It’s Good to Be a Man

Posted by OrdinaryJoe - January 26, 2020 - Features, Flicks, Sports, The Arts - No Comments


Rather than writing about the impeachment of President Donald Trump or Mr. Peanut (no, not Trump. Instead, the Planters mascot allegedly went to the Great Nuthouse in the Sky, though he will probably be back because you just can’t keep a good man or legume down), I am going to write a testosterone-filled post.

Next week is Super Bowl Sunday. I call it the Unofficial Man Day because it is the time of year in which men can act, eat, and play like men without being regarded as a troglodyte or one of those insensitive male chauvinists who retches seeing a photo of Hillary Clinton.

Since the Super Bowl is a good time for public service announcements, I am going to do my own public service announcement and list a few things on why it is good to be a man:

Camping trips, unless you meet backwoods bullies straight out of Deliverance and Wrong Turn movies.
Three Stooges and Caddyshack film festivals.
Bachelor parties.
If you are of a certain age, the first time you bought a Playboy magazine and hid it underneath your bed.
Until this past year, the Victoria Secret fashion show.
Video games.
Giving the class freaks and geeks wedgies in a middle school locker rooms.
After dinner cigars.
Casinos unless you are one of those lonesome losers (and sooner or later, pretty much eveyone becomes a lonesome loser).
Muscle cars, Corvettes, Sting Rays, Mustangs, and pickup trucks.
Hooters restaurants.
Kung fu epics from the 1970s.
Sports bars (topless, bottomless, and G-rated).
Craft beers and whiskies.
Fantasy football.
Dirty jokes.
Nachos, buffalo wings, Cheez-Whiz, and pretzels.
For really dirty old men, vintage stag reels (no, I’m not talking about Bambi after he grew up).
Gentlemen’s clubs.
Burping and farting unless you do it in public.
The ability to do Number One two ways rather than one.
Smoking jackets (unfortunately, very few men wear smoking jackets anymore).
If you are a meat and potatoes guy, steakhouses.
Teenage wet dreams.
Cheering on your favorite superheroes.
Secretly leering at cheerleaders and pom-pom girls during football games.
Beards, mustaches, and five o’clock shadows.
Pumping iron at the gym.
Men-only barbershops.
Hot Wheels, G.I. Joe dolls, Rock ‘Em Sock ‘Em Robots, Electric Football, and Pong before Old Farts like me underwent puberty.
Reading thrillers rather than romance novels.
Pipes for tobacky and wacky tobacky.
Presidents of the United States (though Hillary Clinton did win the popular vote in 2016).
Sports memorabilia and comic book shows.
Unless you are too ashamed to show off your peewee wee wee, Big Swinging Dick contests.
Playing classic rock with your buddies in your parents’ garage.
Panty raids (a fine old college tradition that unfortunately has become utterly politically incorrect in this age of the Me Too movement, Gender Studies, and Miss America pageants featuring science experiments).
For wannabe Bluto Blutarskys, Animal House-style fraternities.
Wolf whistles (very discreetly, of course).
Fight Club.

The Godfather of Soul, James Brown, once sang a tune entitled “It’s a Man’s, Man’s, Man’s World”. This is especially on Super Bow Sunday. For people of the masculine gender, celebrate the good things about being a guy while watching the San Francisco 49ers and the Kansas City Team With a Rather Politically Incorrect Nickname (Chiefs) smash each other on the gridiron.

Joe’s Maybe Memorable Quote of the Day

I consider myself a man’s man and a ladies’ man as well.

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