Who knew it was this easy to fight back?
Four years ago, at the Super Bowl, Gillette ran an ad suggesting that guys like us demonstrate “toxic masculinity,” and claiming that everyone with hair growing on his chinny chin chin should be ashamed of himself.
You hairy beast.
My domestic partner happens to be of the opposite gender (don't hate us), which I realize makes me hopelessly out of date. Further aggravating the situation, I have a daughter, also of the opposite gender (duh), who made more in her first year out of grad school than I made in my first 10 years as a newsman.
You don't want to try to match wits with these two.
If I was ever “toxic” to my wife and daughter, the police might still be looking for my body. At a minimum, they would have told me – as they say in Oklahoma - “how the cow ate the cabbage.” I would have been told exactly where to stick my toxic masculinity, and they'd have the scientific name for the orifice.
So I vowed that if Gillette thought so little of me, I would never buy another Gillette product as long as I lived. And I have stuck to that vow. My memory is long – even now that our beloved Josh Allen is a Gillette pitchman - and my options are many. Lately, a five-blade Bic razor gets the job done. But if Bic suddenly accuses guys like me of something awful – say, being too grouchy, or driving for miles with our turn signal on - I'll dump them, too.
So now we have Bud Light, with their guy who is proud as punch that now he's a girl, which I don't care about, except I've never seen a woman act so silly. What really took the cake was the Bud Light marketing whiz (erstwhile) who said their beer was too “fratty,” so they were looking to expand their market, apparently to guys who become girls. (Not a very large demographic, if you ask me.)
Way to disrespect the very frat boys who made Bud Light the beer behemoth it once was.
I say once because few are buying Bud Light lately – either because they don't like guys acting like girls, or because they're proud of their frattyness. For a while there you could get a $15 rebate on a $23 case of Bud Light, as they tried to unload the stuff.
I don't buy diet beer – probably should, but that's another matter – so until Pabst Blue Ribbon does something incredibly stupid, I'm golden.
Then along comes Target, where I don't shop anyway, ever since some years back they said both genders were welcome in their bathrooms – no distinctions, one big happy family in there. One thing's for sure, if members of the opposite sex can go into the same bathroom, I'm holding it. I'll cross my legs. I'll find a gas station somewhere.
And now, Target is selling bathing suits with extra space in the codpiece area, so you can pretend to be someone with nothing to hide down there, even though you (unfortunately?) have something to hide down there. Good luck explaining that extra space to your granddaughter.
So, until Walmart starts rubbing my nose in difficult conversations with my granddaughters, I'll just do my shopping there.
And now even major league baseball is playing along. (Last time I had the patience to watch an entire nine innings of baseball was when I was taking Percocet after knee surgery.) The Los Angeles Dodgers, as part of Pride Month, are honoring a group called the Perpetual Sisters of Indulgence, which mocks Christianity, Catholics and nuns with a staged crucifixion, complete with near-naked, writhing pole dancers.
In your face, America.
How could the Dodgers be so incredibly stupid to associate themselves with such blasphemy? Imagine if they honored a group that mocked Muslims like that.
So, scratch major league baseball off the list, too. Take that, you Environmental, Societal and Governmental nut bags. If your scolding woke agenda is more important to you than your product, count me out. I've got options.
Just break it to me easy if Pabst goes woke.
Dave Simpson can be reached at: DaveSimpson145@hotmail.com