Basking in the Glow of My Own Manhood

It's good to be the man. Rolling out of bed this morning, I glanced over at my beautiful, angelic, estrogen-soaked wife and thanked the Republican Party for making sure that she was, in fact, a woman. Whew! That was close. Then I checked her belly. Yup, still pregers. I did that. I am the man. My boys can swim. Hell, they're Olympic champs--just not in the Mark Spits way; with that rice-a-roni moustache, he had to be a fan of the Village People, if you get my drift, or maybe even. . . a Democrat. My boys swim like that red-blooded, NASCAR-watching American Olympian who I can't remember since I don't watch sports where men are wet and mostly naked. Except boxing. The pummelling makes it seem more Christian.

What to do today? I could bench press my car (wanna bet, wussy?). Maybe I'll have a few drinks and go hunting for some "wingless quail-tards." Hey, Em, wanna come along? Gotta respect the buddy system. The VPer taught me that. There's always cutting brush. Man, do I love cuttin' me some brush. Nothing reminds you of your primordial masculinity more than cuttin' brush. Just like the neanderthals did. In between killing dinosaurs. Frenchies can't do that. I bet they don't even HAVE brush in France. Or maybe I'll just heat up some pop tarts and watch a Schwarzenegger movie. Yeah, that's the ticket. Nothing gay about that, by Gawd! I bet they've never even heard of Ah-nold in France. Or pop tarts. What would they call them? Royale with jellie? Damn metric system.

It's days like this that I'm glad Bill Frist is my senator. Otherwise how would I have known that God speaks through the brain dead? (No, not W--that skinny woman down in Florida with the moustachioed "husband.") Or that tears transmit AIDS? So stop yer' cryin'! Unless you're watching a Schwarzenegger movie, of course. T2 really got me. Sniff. You know--when robot-Arnie lowers himself into the molten fire to save humanity. That's powerful stuff. It reminds me of America. We're not going to hell in a handbasket. What looks to you like a firey death spiral is really just the good ol' U.S. of A. saving humanity through our own national self-sacrifice. The little combustion engine that could. Remember that next time you start bitchin' about how Congress is fiddling with marriage while Rome burns. Every real man knows: there's no "sacrifice" without "sack."