The 2010 Man Capsule
“A sure sign of the decline of an empire, is the rise of feminism.”
The first man to say that was not me, Dick Masterson. It was first said by the British army engineer and Lieutenant-General who trained the Arab Legion in 1939: Sir John Glubb. Eat shit, feminism.
Feminism is the zenith of human sloth and stupidity. Complaining won’t make men less better than women, and no amount of fact-fucking is going to reverse the age-old maxim that you can catch more flies with honey than with a shrill and obnoxious dogma. Feminism can take out its own garbage before barbecue sauce leeks all over the linoleum. I’m busy doing man things.
If hell freezes over and Hillary Clinton wins the 2008 presidency with her running mate, Senorita Vagina, then we can expect total “empire decline” as early as 2010. In order to preserve manliness against the all-consuming gash that is H. Clinton “The Queen of Swine”, I have taken it upon myself to bury a Man Capsule deep in the manliest desert on Earth.
My Man Capsule is a lot like a time capsule, but it contains all the very manliest of things. After Hillary runs civilization straight into the shit-can like a trillion dollar lawn dart with her womanly incompetence, the Man Capsule will be exhumed and a new dawn of manliness will break.
Manly poetry: +5 Man Points
Illustrated World War II Encyclopedia Set (Vol. 1-24)
We’ve learned a lot about war during our time on this planet. The first thing we learned is that war is awesome. The next thing we learned is that war is even awesom-er the second time around. I can’t wait to see how manly the third world war is going to be. Some of it might take place in space.
I won’t sit back and let war get sent back to the Dark Ages. Especially after Hillary convinces everyone that war is bad and that guns are evil because they look like penises — the penis her husband used to cheat on her with. If war was good enough for our founding fathers, it’s good enough for us. My Illustrated World War II Encyclopedias will be the textbooks for the new manllenium. The riches contained within will be read as bedtime stories.
Barbie & Bob the Builder
Women are stupid prostitutes. Men are productive, affable, and can be mass marketed to children even after they’ve put on a little weight. Mr. Potato Head probably outsold his fat-ass wife by 10 to 1.
Children don’t need to go to school. All they need to do is stare at their toys and they’ll figure out everything on their own. Girls want to play with baby dolls that piss themselves, and boys want to build the world. If we don’t give boys computers, they’ll use Legos. Without Legos, they’ll use rocks and mud — and they’ll build computers out of that.
Sure, boys want to run the world after they build it, but that’s why I included the war encyclopedias first. We’ll know exactly what to do when that happens.
And so will women thanks to the Barbies.
A Carton of Swisher Sweets
While Hilary Clinton is most definitely running on the Democratic platform, she’s also running on the platform of “My Husband Fornicated With a Pig Using a Cigar.” That is a dangerous platform for cigar smokers. Within hours of Hillary Clinton’s perverted invasion of the White House, expect a global ban on cigars and anything else that looks dick-like. Say “goodbye” to your Romeo and Julietas, and say “hello” to soy, romance novels, and blowjobs full of teeth. Aye Carumba!
Swisher Sweets are the worst “cigar” on Earth. As much as I’d like to pack my Man Capsule with a box of Uptons or Partagas, a hole in the middle of the desert is no place for a fine cigar. The men of the brave new world would be disgusted by such an oversight. They might even start to believe some of the feminist propaganda themselves.
Swishers cannot possibly go bad because they are already as awful as they get. And just like men do when they have a girlfriend who is a total bitch, these brave men of the future will make it their sole mission in life to fix these fouled cigars into something awesome and manly — something worthy of attention.
a .357 Magnum revolver
Guns are like women. They’re useless without a man around to use them. I am placing my personal .357 Magnum revolver in the Man Capsule for the same reason Hillary Clinton hates guns: they remind everyone of how powerful The Penis is.
Having a penis is like smuggling an M1 Abrams Tank around in your pants. You look at something, and it’s destroyed. Every time you unzip your fly you should hear trumpets of the Rapture.
Engine Block of a 1952 Vincent Black Shadow
In a world ruled by women, anything that can’t be covered with foam rubber or stuffed with a safety plug will be chucked into the bottom of the sea. If you have a motorcycle, hide it the day Hillary takes office. If you own one of the rarest and most treasured bikes in the world, the Vincent Black Shadow, send it to me and I will bury it for posterity in my Man Capsule.
No one ever expects the Spanish Inquisition.
$1 Bills
Women hate money. That’s why they spend it as quickly as possible. That’s also why they can’t save it. They’re afraid of it. And that’s especially why women don’t fight for a raise in the workplace. They hate money and also they’re cowardly.
If you had a money clip full of spiders, you’d try to spend it as quickly as possible too.
Women hate strip clubs almost as much as they hate money. Once Hillary takes office and bans anything that looks like a dick, she’s going after anything that looks like a boob. Any woman president would. And speaking from personal experience, nothing looks more like a boob than naked boobs.
After Hillary’s Rein of Vagina, men will need a flurry of $1 bills to reignite their atavistic need to cram dollars into women’s g-strings. I am placing a stack of ones in the Man Capsule to jump start the human sex drive after years of gabbing and getting nowhere.
Bacon
Pig based products will become a rarity in a US run by Hillary Clinton. Bacon’s delicious flavor will be a newfound orgy of taste in the mouths of future men who uncover my Man Capsule.
“What happened to these strange and fat and crude animals what begot this meat?” These men will say. Well future men, I’ll tell you what happened to those strange and fat and crude animals. Bill Clinton fucked one.
