For my birthday this year, my wife is giving me a truly incredible gift.
Our society now accepts that people can choose their own gender and even invent new ones. While some may find this confusing and even upsetting, change always brings opportunity.
Over the next 12-18 months, with the moral and most importantly financial support of my wife, I will be transitioning from a man into a MAN. A MAN is a gender I invented that is like a regular man, only more so. A MAN has twice the manliness of a man. Let me explain what will happen on this exciting journey.
I will undergo hormone and steroid enhancement resulting in a Neanderthal-like appearance, including profuse body hair, except that the top of my head will go completely bald. Then, I will be fitted with a custom robotic exoskeleton nearly 12 feet tall (2x average male height). Its hydraulic actuators will double my strength-to-weight ratio even as I take on colossal dimensions. It is expected that I will be able to dead-lift one metric ton, run as fast as an automobile, and hammer an 8-penny nail with my bare hands. My diet will consist solely of whiskey and the reddest meat I can kill. I will dress in canvas bib overalls and my enormous, heavy-browed Neanderthal head will be crowned by a cowboy hat approximately three feet in diameter.
But that is not all. I have also begun cognitive-behavioral MAN therapy to exaggerate my typically male intellectual and emotional traits. I will lose the ability to express myself verbally and, by 2018, will communicate only through numbers, equations, graphs and various grunts and bodily eructations. During “very special” sitcom episodes, instead of responding with sympathy toward the characters’ plight, I will chuckle. I will lose the ability to remember anniversaries and birthdays, but this would not matter, as despite my new MANly physical abilities, I will be unable to approach the greeting card aisle. It is one of the few physical acts a MAN cannot do.
Politically, I will adopt views slightly to the right of Nathan Bedford Forrest. I will be joining the Marine Corps as its oldest recruit, and expect to complete basic training and Navy Seal training in two months, after which I will ask to be deployed to Mosul on a nation-wrecking mission, even though Mosul is not even in a naval theater of operations. I will engage in a program of cultural appropriation, microaggressions and violent mayhem the likes of which have not been seen outside a Quentin Tarantino film.
While my new gender assignment may seem to imply multiple female partners, as a gesture of appreciation for her financial support of my transition, I will remain married only to my wife. She is woman enough even for a MAN. However, much as Bruce Jenner has done, I will take on a new name more reflective of my identity. Starting today, please refer to me as Hercules Rocksplitter.
They say it takes a real man to show emotion, but that's just a bunch of headshrinker horseshit from 1973. (This was covered in my first session of MAN therapy in those exact words.) So I won't be expressing any overt gratitude for your embrace of my new identity. You will have to accept stony silence and offers to help you move your refrigerator using my Dodge Ram 3500 with Cummins Turbodiesel engine as my way of saying thank you. I must wrap up for now because I'm attending a nostalgia screening of Patton later on. It's a great movie but I always thought he went a little soft on his guys in that speech before the big battle.