Marketing research has revealed that men are more fragile than giant pandas, and need an even more specialized diet. They’re so fragile that everything in their carefully controlled MAN-vironment must be exclusively tuned to their tender gender lest they explode like some sort of scrotal soap bubble. Or at least that’s the impression you’d get from the plague of MAN products unleashed on an otherwise improving world.
Brosé Wine
This article on Brosé wine starts by saying “Forget craft beer.” It was nice of them to let us know we could ignore everything else they said so early. But we read it anyway in the interests of spelunking the stupid depths of these pretenders to the true Man Cave. And they drilled down past the bedrock of basic idiocy by whining about facing the problems of a pink drink.
Anyone claiming to talk about “true manliness” has to explain it to our Executive Man Cave Editor, Ug.
First off, rosé wine is fantastic. And not just because all drinks are fantastic. Rosé is wine which can’t even pretend to be stupidly fancy. The rose wine-making methods are skin contact, saignee, and blending, which translate as “quickly,” “leftovers from making better wine,” and “recycling not-better wine.” No matter what happens it’s always fast, fun, and cheap. But because it’s pink some preening peeners have a panic attack. So insecure that even an incorrectly tuned photon might be powerful enough to knock their testicles right off. And instead of just reassuring each other that they’re still super-tough, they have to rebrand the source of their secret tears into Brosé wine.
“A vasectomy in a bottle!”–secret fear of Brosé drinkers.
If you can’t enjoy wine without being reassured of your manliness, you don’t deserve the former and never had the latter.
The MAN-Mosa
An insecure fear of drinks isn’t limited to squeezed grapes. Although now that we mention it, the idea of people squishing and popping grapes to feast on the juice inside does suggest terrifying fears for paranoid men. But that still doesn’t explain this:
Nothing good can explain this. (Source: Fireball Whiskey)
The Mimosa is one of our most useful drinks. Especially when you remember that a wheat beer works just as well as champagne. Not just light artillery in our battle against all the stupid sober bull$#!+, but also our secret weapon against hangovers. With the orange juice it’s practically a health drink. Even better is how it decoys all the people who’d appoint themselves as PETA to your hair of the dog, people who’d see you starting the day with a drink and decide to undo its advantages by piling on more annoyances.
RELATED: The Best Wheat Beers, Period
Disrespecting the mimosa comes close to alcoholic treason, and when even Fireball Whiskey feel the need to reassure the MAN crowd the problem has reached plague proportions. Fireball Whiskey already does everything possible to reinforce your identity. Fireball Whiskey is the antimatter of emotional energy sources, every speck of the stuff crammed with chemicals which will absolutely annihilate your problems one way or the other. It’s cheap, it’s powerful, it’s distillled by people who enjoy how a stiff shot of whiskey can make a man look like he’s been kicked in the face by the steel-toed boot of motivation, and decided to make that effect on purpose.
When even Fireball are involved in this silliness it’s time to break out the actual flamethrowers.
Broga Mats
Broga mats, for when yoga mats still aren’t enough padding between your easily-bruised ego and the rest of the universe. So insecure that even the logo needs a beard. And doubles as an override command which will make any human brain want to punch something.
So is that…NOT a beard? (Source: Broga Mats)
Once again we see that desperately insecure marketing doesn’t automatically mean the product is bad. Easily-rolled mats decorated as quivers and logs are actually pretty cool, but the branding means the only pose we can picture anyone doing is the “downward facing sobbing.” They attempt to suggest manliness with that golem of testicles and plaid known as the lumberjack. But they kind of overshot. Instead of “burly and self-reliant” they got “ax murderer.”
YOU’RE NEXT! (Source: Broga Mats)
There’s no way that’s not the skin of another lumberjack he’s killed. That’s no Broga mat, that’s the skinned and tanned plaid hide of their previous mascot.
Mancakes
Your logo may be overcomplicated. (Source: eatmancakes.com)
Forget the ice bucket challenge, forget the cinnamon challenge, we now have the ultimate test of internal fortitude: the MANCAKES CHALLENGE! It’s free, and doesn’t require any special materials, and it does important work by helping raise awareness of “NOT having testicles so desperately insecure they might float off without constant verbal reinforcement.” The challenge is: say MANCAKES out loud without bursting out laughing.
I’ve tried this a hundred times and not succeeded once.
MANCAKES! It’s beyond all bounds of humor.
MANCAKES! I’m crying.
MANCAKES! It’s an overcompensation overflow error, exceeding 65,535 insecure assurances and flipping back over into absolute comfort in gender identity, so that it’s not an aggressive statement but an affectionate nickname. “Oh mancakes, I just want to drizzle maple syrup all over you and then eat you up.” Which sounds a lot more fun than being so scared of your own masculinity you need to give powder a gender. Besides, if we need emotional support from our own breakfast, we’ve already got a range of tigers and monsters to choose from.
MANCAKES!
Luke McKinney writes about games, drink, science, and everything else that makes life amazing. He’s a columnist on Cracked and writes for several beer magazines. He’s also available for hire. Follow him on Tumblr and Twitter @lukemckinney.
Luke also Tested The World’s Most Idiotically Manly Junk Food.
Is a hot dog technically a sandwich? Discuss.
