Posted on 10/13/2015 5:27:50 PM PDT by Altura Ct.
The New York Times is not just the Paper of Record. It is, among so very many other things, the adjudicator of acceptable opinion, the arbiter of style, and the guide for the perplexed. It was thus with humble gratitude that males, all of whom are prostrate betas before the Times grand alpha, received the article that appeared last week in the Mens Style/Self-Help section: 27 Ways to Be a Modern Man.
How would we know, if the New York Times didnt tell us?
Brian Lombardi, the Times appointed oracle on what makes a Modern Man, is as gnomic and enigmatic as any of his Delphic predecessors. He tells us, for example, that the modern man listens to Wu-Tang at least once a week. My best guess as to what this could possibly mean is that it is a reference to the Wu-Tang Clan, which, I am informed, is an American hip hop group from New York City, originally composed of East Coast rappers RZA, GZA, Method Man, Raekwon, Ghostface Killah, Inspectah Deck, U-God, Masta Killa, Cappadonna, and the late Ol Dirty Bastard.
Thats right: the late Ol Dirty Bastard. There are plenty of us still alive, but never mind. Brian Lombardis epigrammatic utterances include no explanation of why modern man must consult Wu-Tang weekly. There is no why. One does not question the oracle.
But then, there is this:
The modern man lies on the side of the bed closer to the door. If an intruder gets in, he will try to fight him off, so that his wife has a chance to get away.
Very well, but also:
The modern man has no use for a gun. He doesnt own one, and he never will.
If Modern Man must never own a gun, thats his choice. But he has no use for one? What if the intruder who storms his bedroom is too strong for Modern Man to fight off unarmed? What if the intruder has a knife or is even so much of an Antiquated Man as to have a gun?
What can Modern Man do then? Reach for the melon baller that Lombardi advises he use to make sure the cantaloupe, watermelon and honeydew he serves are uniformly shaped?
A clue as to how all this sage advice hangs together comes in the oracles penultimate utterance:
The modern man cries. He cries often.
Perhaps the Modern Man is so given to such displays because the intruder was indeed armed, and Modern Man wasnt, and Modern Mans wife had no chance to get away.
That possibility, however, almost certainly didnt occur to Brian Lombardi or his New York Times editors. They no doubt agree: the Modern Man has no use for a gun. Barack Obama and John Kerry are quintessential examples of this Modern Man. They live in a world where all people are rational, gentle, peace-loving, and concerned about saving the planet and sharing her resources. That includes the Ayatollah Khamenei and Hassan Rouhani. Hell, it includes Kim Jong-un and Abu Bakr al-Baghdadi.
Brian Lombardi could have added a 28th characteristic of the Modern Man: the Modern Man assumes that everyone he ever encounters in any situation, no matter how threatening, irrational, or actively violent, is also a Modern Man. There is, in other words, no one who cannot be talked to, no one who cannot be negotiated with, no one who doesnt prize Peace above all things, and no one who isnt willing to make concessions and receive them in turn, in order to bring about and preserve that Peace.
Did she hold your purse for you too? ;)
NYT ,,, IRRELEVANT
GOOD FOR WRAPPING DEAD FISH IN
Good club to be in. Yeah, I know the front sight, and the working end of an ax.
But ChiChi still sounds like a Rodriguez.
DK
Did she hold your purse for you too? ;)
************************************************************************
No but my wife was in the hospital recently and wanted me to bring her purse to her from home. From the parking deck to her room, I had to walk through some very busy and public places.
I solved the problem by putting her purse in a Wal-Mart bag, actually, I double bagged it.
Manicure - Check
Carries purse - check
Not that there’s anything WRONG with that...;)
Make a liberal male’s head explode. Give him a copy of “Wild at Heart”.
The “modern man” will get wiped out by men of sterner stuff. Hell, “modern man” would get his ass kicked by a 120-pound woman with an attitude.
Point them in the direction of the enemy.
It was ever thus.
Too funny!
It's probably in the cockpit.
I had a home invader break in my front door and charge me years ago. I heard him rattle my door and saw him through the peep hole before going to my nightstand for my GUN. He was a n estimated 6’2” and 220 lb white skinhead with tattoos of barbed wire around his neck and was pacing around and acting crazy before charging and breaking in my front door. He charged me with really wild eyes and arms out like he was going to choke me, but halted and ran when he saw I was about to drop the hammer right between his eyes with a 44 spl. I did not cry, but he was a modern man and may have changed his underwear. This reporter’s address should be posted as a safe robbery on a criminal blog and maybe some charity can donate underwear changes to this modern crying man.
This tripe was posted last week.
I like to make hats out of the heads and necklaces out of the teeth, antlers and claws.
And this is why a redhead is an essential part of any plan to survive the liberal apocalypse.
Years ago, Himself had a friend up the road, with a crazy crack head wife.
She hated me.
One drunken night, she called here, wanting to “fight me”, for whatever crazy reason.
Eventually I grew weary of her ranting and offered to meet her on legally neutral ground, i.e. RT 40, right now.
She said she’d come.
And then I told her, after I was done with her, I was going to cut off her ponytail and hang it from the mirror of my Harley.
I waited for an hour, even though she was less than 1/8 of a mile away.
She never showed.
And she never mouthed off again.
Bummer.
I wanted to go all Celtic headhunter on her ass.
Frustrating.
:)
Part of me wonders if you think I was kidding about the “ornamental parts” hobby.
;D
You know, what made me “well up” was the ending of ICEMAN (1984). Between the helicopter and the flute music, I was on the verge of blubbering.
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