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Mitigating factors in my classification as a Man
05/05/06
by Shaw

As you are no doubt aware, Deadly Hippos has written a book. This book promises to change the way the world thinks about manhood--we have finally put down, on paper, for your education, a (nearly) list of the rules by which men should be governed. This book is called Maniquette. Next week, we will give you a peek inside the book and announce the release date and ordering information.

That is next week.

This week, it is time for a reflection period. In helping to come up with the definitive list of rules to be followed by all men, each of the Deadly Hippos staff (yes, every Deadly Hippos writer has contributed to the book) followed their own procedure for coming up with rules. Some of the rules were from experience. For instance, Clay had on many occasions found himself uncomfortable when his hand accidentally touched mine as we walked down the street. In fact, that's how we became friends 9 short years ago (that is not a joke). He decided that a rule against accidental male hand touching was mandated by a higher power. Other rules came about through observation: all of us have seen, and found ridiculous, droves of otherwise normal-looking men self-identifying as mindless losers by popping the collars on their pink polo shirts. Tardio, having witnessed this, banned all collar-popping men from the pantheons of real men forever, by forbidding this move in a maniquette entry.

As you may have guessed, the only way that I knew how to write for Maniquette was to observe myself and my actions... and write the opposite.

Am I an adult male? Yes.

Am I a man? That is for you to decide. I present a three-point debate, point and counterpoint. After that, I ask you for your vote.

1. Fishing.

Pro: I love fishing. I went fishing as a child with my grandfather whenever my family would visit with him, and I have recently gotten back into freshwater fishing again. This was mostly sparked by my first trip to the Thousand Islands in Ontario, CA, for DH friend Japes's bachelor party two years ago. Since then, I have gone back to the Thousand Islands three more times and am planning on going again at the end of July. I went ice fishing with another group of friends last year, which involves drinking at 6am, drilling huge holes into a lake, and waiting. Two months ago, I went on a trip to Miami and caught a sailfish. I am a man.

Con: I don't like putting worms on hooks. I never have liked using live bait. It isn't even out of any kind of disgust of worms--it's just that I can't combat the part of my brain telling me that killing a sentient being is wrong... unless I am going to eat it. Paradoxically, the larger the animal, the less I mind killing it. Actually, that's kind of creepy.

Much worse than that, though, is the execution of the aforementioned sailfish catch. While Clay and Japes and Giller watched, I grabbed the line that had gotten a hit and started reeling as fast as any human could. On the other end of this line was the heaviest thing I had ever felt. Immediately the captain said, "Start reeling! Faster! You reel like a girl!" This filled the hearts of my friends with glee at my predicament, being ridiculed by our boat captain. Unfortunately it didn't end there: as I was reeling like a girl, my hand was flailing so crazily that I flicked the drag reel with my thumb and sent the line into a backlash that no human could ever untangle. Sighting this, the captain bellowed to all who would listen the following tirade, "I told you, stay away from the drag. Shit, you have fucked up big time. That fish is gone. This guy doesn't touch another rod today." Everyone fell into an uncomfortable silence, and then turned to watch Giller, who also had a fish on, leaving me to sullenly contemplate suicide on the other side of the boat alone. Fortunately the captain worked out the line enough to make it work again and handed it back to me. To add insult to injury, in the picture of me with the fish, my eyes are closed. I am not a man.

Clay in the background, laughing at how much mileage he'll get out of making fun of me for this.

2. Cars

Pro: I love to get my hands dirty inside an automobile. I like to mess around under the hood and go to auto parts stores. Last year, I helped a friend change his clutch cable. Just yesterday, I changed my oil. I am a man.

Con: Unfortunately, any universe where I am doing anything productive inside a car is pure fantasy. Every time I even think about touching a car, it's because I was invited over by my friend Blake to watch him do something with it. When I changed my oil yesterday, I was at Blake's house in his garage. He was in coveralls, I was in Gap jeans. When the burning hot oil started coming out of the drain, Blake unflinchingly continued unscrewing the plug until he had it off and then placed the oil pan. Every time I came into contact with a hot part of the car, I audibly yelped. His response to getting some oil on his hands was to wipe it on his clothes. Mine: to say, "eww" and ask for a paper towel. I know so little about cars that when I went to buy the oil filter for my car, I told the guy my make and model, and when he asked what size my engine was, I had a heart attack like getting called on for the first time in law school (not that I would know, of course). I knew I had seen 2.4L under the hood somewhere, so I said "uhhh, 2.4 Liter?" and he laughed openly at me. I am not a man.

3. Home improvement

Pro: I made a set of shelves for my apartment. I am a man.

Con: I bought 14 yards of fabric and sewed my own duvet cover. I am not a man.

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