The Rules Of Manhood In The 24th Century

Since the 24th century is now upon us all, I realized I was past due on updating you all on how to be a man in this brave new world. Naturally, you're asking yourself, "Jonathan, how can I become a man in this bold frontier?" Well, I'm glad you came around, because I'm here to tell you how it's done.

Rule #1: Get a good blaster by your side.

Some might call this a ray gun, or a phaser and what have you. The point is, it's a gun that shoots hot red laser bolts. I can't emphasize this enough. I've found myself in the thick of battle in one too many strange bars and cantinas out there, scamming some equally strange tail, and if it weren't for "The Duke", I wouldn't be here writing this guide.

Rule #2: Alien tail is FAN-tastic!

Truly, there is nothing like grabbing some strange ass out there in the big bad galaxy. Just the other day I was cruising through the Crab Nebula, popped into the local diner, and saw the most bodacious broad this side of Scorpio. She was blue. She had red hair. She had fangs. She literally had a tail. It was hot. I tapped that shit. Do the same. You haven't lived until you've smelled what another woman's world smells like.

Rule #3: Invest in a fast ship.

All too often, we look at the cosmetics of a cruiser. Sure, we want the best looking ride available, but it's all about the personality, man. Don't be all bent out of shape over what she looks like on the outside, because it's the inside that counts. Whether you're smuggling beef steaks to the prisoners of Titan, or on a science mission to the Globular Cluster, remember - it's all about performance. A great ride will take you places my friend. Get something that defines you... not that alien wench in the cabin.

Rule #4: Under no circumstances are you ever, ever allowed to blow dry your hair.

This, sir, makes you a pussy. I need not explain myself further.

Rule #5: Dress to be comfortable, not for success.

Look, this isn't Starfleet. This is the 24th century! Crime is at an all time high, rebels are in the Outer Rim, and you can't even trust the woman you sleep with these days. The facts are, you've got to be ready to roll at any time lest the Po-Po's bust a cap in you. What do I recommend? Nothing like a good henley, some knee high leather boots, and a vest. Oh, and don't forget a good blaster.

Rule #6: Crucial. You are not, nor will you ever be, Captain James T. Kirk.

The man is a legend that can only be aspired to, and never attained. When you learn this lesson, you my friend, will be ready for the 24th century.

Rule #7: Shoot first.

Be like Han.

Warlocks Are REAL?! WTF?!

Every now and again, you come across an image that is more glorious than words, more profound than science, and more iconic than Kirk. What you see above is just such an image, an image that penetrates your soul, and answers questions never before asked. 

I found this on a site provided to me by my good friends at Fist of Blog (see sidebar). This is the real deal people. Before your eyes, is a mother loving Warlock!

My entire life, I always thought that Warlock's were something you read about it in really bad comic books, cheesy fantasy novels, and were the ire of the game master's master game plan. Sure, the idea of a Warlock was always pretty badass. Like the way that the idea of She-Ra is pretty badass. She-Ra naked, of course. 

Warlocks cast spells and nut sack crazy stuff like shoot lighting bolts out of their friggin' eyes, or destroying realms and kingdoms in Central Europe, with the occasional stopover in Cornwall. Warlocks will nut in your face, and poof! do a magic trick to have a bat clean it up out of thin air. Warlocks were always better than witches in the fact they didn't need a cauldron to call upon the dark forces, but they had a whole volcano mountain to do their dirty in.

Of course, this was all fun and games. Warlocks weren't real. Never could be. Never will be.

That is... until I saw the above image. Then my whole world came crashing down into a gabble of reality that caused me to spill my beverage. 

I don't know who this Warlock was trying to trick, but he is without doubt a Warlock, man. Look at his Familiar! Those damn cat eyes looking out at an inanimate object. Black as night, black as evil. Only Warlocks are evil enough to take a picture with their Familiar, and this Warlock is certainly no exception. 

Then there is the Warlock himself. Notice the aura around his curly mop of fro. The penetrating stare, so benign it's evil. I image his voice is a booming microphone of power, throbbing with intensity. It's like he's trying to blend in, but he can't fool a trained eye.

In conclusion, if you see a Warlock, run. Don't walk. Don't try and be sly. He will know you have sabotaged his espionage, and he will swallow your soul. I don't know what else I need to say to convince you. All I know is that there is a freaking Warlock with his freaking Familiar, staring into the vastness of freaking space!

And to think, some glamour photographer got to capture it. All I could imagine is that he/she bumped their assistant and whispered, "Dude. Warlock."

I Am A Man. Thank You.

I am a man. It is awesome.

I pee standing up. Which yes, does in fact rock most righteously. I lack that extra layer of fat that every woman I know complains about... and which we all know is in reality a myth any way. I dig action films. My grandpa knew the Marx Brothers. Yeah, that's how my kin roll. Because I'm descended from a very long line of manhood. 

See, we men... we don't fret that we come out of each other. It's just what we do. We spawn men. If a woman is spawned, we just say, "My bad", and carry on. At least real men carry on. 

Manhood comes in three forms. These forms are distinct and every man falls into one of these three categories. To help clarify, I will name names to put into each of these categories. This is the career ender, partner.  

1. 2. 3. Let's stick this pig!

The first category: Pussies. 

Pussy men make up the lowest head on the totem pole. These are your sissy boys. Your limp wristed sushi servers. Men who never learned to throw a baseball. They listen to Air Supply with their pants off. They will bring you flowers on a first date. 

These men can and will cock block you at every turn. If you bring one of these men to a party to be your wingman, it is folly! Never bring a pussy boy to serve as your wingman. 

They are most commonly identified by the clothes they wear and their daily activities. Usually, these guys will shop exclusively at Banana Republic. They wear chinos to the Lakers game. They get their haircut once a month, and they shower every single day. 

These are men who are most prone to getting hair plugs. Associate with them at your own peril.

Examples from history: Justin Timberlake, Liberace, and Goliath. 

Next up, we have the second category of men: Douchebags. Douchebags are everywhere, committing crimes of douchebaggery in your very neighborhood as we speak. There isn't even a chance you might know a douchebag. It is a reality, that you, I, and everyone else on this planet know a douchebag. 

True exchange once overheard in Saudi Arabia: Servant - "Sheik, did you just see that douchebag hitting on that wench from your harem?" Sheik - "Yes. It's my brother. And he will die in the desert.... tonight. Douchebag."

They're easy to spot. They dress in Abercrombie & Fitch, Hollister, and American Eagle. They drive lifted trucks. If that lifted truck has a pair of dangling balls on it's rear, then you have come across a full-blown douchebag that deserves a punch in the nuts. They sexually abuse themselves with tanning cream. Even if they're bald, they still spike their hair. You've seen this! 

They also have code speak with each other. Common phrases heard:

"Bro."

"Bra."

"Wanna get drunk, bro?"

"Dude. I slept with your sister."

"Does popping my collar make my neck look fat?"

"Bitch, please."

"Sorry. I didn't mean to finish so soon."

At all costs, you must avoid the douchebag. Yes, it is unavoidable, and that's the Catch-22. You probably work for a douchebag, and to that, I say I am sorry. Just don't let him make you a pussy boy.

Examples: Johnny (from The Karate Kid), Biff (from Back To the Future), Robert Pattinson (that douchebag from Twilight), and Isaac Newton (total douche).

Which brings us to the final category: Man's Man.

At this point, is an explanation even necessary? Of course it isn't. If you need an explanation, then you are either a.) a woman, or b.) not a man's man, pussy. 

Examples: Hugh Jackman, Ceasar, Guy Fawkes, Ghengis Khan, Captain Kirk, Flash Gordon, George Washington, Joseph Smith, Yngwie Malmsteen, Alexander the friggin' Great, Charles Bronson, Australians, etc. 

I am a man. And so are you. 

Now let's go hunt a wild boar with our bare hands in the forest at night or some crazy shit like that. ARRRRGGGGHHH!

Seriously?

Captain James Tiberius Kirk? Check! Alien Cave? Check! Alien Villain? Check! Rock Penis? Double check! 

When I first came across this image this evening, I was considering what to make my first blog post to christen this "Go Forth, My Son, and Rock". I considered researching and posting on hideous animals that deserve to die. But that's been done.  I thought about analyzing Rock Band downloads, but that's a little too geeky, even for me.

Figuring that it would only be appropriate to christen this cruise with something space themed, I figured that searching Captain Kirk in the google saloon would do the trick.

And then this came up. 

....

Honestly, how can I even compete with this? The short answer to the question is: I can't. 

So what I'm simply going to do is just break down and observe what I see in this picture. 

Clearly, Captain Kirk is panicked about something. What it is, we can't be exactly sure. The giant alien in the background is either searching for him or, well... The point is, the alien is searching for someone, or something. 

Now notice the look on Kirk's face. It's as if he's seriously debating two things, which are in no particular order, "Do I make a run for it?" and "I can't wait to get this thing home to show the guys at Starfleet! Spock is going to freak!". 

As we observe the alien's cave, we can see that Kirk couldn't have just pulled that thing from anywhere. The color and composition of the rock penis clearly don't match. The rock penis is craggy and sour and as Jews like to say, Gentile. The walls of the cave are smooth, and not necessarily cumbersome. In fact, the walls are quite unassuming. However, when we take a closer look at the rock penis, we notice that it looks much more like it didn't come from somewhere. No, it looks like it came from someone. 

We see Kirk cowering in fear from the giant alien, caressing the penis almost as if it were a child born anew into the world. Whatever happens, we know that Kirk must protect the object... or be destroyed. 

Kirk has become the protector of this penis. He must hold fast to the rod. However he came about it, he just must not let it fall into the wrong hands. For all we know, this penis is the key to that week's episode, and if it were to be discovered... all will be lost. 

Look. Let's draw this to a close.

Yeah, it's a penis. Clearly. 

Let us give The Shat a little privacy now, okay. I think he's earned it. Especially after he just got caught red handed (literally) with a phallus that would make a rhinoceros blush.