Real men are experts at giving advice, but not as good at sticking around to see the consequences
Give No Ground
Real Man Week
COACH PUFTCHEST CRACKED OPEN his third can of Old Milwaukee and settled into his lazy boy with the “No trespassing” sign duck taped to the arm, remote ready to switch between the Penn State v Michigan State replay on ESPN, Red River Shoot Out on ESPNU, and cornholing on ESPN2. He guzzled half the can and was reaching for a fistful of corn nuts when he heard his momma’s boy son Timothy whining on his iPhone to one of his faggy Dungeons and Dragons friends:
“No doubt, dude. That asshole Brawny Smothers woulda pounded me into the sidewalk if I hadn’t ducked through the hole in the baseball field fence. I give him my lunch money. Why does he need me to share my weed?”
The only words Coach heard were “would have pounded me,” which was fortunate for Timothy because he would have gone scorched earth had he heard the part about weed. As it was, Coach’s ears rang with the words, “would have pounded me,” words that should never have been uttered by one of his sons even if they were uttered by his crybaby waste of sperm who insisted on the girly name Timothy instead of a manly name like Tim.
”That asshole Brawny Smothers woulda…
