Nothing, not an act of a higher power nor the full force of government action, could compel me to drop a deuce off at the motor pool in a public bathroom.

I’d rather die from a perforated colon and subsequent infection.

It’s because in this country, toxic masculinity dictates that the only acceptable way to relate to another guy is by talking about sports. Imagine having such a fragile ego that the only way you know how to talk to another man is to take turns reciting what you heard on ESPN. Otherwise you might get called gay, which to them is some kind of insult to their masculinity.

Meanwhile, they’re getting an attitude with each other about a game where the guys pat each other on the ass after a good play.

You’re not wrong.

How is it any different that grown men with obligations standing around at work, not working, regurgitating stats they heard on Sports Center that morning and arguing over which guy they like on the team, as if they have any stake whatsoever in either team?

Some people like things, some people don’t. It’s just petty and frankly childish to have that “my team can beat your team” mentality because let’s face it, it’s just a grown up version of “my daddy can beat up your daddy.”

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