The 300 And Dead As a Man Nail

I was watching The 300 again last night and I realized something.

Boy was I right when I said The 300 is the most important movie any man will ever see in his life. In fact, I didn’t even know how right I was.

That happens to me all the time.

Among other things, The 300 shows us that men are not invincible. That’s a hard lesson for any man to learn, so it’s good to see it forty-feet high and two hours long. I myself haven’t even learned that lesson. My beliefs are as invincible as I am.

And why not? Men are used to behaving and affecting the world around us as though we are gods. It’s only natural to assume the very same. We grow crops and bake bread. We invented air conditioning and television. Men built the entire world that doesn’t mansist of living under a corrugated aluminum sheet in a hole in the ground in the middle of the fucking desert. If that doesn’t make us gods, then what does? A beard?

Women know men are gods and women can barely add. Who do you think they’re calling out to in the bedroom? Some god who’s cool with premarital sex and birth control? I don’t think so. It’s you, baby. She’s talking to you.

In The 300, one of the man gods who is obviously going to die from the beginning, dies in a spectacular way. His head is chopped off in super slow motion and just like all of you men when I saw it, I sent a prayer to myself that I would go in exactly the same way: my head bouncing around all over the place and getting shit everywhere.

Manly. Someone clean up all this shit because I’m dead and I don’t give a fuck.

I don’t want to give the movie away for anyone who hasn’t seen it — unless they’re a woman in which case: fuck you. Put your cell phone on vibrate and when you’re going to go “save seatsâ€? instead of “help carry all this shitâ€?, learn how to watch the door and lift your arm or something so I don’t wander around like a jackass for ten minutes with a cubic yard of overpriced snacks. An Irish Setter makes a better movie date than a woman. Maybe all women should have dogs for the blind for that reason.

Let me just say that the father of that guy I was talking about earlier who got his head chopped off spectacularly, watches all of this shit from like ten feet away. Then he flips the fuck out; also in super slow motion.

Men are better than women at dealing with loss.

When a man is wronged in any way, he flips the fuck out. That’s another way men are like gods. When you fuck with us, you get fucked. There’s no blunt end on the Stick of Man. We’re 360 degrees of business. That is the correct way of handling things. The first clue is that’s how men do it. A good way to tell how not to do something is see how women do it. Watch a woman read a map. Wrong. Watch a woman go on a diet. Imaginary. Watch a woman tell her boyfriend she’s pregnant.

So fucking insensitive that it makes me sick.

Fuck this second trimester, third trimester shit. A fetus isn’t alive until a man says it is.

Here’s a man riddle for you then. How can a girlfriend be pregnant without her boyfriend knowing? Stay tuned for the answer.

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