Little Boys With Obnoxious Toys

In what is becoming increasingly common, last month an "intersection takeover" took place in Orange County, Fla. For those who don't know, an intersection takeover is when a large mob uses their vehicles to commandeer an entire intersection, street, or block, during which time they do donuts, start fires, and generally terrorize innocent drivers just trying to go about their day.

Police have posted pictures of some of the suspects, who were dumb enough to record and post their activities. Looking at their pictures is like looking at the Grand Marshall finalists for the Incel Pride Parade. Gee, Larry, which one looks like the biggest loser to you? I dunno, Chuck, it's so hard to decide — they're all so qualified!

Now, I reject the phrase "toxic masculinity" outright, because it's simply a scare tactic harnessed by the left to attack any and all conceptualizations or displays of masculinity, whether toxic or not. But fellas, let's be honest: there are plenty of biological males out there who aren't making a good case for the rest of us. We expect feminists to call out their own when the situation warrants, and we should be willing to do it to ourselves as well. And if there is one group of "men" — and I use that term in the loosest sense possible — whose behavior is so obnoxious, so annoying, and so unmasculine that it sullies the rest of us by association, it's these "Fast and Furious" wannabes.

Women, please know that these petty little punks don't represent all men, and they irritate us just as much as they irritate you. Unfortunately, they are just the tip of the iceberg of a larger problem affecting some men, i.e. the mistaken belief that a loud, fast car is an indication of masculinity. It's not, nor is it an acceptable substitute. It's an attempt to compensate, whether for a lack of confidence or a lack of something else. And it's pitifully transparent.

Nor do you need to take over an intersection to prove your social impotency. Chances are you do it dozens of times a day without even realizing it. Are you the guy who tears through residential neighborhoods with your unnecessarily loud muffler? Are you the guy who weaves aggressively in and out of traffic to speed all the way to the next stoplight? Are you the guy who uses the expressway as your own personal racetrack? Are you the guy who actually spent your parents’ money own money decking out the dashboard of your Corolla to look like an F1 stock car? Yeah, then you're the "men" I'm talking about. You're not tough; you're a societal pest. And you're not impressing anyone.

You know who you're really not impressing? The ladies. How do we know? Because you never have a girlfriend with you in the passenger seat. You're always alone. Even with the backward hat and the sunglasses and the vape mod, you're alone. Even with the scraggly, unkempt facial hair that you grow to convince everyone you've hit puberty, you're alone. Golly, it must be frustrating. The Vin Diesels and Paul Walkers of the world get all the Michelle Rodriguezes and Jordana Brewsters. Darn it, why can't you?

Because real women want real men, kid, and you ain't it.

Related: Feminism Needs Better Messengers

You know who a real man is? A real man came up with the idea for that car. A real man designed and built that car. A real man marketed and sold that car. You are just the insecure child hiding behind the noisy, shiny toy that the real men provided for you. You flail in the mudpuddle, born of your own tears, beneath the bottom rung on the ladder of sought-after men.

You have two choices. You can do the misogynist incel thing where you blame all women in general for the fact that none of them are trampling all over each other in the stampede to hook up with you. Or you can take a hard look in the mirror and ask yourself why not. Nobody wants to be a virgin forever. Self-improvement or misplaced anger? You know the right way forward.

So take a shower, comb your hair, hit the gym, learn an employable skill, and save your parents yourself ten grand in car accessories. Those traits will improve your desirability more than a loud muffler ever will. And please, please, stop with the revving, screeching, vulgar displays of desperation. Your luck will improve, I promise you.