I'm sorry to stray so far out of the field of relevance, but I’ve become increasingly more infuriated by the ridiculous know-it-all bullshit paraded on the front page of Cosmo magazines. I can’t even take a piss without having some scraggly bitch staring back at me from a brightly coloured cover page right on top of the toilet, surrounded by blowhard facts about my penis as if it needed an instruction manual. I’m here to deliver a quick and painful jab to the editors’ ovaries because I can’t take it anymore.
Phase 1. Derailing the Train of Lies
Article “His G Spot”
Rebuttal: Wanna find my G spot? It’s called the prostate gland, and we usually reluctantly pay a wizened doctor to find it with a gloved finger when we turn 50. In other words, it’s in my ass, and if you wanna be that creative, you better buy me a drink first. And roofie it.
Article “4 Signs a Man is Capable of Rape”
Rebuttal: Seriously? Alright, giving a few harmless tips on how to fuck a guy (without probing his rectum) is one thing, but potentially ruining an innocent man’s reputation with quips like “he has the rapist eyes” or something like that is a whole ‘nother bag of nuts. As in, you’re fucking nuts, you crazy fucking bitch. I haven’t read the article myself, so I could be wrong analyzing it, but considering Cosmo is, you know, Cosmo, I doubt they have a staff of university professors spilling their thesis out on glossy pages. Why is that article in there to begin with? It’s depressing and potentially very harmful. The Cosmo demographic is like barely legal women who already go around spreading rumours about people without the help of dickhead magazines. The only way you can tell if a man is capable of rape is if he really wants to rape you. How do you tell? Well, he really wants to rape you, so he’s probably trying it. But of course, that is a hardcore rapist. The “rape” Cosmo is referring to is most likely the rape every guy at every party is capable of. You know, the kind where everyone is drunk and hoping to score. That’s not rape, that’s opportunity.
Article “How To Please Your Man in 60 Seconds or Less” (ver. 1)
Rebuttal: Why the fuck do you wanna do that? All that does is insult the effort we put into thinking about baseball. It’s like Cosmo is trying to teach women to offend the man’s stamina to the point of designing a guide for it. Of course, I’m assuming the article is about sex. You know a good way to please your man in sixty seconds or less? Make him a pop-tart.
Article “The Hottest Thing To Do To a Guy in 60 Seconds or Less” (ver. 2)
Rebuttal: What the fuck does that mean? Why is a countdown necessary? Say the thing in question is a sloppy ball-licking. Is that too hard to accomplish in the first second of foreplay? Maybe I don’t know as much about women as I thought I do. Maybe to girls, sex is like a videogame, and she has to level up before attempting certain things. I mean, I’d understand if the guide was for men and meant to say “how to get her to do things in 60 seconds or less” but otherwise it makes no sense. You’d have to be supremely vain to have to convince yourself to do things you thought up. You’d have to be a bitch of biblical proportions.
Article “4 Things All Men Crave to Hear”
Rebuttal: Feminists can suck my dick. Honestly. I’m not allowed to say cunt, but women are allowed to just randomly shit out half-assed theories that make me, as a guy, feel that you could simply summarize all of my desires in a small pamphlet. What the fuck? I mean, sure to an extent, you can guesstimate what we as the human race look kindly upon, like calling a man handsome or conversely a woman pretty, and hell, you can even go as far as to learn from common pop culture traits which extend to an area I’m fairly unfamiliar with but one you yuppies know like the back of your hand, such as complimenting a man’s devotion to pump his biceps, or a woman’s Gucci bag, but everyone who cares about that already knows that. So, if Cosmo wants to be innovative, they must mean NEW information we still don’t know, and they sure do end up looking like jackasses revealing it in such an article. I bet all fucking men like to hear whatever is written in the magazine. In fact, I’m gonna go read it right now.
...
“Wow, where did you learn to do that!?”
Sure, it’s flattering to hear that, but sometimes it’s best to shut the fuck up. Sometimes the question sounds patronizing, like a fake orgasm, and sometimes we just don’t have the answer. Maybe we didn’t learn it and take offence that you think we didn’t know it in the first place. So fuck you. You’ll never get it again.
“I need your opinion.”
Who the fuck craves to hear that? Opinion on what? A dress? Shoes? I don’t give two fucks and a rat’s asshole about that shit, so please, ask your mother or something.
“It’s okay, you don’t have to explain.”
Alright. But now that you said that, it makes me feel even more like a piece of shit, and compels me to say it more than it did before. In fact, if I don’t, it’s gonna weigh upon me like a god damn boulder, so sit the fuck down and listen to why I shat on your sister’s chest.
OR
Oh sweet. Thanks a lot you submissive bitch, enjoy being with a totally unappreciative douchebag like myself. In the meanwhile, when I knock you up and leave, make sure not to ask why I did that either, and also if our son happens to burn down his school, just keep doing what you do best.
“I’ll give it a try.”
Alright. I mean, thanks, it’s a nice gesture. A little half hearted, but it’s nice. I can’t say I woke up with semen on my boxers from a really nice dream where you said “I’ll give it a try.” I don’t crave it, but if you wanna help build the house, be my guest.
Part 2. Cosmo meets that mythological creature they always write about, the uhh, man? Is it man? I think it’s man.
Cosmo: Hello, penis creature, how are you?
Man: ...I’m good, thanks.
Cosmo: So, is it true that you love sex?
Man: Sure, I don’t mind sex.
Cosmo: You want it all day, your world revolves around it!
Man: Well, no. I mean, who doesn’t love sex, it feels good, it’s what it’s meant to do. But I don’t, you know, carve it into walls and plot out ways to get laid 24/7.
Cosmo: But you have a penis?
Man: Yeah.
Cosmo: But then, you want sex all the time.
Man: I don’t want it all the time! I mean, I want it sometimes, like any other person, and sure, usually I’m open to intercourse, but sometimes, I actually prefer not to have sex.
Cosmo: You’re gay then? How do you like your hair done?
Man: I’m not gay! And gays don’t think about hair all the time, and neither do women. Man, what the fuck is wrong with you, you have the depth of a shot glass. I’ve seen slabs of shit more intricate than your thought process.
Cosmo: Oh yeah? Well, you have small triceps, emo.
Man: What? Oh please, look at me. Do you really think I’m affected by your pop-culture brand of judgment?
Cosmo: I don’t understand.
Man: Of course you don’t, your staff of lab monkeys slobber over tabloids and television to deliver recycled, paraphrased information day after day and hope to actually learn something from it. You know what the difference is between your article and my ass-wipe?
Cosmo: What?
Man: I don’t have glossy toilet paper.
Fuck Cosmo, man, what a dumbass magazine. You know, I don’t like to think of myself as a rebel without a cause, but whoever reads Cosmo must end the day with an intricate coloring book and a mind-boggling jigsaw puzzle they got from a Kinder Surprise egg. Top that shit off with some warm milk before bed, and maybe a nursery rhyme right before the clock hits 6 p.m. Sweet dreams, princess. Cosmo is the least we could do for you since your gene pool is too shallow to fish out more than 3 brain cells. Enjoy your pretty books, sweetie, while I go do something more productive, like rub my balls on a cheese grater. Go ahead, read it, you pretty little dumbass. The odds of you actually learning anything is like scraping the sides of a toilet bowl and snagging a chunk of shit that’s still at least 10% edible. I swear, I could be overdosing on heroin and I’d still feel too smart to read Cosmo.
- Vlad
