Don't Call it a Comeback

Take solace, readers. Your spirited blogger is not deceased, nor has he been taken out by gang warfare or the aggressive homeless.

Rather, I took an inordinate amount of time off to pursue my vision quest. Much like my proud Native American ancestors did while they roamed the great frontier, I, and all .0025% of my Cherokee blood, needed to escape the digital jungle and escape to the nominal amount of open acreage here in the West San Fernando Valley. Fueled by a unquenchable thirst for knowledge and truth, as well as three cases of Red Bull and some peyote purchased from a nearby mobile home village, I escaped to the wilderness to release the inner child and discover the true purpose of my life and reflect on the current state of man. 

And friends, after this exhausting, enlightening, and sometimes frightening journey, I have come to one simple conclusion...

It's time for testosterone to make a glorious return to America.

In less than a decade, our country has fallen victim to a series of trends and habits, perpetrated by women and homosexuals to suck the power from Joe Manly and level the playing field, opening your average man up to the same ridicule that he once only dished out on others in gym class. 

Be it plucked and shaped eyebrows, fake tans, shaved chests, skinny jeans, faux-hawks, techno music, or fraternities, the American male has bottomed out here in 2009. 

Adding to the slow fade of American manhood is the sudden, astronomical rise in popularity of what we'll call Douchebag Shirts. Whereas man was once content with a simple polo from the Gap, or a button-up from American Eagle, the bar has been lowered and the price raised. Evil sartorial hawkers such as Ed Hardy, Affliction, and RCVA to name a few, have not only emptied out wallets across the map, but have turned many decent, well-intentioned men into giant dickheads. Research indicates that the clothing itself doesn't contain any formulated douche-enhancing chemicals, but rather, the simple status of owning said clothing has an inexplicable ability to elevate a man's levels of arrogance, idiocy, and douchebaggery, while simultaneously stripping him of all masculine credibility to the discerning eye, or "The Seers" as we shall call them.

The Seers are those who have managed to deflect the attempts on their masculinity; those who recognize that $20 Levis from Target will not only last longer than $400 Sevens, but also look way less gay. Seers know that V-neck shirts are simply an evolution of women's low-cut blouses, and to be seen in such a shirt is to be sucked free of all manhood. Seers know that there is never, ever, an appropriate occasion to leave half your shirt unbuttoned or to side-tuck your shirt in. 

The problems extend into the world of entertainment, where popular music groups and movie stars have seen their masculinity flushed straight down the toilet, a phenomena scientists have labeled "pussification." Keep reading for further examination of this phenomena. 

In closing, your diligent, baseball cap and Wrangler-wearing blogger will continue to bear the torch of manhood, fighting the good fight for all the Seers out there. 

Until next time, my friends, do as Kurt would do...