|Enemy of all things manly?|
America’s elite has a problem. It’s skinny jeans and scarves, it’s Bama bangs and pants with tiny, tiny embroidered lobsters, it’s Michael Cera, it’s guys who compliment a girl’s dress by brand, it’s guys who don’t know who bats fourth for the Yankees. Between the hipsters and the fratstars, American intellectual men under the age of twenty-five have lost track of acting like Men—and these are our future leaders. We have no John Wayne, no Clint Eastwood. And girls? Girls hate it.John Wayne? Clint Eastwood? Really? Couldn't you be a little less, well, cliche about your manly idols? Think outside the box. Think inside the ring. How about this guy? He's a snappy dresser with a hot retro style, he's a hit with the ladies, he's built like a fucking piledriver, and he could kick John Wayne's ass with one hand tied behind his back. (Or both, really, considering that John Wayne is, you know, dead.) Hell, the word Macho is even part of his name -- and plastered on his sunglasses to boot!