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OMG I think I'm Metrosexual!!!
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ATOMIC DOG
The Soy Awards, 2003
by TC
The Atomic Dog is a weekly feature that isn't necessarily about weight training or bodybuilding. Sometimes it's about sports in general, sex, women, or male issues of some kind. At times it's inspirational, but it can also be informative, funny, and even a little weird, but hopefully, always interesting and a little controversial. We hope it reflects the nature of Testosterone magazine in that, just as no man is completely one-dimensional and only interested in one subject, neither are we. If it makes you think or laugh — or even get angry — it's served its purpose.
Early last year, Testosterone Magazine instituted The Soy Awards in honor of the Testosterone-sapping effects of the plant protein that's the award's namesake. The prize was to be given to the individual or group of individuals who best represent wussy, Testosterone-draining, estrogenic, weak-kneed, pusillanimous, narrow minded, tight-assed values.
The award has since caught on among Corporate America, many of which are vying for sponsorship. Whereas last year's prize consisted of just a jar of soy-protein based cuticle cream, this year's winner or winners will receive a year's supply of feminine hygiene spray (courtesy of Massengill) and a gold trophy designed and donated by the fine people at Tiffany's. The "Soy Boy," as it's become known, depicts a pudgy, naked man, the golden folds of his deflated nutsack being buffeted by unseen winds.
It's really quite breathtaking.
While there were many deserving candidates in the past year, one group's wimpiness stands out like a shaved vagina in a pro-football locker room. This year's Soy Boy goes to a group that's so estrogenic, it's truly a wonder that they haven't taken to wearing skirts and panties yet. This year's award goes to… American men.
That's right. While this group wasn't even a darkhorse candidate two weeks ago, the results of a survey conducted by Euro RSCG Worldwide proved, without a doubt, that American men are very richly deserving of their own Soy Boy.
For those of you who haven't heard of Euro RSCG Worldwide, they're the world's fifth largest global agency with 233 offices that specialize in advertising, marketing services, interactive healthcare, and corporate communications. Headquartered in New York, their impressive list of clients includes Air France, Intel, Volvo, and Yahoo.
Since they deal in advertising and marketing, it's important for them to know what kind of animal makes up their market. As such, they do periodic surveys or studies. The one that caught my interest — and cemented this year's winner — targeted American men from the ages of 21 to 48. Their goal was to "deconstruct the 21st century man."
And deconstruct him they did. They might as well have done it in the same way that Tony Soprano and Christopher Maltisanti "deconstructed" Ralphie Cifaretto, because in my mind, the results were equally unpleasant to behold.
One of the questions posed a scenario where a magic genie could grant them one wish. Among the choices was being a national hero, a major-league sports star, or the head of a Fortune 500 company. You're guessing most chose sports star, right? Sure, the money, the adulation, and so many women you have to scrape them off your cleats with a stick. What else could it be? Well, the number one response was "to grow old with a woman I love." Second was "to have happy, healthy kids." Third was to "have a circle of friends to support me unconditionally and whose company I enjoy."
Just in case you think you got the demographics of their survey wrong, let me reiterate: this was a survey of supposed men, not toothless old crones in nursing homes swapping pictures of their drooly grandkids.
It gets worse. When asked to rate the appeal of 13 dream scenarios, only a bare majority (52%) said having a "wherever/whenever affair with my dream woman" was appealing. Thirty-two percent considered it somewhat or very unappealing!
That's right, give 48% of these respondents the ability to conjure up any playmate, any beer-commercial babe, or any supermodel, for unbridled, or bridled, if you're into that sort of thing, sex, and they would sniff and ask you to instead pass the brie cheese and help them pick out a silverware pattern. Can you imagine it? Cooz' oozin' from the rafters, and they find it unappealing. It's a wonder these hamsters have the will to procreate at all. And perhaps they shouldn't for the betterment of mankind; otherwise, the future will be populated exclusively by the Eloi depicted in the novel and the movie of the same name, "The Time Machine."
When asked to choose a word that describes them from a list of about three dozen, 74% of the walking eunuchs chose "caring." Forty-six percent considered themselves "romantic."
Hey, maybe it's just me, but I'd prefer any of the following words or descriptives to describe me rather than caring:
Creative
Intelligent
Masculine
Courageous
Hung
Humps like a jackhammer run amok
Flatulent
There's a lot of stuff I care about, like my HDTV, my porn collection, my gym, and oh yeah, the occasional human being, but using the word to describe my essence would be down a tad further on my list.
But no, our Soy Boys chose caring as numero uno. I gotta' think that even the most caring individual in history, someone like Jesus, Gandhi, Mother Theresa et al, would want to pound the Holy Hell out of these Nancy boys. It's as if someone had wadded up a Bounty Quicker-picker-upper towel and thrown it into their scrotum, thereby sucking up every last drop of Testosterone.
Based on the results of the survey, Euro RSCG Worldwide has termed this new breed of person a metrosexual. These… these things are said to be knowledgeable about fashion and they enjoy shopping and they're concentrated around big cities.
Let's see, heterosexuals prefer sex with the opposite; homosexuals prefer sex with the same; but what do metrosexuals have sex with? Hot-dog wrappers? Fire hydrants? Maybe they just drape their naked bodies with items of Dolce & Gabanna clothing and whack off to the Fashion section of the New York Times while wearing Kenneth Cole lambskin gloves.
Marian Salzman, chief strategy officer of Euro RSCG, believes that "the metrosexual represents the tipping point of a shift that parallels the process of the woman's movement."
Has it come to this? Has it really come to this? Have men gone so nutso, gotten so beleaguered and confused about their status in the world and how to act that they're undergoing what amounts to their own "woman's movement"? What's next, we burn our silk underwear and withhold sex from women as punishment? Oh lordy lordy lordy.
Salzman blathered on in her analysis that men, in this new century, "are finding the courage to explore the female domain without fear of losing their status as real men."
I've got news for you, Marian, these metrosexuals have not only lost their status as men, they've lost their status as poodles.
It almost makes me want to honor the 4th of July and the spirit of the real men who founded and fought for this country by shoving a sparkler up the ass of one of these soy boys and kicking him repeatedly at dusk to create a dazzling visual display.
http://www.t-mag.com/nation_articles/268tc.jsp
The Soy Awards, 2003
by TC
The Atomic Dog is a weekly feature that isn't necessarily about weight training or bodybuilding. Sometimes it's about sports in general, sex, women, or male issues of some kind. At times it's inspirational, but it can also be informative, funny, and even a little weird, but hopefully, always interesting and a little controversial. We hope it reflects the nature of Testosterone magazine in that, just as no man is completely one-dimensional and only interested in one subject, neither are we. If it makes you think or laugh — or even get angry — it's served its purpose.
Early last year, Testosterone Magazine instituted The Soy Awards in honor of the Testosterone-sapping effects of the plant protein that's the award's namesake. The prize was to be given to the individual or group of individuals who best represent wussy, Testosterone-draining, estrogenic, weak-kneed, pusillanimous, narrow minded, tight-assed values.
The award has since caught on among Corporate America, many of which are vying for sponsorship. Whereas last year's prize consisted of just a jar of soy-protein based cuticle cream, this year's winner or winners will receive a year's supply of feminine hygiene spray (courtesy of Massengill) and a gold trophy designed and donated by the fine people at Tiffany's. The "Soy Boy," as it's become known, depicts a pudgy, naked man, the golden folds of his deflated nutsack being buffeted by unseen winds.
It's really quite breathtaking.
While there were many deserving candidates in the past year, one group's wimpiness stands out like a shaved vagina in a pro-football locker room. This year's Soy Boy goes to a group that's so estrogenic, it's truly a wonder that they haven't taken to wearing skirts and panties yet. This year's award goes to… American men.
That's right. While this group wasn't even a darkhorse candidate two weeks ago, the results of a survey conducted by Euro RSCG Worldwide proved, without a doubt, that American men are very richly deserving of their own Soy Boy.
For those of you who haven't heard of Euro RSCG Worldwide, they're the world's fifth largest global agency with 233 offices that specialize in advertising, marketing services, interactive healthcare, and corporate communications. Headquartered in New York, their impressive list of clients includes Air France, Intel, Volvo, and Yahoo.
Since they deal in advertising and marketing, it's important for them to know what kind of animal makes up their market. As such, they do periodic surveys or studies. The one that caught my interest — and cemented this year's winner — targeted American men from the ages of 21 to 48. Their goal was to "deconstruct the 21st century man."
And deconstruct him they did. They might as well have done it in the same way that Tony Soprano and Christopher Maltisanti "deconstructed" Ralphie Cifaretto, because in my mind, the results were equally unpleasant to behold.
One of the questions posed a scenario where a magic genie could grant them one wish. Among the choices was being a national hero, a major-league sports star, or the head of a Fortune 500 company. You're guessing most chose sports star, right? Sure, the money, the adulation, and so many women you have to scrape them off your cleats with a stick. What else could it be? Well, the number one response was "to grow old with a woman I love." Second was "to have happy, healthy kids." Third was to "have a circle of friends to support me unconditionally and whose company I enjoy."
Just in case you think you got the demographics of their survey wrong, let me reiterate: this was a survey of supposed men, not toothless old crones in nursing homes swapping pictures of their drooly grandkids.
It gets worse. When asked to rate the appeal of 13 dream scenarios, only a bare majority (52%) said having a "wherever/whenever affair with my dream woman" was appealing. Thirty-two percent considered it somewhat or very unappealing!
That's right, give 48% of these respondents the ability to conjure up any playmate, any beer-commercial babe, or any supermodel, for unbridled, or bridled, if you're into that sort of thing, sex, and they would sniff and ask you to instead pass the brie cheese and help them pick out a silverware pattern. Can you imagine it? Cooz' oozin' from the rafters, and they find it unappealing. It's a wonder these hamsters have the will to procreate at all. And perhaps they shouldn't for the betterment of mankind; otherwise, the future will be populated exclusively by the Eloi depicted in the novel and the movie of the same name, "The Time Machine."
When asked to choose a word that describes them from a list of about three dozen, 74% of the walking eunuchs chose "caring." Forty-six percent considered themselves "romantic."
Hey, maybe it's just me, but I'd prefer any of the following words or descriptives to describe me rather than caring:
Creative
Intelligent
Masculine
Courageous
Hung
Humps like a jackhammer run amok
Flatulent
There's a lot of stuff I care about, like my HDTV, my porn collection, my gym, and oh yeah, the occasional human being, but using the word to describe my essence would be down a tad further on my list.
But no, our Soy Boys chose caring as numero uno. I gotta' think that even the most caring individual in history, someone like Jesus, Gandhi, Mother Theresa et al, would want to pound the Holy Hell out of these Nancy boys. It's as if someone had wadded up a Bounty Quicker-picker-upper towel and thrown it into their scrotum, thereby sucking up every last drop of Testosterone.
Based on the results of the survey, Euro RSCG Worldwide has termed this new breed of person a metrosexual. These… these things are said to be knowledgeable about fashion and they enjoy shopping and they're concentrated around big cities.
Let's see, heterosexuals prefer sex with the opposite; homosexuals prefer sex with the same; but what do metrosexuals have sex with? Hot-dog wrappers? Fire hydrants? Maybe they just drape their naked bodies with items of Dolce & Gabanna clothing and whack off to the Fashion section of the New York Times while wearing Kenneth Cole lambskin gloves.
Marian Salzman, chief strategy officer of Euro RSCG, believes that "the metrosexual represents the tipping point of a shift that parallels the process of the woman's movement."
Has it come to this? Has it really come to this? Have men gone so nutso, gotten so beleaguered and confused about their status in the world and how to act that they're undergoing what amounts to their own "woman's movement"? What's next, we burn our silk underwear and withhold sex from women as punishment? Oh lordy lordy lordy.
Salzman blathered on in her analysis that men, in this new century, "are finding the courage to explore the female domain without fear of losing their status as real men."
I've got news for you, Marian, these metrosexuals have not only lost their status as men, they've lost their status as poodles.
It almost makes me want to honor the 4th of July and the spirit of the real men who founded and fought for this country by shoving a sparkler up the ass of one of these soy boys and kicking him repeatedly at dusk to create a dazzling visual display.
http://www.t-mag.com/nation_articles/268tc.jsp
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