It has come to my attention that football season is yet again upon us. Well, it was upon us weeks ago, but only this last weekend did I have the time, a modicum of interest and some easily postponed chores. I noticed that the ol’ alma mater was playing against another Big Ten team, so I decided to grab a couple of brewskies and watch me some football.
Approximately 22 minutes and 17 seconds later, the first beer was done, and so was my football watching. So booored! Was football always this dull and slow? There was a time when I did watch football with a bit of frequency, but it seems I’ve lost the ability or desire to consume enough alcoholic beverages to make the game interesting.
Since I was watching the game live, I had to sit through something like seventeen minutes of commercials in the twenty-two minutes I spent viewing the TV. Which is sixteen more minutes of commercials then I’ve seen since we got a DVR. What I did discover from watching said commercials, is that apparently, I have to hand in my ‘man card’ as none of my interests coincide with those of real men, who you can tell are real men because they all have a ‘man card’. These interests include, and may indeed be limited to: football, baseball, beer, big pick-up trucks, ATV’s, buffalo wings, and women in bikinis. Preferably, a bevy of women in bikinis. Now I do have a fondness for a good beer, but as ‘real men’ drink Budweiser/Pabst/Coors/Michelob, and not beers that have a discernible flavor, I do not fit that particular demographic. I also, on occasion find the appearance of a woman in a bikini pleasing, aesthetically speaking, of course. I am a little less appreciative of efforts to sell me tasteless beer through the equation (originally published by Albert Einstein in his famous paper, Mathematical Correlations of Boobs and Frosty Alcoholic Beverages): Awesomeness, and thus Manliness = scantily clad babes + beer.
So I will mail in my ‘man card’ as soon as I can find it, and the location of the organization that repossesses man cards. In the mean time, I will proceed with my idea of a suitable replacement for a man card, which is one of these.
Known as a bastard sword, or a Zweihänder (two hand sword), one of these examples of cutting-edge medieval military tech will command respect and project authority, with just a whiff of incipient insanity. You literally cannot fail to get everyone’s attention when you stride into a bar carrying a bastard sword, and no matter how crowded the tavern might be, there’s always room at the bar for you, step right up, sir! Not only that, but having one of these also insures that your ale will be consumed in quiet solitude.
Granted it might be difficult to find a retail establishment that is comfortable with people toting these babies around, not to mention fine dining venues seem to be reluctant to honor one’s reservation when you come in with a Zweihänder strapped to your back. But the next time the Mongols roll out of the steppes to overrun civilization, oh, then you’ll be the man! Woman will adore you, men will want to be you. Right after they want to be James Bond, of course, but second to Mr. Bond is not a shabby place to be.