There Are No Real Men Anymore

There are no more men on the planet.

No males in my generation want to be men. Why do I say this? I met an extractor. His quote?

“Have you seen the movie Taken? That’s what I do.”

That is a man. He goes to foreign countries to retrieve people who have been kidnapped. Not only does he go, but he comes back. Comes back! That’s a man. When he’s not doing that, he’s a bodyguard for Saudi princes and people like Ralph Lauren. And before all of this? He was a New York City drug cop in the eighties. Boom. Full man. He’s been a man for decades!

I could have talked to that guy for hours. Talk to men of this generation?

“Oh, I’m a web developer.”

“I work in advertising.”

“I re-tweet things for companies.”

That last one is a job? Unbelievable. Men of older generations wanted to make an honest living. Men now want to make money by making statements in 140 characters – by making videos or taping a friend getting hit in the nuts with a voiceover of what the pole says.

“Whoops, that guy’s nuts are coming down on my head. One of us is gonna feel this! Won’t be me, I’m made of metal!”

No men want to get dirty anymore. Everyone wants to look perfect and smell good.

“Change that tire? Didn’t Steve Jobs create something to do that before he died? He didn’t? Well, then that’s what I’ll focus on. Re-animating Steve Jobs so he can make that thing. Does my iPhone re-animate?”

Past men created electricity, light bulbs, and the telephone. Men of this generation?

“Hey! I made an app that allows me to tell other people where I am! Pretty sweet, huh? You check in, you win things. I’m the mayor of your house! I just raised the tax! Get out of your house!”

I’m guilty of not being a man. Am I a man? No. I write, say funny things, and take on no real responsibility so I can continue to do so. Is that going to help me if I’m lost in the woods? Is that going to scare off a bear?

“Oh, man. A bear! Hey, hey, you like funny situations?”

“ROAR!”

“Wooo, tough crowd.”

Being a man doesn’t just mean doing “manly” things. Chopping wood, building Chevy trucks with your bare hands, all while drunk on whiskey and hollering at women. Being a man means taking on some sort of responsibility. Being accountable for something. No men of my generation want that anymore. No one wants kids. No one wants a job that pays anything less than what a basketball player makes. No one wants to have any commitments that could stop him from watching Breaking Bad.

“Mom’s funeral? God, did she have to die today? She knew I was doing a season three marathon!”

Mark Zuckerberg, for example. Arguably, the leader of my generation. Multi-billionaire, Facebook creator. Man? Absolutely not. Let’s look at what he really created. Mark Zuckerberg created a site that basically annoys everyone and wastes our time. Would a man create a site that lets you stare at your ex and look at picture memes? No. Had a man been around when this was being made, it would be different.

“There! Done. Just added the “Poke” button.”

“Uh huh. Where is the “Work” button?”

“There is no work button! Facebook is meant to take a break.”

“You know what a good break is… work! Add a work button, then get to work!”

Men who take on responsibility are really needed in this world. Date a girl who had a good relationship with her dad who was responsible. For the most part, she is a very well adjusted person. Date a girl whose dad didn’t take responsibility? Big difference. Most times? Emotional train wreck.

“Who just called you?! WHO JUST CALLED YOU?!”

“It was my cousin.”

“That slut cousin Susan?”

“She’s family!”

“She wants to sleep with you! I know she does! Oh, god. Why do you like to do this to me?”

“What the hell is going on? Why are you crying?”

“Fuck you! Just fuck you! I love you – that’s why! Please don’t leave… get the fuck out of here!”

If the pioneers had known that they were finding new land and building on it so that one day men could see how many head shots they could rack up online, they would have stopped.

“What? I’m gonna cut down these trees while I have scurvy so that one day a thirty two year old man can talk to a thirteen year old through a headset and be called a loser? I don’t think so. I’m going to lay down and die right here.”