Recently, I did a long thread on Twitter about toxic fandom and how I’m tired of dudebros and fanboys getting all swole in the chest and indignant whenever their favorite movie franchise decides to be progressive and throw some women into the mix.

At some point in the thread, I got fed up and wrote, in all caps, “JESUS, JUST SUPPORT WOMEN THEN BEAT OFF IN A T-SHIRT & CALL IT A NIGHT WILL YA?!?!?!”

I’m surprised more of these rabid, online shit-disturbers don’t do that more often. In all my years on this planet, I can honestly say nothing obliterates ill feelings toward women — or anyone, for that matter — as well as clear your head and take a load (pardon the pun) of stress off your shoulders than beating off in a T-shirt. It’s the soothing remedy for a troubled, testosterone-filled mind, the ultimate “me time.” It makes everything doesn’t seem that bad after all. And, as a male, you have to do that every now and then, so you won’t turn into a deranged asshole who gets pissed every time he sees strong, courageous women in a Star Wars film.

Beating off into T-shirts is your God-given right as a man. I don’t know who these loons are who take part in No-Nut November, where you have to abstain from T-shirt action so you can receive some state of higher consciousness or some bullshit like that, but — with all due respect — fuck that. I have a T-shirt, a mobile device and plenty of time on my hands. So, why don’t I make sure I stay a sane, respectable member of society by dispensing some excess masculinity in this ratty Hypercolor top and going about my business!

Beating off in a T-shirt has always gotten a bad rap. When I was growing up, it was seen as a sign of pathetic loneliness. I remember in my high-school days joking with friends about (to borrow a line from a Kids in the Hall skit) spending my weekends watching TV, eating corn chips and doing you-know-what (the crazy part was I wasn’t even doing it at the time) and being greeted with frowns and groans. “No, don’t say that,” one of them said, as though being one with yourself is the ultimate act of a loser.

For young, horny gentlemen, beating off in a T-shirt was this unspoken thing that everyone did, but couldn’t admit in public because, well, it showed you weren’t properly getting laid. Hey, you’re a growing boy, and you’re not supposed to be in your room messing up laundry! You’re supposed to be out there trying to convince girls to have sex with you as much and as often as possible. It’s the one thing that have been drilled into men’s heads since they were youngins. You must hunt down women and get the draws — by any means necessary. It’s the American Way!

Of course, what they don’t tell you is that it’s rarely that easy. Sometimes, you have to do things before you get the draws, like actually be considerate and respectful and not act like all you want is the draws. For so long, men have been led to believe that sex is something that’s expected, not earned. And, if you don’t get it at some point, you’re a miserable, pitiful excuse for a human being. You either wonder if you have the proper tools to get women or if it’s quite simply the women’s fault. Sadly, a lot of sexually frustrated dudes choose the latter.

Why aren’t there more men letting boys know that, as you get older, women may not come as fast and furious (in more ways than one) as you want them to — and that’s OK? Besides, you’ll always have yourself on those cold and lonely nights. Sex is good, and it’s even better when you have a partner. But, gotdammit, to quote an iconic movie line, don’t let your dick run your life. You gotta keep that in check so you don’t do any stupid, Brett Kavanagh-style shit that’ll ruin your life somewhere down the line. Because let me tell you something: even when you find that special someone, you’ll still have the urge to get busy with some undergarments once in a while. You’re a man — you’ll be doing that shit until you can’t do it anymore.

This is why I’m here. I want all these incels, dudebros, fanboys and general, lonely-ass muhfuckas to not take their anger and frustration out on women — or Rian Johnson — anymore. Stop getting mad at the whole female species because they want to be properly represented in shit that’s usually dominated by men. Here’s a good muhfuckin’ idea: just support them on whatever they want to do. They might return the favor when you need support and y’all can live together in perfect harmony and all that shit!

And, when that’s done, you can go and take matters into your own hands — literally. Go into your bedroom, light some candles, put on some Teddy Pendergrass, find that special someone — man, woman, whatever floats your boat — or something that gets you all hot-and-bothered online, get a T-shirt (preferably an old one you don’t wear that much anymore) and beat off into it. Not a sock, not a tissue — a gotdamn T-shirt! You could make it your permanent, beat-off T-shirt and leave it under your bed or someplace. Of course, you’re gonna have to wash it once in a while, so it doesn’t get crusty and disgusting and can stand up on its own. Whether you want your wrap your junk with the shirt and proceed to beat off or you just want to take control of the reins (with lotion, baby oil and whatever lubricant you prefer) and just use the shirt to catch all the madness is purely up to you. There’s no wrong way to do it — just get it done.

Now, I’m not demanding you devote all your time to the jack game, as my ex-con associates refer to it. Just square away some time — say, 2–3 times a week — for this endeavor and just see how less grumpy your ass gets, especially when it comes to women. Now, I’m not saying beating off in a T-shirt will solve all your problems (some of you muhfuckas may just have to seek professional help). But the more time you spend with yourself, the less time you’ll spend making others feel worse.

Now get to beating!