The Celtic Storm

The irreverent ramblings of a maniac. The world isn't ready for me, but I'm here...

Reasons I Would Confiscate Your Man-Card

I decided, in my infinite wisdom, to devise a list of reasons one could confiscate your man card. I decided this because, while I on the bus the other day, I spent an entire half-hour listening to some douchebag detail his "exploits" with the opposite sex. I put "exploits" because, as I learned towards the end of the conversation, right before I hurled myself out the window and into oncoming traffic to save myself from hearing any more stupid, that this guy was "sleeping" with a bunch of the girls... in his theatre group. Do I need to continue? Do I need to explain? Okay, for those of you who are socially retarded, HE WAS VIOLENTLY GAY. I don't say that because he was in a theatre group. He was revolting so hard against his sexuality that it was ridiculous. More people should just relax and let themselves be gay. So as this closet queer rambled on about whatever non-gay shit he was rambling about, I began to count how many times I could've simply turned around and called him out on it. I mean, I'm not ordinarily the type of person to just out and out call bullshit on someone involved in a conversation that I wasn't a part of to begin with. But this fucker made me a part of the conversation. He talked loud enough that the entire bus could hear his diatribe. I finally did lose it and say something to him when he said to his friend with him "Please don't tell anyone about this! It's a secret!" I turned around and said "Even if he keeps his mouth shut, you may have a harder time convincing everyone on the bus who heard your pack of lies to keep their mouths shut. Douchebag." So here are some reasons and activities that, were I to catch you doing them, I would kick you in the junk (It's legal during the man-card revocation process) and confiscate your man-card post haste.


Feeding pigeons. If I catch you feeding pigeons anything non-poisonous, a hearing will be held to determine if man-card revocation is necessary. I will judge whether or not I saw you feeding pigeons. If I did, I will kick you in the balls, take your man card, then punt a pigeon. If the punted pigeon dies, I will take it to the homeless people and let them have a barbeque. And anyone who doesn't believe that I will punt a pigeon, ask any of my ex-girlfriends.

Physically typing out the word "Aww" in a non-condescending way. If I'm online and I see you type "Aww" and you're not being condescending, there will be no trial as their is evidence of the crime right there. I will refrain from speaking to you until such time that I physically encounter you. Then I will give you a soft, warning kick to the groin and let you know that next time you want to be cute and mushy, consider the effect multiple groin kicks will have on your future reproductive capabilities.

Letting your girlfriend carry "the heavy bags". Yeah, I know. It sounds chivalrous, right? No, it's not. It's practically the same as urinating on her. When a man sees an attractive girl, and there's another male carrying her heavy or cumbersome objects, he knows that she belongs to the weighed down man. After all, who carries heavy shit for their friends? My friends used to ask me to carry heavy shit when they'd move. They stopped when I began showing up half shit-faced, immediately drinking whatever alcohol was in sight, then falling down the steps with expensive electronic equipment. Bonus points for carrying a females heavy shit: You remind her that you a physically superior to her.

Watching Sex and the City. I actually know men that watch this show. I know one that was more excited than his girlfriend to see the movie. (Side note: When exactly was the 'committee to make horrible movies from horrible television shows' formed) That's right. He went to the movie, sat in the theatre for the entire movie (I assumed the horde of women already in the theatre took him for a butch lesbian) without the aid of earphones or blinders then came home and prattled the fuck on to me about that horse faced bitch marrying some porno actor named Mr. Big. My fist stopped right before his face. I didn't even want to hit him, in truth, I felt bad for him, but when someone starts prattling to me about SITC my body naturally reacts with violence. Yeah, if a guy goes out and rails a bunch of women like that old, slutty broad on the show does and he's a chauvenisti pig. Yet that bitch is some sort of hero to womens rights. I quote Reverend Chris Rock, "She's not a hero! Aquaman's a hero!"

Dancing when there isn't a woman present. Look, the vast majority of people cannot dance well. The vast majority, I said. Sure, we men will stand around and watch women dance. Hell, if she's cute enough, I may stick around for some time. That's because the male brain is constantly making connections between things. We see the sun and we invent electricity so that we can have light after the sun sets. We see birds and invent airplanes so we too can fly. We see women dancing... and we're gonna stick around until clothes are removed. But if you're out at a club, and dancing, and there isn't a female attached to your groin area, I will seek you out. I'm sorry but I have danced in a club perhaps 10 times. And every time I was dragged by an incredibly attractive girl (Alayna!) who wanted to press her girl parts against me. I will tolerate even the worst activities for the right price.

Spilling beer anywhere other than A.) in your mouth B.) in the mouth of an attractive woman C.) on a chesty woman in a white t-shirt. This is a serious problem. People think they just "spill" their beer and there's no repercussions. Well, there's some fucking repercussions. Men have been brewing beer since before we invented God. Millions of men have labored and even died in the quest to brew a better brew. And you're going to slosh it all over the room like a modern artist creates a painting. Not on my watch, pal. It's not spilling beer, it's alcohol abuse and you sir, have a drinking problem. Mainly, you lack the dexterity to maneuver the beer from bottle to your mouth. The only way you can save yourself from an embarassing beer spillage situation is to immediately exclaim, "That's for the Old Dirty Bastard! May he rest in peace!" That way, it looks like you're paying tribute to a legend and not too intoxicated to navigate from hand to mouth.

Crying. No arguement. No trial. You're done. Unless she was using her teeth.

This is a "living list" as it is constantly in progress. I will add to as I find fit.

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