The Commish Online                                                                                
Five O'Clock Shadow Rebellion
November 17, 2003

Gentlemen of America:

It has come to my attention that, several years into the 21st century, the men of this fine nation, once masculine and unshaven, have become alarmingly soft.  We are a basketball in need of air; a barbell in need of weights; a cigarette in need of a light.

While struggling to fit a second layer of oven mitts on my hands as my wife shoved me aside to grab the roasting pan out of the oven with her bare hands, I realized something:  we, the men of America, have become wusses. 

Our fathers and grandfathers used to groom themselves with manly products, like talc and pomade.  Now we use mousse, sculpting gel and body wash to get ready for our manicure appointment at the local spa. 

We defend these practices, previously reserved only for women, by calling ourselves metrosexual and claiming that women like us this way.  In case you haven’t noticed, women didn’t seem to have a problem the first 2 million years when we were busy hunting and not shaving.  Look up “metrosexual” in Webster’s Dictionary five years from now and, God willing, you will simply find the word, “wuss.”

Not too many years ago, one straight blade was enough to get a nice close shave.  Now, we’ve “advanced” to not 2, not 3, but 4 blades on our razors!  Gentlemen, get a grip!  If that shave were any closer, people would slap a diaper over your face on accident.

Our heroes in the early days of television and film were cowboys, chain smoking detectives, and rebellious cops.  Now we’re writing down hair waxing tips from Queer Eye for the Straight Guy.  Wise up, men.  Don’t take lessons on how to get a woman from a gay man.  They’re gay (not that there’s anything wrong with that, as the great philosopher Jerry Seinfeld once said) and therefore are doing things necessary to attract other gay men, not women!  Women claim they are attracted to gay men but guess what… they’re not!  They date and marry us: men that like women; men that don’t need to blow dry their hair; men that drink beer, not Zima.  We must remember this cardinal rule, so stop taking lessons from Queer Eye and watch True Grit a couple times.

We are headed down the path to wussness, but it is not too late to right the ship.  This weekend, put down your handbag, cancel the massage, pick up your axe and haul your unshaven self outside to chop some wood.  The repercussions for this nation of men will be endless.