5 Reasons Men are NOT Objects

See me for who I am: A power squatter.

The struggle of Man is REAL.

It seems with every progressive step forward we make, Society is taking us two steps backwards… dragging us down to our depraved primal selves. As far as men are concerned, the calendar might say 2016, but it’s still very much the 1950s.

This one’s for the XY chromosomers struggling with 21st century sexual objectification… You’re not alone, brothers.

1. Biceps aren’t Objects… They’re MUSCLES


Read it and weep, bigots: You can’t objectify it if it’s not an object.

It’s simple science. Our bodies aren’t objects, they’re MUSCLES. We’re tired of having to explain this… And, frankly, we’re also tired of hearing how the sole purpose of our bodies is to “please women.” We curl dumbbells not to “please” women, but to get stronger so that we can… curl BIGGER dumbbells.

2. We’re smart and stuff


5 sets, 12 reps each? Take only two scoops per serving? Dinner at 5?

Guess what: That takes math.

Do we like math? Hell no. Yet we resent the “simple man” stereotype imposed on us by Society. We’re not simple. We’re complex creatures capable of addition and subtraction and reading and… thinking. We’re more than MUSCLES… we’re also BRAINS.

3. We appreciate camaraderie


Round up the boys and we’ll show you what else we have: Hearts full of love.

Whether we’re meeting for beer games, Madden tournaments, bar hops, cock fights, circle jer—um… beer games… it doesn’t matter: We’re sure to have a good time and we’re sure to have each other’s back. Because we’re homies and homies aren’t OBJECTS.

4. We like to PARTY


Keg stands, reefer shacks, and wine coolers—WOO!—shotskis, beer pong, and jungle juice—YAA!—mud wrestling, pole dancing, BODY SHOTS, AND BLACK LIGHTS—SHIIIT!—BONG RIPS, ICE LUGES, BILLY IDOL, VODKA, YES!, TEQUILA, PIÑATAS, TWISTER, ALRIGHT!, CEMENT GLUE, GERMAN SHEPHERDS, COCAI—!

…wait, what is this article about again?

5. We objectify the objectifiers

I’m sorry, what? This ass right here? No no no… That ass right THERE.

You say these pecs are big? Well, guess what: Your fun-bags are BIGGER.

DON’T EVEN TRY IT: You objectify it, we deny it. And we’ll return with objectification so OBJECTIVE and so ON-POINT and so CREEPY, YET CONFUSINGLY COMPLIMENTARY that you’ll have no choice but to sit that sweet, fine ass down and process our objectivity.

Conclusion: We’re dickheads, not objects.

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