Since the beginning of time, man has sought to cheat death by doing the dirty deed himself. Yes, that’s right. I’m talking about suicide.

While I don’t personally think suicide is the way to go, I understand the mantality of it — a mantality that can be expressed as simply as, “That’ll show the bastard.” It’s the way we men have lived and loved since Mother Earth felt her first Five Across the Eyes in the form of plowshare and a patch of turnips.

“Herd be damned,” said primitave man. “Because of my mighty mangenuity, this is where I’m living from now on. Right where I planted these turnips. And if I so chose, this is where I’ll be dying, by lifting a massive boulder and then dropping it on my head.”

You have to respect that. [Read more]

Here’s a fun rainy day man-tivity; open up a magazine or your old high school yearbook and try to find what all the women smiling back at you have in common.

I’m not talking about the fact that they all gave up their dreams within five years of taking that picture or that the model in the magazine gave up something else five hours before taking that picture. I’m talking about something else.

Give up? They all look fake as shit. [Read more]

When you think of a woman, you think of a shrill harpy whirring around the house with a duster and a vacuum cleaner under the watchful eye of some imaginary deity of clutter. One errant bill or remote control earns her an eternity of stacking in the Trash Yard of Damnation. That’s how I see it anyway. A tornado of nerves frantically stacking the debris of everyday life into neat little piles and shoving them into drawers like a five year old with learning disability on a reverse scavenger hunt.

That’s what women call cleaning. Women can’t clean for shit. [Read more]

It’s part of human nature to go through a midlife crisis. You’re old, you’re bald, you’re comfortable in your job and your marriage; the only thing that will cure your woes is a brand new convertible.

Notice how I didn’t say “affair”. That’s how women go through their midlife crises. Men buy a cool new toy to toot around town with — maybe ruffle the feathers of the establishment as they blow through yellow lights at 65 miles an hour. Women fuck up their families. [Read more]

Lying is one of the manliest things that you can do. It’s so manly that it’s worth two hundred Man Points just like that — getting away with it anyway. On the scale of man-ness, that puts lying right up with making a disgusted face when someone tries to give you money for something and throwing sandwiches in the street for the hell of it. Oh yea. Lying is great.

In this modern world, we men have evolved with the understanding that a lie is usually the most efficient way to resolve a problem. That’s why men don’t have any problems with being lied to or doing it. If a man ever catches another man in a lie his first response is always, “Okay, but why’d you lie?” He’s genuinely asking. That isn’t some woman-gambit bullshit where no matter what you say you’re fucked. Like, “Do you think Angelina Jolie is hot?”

Fucking of course I think Angelina Jolie is hot. Everyone does. If you totaled up all the money every guy on Earth would pay to fuck her, you could build a golden rocket ship out of clay and sunshine that carried all the fourth graders on Earth to a magical land of faeries and wizards. Don’t ask stupid questions! [Read more]

Men invented languages once our thought processes evolved beyond the scope of expression of grunts and pointing. That never happened for women. Anything a woman ever thinks about or says can be expressed in sounds horses and pigs make; namely squealing and donkey hee-haws. If you need proof of that just listen to a woman when you’re driving at a perfectly acceptable distance away from the center divider on the auto-freeway, or if you’re about to run a red light. She’ll start donkey hee-hawing like the best of them.

Women can’t speak as well as men. They don’t know what the fuck any words mean and they can’t stick their thoughts together well enough to make sentences that make points. Women’s thoughts are like sticks of butter. You can throw them around and make a big mess, but nothing’s going to stick. [Read more]

I thought of a brilliant plan to make a Hollywood disaster film last night. And I don’t mean a disaster film like with tornados and an attacking horde of Stay Puf’t Marshmallow Men. I mean a disaster film as in a massive box office failure. A film in which no dollars are recouped. A failure so bad that cash pours out of the bank like someone’s broken the dyke.

Are you ready for it? Here’s the idea.

Have a woman star in the lead role. [Read more]

If there’s one thing that women can’t do as well as men more than anything else, it’s be a doctor.

Men have been being doctors since the beginning of time. Thousands of men throughout history have devoted their lives to it in such a way that the wake of their mantastic sacrifices reverberate all throughout history — which is every man’s true goal.

Every woman’s true goal is to make everyone around her sorry for everything they ever fucking did. [Read more]