The future of men seems bright at first, but that’s because nobody’s wearing sunglasses anymore. “Cool” is a thing of the past. Everyone’s cool in the future. There are no wedgies or bullies or wimps or alpha males. It’s all one big homogenous blob of humanity wearing soft sweatshirts with droopy hoods and slippers.
I get how we got here. Back when the song “It’s All Right to Cry” came out, kids were raised by the military dads of the 1950s, and having long hair meant being dragged behind a truck until your skin came off. That was a bit rich. However, the pendulum has swung so far the other way, we’ve turned men into women and women into men.
I mean, look at their clothes. Men wear their pajamas on the plane, and it has to be below freezing for them to abandon their flip-flops. I can’t even get the kids today to do cocaine. They think it’s gross. If it’s Friday night and they’ve had their requisite 40-minute shower, they might have a beer but drinking ‘til you puke and throwing a chair out of a window has become a thing of the past.
In the future, men are castrated pincushions who traded in their raison d’etre for a fake dream.
It wasn’t just the war on bullying that lost young men their balls. It was feminism, too. Women were asked, “What do you want?” Now, they’re not going to say, “To be dominated by a man who keeps me safe,” because that sounds like you want to be a slave, and we all know slavery sucks. Instead, women said shit that sounded good. They said they want a man with a sense of humor. They pretended to want a gentle soul with feelings who cries a lot and wouldn’t dream of punching anyone at all for any reason. Unfortunately, men are so eager to get laid, they’ll do anything a woman says, so they replied, “You want a wimp? You got one,” and tossed their balls in her purse. Only, women don’t really want a guy like that. It’s just something that sounds good. No woman wants a pair of loose testicles floating around her handbag. They make a mess.
Later, when women were asked what they wanted out of life, they couldn’t bear to say, “to be a housewife.” That sounds worse than slavery. It sounds like sexual slavery. So, they said, “I want to do everything a man does and nothing that a woman does.” This leads them to abandon the idea of family until way after their ovaries dry up and they pursue careers they don’t even want. “Great,” thinks Maggie as she stays up all night preparing the BNR proposal for their annual report, “I don’t have to stay in my own home shaping the lives of the children I adore. In your face, patriarchy!” Then they spend $30,000 on fertility drugs because nobody told them 30 is getting late to have kids, and when they can’t turn back the hands of time, they get a dog and yell, “Mommy’s home” to it every night they walk into their empty apartment.
In the future, men are castrated pincushions who traded in their raison d’etre for a fake dream and women are miserable men who bore us all with stories about their “baby,” which in real life is a dog. Pretty depressing eh? No. Not if you can cling on to one tiny fragment of one nut. You see, once the hunters kill all the wolves and we’re left with nothing but sheep, the few wolves that remain in hiding are facing nothing less than a giant pussy buffet.
Ignore the lies about the evils of masculinity. Ignore the feigned misgivings about the patriarchy. Be a man. Always dress like it’s winter below the belt. If something makes you so sad you want to cry, suck it up. If someone else cries, make fun of him. Swear. Drink bourbon. Do drugs. Get fired. Get banned from bars. Keep your feelings to yourself. Drive a motorcycle. Get a tattoo. Keep your mouth shut. Scream at people who piss you off. Offend. Hold grudges. Get even. Dominate a woman and keep her safe. Get the shit beaten out of you. Beat the shit out of someone. Break a woman’s heart and have your heart broken. Because when that happens, you’ll be a man. And the good news is you’ll be the only one left.