Insomnia | Commentary

Are Games The Last Bastion Of Manliness?

By James Cottee / April 5, 2009


Masculinity is under threat. This modern world is literally turning men into pussies. If only that were idle hyperbole. But no: widespread environmental contamination by tens of thousands of different kinds of pesticides is distorting the hormonal balance of all vertebrate life. Including man.

We're not copping it as bad as some lower life forms -- the chemical run-off from farmland turns 40% of cane toad males into hermaphrodites. But human sperm counts are plummeting worldwide, and scientists are powerless to halt this decline.

As we pollute our bodies, we also pollute our minds. Presumably in an attempt to curry favour with females, today's adverts demonise males, depicting us as slovenly incompetents. Half-wits. One recent car commercial showed a bogan analogue of Homer Simpson with a wife at least fifteen years his senior. Was this a sly attempt to reinforce his implicit immaturity, or just sloppy casting?

Either way, the message was clear: "Men are dumb. Buy our car." Good luck with that.

Perversely enough, our puritanical Dear Leader, K. Rudd, the K-Dawg, has acted to counter this threat. He's pledged six billion taxpayer dollars to the local car industry, and another two billion to prop up car dealers -- the only profession despised more than his own.

This may seem pure populist spendthrift folly, but it is actually a wise investment. For without massive government hand-outs, Ford and Holden might die. And without their eight-cylinder super-cars, there can be no V8 Supercars. Such a nightmare scenario would deny Aussie masculinity a vital outlet, driving testosterone underground into Fight Club-style illegality.

We're joking, of course. If our Prime Minister really cared about the welfare of men, he wouldn't be striving to introduce his namby-pamby 'Bill of Rights', for the only possible result is a tempest of spurious lawsuits in the name of anti-discrimination.

How do video games fit into all of this? It's simple: they don't. The primitive pea-brained sermonising simpletons of the moralising minority just cannot get their heads around gaming. They can censor the violence, sure. Violence they understand: it is the means the state uses to exert its control. But freedom is beyond them -- the manliness that makes freedom possible doubly so. That's why our hobby is still (relatively) untainted by that most toxic sludge of all: political correctness.

The cappuccino-guzzling crusaders may decry the actions of John Rambo (arch-enemy of tyranny, as his latest film attests), but they simply cannot be arsed learning who Marcus Fenix is.

Lucky for us, there are some real men left in this world -- even if they only live inside a console.