How come the most popular literature is romance, and the bulk of romance covers feature a half-nekkid cowboy? (And what’s up with these guys? You know what happens, you fall off a horse like that? And sunburn! Holy pectoral, Kemo Sabe, put a damn shirt on.) And where’d all the damn HAIR GO? These guys must bathe in acid-strength depilatory.
Frankly, I’m offended.
As a manist (opposite of feminist but damn near as ugly) I have to say, this objectification of the male form is insulting. Men are more than their abs. Katy Jurado, in a famous (to me) quote from High Noon, tells Harvey (Lloyd Bridges), “It takes more than big, broad shoulders to be a man.” You tell it, sister.
I thought machismo was out of style. I was told I had to be sensitive. Sip lattes. Go to movies with subtitles. Be Vegan. Get counseling and become one with my inner navel. This objectification of males by the quality of their torso confuses me. Don’t women understand, it takes more than hard abs to make a man?
A real man controls fire ants. He cooks bloody red meat over a charcoal fire. He wears pants with an elastic waistband. He puts together tricycles and pays for college and has inappropriate gas. I’d like to see one of these shirtless wonder boys show up at a parent-teacher conference (un)dressed like that. He’d be arrested by real men in tac gear.
Real men wear tac gear.
Anyway, next time I hear a woman complain about bikini-clad hotties being used a marketing tools, I’m throwing a cowboy romance at them. Then running. Because real men know women will kick their ass.