When I hear the phrase Man Food, what I really hear is…
“I’m a MAN! And I’m gonna prove I’m a MAN by eating lots of BEEF and
RIBS and things! Because I’m a MAN and not a faggit and I sure don’t want to be
fucked up the ass or nothing. I’ll prove how straight I am by eating loads of
hotdogs and drinking beer and OH GOD PLEASE SOMEONE SODOMIZE ME! I need it so
bad… my butt is waiting.”
So yeah, talking about Man Food sort of makes me think
you’re very, very gay. I know, I know, I shouldn’t use gay as a pejorative, and
I’m not really. Nothing wrong with being gay, so long as you know what you are
and accept the fact. It’s when men try to prove themselves to be Extra Manly
with Manly Sauce that I stat looking at them and shout “GAY!” because if you
were really confident that you’re a hetro man, you wouldn’t be trying so hard
to convince both me and yourself.
Few things are as pervasive as the gender identity roles for
men. They extend far further than you think, run much deeper than we’ve previous
suspected and are far, far more stringent than those for women. While the
consequences for women might be much direr in the long run, many of those consequences
revolve around men who are unable to escape the grasp of their gender identity.
So really, I shouldn’t make fun of guys who can’t let go of pork ribs and
football, but they all come off as so amazingly gay to me. Even though, really,
it’s an expression of desperation and fear from someone who probably isn’t gay,
but is terrified of being perceived as gay… and I just called them gay. Yeah,
you can’t fucking win. Might as well wear a pink angora sweater and ride a big
penis shaped rocket while waving your hat Slim
Pickens style. If someone is going to call you gay no matter what you
do, then why pretend?
And all of this is a side issue to the fact that women eat
ribs and chili and drink beer and burp and have even been known to get into
football of all things. How can it be
Man Food if girls are allowed to eat it? And, is there any such thing as woman
food? Quiche? Strawberry Cheesecake? Calzones? Oysters? Tacos? Cherry Pie?
Orchids? Cellos? Perhaps two semi-spherical mounds of panna cotta set next to
each other with a cherry on each one? No… that’s too Caucasian-Centric, and I’m
already being quite hetro-normative with this as it is. Besides not even all
white chicks have pink nipples and certainly not cherry red ones.
No comments:
Post a Comment