Grunt, men. Grunt. Grunt for He has returned. Grunt for masculinity. Grunt for yourself. Grunt. For years men and women have mixed, mingled, and been friendly. No more. It is time for the barbwire fence between genders to be rebuilt, and we have the perfect Tool Man to help.Tim Allen is back on television for the first time since AOL discs flooded your mailbox and if investments weren't so feminine, you should buy stock in lumber, power tools, and terrible jokes. Instead sit down in front of your television, put on a pair of boots, big leather ones, and enjoy. For the Man has returned from his great journey of Wild Hogs to bless you with his "wisdom." And by "wisdom" I mean his ability to melt a laugh track with a single "aurrrughh."Tim Allen is back on television and not a second too late. The beer commercials did their best to maintain our caveman ideals, but they can only do so much. Looking around the television landscape we are surrounded by pansies. Can the boys of Mad Men patch a transmission? Does the Big Bang Theory drink Budweiser by the gallon? Hell, the cast of Sportscenter probably think domestic violence is a problem. Glee. Need I say more? Modern Family might be acceptable if one would execute all daughters, for there are only sons in Tim Allen's utopia and their names are Mark, Brad, and Randy. But nothing captures the ideals of "imagined gender dominance lacking reason and self awareness" quite like the work of the Big Man.Tim Allen is back on television and we are not ready. How many times have you grunted over the years? Be honest, brother. In his absence we have been left with, dare I say, emotions. What have we become? Liberal east coast media proclaims that it is the end of men. Grunt in anger. We have let women escape the shackles we bound them in. We no longer mock them. We don't use DDT and we elected a president that enjoys basketball. It is time for a change. Do not worry. Tim will save us. Starvation, global warming, war-- there are many things the world needs, but we all agree that we could use a little more power. And he will give it to us. He will build a time machine that runs on hemis and red meat and he will bathe us in his outdated suburban masculinity. It will be Tool Time and us men can live his dream, forever trapped in adolescence. We will be babies, our diapers filled with motor oil. We will call our wives "mommy" and we will mean it.So grunt, brothers. Louder. Let the world know that we don't know how pathetic Tim Allen is. Skin a live deer in your den. Carve the logo of his new show with a chainsaw. Like Doctor Pepper 10, the television will be just for men. And we shall live in our bubble. And we shall laugh at his jokes. And he will show us all that he understands muscle cars but not irony.
"Really, Holmes!" I dropped into my seat, shocked. "You are remarkably tall! What are you, six foot six? Six foot eight?"
As the 19th century diver approaches a giant clam, a flash of brilliant golden light flares from within the shell. I emerge in a swirl of bubbles and do the timeless universal underwater hand signals for the following: ZODIAC KILLER, KKK, BLOOD OF YOUTH
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