While cramming my face into a succulent yellow watermelon and allowing its sweet juices to flow down my chin and drip onto my sopping wet shirt, I stopped to ponder only for a moment about where all these people were rushing to. The street was full of vehicles going to and fro, the bus stops were packed with impatient commuters, but I just sat there. What could be so important to these people? I slowly downed my head into my waiting sweet melon and it all became painfully clear. It was eight a.m. on Friday morning and these sheep were hurrying to their various workplaces.
Oh, I chuckled to myself about all those puffy pillow lined faces and coffee swigging fools when a strange thing caught my eye. I was spitting a hard black seed at the neighbors interloping tabby cat when a thin indy rock girl slowly sauntered past. She appeared to be in no hurry and she shyly watched her feet as she strolled. I clamored, should I say something? Am I missing an opportunity? I straightened my back and raised my head proudly, and as I began to speak it occurred to me that I was wearing only a stained, soggy t shirt, and a pair of questionable boxers, with a pair of thick black combat boots
“Damnit” I raged silently. She looked like she had promise and my laziness had hindered me yet again. Hell, she probably even has a job. “Wait one second, no car, she doesn’t have a car” I mused. Still, I was a bit disappointed as I eyed her making my most recent deposit in the ol’ spank bank. Oh, she was long and lean and the black hair streaked across her face making her appear sullen and distant, and the horn rimmed glasses she sported gave her a studious and deep aura, the thin mustache that lined her upper lip, wait, what the hell is that?! “great googley moogley” I had just burned myself up.I only wish I could say this was the first time I had experienced such an awful calamity, sadly it’s not.
This is why I now feel it time to assess the state of the modern American male. Now, I understand that gone are the days of men like John Wayne, or Humphrey Bogart, and it appears that the bravado of that bygone era has been replaced with a overdose of sissy cut with pure wuss. I personally lay blame on the doorstep of ‘hippies’, and of course ‘Sesame street’.
As baffled as I am by the appeal of sporting your kid sisters low rise skinny jeans and wearing slightly ironic 80’s band t shirts slim cut, and two sizes too small as you tushy push around town seeking new and exotic places to vomit or purge in order to maintain that ‘low t cell count’ look that seems to be all the rage, I find myself even further perplexed by the outrage these ‘sensitive’ types express at the very mention of them having a ‘little sugar in the tank’. After all wearing women’s clothing is technically cross dressing, and while that in and of itself may not be ‘homosexual’ it most certainly is sissy, and sissy is clearly on the cusp of fruity, and as far as I’m concerned if you dip your big toe in the gay pool to check the temperature then you might as well have dove in and splish splashed around while being butt bopped by a conga line of guys wearing only ascots and pinky rings.
Now you may be saying to yourself “I never asked you, jerk,” or “I’m not the one checking out guys on the street”, and if you are spitting such verbal venom at me, then I would like to kindly request that you grab the nearest bug bomb, pop the cap, and cram it where the sun don’t shine, because you’re bugging the crap out of me. I don’t have time for your ridiculous mental misgivings. You’ve been looking into the pythons sphincter all this time and that’s not where you want to look. Watch his head, that’s where all the action is.
I have noticed these emo types more and more these days. They seem to be the depressed, listless spawn of the metro-sexual movement and new-wave. That’s right new-wave, it’s back and it’s uglier than ever before, and it’s growing like mold on bread. It’s spreading into other scenes. I’ve seen them walking among us. Why I’ll bet right now at this moment there’s some dudded up prissy fella punching wildly in the air and doing spin-kicks at some music venue that he has no business being at.
They now wear the styles of many different subcultures.
They generally appear far to textbook in appearance at first and you can’t really put your finger on what it is that is amiss, but if you’ll notice the pants, they are always far too small exposing the knobby knock knees and flat lump-less buttocks. The hair is always styled, even if at first it appears to be messed or unkept. They seem to have taken to facial hair recently, not nicely groomed but badly grown. I believe this to be part of what they think of as ‘ironic’.That’s right friends, these fashion zombies are all around us, mingling and spreading their avant guard disease as they go. If you know the signs you can avoid them, and the yuck they leave in their wake.
If you suspect someone you know of being one of these fashionista pod people you should immediately cut ties and ostracize them. Let them know that you’re not okay with their vile belief system and you will resort to violence if needed. They are mortified at the very thought of physical aggression. However they do seem to enjoy ‘egging’ one on verbally.
If one of these creatures should get flippant with you, or run off at the mouth, immediately take a hostile stance and swat at the ‘hipster’s’ nose, this will hinder his sass leaving him to fear for his face and the possibility of further brutality. However, stay aware, and keep your eye on any females that may be traveling in the pack. These females are wild, unhindered, and will attack you with force. They have become accustomed to protecting these girlboylings against predators, and they have little to no respect for men, as they have encountered few to none in their meaningless daddy-hating lives.
This has been a cautionary writing and I hope you will all take it as seriously as I have.
Goodnight and God bless.