Sunday's drive up your blog… with Ramblin' Rooster

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Smell My Macho

with 20 comments

I’ve always admired those who are macho. Well I guess envied would be more the appropriate description. Just like the Charles Atlas ads in the back of my favorite comic books, I’ve always felt like the guy getting sand kicked in my face. Not that I ever was the picked on kid, but rather somewhere in the middle of flexing my stuff and picking sand out of my teeth. Truth is I’ve never even been to a beach.

 

Anyhoo, I’ve always wanted to be macho. Other than the body building physique, I’ve always lacked the commitment, discipline and energy to be macho. Staying “puffed up” all the time takes extraordinary muscle control and you have to commit 100%. There’s no “I’m macho, get out of way” and “Sure, I’ll hold the baby.” It’s one way or no way!

 

What I admire most in “the macho” is of course the lack of thinking, both in the immediate and long term faculties. Macho can’t be troubled to “think through” those menacing threats. They’re lucky just to get words out at all. I’d like to take a vacation from thought and just be. Walking down the street, muscles flexing and flapping in a cologne drenched wind, women rubbing on my legs while I walk all the while I’m still counting reps in my head from my morning breakfast. “148… 149… 150” So engrossed that I don’t even notice the bus that’s about to hit me as it slams on the breaks. Even a inanimate object know not to mess with “the macho”.

 

My favorite macho-ism line is of course, “What are you looking at?” If ever an opportunity was given, this would be it. Even those who are self described as “slow” or “not quick on the uptake” can fire back to this gapping wide hole of “please make me look like an idiot”. Not since, “Do you want to go to my place?” has such an open ended question received such rapid response.

 

There are other wonderful zingers that stem from “the machos”, like, “You got a problem?” “What are you going to do about it?” “You gonna make me?” “You want some of this?” and “I’m going to beat the living shit out of you!” Of course that last one should probably be moved into a different category, like ‘Know When To Walk Away, Know When To Run’, (or as I affectionately call it the Kenny List).

 

Being macho isn’t about being smart or cool or popular or well liked. It’s about being macho and that’s it. It’s a lifestyle as much as it is a religion. There’s nothing a man wouldn’t do to be macho and if says otherwise he’s a liar-sissy-homo-girl.

 

Yeah, that felt good…

 

What are you looking at?!

 

Egg On!

Ramblin’ Rooster

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Written by Ramblin' Rooster

June 24, 2009 at 3:57 am

20 Responses

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  1. I’m lookin’ atchu. Whatchu gone do ’bout it?

    I never did understand Macho. It’s such a guy thing.

    You’re too smart to be macho. That’s not an insult, it’s a compliment.

    Claire Collins

    June 24, 2009 at 4:45 am

    • Claire Collins, and here I thought you were macho. Showing me up on the blushing emoticon, insulting my souffle, telling me my shoes don’t match my socks. I’m currently huffing gold spray paint in effort to get to macho land.

      Ramblin' Rooster

      June 25, 2009 at 3:29 am

      • Huffing is even less macho than your shoes not matching your socks.

        Here’s how to be a real man:

        Hold the door open for others.
        Talk to your children like they are people.
        Treat your wife and mother like they are the most important woman in the whole world, even when they are in the same room.
        Work for a living.
        Use your turn signals.

        In my book, those make you a real man.

        Claire Collins

        June 25, 2009 at 4:45 am

        • Claire Collins, you’re confused. I’m not trying to be a real man, I wanna be macho.

          Ramblin' Rooster

          June 26, 2009 at 3:23 am

          • Why?

            Claire Collins

            June 26, 2009 at 3:41 am

            • Claire Collins, why not? It’s cool, you get to wear leather and from what Alan just told me there’s organized dancing.

              Ramblin' Rooster

              June 26, 2009 at 4:26 am

              • If you want to be macho, I will stand by you.

                Okay, maybe not like right next to you with the leather and all, but near you. Maybe a little behind you. and to the left.

                At least until the dancing starts

                Claire Collins

                June 27, 2009 at 3:59 am

                • Claire Collins, that’s awesome. I could really use the support… please have the “ones” ready for when the dancing does start.

                  Ramblin' Rooster

                  June 28, 2009 at 3:18 am

  2. Damn, I knew they were starting to use steroids on poultry! I knew it. Just calm down big guy, I don’t want no trouble here!
    My favorite is the men who now presumably have to wear some tacky ass pajama bottoms all day long. They need a fanny pack because they lack the flexibility to reach into a pocket. They move like a little bundled up Ralphie from “A Christmas Story.” Don’t worry you could take them. The secret is to just keep punching them in the face then backing up. They will never catch you.

    Now on to the important thing; you’ve never been to a beach? WTF! When I move back to Florida eventually, you are coming to St. Pete Beach to visit me. Bring the whole family. We’ll have a blast! Why, we’ll have a barbecue!

    Scott Oglesby

    June 24, 2009 at 7:28 am

    • Scott Oglesby, first off I think you’ve been spying on me, ’cause that’s exactly how I dress/ Secondly, you describe how the neighbor kids beat me up everyday. Thirdly, there are no beaches in the Midwest and fourthly, hurry up and move already. I’ll bring the steroids and free weights!

      Ramblin' Rooster

      June 25, 2009 at 3:32 am

  3. Other zingers from macho-land:

    Jesus! Where are my testicles?

    And the other day, on squat thrust rep 144, I blew my lower intestine completely out onto the gym floor.

    Fuck yes! They’re bringing Zubaz back!

    Take a look, Stimpy! I finally got them! Huge pectoral muscles!

    Thank god there’s no IQ test for governor.

    Do my homework!

    Well, I majored in business statistics but actually spent most of my time sleeping off my amyl and alcohol hangover. I blew out my knee during my junior year and lost the scholarship. Lately, I’ve been collecting unemployment and arm-wrestling for beer down at the biker bar.

    That’s what she said! *snarf*

    The mass of muscle that is my body makes my unit look tiny by comparison, ladies. You’re not taking the overall picture into account. It’s like parking a Segway next to a Humvee. Of course, it’s going to look small. And yet, it holds a full-grown person.

    Capitalist Lion Tamer

    June 26, 2009 at 4:59 pm

    • Capitalist Lion Tamer, you have a Humvee? If only you had a nickel for everytime someone called you “silver tongued”. Mighty funny!

      Ramblin' Rooster

      June 27, 2009 at 2:43 am

    • It holds a full grown person…
      I don’t know whether to laugh or cry.

      Claire Collins

      June 27, 2009 at 4:01 am


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