Showing posts with label stfu. Show all posts
Showing posts with label stfu. Show all posts

Monday, December 6, 2010

Real men don’t write hackey articles*

There comes a time in every country’s existence when a lot of it’s low grade writers try to rehash the whole “where have all the real men” gone meme. This meme has travelled far and wide, has clocked a lot of frequent flier miles visiting almost every country, and has been groped at airports around the world (except Afghanistan of course, because in that country even real men get killed), and has now finally arrived in India.

The first to get it off ground is none other than India’s #1 non-TOI newspaper, the venerable Hindustan Times.

In this season of celebrating 'manhood' — November 19 has been the International Man's Day for some years now — I wondered why no sociologist is discussing the greatest danger that today's men face: the virtual obliteration of their gender identity.

It’s a good start. The writer establishes from the get-go that this article is going to dedicated to nostalgia about a simpler time when men were allowed to be men, and not these strange mutant creatures they are today, having been brainwashed by the feminist movement and self-help books.

While I watch younger generation of women going for breast implants and thongs, their "laddish" enthusiasm for pornography and striptease, I find increasing numbers of men dyeing or highlighting their hair, getting an earring or getting rid of excess body hair, or simply dressing in typical girly colours — hot pinks, fluorescent greens, purples, yellows and vermilions — sometimes to look like wimps. Frankly, this breed of the effete and narcissistic dandies obsessed with softening everything about themselves tickles me no end.

Exactly. Breast implants are manly! Women want to be “laddish” (whatever that means) and watch pornography, which is strange because the only reason God gave women vaginas was to enable them to provide pleasure to men and not derive any of it for themselves. What’s next? These double-breasted porn watching creatures asking to talk on the phone, or daring to choose their own career or *GASP* deciding not to have children? BLASPHEMY! SACRILEGIOUS! This is a slippery slope!

Anyway, what is up with men getting their hair coloured these days? Didn’t these daisies get the memo? Gender is a very delicate thing. The minute you get your hair coloured, your balls will recede and no one will be able to make out that under all that small amount of streaked hair, lies a masculine lump of a man. In fact, everyone will be so confused that older gentlemen will get up when you enter a room and hold a door open for you while younger men will grope you the minute you cross that door and enter a bus. And if you get your body hair waxed, you will turn into a sappy wimp as various kinds of emotions will start oozing from your skin’s pores. That’s why God gave you body hair, to keep your emotions where they belong. .

Machismo seems to be out of fashion these days. In fact, the idea of the alpha male who is the leader of the pack, eats first, gets his pick of the females (a typical example of which was Frank Sinatra, who headed a bunch of sycophantic drunks rightly known as the Rat Pack, who knocked around his wife Mia Farrow), considered as real tough guy behaviour, is now passé.

Oh, machismo. We miss you so much. Why, when you were in fashion, “seducing” a woman was considered a sport and men employed all kinds of tactics to get some putang pie. So much has changed since then.

Why just reminiscence about the sixties and seventies? Why not go back to the stone age? That was a glorious time to be a man. At that time, men were gruffy, hairy emotionless neanderthals who had the fashion sense of Tarzaan and the wit and charm of the great Khali, and they ate anything they wanted to without even cooking it or washing it in boiled water (or as we call it in India “Chinese food”). Meanwhile, the women stayed home in the cave combing their armpit hair while watching a young Larry King on their slate shaped teevee and sending tweets to each other through large parrots. Wasn’t it such an awesome time?

These sort of articles boil down to the same basic argument: WHY ARE HUMANS EVOLVING?

We must strive to preserve gender roles forever, because it makes it easier to determine whom to discriminate against! 

Now, since this writer made some assumptions and generalisations about other people, I’m going to do the same thing and make assumptions about him.

Dear Hackey HT writer,

Did you have a terrible childhood? Was your father mean and distant? Did he never show you any emotion? Did he always ask your mother to shut her trap hole whenever she was trying to make a point? When you were five and you fell down while playing and bruised yourself and you ran back home crying only to be punished more for “acting like a girl”? Did your father get all his parenting advice from hindi movies?  Are you still waiting for his approval because he wanted you to do something manly like cleaning shark teeth or making hip-hop videos with half-naked ladies and instead you ended up in an effete and pansy career like writing?

Seriously, all you do is sit down and hit the buttons on your typewriter.

How manly is that?

 

A requiem for the alpha male [HT]

(*Except on this blog. Almost everything written here is quite hackey, to say the least)

Sunday, March 30, 2008

New Rules

New rules: People who need to have a nice warm cup of STFU

People with news born kids:

Unless you are my brother or sister, stop trying to tell me how cute your kid is. I may fake an "Awwwwww" but I really coudn't give a rat's ass. No, I Don't need to be woken up at 3 AM because your kid is rapping out the alphabet. And no, I don't think it is funny that you kid mispronounces his name. In my book, he's gonna be a retard. Unless baby's first word consists of the F-bomb, I really am not interested.

People with nosy questions:

Just because you know my parents does not give you the right to question me. No, I don't think I should get married and I don't think I should look for a job with another company. I really don't care what you think constitutes good behavior. The only reason that I don't hit you is cause you know my parents. Though one of these days, I might forget that.

People who send the same wishes by SMS:

People need to stop sending the same message every year for all the occasions. I'm tired of reading the "let me wish you before the network gets jammed" message for Holi, Diwali, New Year's, Christmas, St Patrick's Day. No, don't send me the list of alcohol brands listed alphabetically. It does not mean that you're funny. It shows that (a) you're a closet alcoholic and (b) you don't have an original brain in your body. Next time a brain fart sends me a teddy which will stay in my inbox till 12.00 am is going to get an earful. Seriously.


News channels who dedicate hour long segments to the great khali:

Stop spoiling my favorite sport. Khali is the worst wrestler in the world and the only reason he is even in the WWE is because he is a freak show. He can't speak English to save his life and even when he speaks punjabi/hindi he is incomprehensible. So news channels who show reports about Khehli (what they call him) should be banned. Stop trying to act like Khali is the equivalent of the Tata-Jaguar deal. He's just a effing freak show. The only reason he became champion was because EVERYONE else was injured. He does not deserve to even be in a WWE ring. So stop trying to present him as India's next greatest conquerer. And everyone please stop showing the year old clips of him winning the championship. He ain't ever gonna win again, no matter how many havans there are on the banks of the ganges. And please stop saying wrestlemania is the grandaddy of em' all. I know. When I hear an Indian reporter say it in his hinglish accent, a part of me dies. So please, go back to ignoring wrestling and I can go back to watching it without having "khelieh is going to win at the grannddd-dadeeeh of them AAAll" ringing in my head.

People with Kids living overseas:

People with kids living overseas should really need to stop telling me how different things there are. Yes, I know they don't have any servants there. Yes I know both your child and their wives/husbands/mistresses have jobs which keep them out of the house for more than 12 hours. I know that. I know things are different there. How? It's a different country. Furthermore, unless he is sending me part of the million dollars per year he makes, I really don't give a flying fuck. Thanks.


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