Who Will Think Of The Men?

Who will think of the men? The poor, downtrodden man who hath lost his reason to live. Who will think of the manly man. The guy's guy. The DUDE. Who will consider his world, slowly slipping through his heavily calloused fingertips and falling into the dirt where it is being used to fertilize the pansy-laced garden of our modern progressive age? Who will help these masculine men? Cast out by society and made to watch as their delicate, wood-smoked world is dismantled piece by piece to fashion an IKEA bassinet and brunch.

Woe is the man who can no longer be a man. Castrated, silenced and broken, the man must now sit by the sidelines of a football game where the players can no longer call each other racially offensive terms. Since when did teammates stop getting to be teammates?

Pity the man who has watched idly by as words like "faggot" and "pussy" have been struck from his lexicon, replaced with words like "person" and "frightened person." Their dictionaries, stripped of gusto and machismo, now languish in a world that forces men to read them. Where have the days of brevity gone?

Bros, Romans, countryMEN, our world of male dominated pronouns has come crashing down around our ears, forcing us to moderately adjust our speech patterns to deal with it. It is a bitter, cruel world that would allow such a shift. The world as we know it is coming to an end and all we can do is stare silently into the abyss for tears might wash the dirt from our working man's cheeks.

And chivalry! Oh, chivalry. Alas, we knew you. To where shall we turn for our social cues regarding those of the fairer sex? How shall we proceed in coital endeavors? Who will open the door? All these questions and more are now sawdust in the wind, lost to a world where manners and social decorum are no longer gauged by gender.

Masculinity, we lay you to rest in a hole free from frills, dug with our own hands and filled with about two inches of shitty beer. We lower you into the ground to the tune of AC/DC's "Back in Black" and say our goodbyes with straight faces and taut jawlines. Finally, we send you out with a 21-gun salute, aimed at a sky filled with fluffy clouds and smiling baby suns, products of our recently feminized world.

Men, how we shall miss you. Boots replaced by Toms. Shirts replaced by blouses. Deteriorating vision replaced by glasses. I just don't understand this new world. Why can't it accept our mindset? Why can't things stay the way they were? Why can't men just be men?

Some Advice for the Rotten Appal

It's been over a year since the Rotten Appal's fatal blunder heard 'round the campus and a lot has changed since then. Gay marriage was legalized (and, subsequently, inspired stupidity), Donald Trump became a viable presidential nominee (a separate, unrelated stupidity), and the Rotten Appal managed to settle into a routine that worked. They got into the groove and, honestly, started producing some not-so-shabby work. Which is why this is more painful than it should be.

In a recent article, the Rotten Appal attempted to tackle the issue of catcalling and sexual assault via satire. The article, titled "Catcallers Make Good Points About Hot Bitches", was not well received. Criticized for its clumsy approach to the issue, many felt that the joke careened too far into bad taste and negated its original intention. In other words, it's time for this week's special article:

"Fucking A, Guys; You Were Doing So Well"

This was not handled well. By anyone. Let's get that out of the way first because it's worth pointing out lest we get lost in the "he said, she said" of internet fighting. I don't know where the outrage originated and, quite frankly, it doesn't really matter. The issue lies less with what the article said than how the protestations were responded to. Herein lies my particular gripes: When presented with criticism, the Rotten Appal staff (not a singular entity, I am aware) responded with anger and defensiveness. This baffles me.

As a humor organization, you expect a certain level of daily ire, usually in the form of the offended most recently insulted in an article. These offendees are, typically, oversensitive bedwetters that can't handle someone making fun of the football team or the Greek system. In these cases, it is usually best to respond by saying.....well, nothing. They aren't worth your time. This case, however, is very different. In this case, you have ended up offending the wrong audience, shooting yourself in the proverbial (and, indeed, collective) foot.

What draws the anger of the public is often predictable. Were I to write a blog post about the healing powers of cyanide, I could rest assured that people would take issue. But sometimes, something, be it the writing, visuals or content, just does not click with people and the audience turns on you. As an individual, you can avoid these; as an organization you cannot. As an organization dedicated to creating content for an audience, you have a particular duty to a respectful dialogue. Insulting your readers is not the route to take. I found it particularly disturbing to see Rotten Appal writers responding to their audience with dismissiveness and indifference on their official Facebook page. This belies a level of professionalism I had thought the Rotten Appal was beginning to aspire to.

Look, I get it. You were trying to be funny and start a dialogue about rape culture. That's a mighty fine goal and I am proud that you are trying to use satire to tackle controversial issues. But the joke just didn't work. I know it may have worked in theory, but every writer should know that sometimes something just does not hit the mark. This is typically the part where you suck it up, apologize and try to be better in the future. It's fucking humiliating, I know. It seems like you're giving up, but try to see it as an opportunity to grow and demonstrate that you are, indeed, an organization and not just a club full of dudes writing fart jokes. Because you've evolved past that and people have noticed. We really have. Don't squander that on pride.