Tuesday, August 30, 2011

On the slow death of Luke Harms, American man.


There were a few specific situations over the past couple of weeks that have served to help cure the cement of my hatred of the archetypal American Male.  The first two situations are less personal.  First off, (if you know me at all, you might have guessed it) was one of my favorite bloggers, John Jensen, laying the proverbial (but loving, of course) smack down on the often thick-headed gender charicature that is Mark Driscoll after his ill-advised comment mocking effeminate male worship leaders (see additional commentary herehere, and here).  The second was the orgasmic delight with which seemingly the entire nation reacted to the salvaging of the NFL season.

Thank God for that.
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