(That’s the title of a movie I’ve never seen. But I’ve heard of it. If you’ve seen it, maybe you can leave a comment as to whether I should watch it or not. Thanks.)
It’s no secret that I’m a sucker for anything that passes itself off as manly. I’ve read John Eldredge books, been through the Men’s Fraternity study, started shaving with an old-school safety razor, have a watch that belonged to my PawPaw, and subscribe to the Art of Manliness website. My buddy Caleb and I have spent hours talking about manly things we’ve read or heard or happened upon. We’ve bought into manly thinking and acting and playing and grooming and accessorizing and reading and all sorts of other things.
But every once in a while I stumble across an article that makes me wonder if the purveyors of manliness are pulling our collective leg, seeing just how far we’ll take their advice. Like today’s submission:
I’m not even kidding. Kids, don’t come busting into my bathroom with your “Can I download this game?” or “Dad I need a ride to…” You might just find yourself on the business end of my Samurai poopiness.