The Continuing Campaign to Turn the American Man Into a Monstrous Pussy
by Willy
Today's rant centers around the prevailing theme of how much the American male is turning into an unabashed pansy (or shall I say, what some are trying to convert the average male into). I came to this stark realization during my daily meditation routine…a.k.a. sittin' on the shitter. I was reading Maxim magazine and there were more than a few sections devoted to male fashion and its icons. This alone is a minimalist's dream as male fashion is basically nonexistent outside of a handful of pre-existing stereotypes. Apparently representing the "punk" category was some backdoor buccaneer from Fall Out Boy. This waste of oxygen chronicled how he first selects and assembles his outfits, then goes back to the racks and gets an identical get-up two sizes smaller. The idea of this by itself made me want to give up on life and just start voting Green Party. The very notion that men were reading this and saying (or even thinking), "Awesome, I should do that," makes me so blind with anger that I totally forgot the insanity that this taint salad was being interviewed by a, ahem, men's magazine.
Forget the fact that I categorize this fuck mash's music as "audio diarrhea" or that he's walking around in clothes that make from-fitted shrink wrap sound loose by comparison, but I'm making it a rule not to take advice from any man who wears mascara. In an effort to sum up his I'm-a-rebel-so-I'll-dress-like -one-only-everyone-dresses-like-this-so-I'm-really-a-conformist-homo style, he labels his fashion statement(s) as "car crash personified". This my friends is where I shit the proverbial brick while my sphincter puckered as if I'd been watching an especially sodomy-laden episode of Oz. How in the name of Charles Darwin does wearing clothes that make you look like a tightly packed sausage in pleather pants equal that of a car crash? If I were thinking of a car crash and fashion, I'd probably conjure up an image of a bus carrying the cast of America's Next Top Model careening into a soup kitchen and the hilarious replays you'd see the following day on The Soup.
Anyways, here's my point: The propagation of Emo and all of its bullshit music, fashion, and culture is making me wonder how the fuck society will look back at my generation and not go, "What in the name of Thor's thunderous cock happened?" By the way, Emo is hardly the lone contributor to this distressing trend. Hip-hop and white boy thug culture has also started to turn America's youth into a bunch of vagbags. Listen up: 1.) You can't rap so don't start. 2.) You don't "run the streets" or anything close to it, so stick with the Neighborhood Watch. 3.) Wear a fucking shirt that fits and put your headgear on properly. 4.) Stop thinking everyone has beef with you and that you're a badass. Call me when you aren't sitting shotgun in your mom's Volvo and can actually grow a mustache.
Here is a perfect example of how absurd male fashion has become. Guys that subscribe to this style have to match every single piece of clothing they wear, including team baseball caps. Apparently it is acceptable in this society for a man who loves the Red Sox and is actively a fan, to wear a Yankees hat as opposed to a Red Sox cap because it matches the color scheme of the overall outfit. This is probably why you see "ghetto-fied" Red Sox hats now to compete with the already thug-friendly Yankees paraphernalia. This angers me on levels even Dante couldn't imagine. I say no man should buy merchandise for a team he is sworn to hate. As a male, it angers me that color coordination is even understood by a straight man, let alone fretted over. Lastly, this enrages me as a Red Sox fan who sees money going into Jeter's pocket every time a supposed Sox fan gives aid and comfort to the enemy by forking over the cash for these overpriced devil caps. I'm so overwhelmed with hate that I occasionally punch myself in the hot snot rocket just to remind myself that there are still a few of us with man meat out there.
There's an insane materialism being pushed by these two burgeoning sects of the male community, not to mention an overload of perplexing bullshit associated with both as well. First, let's tackle the Emo kids. Flaunting their Calista Flockhart physiques in fifty-dollar t-shirts and designer jeans, these scrawny little fucks must be trying to rebel by making the rest of us fat fucks feel insecure about our beer guts. However, after seeing one of these lanky bastards wander about aimlessly at the record store, I feet the need to actually eat more out of sheer spite. Additionally, for a group that supposedly shuns conformity, they all seem to dress exactly the same and share some strange accent I can't quite place. Look, the 80's sucked. The only good things to come out of the decade worth mentioning are two Star Wars movies, Back to the Future, and me. Stop whining, drink a beer, and test-drive a man sack. You just might like it.
Now let's move on to the "hood rich" style. I won't limit my criticism to Caucasian imitators because it would be hypocritical given this critique has nothing to do with skin tone. That being said, hip-hop fashion pushes this notion that if you want to look like a street tough man from the inner streets, you should dress like a millionaire who tries to dress like he still lives in a project. The blending of metrosexual tones with hip-hop chic has totally diminished whatever manly overtones the style ever had in the first place. Frankly, it's become an act of conformity, rather than rebellion or statement of any kind, by adopting this "street" style. A friend of mine from work who adopts this mode of dress and grooming cautioned me once that I should shave my chest hair because it was peeking out from the neckline of my uniform. I was of course dumbfounded as I am deaf, blind, and dumb when it comes to man-scaping. I am an unapologetically overweight fuck who knows it and doesn't bother trying to pretend otherwise. My beer gut is my only bodily feature that distracts from my gigantic Irish head; but that's neither here nor there so back to the point. As you might assume, my response was:
"I should shave my chest?"
He proceeded to explain that the fur bursting forth from my torso would scare away women...you know, as if my nerdy demeanor and flagrant disregard for exercise or dieting wasn't already doing the job. While I appreciated the well-intentioned advice from someone whom I consider a damn good chap, I could not help but wonder the following: If you were a woman, wouldn't you be more creeped out by a fat lethargic fuck like me if I was totally shaven/waxed from the neck down? Shaving and waxing is a questionable practice at best, and even then it's solely for men who are already jacked. At the other end of the spectrum, we have gelatinous fucks like myself who are vehemently trying not to look like the beached whales we already resemble. In fact, the shaving statement exposed just how superficial the subculture has become. Legions of these obsessed, Scarface-loving, suburban "gangstas" have become totally disconnected with whatever link they once had to a legitimate counter-culture.
Honestly, I don't see how anyone will look back at American males of the 00's and not wonder what the fuck we were thinking. Furthermore, we've become so completely unaware of ourselves that we're walking around dressed like total shitsacks and we don't even realize it. We've become so obsessed with these immaterial facades, we've forgotten about the real concerns of our time: The general state of the nation, how we fit into the bigger scheme of things, and what the fuck we're doing to ourselves. But what the fuck do I know? I shop at Savers.
