Stand Up And Be Heard...Pissing

This is a blog that centers around statements made by you, the American people. And while it generally focuses on utterances that range from the outlandish to outright stupidity, there are times where I also hear (or read, in this case) something that I find to be thought provoking enough to be worthy of further examination. My good friend and fellow blogger, Andy, from over at The Blog of the Union Address, left a comment on one of my recent posts (Good to the Last Drop of My IQ) that fits the latter category.

"That right there was a Class A Dennis Leary style rant. I'd like to welcome real men back to America, been gone too long!"

And that, folks, made me think. What, exactly, has happened to the American male?

Sure, okay, if you ask anyone of a generation that is older than yours, they'll tell you that each subsequent generation displays less bravado, machismo, manliness...whatever label you want to place upon that quality that defines a man as a man. An 80 year old man and I might have an arguement over whether I could ever measure up to even the weakest man of his generation, causing me to throat punch him out of his wheelchair and give his colostomy bag a hearty squeeze. Because, I don't buy into all of that.

Life in America gets easier with each passing generation, without doubt. But, the essence of a true male doesn't change. No matter how comfortable technology makes our lives.

Men are supposed to wake up on the weekends, put on a toolbelt and look for shit to fix. We eat meat that comes from a can, and drink beer that comes in the same package. We make dick jokes without caring about our setting or situation. We wear blue jeans and socks with holes. We're not even going to talk about what our underwear looks like. We kill shit, destroy shit, and love fire. We're at the top of the food chain because we have opposable thumbs, which we use to scratch our asses in public. Our women need us to open pickle jars.

Yet, somewhere in the 90's, that all changed. Somewhere, somehow, someway...we allowed ourselves to be neutered by a new politically correct society.

The 90's. What an abortion. 
Men stopped drinking bottled beer and started drinking bottled water. Wearing a flannel shirt and work boots became an indication that you were running down to the local gourmet coffee shoppe, not going to purge the land of uneeded natural resources. Our rock stars started doing more talking than singing. And Tom Selleck shaved his moustache, which led to the greatest of all atrocities; we stooped to importing our action heroes. Outsourcing guys like Liam Neeson, Gerard Butler and Russell Crowe, because the American action heroes had become passe. (It's hard to take you seriously as Rambo, Sly, when you can't scowl due to the massive amounts of botox that restrict your facial movements.)

This country isn't being run into the ground by poor leadership or a bad economy. America is falling apart at the seams because it needs a healthy injection of testosterone. Honestly...do you realize how far we have to look back to find the last real man to sit in the Oval Office? Reagan. The guy was a cowboy actor and he brought that persona to his presidency. "I've got a big swinging dick, and I'm not afraid to use it." Nobody, but nobody, fucked with us when Reagan was in office. And, if they did, they had the misfortune of getting a swift ass kicking...not this prolonged bullshit we've been seeing time and time again and even right now on CNN.

When did we go from being a nation of men that actually threw a football with their friends in the backyard to a nation that hooks up on Xbox Live to compete in the latest version of Madden? When did that eternal pissing contest of 'I have the nicest lawn' turn into 'I pay more for my professional lawn service than you do for yours'? When did we stop using tools and start acting like them?

We're reaching a point in our country where we'll actually have men that have never eaten beef jerky, because they're afraid of what it will do to their health. Are you fucking kidding me?

I'm going to organize the next march that takes place in this country. I'm going to call it: Get Your Balls Back Weekend. About a million of us will march into the nearest public park and summarily piss on a tree. We'll only eat shit full of preservatives and chalk full of salty goodness. We'll tell penis jokes over non-lite beers and we'll end the weekend by clubbing a baby seal to death and seeing who can cook that fucker the best over a non-propane grill. We'll spend the weekend referring to women as 'honey' or 'sweetheart' and ignore their claims that it's demeaning. And, everyone bring a hammer, because...we're going to fix something ourselves, and not call the repair man. We're going to watch movies with explosions and without plots and listen to rock and fucking roll. And, the proceeds we raise won't be used to support some group looking for a handout, it's going to be used to cover our bar tab. Hopefully.

And, we are so going bowling.

Personally, I'm going to chain smoke in public and exhale on babies and puppies all weekend. I'm going to use the word 'GAY' like its going out of style and I plan to beat my personal best at hawking a lugie. This will be the only Sunday I ever attend church. Because I plan on cutting the queen mother of all farts in the history of fartdom and raising my hand to ask for God's forgiveness. And, I'm killing something. Just for kicks.

There was a time in this country, believe it or not, when two guys could step outside to settle a dispute, beat each other to a pulp and then go somewhere and have a beer and laugh about it. I'm not sure where those guys all went, but I bet they're having one fuck of a party. And I bet they're all sporting Magnum P.I. moustaches.