(Clash Daily) If our nation is going to pull out of this Obamaland crap-ditch that we’re currently mired in, then were going to need men. Not males, but men. Men who personally, politically and culturally scrap indifference, take responsibility, lead boldly and expect success.
Which means, if I’m right in my assessment, that we’re more screwed than a drunken coed at Panama City Beach during Spring Break because there are pusillanimous punks o’plenty nowadays.
Yep, I blame the absence of men being men as the chief reason why we’re being hijacked by commie clowns and a significant swath of our nation is actually contemplating electing Hillary for president when she should be in prison.
Look, I’m not the only one with this woeful assessment of our male collective. Young single women tell my wife and me all the time that they can’t find “a real man”… That “men need to be manlier”… That “single men are little narcissistic darlings”… and they wonder aloud, “Where have the heroes gone?” I usually reply… “Have you tried Texas? Because you’re not going to find quality dudes in D.C. or in Miami.” I’m exaggerating, of course. I hear there’s one or two in DC and in Dade County. Good luck, Sadie Hawkins.
Now, when it comes to our nation’s obvious and odious rank pussification of the male collective there are many contributing factors to their candy-assedness.
From a culpability standpoint, I blame pop culture, effeminate strains of evangelicalism and the public school system that systematically disciplines and drugs masculinity out of males whenever it manifests.
In addition, it’s difficult for boys to morph to men when there’s no awesome dad in the house leading by example.
I also blame young men who, even in the midst of such a sassy society, choose to eschew their warrior and wildman hardwiring and opt for the lame lane.
That said, allow me to focus, por favor, on a not so obvious contributing factor that makes for Junior’s emasculation and our national decline. Ladies… you might wanna put on a cup for this one. I blame moms, in part, who over-coddle their sons when they should be forging them, in conjunction with their husband (or mentors if single or widowed) into men.
Here’s the reality, Mamasitas: if you have a dependent, squeally male with your last name who won’t get his crap together and be a provider, protector, hunter and hero, when your husband is pushing him to be a man, then you might ought help by not breast feeding him ‘til he’s frickin’ thirty. It’s simple, folks: If you have a wuss in the house then someone raised that wuss and don’t look at me, senorita. I didn’t do it. Look in the mirror, lady, because we didn’t raise your mangina son.
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