Seriously. Stop looking at poop porn and go to the theater. If you’ve already seen it, you’re probably taking my advice and seeing it again. Everything about this movie is awesome. Kickass crazy evil villain. Badass hero. Gadgets. Morgan Freeman playing Morgan Freeman. The only thing missing is a decent love interest for our protagonist, but you’ll be so engrossed in everything else going on, it won’t bother you that Maggie Gyllenhaal is fug.

I’ll take a bold step and say that, thus far, this new Batman series has been my favorite and, save maybe Michael Keaton, Christian Bale is my favorite Batman. Michael Caine is a kickass Alfred and Heath Ledger plays the dark, evil Joker that Jack Nicholson played as a campy cartoon character. I cannot say enough about Ledger’s performance. I was a nonbeliever, having seen him in A Knight’s Tale and 10 Things I Hate About You. Given, those movies sucked on the whole, and he redeemed himself slightly in Lord’s of Dogtown, but he absolutely rocks faces as the Joker. Ledger is so powerful that I really can’t imagine anyone stepping up to fill his shoes in the third installment.

Bale does a great job again as Batman. So good that I have completely forgiven him for beating the shit out of his mom and sister. Allegedly. Mom and sis are 61 and 40, respectively. One of two things is going on here: Either mom and sis are in collusion against Bale and are batshit insane or he beat the crap out of his mother and sister. Whatever happened to supporting your son? If your son is rich and famous and was the lead in American Psycho, the least you can do is take a few shots and keep your pie hole shut about it. How selfish. This is a big time for Bale and that old bag has to step in and ruin it for everyone. I’m off topic and I apologize. Everyone in this movie carries their weight and each of their characters add to the story. As an added bonus, Two Face’s makeup/special effects are beyond badass.

Close your Internet browser. Go see this movie. Stay the hell away from Christian Bale.

That is the only possible explanation for NBC officially naming Jimmy Fallon as the heir to the Late Show with Conan O’Brien. I understand, promote from within. The guy works at NBC…if you count being a completely average member of arguably the weakest cast in SNL history. We’re not even comparing apples to apples here, people. It’s like comparing apples to unlubricated anal rape. How dare you, NBC. How dare you take hilarious Conan and replace him with Jimmy fucking Fallon. If I were the head of late night programming at NBC and you walked into my office and told me that Conan wanted out and we had to find a replacement, I would put my thumbs in my $100 suspenders and turn to the floor-to-ceiling window behind me for a moment, then turn back around to you and say, “Get me Jimmy Fallon.” Then we would both laugh hysterically and I’d pour us some 12-year-old Scotch. Seriously, I cannot think of anyone worse for this job than Fallon.

Rather than blab on and on about how incredibly unfunny Fallon is, I would like to offer an brief analysis of his resume. He is, of course, taking a new job, and as with any applicant, deserves scrutiny.

2004 - Taxi - Plays protagonist opposite Queen…Latifah. Well, shit. Below is a comment from the IMDB viewer reviews that I think sums it up.

“If you were able to see the whole movie in 5 minutes, it wouldn’t be worth the time. “

2005 - Fever Pitch - Plays douchey love interest of Drew…Barrymore. Jimmy! Come on! Like Sox fans haven’t had it hard enough. They just won the Series the year before and you have to immediately shit on their parade with this awful movie.

These are the only movies in his repertoire you would recognize, but Fallon truly is the total package. No great job goes unnoticed and Jimmy has the award (nominations) to prove it. He has been nominated for 11, count them, 11 Teen Choice awards. He has won zero. I couldn’t make a joke like that up. It’s a fact. Even teens know he sucks. They may huff pressurized air from a can to get high or even sniff a jar of sun-fermented shit and pee, but they know to steer clear of a tool like Fallon

Unfortunately, it seems like the days of random Chuck Norris clips and great characters like the Coked-Up Werewolf, Vomiting Kermit, and the Masturbating Bear are behind us. Don’t even get me started on the Max Weinberg Seven. NBC, buy promoting Fallon, you have may not have guaranteed success at the late night time slot, but you have guaranteed that nearly everyone in your target demographic will be tuning into something other than dipshit Jimmy Fallon, laughing at his own jokes for a hour.

Hold the phone. Daniel Smith? Son of Anna Nicole Smith? Drug use? I swear to God. You think you know someone from what you see on Access Hollywood and then this happens. I mean, one minute he’s a totally normal guy with a blossoming perscription drug habit, dealing with a junkie mom who would probably sell one of his kidneys for a handful of Vicodin and two KFC Snackers, and the next minute he’s dead from a possible drug overdose. What are the odds?

It was pretty obvious to anyone who doesn’t live in the Bahamas that this kid probably OD’d, whether it be accidentally or on purpose. We’ve all been there, right? “Oh, man, did I already take two or did I eat one? Fuck it.” The you wake up choking on your own vomit; the guy who sat next you at the Phish show pounding on your chest. No harm , no foul. It took the Bahemians six months to come to a ruling of death by ‘nondependent use of drugs’ Anti-depressants, methadone, and sleeping pills. These are not what your parents would call ‘gateway drugs’. This is not the stuff you buy from the guy who washes dishes at the restaurant where you work. Six months. I think we’re way past sneaking beers from dad’s garage fridge and smoking a bowl before you see Soul Plane.

Their options for a verdict were ‘Accidental overdose’, ‘Nondependent drug use’, ‘Misadventure’, and ‘Open Verdict’. When given the choices of “Oops, he OD’d”, “Well, he was sort of into that shit anyway”, “He probably fell off of something”, and “Oh, this is courtroom 12B? I’m trying to register my boat”, they really did choose the best option. Maybe they felt they were doing him a favor. Having Anna Nicole as a mom for the last 20 years was probably pretty rough. It would be like sharing a house with a tranq’d rhino. I mean, you know her vision in based on movement, so you could sneak around, but sooner or later, you’re going to trip over a empty can of beef broth or slip on a Slim Jim wrapper or something and rouse her. At least the Bahemians did the respectable thing and posthumously cut the kid a break. Sort of like if you died from autoerotic asphyxiation, you’d want your roommate to make it look like you washed down a mouthful of Loritabs with vodka, rather than accidentally hung yourself while wacking it to tranny porn.

I fucking love baseball season.  Pitchers and catchers have already reported and home openers are less than six weeks away.  To get you in the mood, I submit this.  Uh oh.  Looks like someone forgot that Uncle Sam will always, without exception, get paid. 

I know what you’re thinking: How could Darryl Strawberry, with a heretofor unblemished record, fall into this kind of mess?  Look, I know he’s had slip-ups in the past.  So, the guy likes to get coked up and assualt his pregnant girlfriend.  Chill out, she was only in the first trimester.  It breaks my heart to see the system keep a man down.  Especially when that man owed $430,000 in back taxes and penalties to the IRS.  This man should be out, enjoying the fruits of his life’s work as an athlete and an entertainer.  He should be doing the things he loves, like attempting to pay for sex or skipping out on child support.  I mean, you give some guy the keys to your SUV to fake a grand theft auto only to be busted ON VIDEO TAPE giving your keys to your buddy and suddenly, you’re the bad guy.  Another instance of the media making a mountain a out of a false police report/insurance fraud charge. 

Straw is an eight-time All-Star, four-time World Series champ, and a cancer survivor.  Cancer survivor, people.  He’s like the black Lance Armstrong.  Except he’s missing part of his colon instead of a ball and instead of overcoming all odds, he managed a fiery crash into oblivion despite the fact he had the skills to be one of the best baseball players of the last 20 years.  Oh…and prostitutes, cocaine, illegitimate children, assault, and alcoholism.  They’re pretty much the same person.  Also, Strawberry had the balls to do what any rational, intelligent citizen would do when faced with a legal battle involving the United States government: represent himself in court.  Darryl Strawberry: role model, American hero.

I’ve been an avid Men’s Health reader for a while.  Since before Britney shat out two kids.  Since before Brooke Hogan got a record deal for being mildly attractive and the daughter of someone mildly famous.  Since before saying “Paris” made people think of vagina instead of Europe.  You get the idea.  I love pretty much everything about it and I trust it completely.  If they told me to eat a mile of shit and it would help me put up more weight at the gym, I would at least give it a test run.  We had a good thing going.  But, seriously, what the fuck is this?  MH isn’t completely at fault (maybe) because it’s from some CNBC chick, but someone had to approve it.  Erin Burnett contributes her “8 ways to impress me”.

1. Pack Your Bags
Any guy who can plan a trip to an exotic locale, such as Mongolia, Mozambique, or Papua New Guinea, would impress me.

I would wager that most dudes couldn’t pick out these countries on a map, let alone buy a pair of tickets for a flight on some prop plane full of refugees and livestock to spend four steamy days and three yellow-fever nights in a hut trying to have sex draped in a mosquito net.

2. Buy Me a New Atlas and Globe
You could unlock my heart by allowing me to dream up my next trip. I love to travel, and hope to eventually set foot in 100 countries. I have many more to go.

First off, no one says ‘unlock my heart’ unless they’re in a Danielle Steele novel.  It seems the abridged version of #2 is “Give me your Amex card and I’ll call you in a week when I get back.”  Fuck that.

3. Do Something Special for My Parents
Family is important to me, so round-trip business-class tickets to Australia and New Zealand for my parents would earn you big points in my book.

Are.  You.  Fucking.  Kidding.  Me.  Two round trip tickets from LaGuardia to Auckland: $3703.10 at cheaptickets.com.  That’s economy class, not business class, by the way.  Unless you want to half-ass it, pony up another grand for the upgrade.  Plus, if you’re keeping score at home, that doesn’t get mom and dad to Australia.  While #3 is ridiculous for sure, I have to appreciate how she shoots the moon.  Buy two tickets to New Zealand and Australia and neither you or her get to go.  Ballsy.

4. Relax Me
Yoga keeps me calm, so I’d be impressed if you thought to send a yoga instructor to my apartment for private sessions.

We’ve gone from buying things to buying people.  If the next one involves buying buying land in rural Virgina, tobacco plants, and indigo, I want out.

5. Help Me Work Out
Finding an exercise bike at my door would be great for rainy days when my Raleigh M80 mountain bike and I are stuck indoors.

I don’t know dick about mountain bikes.  Most people probably don’t.  I’m going to assume Erin knows this.  To go out of your way to mention the exact bike you have kind of makes you a snatch.  Regardless, it probably cost you a couple large.  You can ride it in the rain.

6. Edify Me
Reading is a passion of mine, so a gathering with a couple of my favorite authors, especially Jared Diamond (Guns, Germs, and Steel) and Robin McKinley (The Blue Sword) would make for an exceptional evening.

My favorite baseball player?  Ozzie Smith.  My favorite band?  Led Zeppelin.  You don’t even have to make reservations.  If you order a pizza and wings and get The Wizard and Jimmy Page to come to my apartment and split them with me, I will make #6 happen.

7. Please My Palate
Hiring a personal chef to prepare meals for the few nights a week I am home would be unforgettable.

It’s troubling to me how none of these wishes involve me in any way other than forking over money. 

8. Send Me Packing
A man who recognizes the importance of my time with the girls is a keeper. A long weekend spa getaway for my sisters and me would be perfection.

A man who recognizes the importance of spending a shitload of money and not really interacting with me in any way is a keeper.

Look, this chick is famous (I think) and probably has access to guys who would maybe pull some of this shit off.  The point is, publishing a list like this for a hugely popular men’s magazine whose audience is mostly guys who make less than the CEO salary it would take to satisfy these eight points kind of makes you look like a pretentious bitch.  Not to mention that seven of the eight suggestions include the words ‘me’ or ‘my’.  You suggesting I impress you by spending money on extravagant, ridiculous things for you, not us, to enjoy is as offensive as me publishing a list where seven of the eight suggestions involve the words ‘anal’ and ‘two of your hot, drunk girlfriends’.  Plus, the list I could come up with wouldn’t cost you a dime.  That’s the difference between vaginas and money.  I can go broke buying you trips to Africa and malaria medicine, but it will be a long, long time before I break your vagina.  At least until we get to #5 on my list which includes a basketball pump, a Mag Lite, and the board game Mouse Trap.

The title is not a typo. I’m having an omniscient moment here and, while the supernatural feeling I have remains, I plan to clue everyone in on some of the most groundbreaking stories to hit in the coming year. I don’t know what exactly to call this feeling. It’s possible I’m channeling Nostradamus. Perhaps I have ESPN. Maybe the oatmeal I had for breakfast was just past expiration and I’m having an adverse reaction, who knows. What I do know is, come this time next year, you will be able to come back and look at this entry and say, “Wow, 2008 was a shitty year. I wish that Thai hooker hadn’t given me warts.” I know I will.

1. After Going 16-0, The New England Patriots lose in the second round of the playoffs to the Jacksonville Jaguars
   Miami Dolphins aside, the last quarter of the season has not been the road to coronation that New England thought they were going to have. In the “Wildcard Weekend” beginning Saturday, San Diego thoroughly handles the Tennessee Titans while Jacksonville murders The Steelers for the second time in under a month. This would put 5th seeded Jax in place to upset New England at Gilette the following weekend. The Jags pull out a close win by (get this) scoring more points than New England, bringing millions of tears to the eyes of “adults” in Massachusetts and joy to the rest of the football world.
   Side Story: It is discovered that the father of both Halle Berry and Jessica Alba’s children is actually Tom Brady.
2. The Boston Celtics win the 2007/08 NBA Championship in 6 games against the San Antonio Spurs
   For some reason God has a hard-on for the greater Boston area right now and has thus blessed them with some of the most dominating sports teams in recent history. After the crushing blow to the Patriots Season of Destiny, New England sports fans actually shut up for roughly 87 days until sometime in Spring Training, when boasting about a probable Red Sox repeat is interrupted by the realization that their basketball team is actually pretty damn good. The Celtics finish the season 69-13, and I giggle while saying “Hehe, 69.” The Spurs’ big three match up initially but ultimately are outgunned offensively by the Boston Three Party.
   Side Story: 3 of 5 Boston residents cannot distinguish Paul Pierce from Randy Moss and assume the WR is in the Witness Protection Program.
3. The movie The Dark Knight is the highest grossing film of the year, making over $700 million in theatres and falling just shy of the opening weekend record set by Spider-man 3
   The residual darker themes to Christopher Nolan’s second Batman installment causes just enough parents to be apprehensive enough to keep their kids at home July 18-20, resulting in an opening gate of roughly $138 million. With a mid-November DVD release, speculation on added profit via media sales is difficult for 2008. No one who sees the movie can wholeheartedly utter the term “Brokeback Joker” after watching Ledger’s show-stealing performance. Reviews are largely positive, but an overwhelming number of comparisons to Nicholson’s Joker cause Jack-O’s next film to flop in theatres as geeks nationwide are sick of hearing about him.
   Side Story: In an odd turn of events, comic book nerds of both genders now find Christian Bale more attractive than Maggie Gyllenhaal.
4. Dr. Dre releases his highly anticipated Detox album to much fanfare, and it lives up to the hype
   Detox serves as the pinnacle of timing, lyrical talent and production quality for mainstream Hip Hop for years to come. Lyrics are referenced by the likes of Dave Chappelle, Chris Rock and, unfortunately, Carson Daly. Hip-hop fans rejoice at the high quality of Dre’s album, as Eminem’s new release largely disappoints, though thankfully not as much as Encore.
   Side Story: A study by — (Insert Name of Urban Culture Advancement Organization Here) — finds that an equal number of whites and blacks purchased the album. Al Sharpton somehow finds a problem with this.
5. A celebrity sex tape people actually want to see, starring Scarlett Johansson, is rumored but inevitably turns out to be a fake
   Instead, we are deluged by more upskirt pictures of Paris Hilton and Lindsay Lohan, forcing me to avoid eating roast beef for days afterwards.
   Side Story: I download a high-res version of the fake Scarlett video anyway and partly use my imagination for the first time since discovering Internet Pornography circa-1999.

Well there you have it, folks. There are many other things I can predict will happen world-wide, but if I divulged all the details then you wouldn’t be surprised, and I can’t have that on my conscience. After all, surprise and fellatio are the spices of life.

What can you predict will happen in 2008?

Another interesting bit of news comes from the HBO camp, who is planning to make a movie about Barry Bonds and steroid use. This could truly be a landmark in the realm of sports movies, or it could be a complete flop. Personally, I think the only way to guarantee success is to cast Gary Coleman as Pittsburgh Pirates Barry and Michael Clark Duncan as Homerun Record Barry.

Seriously, though, Dave Chappelle weighs more than Barry did during his early MVP runs, and I’ve seen motorcycle helmets with a smaller hat size than him these days. My only concern with this film is its inevitably questionable accuracy. After all, common sense dictates that this will not be a documentary, but a story loosely based on facts with the intent of being entertaining. There will undoubtedly be a disclaimer at the beginning of the film that most viewers will subconsciously ignore. Generally speaking, these types of movies are better served to be released years after their subject matter dominates the news, but for obvious reasons HBO will not be wasting this precious opportunity.

On the plus side, though, at least it’s not being produced by ESPN, the Worldwide Leader in Indecipherably Lame Original Entertainment.

A couple headlines this morning have given me a little hope about the future of entertainment. The first actually reaffirms my belief in God. It would seem that ratings for FOX’s American Idol are slipping significantly in its 37th season. I kind of hope that this decline in ratings is and isn’t partially due to the WGA strike going on in Hollywood right now. Perhaps people have used their disgust with the strike situation to distance themselves from television in general, and the broad stroke would affect even Reality TV’s juggernaut.

This is great for people who are addicted to television and may find alternative outlets for their spare time, but I fear that it would be short-lived and consequently American Idol would relapse back into popularity. On the other hand, given that many networks have not yet run dry on new episodes of their top programs, it’s more likely that the quality of programming using professional actors has drawn people away from the mindless drone of Everyman TV and the slothful, goalless audiences who would rather watch someone lose weight than dust off their gym membership.

If people truly wanted “real” programming, they would turn off the scripted amateur hour and actually watch the news for 30 minutes. I suppose being aware of your surroundings can be a little alarming, and even news programs are tainted with some political spin that many are oblivious to, so it’s best to abide the age old credence relating ignorance to bliss. Nonetheless, I realize that Reality TV is as much of a passing trend as shitty pop music, but I can at least hold out hope that ratings will drop to the point that all programming in that genre are relegated to MTV/VH1 Purgatory.

This title is ironic because Kim Kardashian has a huge ass. I’ve never heard of this woman. I don’t have cable nor can I read. To make these posts I have my incredibly attractive, semi-literate secretary take dictation. Let me tell you, this chick takes the dictation like a champ. I digress.  Using only knowledge acquired from the two-page lead in her pictorial spread, she is the daughter of someone famous, marginally attractive, and has famous friends. Also, she dated the younger brother of Singer/Actress/Murderer Brandy. To answer your question; Yes, they did make a sex tape. Google it.  These qualities, coupled with her morally casual attitude towards showing her box to millions of people make her a pretty solid candidate for posing in Playboy.

I’ve voiced before my fondness for Playboy, and that I deem it much, much more than a magazine of naked women. The pictorials are always tastefully done and could be classified more as art than porn. I can hear your girlfriend snickering from here, but seriously, there are never any photos of any type of sexual act or a full-on vagina shot. I like to think of it as Glamour Shots without clothes…if the women who had Glamour Shots done were smoking hot instead of looking like your Aunt Trudy from Iowa City…and they were naked…and I masturbated to them. Well, Aunt Trudy still got that last honor. Point being, it’s not Creamsicle or Hustler, and it’s socially acceptable to have one hanging out on your coffee table.

Like I said, I’m not expecting women munching box or getting pounded by some shiny, ‘roided-up guy, but I expect something provocative, creative, and sexy. I’m rarely disappointed with Playboy’s photo direction, but Kim’s is about as creative as a Nickelback song. I understand that without including midgets, farm animals, or 25 gallons of butterscotch pudding, there are only so many attractive positions a naked woman can be photographed in, but that’s what a director gets paid to do.  Her shoot is disappointing on two fronts.

She doesn’t really show anything good. No two nipples are exposed in any one photograph; which is atrocious because she has huge boobs. I don’t know much about bra sizes, but what’s the one after D? Is it an asterisk? The Batman symbol? I’m not sure, but that’s what she wears. God forbid she forgets her pill after letting the Chargers O-line finish inside her. Kim’s pregnancy-swollen breasts may one day destroy us all. A few of the photos expose a single nipple, but Christ, if you’re going to get naked for a national magazine, you might as well go all out and show off the girls. You can glimpse the beginnings of a vagina in one shot, but your eye is drawn more towards her huge ass. Furthermore, Kim and the photographer both know that the money is in those hams she smuggles in her pants daily. I’d like to submit the July 2006 Vida Guerra issue as exhibit A.  Vida, much like Kim, is a beautiful woman, but unlike many of the Playboy models, she has a clever gimmick in the form of her huge, fantastic ass.  The photo shoot highlights that specifically, as well it should. Kim’s shoot fails by not providing her donk with sufficient face…well…ass time.  Seriously, how ridiculous is her ass in this photo?  It looks like she’s wearing a diaper.

The positions are unimaginative. Standing, draped in pearls. Lying on her stomach. Putting on deodorant. Maybe not that last one, but that would be more exciting. There’s no cool background scene or even her doing anything interesting. I’m not sure if you can blame Kim for this. The fault lies with whomever directed the shoot. Could he not talk her into anything cool? Shit, man, she’s already naked. The hard part should be over. Just dangle some shiny trinket in front of her until she’s bent over a mechanical bull, deep-throating a Lawn Dart. You’ve coerced hotter girls into more interesting poses.

The blame cannot be laid fully on Kim. The Playboy staff must shoulder a portion. Now hear this, Playboy: You pull this crap thirteen or fourteen more times; consider my subscription canceled.

AskMen.com released a list last week of allegedly reader-voted “Men’s Men”. Naturally, since the list was voted on by the public, it contains only celebrities and mostly raging pussies. The list should have been titled “49 Most Publicized Homo sapiens Assumed to be of the Male Gender, as Voted on by the Emasculated Mentally Challenged”.

Not all of the list is an abomination, considering it consists of solely the rich and famous, but any ordered listing where David Beckham, Justin Timberlake and Steve Jobs rank higher than Christian Bale, Clive Owen and Denzel Washington is less focused on masculinity than the Queer Eye guys. Out of the 35 or so names I actually recognize, I have issue with more than a couple.

#1 David Beckham – Seriously? Dwindling soccer skills aside, the guy is married to a plastic freak who was hot 10 years ago and dresses him funny. Do British accents constitute manliness on their own these days? Guess I didn’t get that memo.

#5 Justin Timberlake – Don’t get me wrong, the guy has a roster that more than convinces me he’s heterosexual, but banging Cameron Diaz and Jessica Biel does not automatically give you masculine street cred. Being in N*Sync, however, does immediately make you less of a man than anyone with chest hair.

#7 Steve Jobs – The black turtleneck-obsessed founder of Apple is a genius when it comes to the closed business model, but hocking shiny white electronics does not make you a dude’s dude, dude.

#19 Shigeru Miyamoto – Unless Miyamoto, a Nintendo Designer, is also an obscure Samurai Master who could throttle me with his Katana, then he needs to be Up-Up-Down-Down-Left off this piece of shit.

#25 Tom Ford – The guy’s a fashion designer. He designs clothing, and not for Dickies, Wrangler or the Military, and therefore probably gobbles wild cock faster than a fox.

#27 Ryan Seacrest – As if any more explanation than saying his name was necessary, the host of American Idol and American Top 40 had to stage photo ops participating in gruesome PDAs with a geriatric Teri Hatcher just to purport the fantasy that he’s actually heterosexual. I’ve seen less staged bullshit antics on The Blind Date. When it comes to TV hosts, if you don’t name Bob Barker and his Barker Beauty-molestation as the cream of the crop, then you need to turn in your testes. Casey Kasem would be rolling over in his grave, were he actually dead.

#30 Shia LaBeouf – Aside from having the first name that sounds like a feminine pronoun and a last name like a hair care line, I’m pretty sure that you at least must have the ability to grow facial hair in order to even be considered as manly.

#35 Scott Schuman – A fashion photographer? Again with the fashion? If you’re in the fashion industry, unless your job description includes “model vaginal depth detection” you don’t even get an honorable mention.

#38 Simon Cowell – He’s British and he hosts American Idol, and the fact that Paula Abdul can probably definitely out drink him disqualifies him from life, let alone this list.

#42 Tony Parker – Is French. NEXT!

#43 Dane Cook – Getting to make out with Jessica Simpson only makes you extremely lucky, not masculine. Nick Lachey is living proof of that. Maybe Cook could lead the list of “Manliest Comedians-Turned Failed Actors Who Regularly Have Epileptic Seizures”.

#45 Ryan Gosling – The male lead for the quintessential chick flick of the last 5 years looked like he was more into James Marsden’s character than whats-her-nuts. Yeah I’ve seen it. Worst seven minutes of my life.

If I went by Wikipedia’s numbers, my list of the Manliest Men alive today goes as follows:

1-1,190,257: Men of the U.S. Military. Hell, there are women who have more testicular fortitude than most of AskMen’s list.
1,190,258: The guy who had his arm pinned under a rock and subsequently freed himself by amputating his own arm with a pocket knife
1,190,259+: Other

However, since these lists tend to be more geared towards celebrity entries, one must wonder where the likes of Sean Connery and Tom Selleck are. And granted he’s 5’7, but Kiefer Sutherland’s reputation for fantastical drunken debauchery alone helps his candidacy. There are also countless football players, strongmen and toothless hockey greats who could put Leonardo DiCaprio out of our misery with one hand or less. No Jim Brown or Lawrence Taylor? What about Randy Couture? Ken Shamrock? My left testicle could rot and fall off, and it would be more of a man than Ryan Gosling. Needless to say, one could compile a list of 500 masculine celeb-types who put these bitches to shame. What this says about the emasculating of our society as a whole is an entirely different story, and will be saved for another entry down the road.