An
explosion may be defined as a loud noise
accompanied by the sudden going away of
things from the places where they were before.
--------------------------------------------
Ok folks, I have had it. I've taken all I can stand and I can't stand
no more. Every time my TV is on,
all that can be seen is effeminate men prancing about, redecorating
houses and talking about foreign
concepts like "style" and "feng shui." Heterosexual, homosexual,
bisexual, trans-sexual, metrosexual,
non-sexual; blue, green, and purple-sexual.
Bogus definitions have taken over the urban and suburban world!
Real men of the world, stand up, scratch your butt, belch, and yell
"ENOUGH!"
I hereby announce the start of a new offensive in the culture wars, the
Retrosexual movement.
The RetroSexual Code:
A Retrosexual does not let neighbors screw up rooms in his house on
national TV.
A Retrosexual, no matter what the women insists, PAYS FOR THE DATE.
A Retrosexual opens doors for a lady. Even for the ones that fit that
term only because they are female.
A Retrosexual DEALS with IT. Be it a flat tire, break-in into your
home, or a natural disaster, you DEAL WITH IT.
A Retrosexual not only eats red meat, he often kills it himself.
A Retrosexual doesn't worry about living to be 90. It's not how long
you live, but how well.
If you're 90 years old and still smoking cigars and drinking, I salute
you.
A Retrosexual does not use more hair or skin products than a woman.
Women have several supermarket
aisles of stuff. Retrosexuals need an end cap(possibly 2 end caps if
you include shaving goods.)
A Retrosexual does not dress in clothes from Hot Topic when he's 30
years old.
A Retrosexual should know how to properly kill stuff (or people) if
need be.
This falls under the "Dealing with IT" portion of The Code.
A Retrosexual watches no TV show with "Queer" in the title.
A Retrosexual should not give up excessive amounts of manliness for
women.
Some is inevitable, but major re-invention of yourself will only lead
to you becoming a froo-froo little puss,
and in the long run, she isn't worth it.
A Retrosexual is allowed to seek professional help for major mental
stress such as drug/alcohol addiction,
death of your entire family in a freak tree chipper accident, favorite
sports team being moved to a different city,
or favorite bird dog expiring, etc. You are NOT allowed to see a shrink
because Daddy didn't pay you enough
attention to you. Daddy was busy DEALING WITH IT. When you
screwed up, he DEALT with you.
A Retrosexual will have at least one outfit in his wardrobe designed to
conceal himself from prey.
A Retrosexual knows how to tie a Windsor knot when wearing a tie -- and
ONLY a Windsor knot.
A Retrosexual should have at least one good wound he can brag about
getting.
A Retrosexual knows how to use a basic set of tools. If you can't
hammer a nail, or drill a straight hole,
practice in secret until you can -- or be rightfully ridiculed for the
wuss you be.
A Retrosexual knows that owning a gun is not a sign that your are
riddled with fear, guns are TOOLS and are
often essential to DEAL WITH IT. Plus it's just plain fun to shoot.
Crying. There are very few reason that a Retrosexual may cry, and none
of them have to do with TV commercials,
movies, or soap operas. Sports teams are sometimes a reason to cry, but
the preferred method of release is
swearing or throwing the remote control. Some reasons a Retrosexual can
cry include (but are not limited to)
death of a loved one death of a pet (fish do NOT count as pets in this
case) loss of a major body part.
A Retrosexual man's favorite movie isn't "Maid in Manhattan" (unless
that refers to some foxy French maid sitting
in a huge tub of brandy or whiskey), or "Divine Secrets of the Ya-Ya
Sisterhood." Acceptable ones may include
any of the Dirty Harry or Nameless Drifter movies (Clint in his better
days), Rambo I or II, the Dirty Dozen,
The Godfather trilogy, Scarface, The Road Warrior, The Die Hard series,
Caddyshack, Rocky I, II, or III,
Full Metal Jacket, any James Bond Movie, Raging Bull, Bullitt, any
Bruce Lee movie, Apocalypse Now,
Goodfellas, Reservoir Dogs, Fight Club,etc .
When a Retrosexual is on a crowded bus and or a commuter train, and a
pregnant woman, hell, any woman gets on,
that Retrosexual stands up and offers his seat to that woman, then
looks around at the other so-called men still in their
seats with a disgusted "you punks" look on his face.
A Retrosexual knows how to say the Pledge properly, and with the
correct emphasis and pronunciation.
He also knows the words to "The Star Spangled Banner."
A Retrosexual will have hobbies and habits his wife and mother do not
understand, but that are essential to his manliness,
in that they offset the acceptable manliness decline he suffers when
married/engaged in a serious healthy relationship -- i.e.,
hunting, boxing, shot putting, shooting, cigars, car maintenance.
A Retrosexual knows how to sharpen his own knives and kitchen utensils.
A Retrosexual man can drive in snow (hell, a blizzard) without sliding
all over or driving under 20 mph, without anxiety, and
without high-centering his ride on a plow berm.
A Retrosexual man can chop down a tree and make it land where he wants.
Wherever it lands is where he damn well wanted it to land.
A Retrosexual will give up his seat on a bus to not only any women but
any elderly person or person in military dress (except
officers above 2nd Lt (Ensign for you sailors ;-)). NOTE: The person in
military dress may turn down the offer but the
Retrosexual man will ALWAYS make the offer to them and thank them for
serving their country.
A Retrosexual man doesn't need a contract -- a handshake is good
enough. He will always stand by his word even if circumstances
change or the other person deceived him.
A Retrosexual man doesn't immediately look to sue someone when he does
something stupid and hurts himself.
We understand that sometimes in the process of doing things we get hurt
and we just DEAL WITH IT.
A Retrosexual does not wear aftershave. Perfume is for girls.
A Retrosexual eats meat and potatoes. Period. Vegetables are corn and
if cooked correctly, carrots. Everything else is rabbit food.
Dessert consists of pie and cake. Period.
A Retrosexual greets every boy who is remotely interested in his
daughter with his rifle in his hand, preferably with his hand gun in
his belt.
A Retrosexual will be on death's door before he goes to the doctor.
However, when the Wife has a minor sniffle, he nags constantly
for her to GO TO THE DOCTOR.
A Retrosexual does not want to hear about hot flashes, periods, or
mammograms. The whole idea gives him the heebie jeebies.
A Retrosexual wears T-shirts with a V neck because the crew neck sort
chafe his neck hair.
A Retrosexual explains the concept of Clean Dirt to his wife who has
just spent twelve hours scrubbing the house down and is fussing
because he didnt blow the wood chips off before coming in to the
house.
A Retrosexual does not drink bottled water. He does, however, admire
the guy who thought up bottling something you can get
from the tap for free and selling it to wussy folks.
A Retrosexual does not exercise. That is for wussy folks who don't WORK.
A Retrosexual, if left alone with a 9 month old infant, will feed it
kippered sardines, hard boiled eggs, soda crackers and olives
and then wonder why the kid has a belly ache all night, not to mention
really nasty diapers.
A Retrosexual will make snotty comments about gay folks and then go
down and help the gay neighbor on the next farm fix his
lawnmower in 90 degree heat and share a beer with him afterward. He
then will go back and try to cheer him up after the gay
neighbor's lover moved out on him. Retrosexual's are not all bad.
A Retrosexual drives a pick up that is blue, green or red (or black or
white;). Any other color is for wussy, girly guys.
He would, however, not complain if someone dropped off a Jag in British
Racing Green because Jags are sexy.
A Retrosexual asks for either an arc welder or a air compresser for
Father's Day.
A Retrosexual sees architecture as Really Big Building Projects using
Really Big Power Tools.
In Wisconsin, a Retrosexual is a Packer Fan. Anyone who likes Da Bears
or worse, Da Vikings are wussy.
They do not wear Packer colors or anything with the Packer logo on it,
however. That is for wussy guys.
Finally, a Retrosexual leaves all that macho crap outside the bedroom.
There they turn into sensitive guys.
However, they will NEVER admit it and will turn the conversation to
wood chippers, trucks or power tools if the subject comes up.
(Also see: Redneck guy)
------------------------------
Todays Joke Of The Day!
Pope John Paul dies of old age and finds himself at the Gates of Heaven
at 0300. He knocks on the gate and a very sleepy-eyed watchman
opens the gate and asks, "Wadda ya want?"
"I'm the recently deceased Pope and have done 63 years of Godly work
and thought I should check in here."
The watchman checks his clipboard and says, "I ain't got no orders for
you here, just bring your stuff and we'll sort this all out in the
morning."
They go to an old World War II-style barracks, third floor, open bay.
All the bottom racks are taken and all empty lockers have no doors.
The Pope stows his gear under a rack and climbs into an upper bunk.
The next morning he awakens to sounds of cheering and clapping. He gets
up and goes to a window and sees a flashy Jaguar convertible
parading down the clouds from the golden headquarters building.
The cloudwalks are lined with saints and angels cheering and tossing
confetti.
In the back seat sits a an Army Sergeant Major, a cigar in his mouth, a
bottle of booze in one hand, his arm around a voluptuous blonde angel.
This disturbs the Pope and he runs downstairs to the Master-At-Arms
shack and says, "Hey, what gives? You put me, the Pope, with 63 years
of Godly deeds in an open bay barracks while this Sergeant Major, who
must have committed every sin known and unknown to man is staying
in a mansion on the hill and getting a hero's welcome. How can that be?"
The Master-At-Arms calmly looks up and says, "We get a Pope up here
every 20 or 30 years, but we've never had a Sergeant Major before!"
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