Manning Up With Rants
Okay, so I published this very awesome blog post in support of Le Clown’s mega series on The Outlier Collective concerning feminism. Some people got my message, some didn’t. It’s all good, because in the Rants Army, we like to say, “Fuck it,” because our vocabulary is limited. Severly.
Today I’m giving you a proper military briefing on what I like to consider manly. Think of it as an Addendum to Demasculinization. Or, think of it as bullshit tripe. Either way, so yeah fuck you, welcome to honest Opinionville. Don’t forget to pay the bus driver.
I ranted about the demasculinization trend that I perceived in our society here in America (and Canadiana, to include Le Clown… “peen,” motherfucker!). Anyway, I thought I’d give some structure to my ideas about how men ought to be.
Clothes: Tee shirts, button-downs and general shirts are the norm. Wife-beaters are worn underneath an acceptable outer shirt and are not viewed by the general population. Pants should fit, and not droop excessively unless undertaking an extreme Army diet. Shorts are fully acceptable should you care to display your fish-belly-white legs to the world. Underwear is optional, but the outside world must not know of your Commando Status. Public adjustments are NOT to be conducted in public. Shoes are sturdy, comfortable, and involve eyelets. Pants that button closed are best. See the next section for pants with zippers…
Prissy Clothes: This covers suits, tuxedoes, or other uniformed service uncomfortableness, to include pants with zippers. Practice these, because if you zip your berries, you fucking deserve it, you spaz. And wear the pinchy-toe shoes and stop groaning. Don’t act like a Little Bitch.
Grooming: Cut your fingernails before children identify you as Nosferatu. Equally, angle-grinder your toenails down so that in the rare event that you engage in coitus, you will not gut your mate accidentally with your evil fucking talons. Should you have fungus-y toe issues, lop off your nasty feet when you see the period at the end of this very sentence. Foot calluses are acceptable so that you may navigate hot asphalt for various tasks. If your feet reek, see the ‘grooming’ note (yes! recursive!).
Hair: Short. Buzzcut or military sidewalls are optional but highly encouraged. Bald requires a razor weekly at a minimum. Any hair coloring products, to include anti-gray shit, is prohibited. If one cannot display his silvery wisdom without shame, then thou art a douchebag and thou shalt commit seppuku yesterday, if not sooner. If you wish to look like Bieber, remain there without moving. Someone is coming to improve the gene pool forthwith.
Other hair: Weed-whack your damn nose and ears, bitch. And don’t complain when the nylon string trimmer line lops off your nasty ear. You should have kept up on the man maintenance, pussy. If the woman who tolerates your inept fumbling wants you to groom ‘down there,’ you better be complete with that mission last week. In general, if it doesn’t grow on your empty, worthless melon, don’t fuck with it unless requested to to so.
Hygiene: No tooth sweaters allowed. No nostril-hangers. No ear ‘taters or tufts. No stenches, yellow areas of the body, or smells that vary off of either antibacterial soap bricks or deoderant that smells delightfully of manly sea adventures or rutting animals. Soap variants may include caustic lye soap made by your 108-year-old grandmother, or Lava, because it is painful.
Laundry: if you use a dryer, you are a pussy and you suck. Your boxers (the only authorized underwear) should be stiff, painful, and sand-papery to the touch once dry, like everything else you ineptly washed. Bleach is acceptable to kill your manly, nasty stench-germs during the wash cycle, done on tapwater cold setting. Because you need to leave some environment for everyone else.
Physical Fitness: Ironman? No? You suck sweaty, cheesy man-balls. Do something that elicits sweat behavior. Also, if you cannot look straight down while naked and view your worthless, tired, unused junk, then you don’t get to use said vienna sausage. Also, it is far smaller and less impressive than you will ever believe. Jackwagon.
Morals: Ask. Ask politely. Open doors. Don’t look or stare no matter how epic that rack is. Assume she has kids, and remember she’s someone’s daughter. Wait until hit over your dumb, empty head before proceeding. Dinner means you got fed, hunger ball, nothing more. Pay for dinner. No always means no.
Mind: Try using it occasionally. Read shit. Think about shit. Envision conversations about the shit you read and tried unsuccessfully to think about. Even more, try talking about your dim-ass thoughts, and use complete sentences. Do not use the word ‘beeyotch’ when referencing the women folk. Accept the fact that education just might be a good thing, and try marinating your mind in something other than internet porn and WWF. Attempt to read a book if you learned how to do that. Recommended: Sagan, Marcus Aurelius, Rand, Heinlein, Asimov. You douche.
Respect: Give it before it is returned. Period. Afterward, repeat. After that, adjust as required.
Music: Listen to everything, except rap.
Politics: Generally, keep your red state inclinations to yourself so that you don’t make the blue people wet themselves out of fear. Never piss rainbows, ever. But, remember that if YOU get to have a choice in something, then everyone else in your worthless little sandbox of shitty life gets CHOICE also. Don’t be an extreme douche, you fucking douche.
Religion: Yeah that. Keep it to yourself, because you’re probably already so far beyond hope that the light from redemtion will never reach you within the total life span of our universe. Besides, we live in a free country, so if you want to blow oral farts, pick up an M-4 and take your ass to somewhere combat happens regularly. Then talk.
I’m out of manly advice. While I’m eviscerating myself with a rusty spoon, leave a comment to tell me what brilliant ideas I missed.