Every year, a frickload of Americans stock up on a lot of beer. They drink a lot of it while yelling at their TVs. This is the Super Bowl and they are men, dammit.
My former next-door neighbors were particularly bad about this. Every time there was a football/basketball/bocce ball game on the telly, choruses of “Fuck yeah! FUCK YEAAAH!!!” wafted through the walls for hours on end. I don’t know why I didn’t break out my uncle’s old toys from his brief stint with the KGB to shut them up.
Welcome to the great American pastime. People like to watch football. People like to prove that they are manly. People like to watch football to prove that they are manly.
Many of these folks would argue that figure skating isn’t a sport. If you’re in this camp, go ahead and try landing a triple lutz on ice to “Poker Face.” You rock that glittery face paint, Johnny Weir.
The exhibition of masculinity is carried out in a varying manner. You know those rap videos where they pour Cristal on random girls in clubs? And proceed to get their drink on and their smoke on, then go home with somethin’ to poke on? Yeah, don’t do that. You could get syphilis. That’s how Al Capone died.
Getting really drunk and having sexual relations with strange and questionable women also can make a guy seem awesome. If you really want to put the cherry on the sundae, revel in the fact that you’re a complete asshole. Somewhere in time, the evolution of man hit a brick wall. The fact that Tucker Max exists in the real world while James Bond exists only in the fictional one sucks, but let’s not go there now.
Now, the real fail sets in when people don’t identify satire and actually attempt to adopt the ways of those Miller Lite commercials. There actually are people out there who think it’s fine to holler at high school girls from the AM/PM parking lot. The quest that so many undertake to prove their masculinity is restricting. People who insist on doing this will never get to experience the sensation of a wild orchid-scented bubble bath. No one should ever judge you for blotting the grease off your pizza.
Perhaps you’re peer pressure’s slave. Maybe your friends call you a pansy all the time and make you the butt of every joke. There is something you can do about this. Fighting a bear will make them back the fuck off. Instead of just poorly imitating a Neanderthal, take the next step and get savage.
I watched this movie recently where Brad Pitt possesses every manly characteristic you can imagine – except for a Fabio haircut, but he’s mid-’90s Pitt so it’s all way forgivable. Not only does he drink every bottle of whiskey and nail every chick under 30 in plain sight, but he also fights bears. Repeatedly.
It really got me thinking about masculinity, why it’s so important to dudes and what truly constitutes it. If you really want to prove your manhood before society and God himself, fight a bear. That’s what I call kicking it old school. It’s probably how cavemen got girls to marry them.
But Michelle, you say, what about the fact that fighting a bear carries fair odds of getting your ass handed to you? What if it results in your death?
Well, kids, let me remind you about this guy named Darwin and this little theory he had about the survival of the fittest. Perhaps that could be applicable in this situation. It’s simple: If you can’t survive a bear fight, your genes weren’t meant to be carried on anyway.
Aspiring to be a turd is easy. Heading deep into a forest armed with only a machete and balls of steel to fight a bear probably isn’t. I guess I’ll never know, because I’m not a guy. Thank God I’m not.
MICHELLE RICK is willing to bet her skivvies that Tucker Max would be shown up in a bear fight in less than five two minutes. Make your bet at marick@ucdavis.edu. Also, keep in mind that this thing called sarcasm was utilized heavily in this column, so hold the hate mail. Thank you very much.