Archives for posts with tag: gay

There are four things men need in life to prove they are truly rugged, manly specimens worthy of theĀ Manly Man Manifesto:

1. A sizable bottle of Axe deodorant.

2. A hairy chest at Hasselhoff-ian levels of furriness.

3. A Sgt Pepper’s Lonely Hearts Club Band handlebar moustache (with the guiding principle being, if something can make Paul McCartney look totally butch, then it must be manly).

4. A marching song.

The first three items have been easy to acquire on MDJ Superstar’s lifelong quest to achieve legendary status as a truly tremendous Titan of Testosterone.

But the fourth, a marching song raging with thunder and fury, sure to set panties dropping and lesser men fleeing as a Manly Man enters a room – that is something that MDJ Superstar was sorely lacking.

Until today, that is.

After years of searching, MDJ Superstar has finally found a song worthy of his raging manhood.

It’s the entrance theme to pro wrestling legend, the Exotic Adrian Street, a man who knew what true dude-itude (the science of dude-ness) was all about.

The lyrics are stellar. Here’s a sample:

I can tear a telephone directory in two
Bending iron bars is something else that I can do
I always pick my teeth with the nearest billiard cue
So imagine what I could do to you

I can crush a housebrick with one movement of my hand
And laugh while I reduce it to a dusty heap of sand
I cut a splendid figure when I make my chest expand
So imagine what I could do to you

Pretty butch, huh?

I performed a live rendition of this for my Marketing colleagues, accompanying myself on the bagpipe as I slowly unfolded interpretative dance steps inspired by Toni Braxton’s immortal classic, “Unbreak My Heart.”

I assure you, by the time I was done, there was not a single dry eye in the room.

Just listen to this, you manly men. And imagine, what I could do to you.

It’s preposterous! It’s testosterone! It’s.. PREPOSTERONE!!

Look, so I know it isn’t incredibly hip or avant garde to be a pro wrestling fan in the 21st century, but I just cannot ever outgrow this lovely little “soap opera for men.”

Action, drama, suspense, and even homoerotic propositions and thinly-veiled sexual tension between two well-waxed young lions.

What more could a Superstar ask for?

And to anyone who’s ever made that tired old joke about how pro wrestling fans “love watching two oiled-up muscular men in Speedos rolling around in each other’s arms,” all I have to say to you is:

DAMN.

I will be a life-long President of the Baby Oil Boys’ Club for as long as I live.

Human beings adapt to environmental stimulus; it’s called evolution.

With this in mind, I would like to consider the implications of today’s fashion on the genetics of certain social subcultures.

I believe that 200 years from now, all gay men will have small pee-pees. Why? Because of the way they squeeeeze themselves into such tight pants…

It’s called evolution.

Hipsters, take this as a warning.

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