You’re taking in a bare-knuckle boxing match or placing an aggressive wager in a clandestine gambling den. The attendees seem to be enjoying themselves, but their mood isn’t even mildly interesting to you. You’re there to take possession of some contraband, or to kill an hour until the cocktail waitress ends her shift. As you reflect on the price you’ve paid for your wasted youth, you light up an unfiltered cigarette and finish the warm dregs of whiskey in the tumbler that’s been sitting by your right elbow. Just when you look around to ask someone where the goddamn waiter is with that drink that you ordered, the guy next to you asks an inane question like, “Are you having an okey time, mac?” And you reply, “Heck, yeah! I’m having an awesome time! What about you?” You look past your right shoulder and notice that you’ve unconsciously raised your hand to offer one of those “high fives” or “fist bumps” that everyone seems to be so fond of these days.
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“The Officer’s Monologue” is one male police officer’s continuous narrative on fashion, interior design, decor, dining, and all things esthetic. All remarks are approximate quotes of actual statements made to the author—usually over sandwiches and cookies. Any resemblance between the principal character to persons, living or dead, is purely coincidental.
Check it out: new wallet. Salvatore Farragamo. You wouldn’t believe what it cost—$190. Let’s go grab a sandwich and I’ll tell you the story.
Thirty minutes later, at the only sandwich place in the city that doesn’t boast of “artisan sandwiches” . . .
I had been looking for the right wallet for a while. You know the leather really does make a difference, and you don’t want to pull wallet with thick coarse leather out in front of a date or anything. Anyway, I finally just said, “What the fuck; I’ll take it.” Now I’ve got nothing left to put in it. Read the rest of this entry →
You’ve read Eleven Habits of Highly Imposing Men. It prompted you to take up smoking, gambling, and you started drinking harder liquor. You’ve been calling people demeaning names, punching men, and taking slaps from the ladies, but you still have a need to know just how imposing you’ve really become. Sure, you’re secure in your masculinity, but should you really be? Personally, I think all that worry results from weak, insecure thinking, but rest assured, frenchy, I’m going to give you a test to take—even though the results will probably just make you feel bad.
The Eleven Habits of Highly Imposing Men™ Quiz
Here’s how it works: I ask the questions and you write down the letter that corresponds to your answer. Then at the bottom there will be an answer key. Read the rest of this entry →
Yeah, it’s happened to just about every man. You’re sitting around watching some modern television show like Men of a Certain Age (or something else where feelings are displayed) and you think, “I really hope I don’t act like that.”
But we both know you do. And you know what? Your friends do too. Our whole fucking country does.
Whatever happened to “Frankly, my dear I don’t give a damn?” Or Rudy Valentino kidnapping the girl and dragging her across the desert? What about the jilted saloonkeeper who walks around insulting his guests and denying that he sticks his neck out for people but then quietly does? You watched those movies, you idolized those heroes, but once you had your first taste of grain alcohol or an unfiltered Camel, you dismissed their superlative masculinity as some sort of Hollywood gimmick. Read the rest of this entry →
If you think that we just invented the practice of sending our loved ones sexy pictures you can think again. Anyone who has walked through a museum knows that they are filled with all sorts of naughty images. Think of it as sexting just with a different kind of technology.
July 15, 2009 in Art
It started with one spotting over in Williamsburg, Brooklyn. My friend and I were taking a morning-after-drinking constitutional and we saw the word “Dickchicken” spray painted across a wall. Naturally, given our love of all things classy and elegant, we thought this was hilarious, took a picture of it, blah blah blah. However, it would seem that there were more tags cleverly hidden, waiting to be found. Shortly thereafter, we happened upon the combination of the image of a penis with chicken appendages and the name “Dickchicken”.