Manity: Possessing and/or exuding the quality of manliness.

 

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Welcome Gentlemen and Ladies, to this episode of the Drunken Poet.  Today I want to address something that has been bothering me for many long years.  The role of the Man.  Not the ridiculous "Man" that Commies like Sand Vagina believe in.  I mean the Man's man. Clint Eastwood meets John Wayne kick ass, take names, and slap the hot waitress on the ass type man.  What happened to us?  We've been so destroyed by society into recognizing our feelings, and falling down over emotions and politeness that we've lost our natural disposition of burley, uncouth, conquering soldiers that live life by Testosterone and Balls alone.  In case you're unsure... testosterone is what makes us men. Look that shit up, science has my back.

Also, I failed to make note of it, I will be starting a new feature on the Blog, at the end of every post I'll be posting a drink of the day/post type thing. My gift to you, my alcohol swilling brethren.  Below the elusive break, you'll find your way into a world of tanks, planes, and flame.  To witness some of the most awesome and awe-inspiring man stories ever, hit the break, and read up.  Opinions and words after all, are for chicks.

What is this you may ask? Why it's a tank.  A tank converted to play paintball in.  That's right boys, get your inner man out by riding around in a full out army invasion scenario, playing out tank battles, scorching the landscape in torrents of red coloured paint from the armoured flame thrower (I'm hoping they have this), or whatever else you can think of.  I'm well aware that my buddy Jungle Rooster is currently creaming himself at the thought, so I now pass on the link.

I Give You... ARMOURGEDDON

...and...NEXT!

Have you ever felt like flying a plane? Have you ever felt like playing basketball?  Have you ever felt like combining the two?  If you answered yes two all three of those... one word of caution... YOU'RE FUCKING NUTS.  But I love you anyways.  Now, to move on, witness below one of the most pointless and yet cool stunts, ever.

 

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Finally, I say unto you men of the world, even should you be unwilling to kick ass and take names, even if you are unable to be the chauvinist pigs that only movies can actually produce, there is one last refuge for you.  The Grill.  The altar of man, the home of the fire. Where men come to feast on the fire roasted flesh of our dead adversaries. (Animals are the enemy, don't doubt it.)  

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Ahh... fire charred flesh... and with that slightly creepy statement, I sign off of this day of the Drunken Poet's mad ramblings.  In keeping with today's theme, the Drink o' the Post is...

Drunken Poet's Drink o' The Post

Rugby/Rambo Shot

1 Shot of Tequila

1 Lemon Wedge

1/2 Teaspoon of Salt

Drink Shot of Tequila
Snort Line of Salt
Squeeze Lemon in your Eye

Bask in the Knowledge that you are ALL THAT IS MAN