAN! Wait, not a "man's" man! That doesn't mean I'm gay, fag! Shut up dude!
Thinner than Ebert, and Less Dead than Siskel!
Well folks, our very own Emily "Internet Grrrrl" Reigel has taken time out from her busy schedule of cooking, cleaning, and baking to write a review of a travesty of a movie known as Captain America II...
I'm not sure exactly how "cool" Captain America can be as a super hero even when he's not part of a terribly-made movie from the early 80's. I mean, think about what his super powers are. He's pretty strong for a pasty white dude, true, but other than that he has a motorcycle that is painted red, white and blue. And he has a crazy plastic shield-thing that he can use as a sort of boomerang weapon. And that's it. No x-ray vision, no ability to fly, nothing. Oh, and he's AMERICAN too, we can't forget that. Perhaps this is where his power comes from. But if the movie Captain America II is any indication, his only discernible super powers consist of being incredibly useless, being a closet pedophile, and occasionally painting horrible pictures.
Isn't that super? HA! THAT WAS FUNNY SUPERHERO MOVIE HUMOR. Anyway, just read her review before I sick the wolves on you.