If that dated rapference doesn't emphasize how dark things have gotten, you should turn the light off and read it again.
Thankfully, 6 weeks ago, something happened. With the arrival of three wonderful letters, brightness once more entered our lives. The visible silence was eradicated as "the logo" (which will one day become the flag for the United States of America) graced our televisions. Ladies and gentlemen, the NFL had returned.
Football came back. The unbelievable rage of a 162-game baseball season was taken out on so many receivers cutting across the middle -- and we got to watch the whole play develop. As we mourned the loss of not one, but All My Children, we turned to the gridiron to provide us with over-the-top safety drama.
Grid-ion King |
At the center of the pigskin, the pig dermis if you will, football is about emotion. Hearken back to the days of Matthew Stafford's rookie season. We all watched as the man delivered a damned near impossible 38-37 comeback, throwing the final touchdown of the game with a shoulder injury that would end his season, all while the clock read zeros. In a landscape of 32 fan-domes, there wasn't a dry eye in anyone's house. The men choked backed tears and slow-clapped the moment into history, softly whispering, "that's boy's got heart." The women, they...didn't really notice.
Sport is the rare arena in which guys are more prone to having feelings. (That's right, f-bomb). We laugh, cry, cheer, and beer when it comes to watching the game. Want to know why? Because this is what male friendship is all about, damnit!
In an ideal world, right now you should be hearing the sound of a record being spun backwards by a 70s DJ and watching everything wave into ambiguity. It's time, kids, to throw down a lesson flashback style.
I am about to explain something that was alluded to in 1994 by everyone's favorite fictional wealthy scamp: Ri¢hie Ri¢h. During a ceremony in which an absent Richard Rich Sr. is awarded a set of gold-plated socket wrenches, Ri¢hie accepts the gift on his father's behalf, explaining, "I know my dad loves socket wrenches. I love socket wrenches. If my mom knew what a socket wrench was, she'd love it too."
There, that should make it clear as day. Good night everyone!
Oh, it's still very confusing? Well, you see, what The Pagemaster was getting at is that men share a bond forged in gold, and mothers spend all their time worrying that they look like Dr. Conrad Murray's most famous victim. With that said, The Sometimes would like to take some time(s) and explain to the ladies out there exactly what our society's socket wrench of male friendships is all about.
Gather round in a circle, gentlewomen, as we learn the complicated intricacies, gossip, he-said-he-said, and all around cattiness involved when two strange men upgrade their relationship to bosom-less buddies.
...actually, c'mere a minute. My months of research for this blog post are making it really clear that none of those things are involved in dudeship. Here's what it actually takes:
1) One introductory hand shake and name exchange.
2) Saying the word "man" during an initial conversation. Ex. "Those (insert local disappointing sports franchise here), man" + "I know, dude" = BFFs
THAT'S IT.
Update: Tom's begonias are currently doing great |
This very fundamental base can lead to regular head nods, out of place TV references, and many more handshakes. It may even lead to a meaningful bromance -- aptly named because it sounds like an actual word, and men are fine with close fraternal relationships. Try calling the friendship two women share by the same convention, and you have "Sismances". This could either be a Greek philosopher or some sort of rare uterine disease.
I wish I could elaborate further, but really, that's it. Two guys can become friends just like that. Sober, too! Ladies, I recommend observing this theorem in action the next time you're at a social gathering and witness two men meeting for the first time. Your socks? Oh, they'll have been understandably knocked off.
With this newfound understanding of Social Chemistry, what with the bonding, you've completed the prerequisites for Social Organic Chemistry. Unfortunately, I cannot teach it to you at this time, as my peers and family have informed me that it's just too sticky a topic, what with the bonding. Let us instead take solace with the new found daylight in our lives, for it will soon need saving.
Socket wrench to me,
Tapan Jones
[Art, as always, by Thomas Glass Jr.]
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