Jobs-

Let me tell you, Red, I know you're in the wilds of what used to be Colorado, fighting against nature for your survival, but sometimes I think I'd trade you spots.

Yeah, you've got elements, mutated wild animals, disease, starvation and the crushing despair of loneliness, but what's that compared to the slow-death of a job in a corporate environment? You have it bad, no doubt, but at least you're not having your masculinity incrementally stripped away. Somewhere in our(my) recent history, it stopped being okay to be a man, and that's wrong.

I'm living in a world where wisdom is dictated by self-help manuals, and clarity is attained through the words on Affirmation Posters. It's dog crap, Red. I shit you not, a woman just walked in and handed me a manila folder full of birthday cards and said I should sign them. Of all the people in the folder, I only know two, and I only like one. I'm supposed to sign all of them though, so nobody feels left out. Are you kidding me?

I'm living in the rise of the Metrosexuals. Men are becomming sissies, and I'm expected to get in line, let them wax me and cut my hair. Screw that, Man. I want to be a little unkempt. I want to go commando. I want to love sex, enjoy fist fights and eat massive quantities of beef in all its glorious forms.

You detractors of the masculine form can all go suck off a goat. Enjoy.

Real men punch each other:



Real men are bald:


Real men bleed:


Real men scowl menacingly:


Real men kiss pretty girls as a reward for doing a good job:


Real men have buttcracks:


Real men train the younger generation:


Real men cry:


Real men cop a feel, brazenly:


So take that, Metro jerks.