Mike Rowe and the "Modern Man"

I ripped this off Mike's Facebook page....The pics are compliments of "google"

After renowned entrepreneur Mike Rowe heard that some feminized schmuck at The New York Times penned an absurd column listing the “27 Ways to Be a [Feminized] Modern Man,” he fought back with a kick-butt rebuttal that explained to liberals what a REAL MAN looks and acts like.

Shoes
NYT: “When the modern man buys shoes for his spouse, he doesn’t have to ask her sister for the size. And he knows which brands run big or small.”
Mike Rowe: “A Man’s Man would not buy shoes for his spouse, or be familiar with the vagaries of various female footwear brands. He might offer to pay for them, and he would definitely compliment her choice. And if he knows the size of her feet, it’s only because he rubs them from time to time.”
 Uncertainty
NYT: “The modern man never lets other people know when his confidence has sunk. He acts as if everything is going swimmingly until it is.”
Mike Rowe: “A Man’s Man feels no shame in admitting uncertainty, because he knows that doing so will make him more certain. He’s transparent about his flaws and shortcomings, and makes no attempt to be more secure or knowledgeable or competent than he actually is.”

Consideration
NYT: “The modern man is considerate. At the movie theater, he won’t munch down a mouthful of popcorn during a quiet moment. He waits for some ruckus.”
Mike Rowe: “A Man’s Man is also considerate. But he would never consciously time his chewing to coincide with the noisy parts of the film. He does not walk on eggshells.”
Food

NYT: “The modern man doesn’t cut the fatty or charred bits off his fillet. Every bite of steak is a privilege, and it all goes down the hatch.”
Mike Rowe: “A Man’s Man will clean his plate, assuming of course he’s the one who put the food on it. But he feels no obligation to suck the marrow out of a bone, or eat the bruise on the banana, or consume the cob as well as the corn. He does not equate his manliness with a willingness [to] consume food that’s been poorly prepared.”
Parking
NYT: “The modern man won’t blow 10 minutes of his life looking for the best parking spot. He finds a reasonable one and puts his car between the lines.”
Mike Rowe: “A Man’s Man knows it’s wiser to park closer to the exit than the entrance.”
Self-Reliance
NYT: “Before the modern man heads off to bed, he makes sure his spouse’s phone and his kids’ electronic devices are charging for the night.”
Mike Rowe: “A Man’s Man knows that self-reliance is born of experience. He encourages his kids to look after their own stuff, and suffer the consequences when they do not. The wife is another matter.”

Beverages
NYT: “The modern man buys only regular colas, like Coke or Dr Pepper. If you walk into his house looking for a Mountain Dew, he’ll show you the door.”
Mike Rowe: “A Man’s Man doesn’t drink children’s beverages. He drinks tap water, wine, coffee, beer, whiskey, or iced tea. He does however, keep soda pop on hand, on the off chance a modern man stops by.”
Words
NYT: “The modern man uses the proper names for things. For example, he’ll say “helicopter,” not “chopper” like some gauche simpleton.”
Mike Rowe: “A Man’s Man is less worried about using the right word, and more concerned with being understood. But under no circumstance, does he ‘dumb down’ the language.”
Identity
NYT: “Having a daughter makes the modern man more of a complete person. He learns new stuff every day.”
Mike Rowe: “A Man’s Man is already a complete person. His identity does not depend upon sons, daughters, spouses, friends, or pets. He is not a loner, and he cherishes the relationships he has. But he knows that his ‘completion’ is nothing but a reflection of knowing who he is.”

Dishes
NYT: “The modern man makes sure the dishes on the rack have dried completely before putting them away.”
Mike Rowe: “A Man’s Man will always volunteer to wash the dishes. He may or may not put them away, but regardless, he understands the phenomenon of evaporation, and doesn’t concern himself with a codified system for drying.”
Never
NYT: “The modern man has never ‘pinned’ a tweet, and he never will.”
Mike Rowe: “A Man’s Man does not know what that even means. But he rarely says ‘never.’”
Soap
NYT: “The modern man checks the status of his Irish Spring bar before jumping in for a wash. Too small, it gets swapped out.”
Mike Rowe: “A Man’s Man uses Lava Soap. He uses it until it’s the size of a dime.”
Entertainment
NYT: “The modern man listens to Wu-Tang at least once a week.”
Mike Rowe: “A Man’s Man watches reruns of Kung-Fu.”

Groceries
NYT: “The modern man still jots down his grocery list on a piece of scratch paper. The market is no place for his face to be buried in the phone.”
Mike Rowe: “A Man’s Man does not make lists. He knows what he likes, what he needs, and what he wants. If he has to write it down, he understands it was not worth having in the first place.”
Flooring
NYT: “The modern man has hardwood flooring. His children can detect his mood from the stamp of his Kenneth Cole oxfords.”
Mike Rowe: “A Man’s Man is not committed to any particular type of flooring. He doesn’t attempt to communicate with his children through his footsteps, and he doesn’t own oxfords, unless they’re steel-toed.”
Sleeping
NYT: “The modern man lies on the side of the bed closer to the door. If an intruder gets in, he will try to fight him off, so that his wife has a chance to get away.”
Mike Rowe: “A Man’s Man knows that a struggle closest to the door will effectively block the exit through which his wife might flee. So he secures the house in a way that keeps intruders out, and sleeps wherever he wants.”

Fruits
NYT: “The modern man has a melon baller. How else would the cantaloupe, watermelon and honeydew he serves be so uniformly shaped?”
Mike Rowe: “The Man’s Man, if he serves fruit at all, prepares wedges, squares, and rectangles. He accomplishes this with a knife.”
NYT: “The modern man has thought seriously about buying a shoehorn.”
Mike Rowe: “A Man’s Man doesn’t think ‘seriously’ about any purchase under $5.”
Flowers
NYT: “The modern man buys fresh flowers more to surprise his wife than to say he is sorry.”
Mike Rowe: “A Man’s Man picks wildflowers on the side of the road, wraps them with a bootlace, and presents them with an original, hand-written poem.”

Bedmates
NYT: “On occasion, the modern man is the “little spoon.” Some nights, when he is feeling down or vulnerable, he needs an emotional and physical shield.”
Mike Rowe: “A Man’s Man will do whatever’s necessary to please his bedmate – not himself. But he roundly rejects all metaphors, especially those that involve utensils.”
Sneezing Daughter
NYT: “The modern man doesn’t scold his daughter when she sneezes while eating an apple doughnut, even if the pieces fly everywhere.”
Mike Rowe: “A Man’s Man would laugh and then say ‘Bless you,’ or ‘gesundheit.’ Then, he’d make sure she wipes her nose and cleans up the crumbs.”
Ambling
NYT: “The modern man still ambles half-naked down his driveway each morning to scoop up a crisp newspaper.”
Mike Rowe: “A Man’s Man does not amble. Moreover, he would have aleady impressed upon the paper boy the importance of getting the morning paper all the way up on the porch. Where it belongs.”
Films
NYT: “The modern man has all of Michael Mann’s films on Blu-ray (or whatever the highest quality thing is at the time.)”
MR: “A Man’s Man doesn’t own films – he rents them. He also values effectiveness over efficiency, and knows that the ‘latest technology’ will be obsolete in a few months. For this reason, he makes no attempt to own the newest of anything.”
Preferences
NYT: “The modern man doesn’t get hung up on his phone’s battery percentage. If it needs to run flat, so be it.”
Mike Rowe: “A Man’s Man prefers his gas tank full, his weapon loaded, his pantry stocked, and his checkbook balanced. He also likes his phone sufficiently charged, and takes the necessary steps to accomplish that.”
Guns
NYT: “The modern man has no use for a gun. He doesn’t own one, and he never will.”
Mike Rowe: “A Man’s Man owns at least one firearm. He knows how to use it, clean it, and store it properly. He understands it’s importance, and sees it for what it is – a tool that can protect him and his family.”

Crying
NYT: “The modern man cries. He cries often.”
Mike Rowe: “A Man’s Man cries if he feels like crying. But he rarely feels like it.”
Dancing
NYT: “People aren’t sure if the modern man is a good dancer or not. That is, until the D.J. plays his jam and he goes out there and puts on a clinic.”
Mike Rowe: “People know without question a Man’s Man does not dance. But they also know if called upon, he’ll give it his best shot…”

I made one of my infrequent forays into the land of Facebook and ran across this comment from Mike Rowe.   My response was in "blue"    it was a very good article

College education don't equate to intelligence and desire to work. I have met people with college degrees that are as stupid as a bag of hammers and very smart people that never finished high school. You use what God gave you.

Mike Rowe

Off The Wall
Kyle Smith writes...
Howard Dean recently criticized Gov Scott Walker for never finishing college, stating that he was "unknowledgeable." What would your response be on college as a requirement for elected office?

Hi Kyle
Back in 1990, The QVC Cable Shopping Channel was conducting a national talent search. I had no qualifications to speak of, but I needed a job, and thought TV might be a fun way to pay the bills. So I showed up at The Marriott in downtown Baltimore with a few hundred other hopefuls, and waited for a chance to audition. When it was my turn, the elevator took me to the top floor, where a man no expression led me into a suite and asked me to take a seat behind a large desk. Across from the desk, there was a camera on a tripod. On the desk was a digital timer with an LED display. I took a seat as the man clipped a microphone on my shirt and explained the situation.
“The purpose of this audition is to see if you can talk for eight minutes without stuttering, blathering, passing out, or throwing up. Any questions?”
“What would you like me to talk about,” I asked.
The man pulled a pencil from behind his ear and rolled it across the desk. “Talk to me about that pencil. Sell it. Make me want it. But be yourself. If you can do that for eight minutes, the job is yours. Ok?”
I looked at the pencil. It was yellow. It had a point on one end, and an eraser on the other. On the side were the words, Dixon Ticonderoga Number 2 SOFT.
“Ok,” I said.
The man set the timer to 8:00, and walked behind the tripod. He pressed a button and a red light appeared on the camera. He pressed another button and the timer began to count backwards. “Action,” he said. I picked up the pencil and started talking.
“Hi there. My name’s Mike Rowe, and I only have eight minutes to tell you why this is finest pencil on Planet Earth. So let’s get right to it.”
I opened the desk drawer and found a piece of hotel stationary, right where I hoped it would be. I picked up the pencil and wrote the word, QUALITY in capital letters. I held the paper toward the camera.
“As you can plainly see, The #2 Dixon Ticonderoga leaves a bold, unmistakable line, far superior to the thin and wispy wake left by the #3, or the fat, sloppy skid mark of the unwieldy #1. Best of all, the Ticonderoga is not filled with actual lead, but “madagascar graphite,” a far safer alternative for anyone who likes to chew on their writing implements.”
To underscore the claim, I licked the point. I then discussed the many advantages of the Ticonderoga’s color.
“A vibrant yellow, perfectly suited for an object that needs to stand out from the clutter of a desk drawer.”
I commented on the comfort of it’s design.
“Unlike those completely round pencils that press hard into the web of your hand, the Ticonderoga’s circumference is comprised of eight, gently plained surfaces, which dramatically reduce fatigue, and make writing for extended periods an absolute delight.”
I pointed out the “enhanced eraser,” which was “guaranteed to still be there - even when the pencil was sharpened down to an unusable nub.”
I opined about handmade craftsmanship and American made quality. I talked about the feel of real wood.
“In a world overrun with plastic and high tech gadgets, isn’t it comforting to know that some things haven’t evolved into something shiny and gleaming and completely unrecognizable?’”
After all that, there was still five minutes on the timer. So I shifted gears and considered the pencil’s impact on Western Civilization. I spoke of Picasso and Van Gogh, and their hundreds of priceless drawings - all done in pencil. I talked about Einstein and Hawking, and their many complicated theories and theorems - all done in pencil.
“Pen and ink are fine for memorializing contracts,” I said, “but real progress relies on the ability to erase and start anew. Archimedes said he could move the world with a lever long enough, but when it came to proving it, he needed a pencil to make the point.”
With three minutes remaining, I moved on to some personal recollections about the role of pencils in my own life. My first legible signature, my first book report, my first crossword puzzle, and of course, my first love letter. I may have even worked up a tear as I recalled the innocence of my youth, scribbled out on a piece of looseleaf with all the hope and passion a desperate 6th grader could muster...courtesy of a #2 pencil.
With :30 seconds left on the timer, I looked fondly at the Dixon Ticonderoga, and sat silently for five seconds. Then I wrapped it up.
“We call it a pencil, because all things need a name. But today, let’s call it what it really is. A time machine. A match maker. A magic wand. And let’s say it can all be yours...for just .99 cents.”
The timer read 0:00. The man walked back to the desk. He took the pencil and wrote “YOU’RE HIRED” on the stationary, and few days later, I moved to West Chester, PA. And a few days after that, I was on live television, face to face with the never-ending parade of trinkets and chotchkies that comprise QVC’s overnight inventory.
I spent three months on the graveyard shift, five nights a week. Technically, this was my training period, which was curious, given the conspicuous absence of supervision, or anything that could be confused with actual instruction. Every few minutes a stagehand would bring me another mysterious “must have item,” which I’d blather about nonsensically until it was whisked away and replaced with something no less baffling. In this way, I slowly uncovered the mysteries of my job, and forged a tenuous relationship with an audience of chronic insomniacs and narcoleptic lonely-hearts. It was a crucible of confusion and ambiguity, and in hindsight, the best training I ever had.
Which brings me to the point of your question, Kyle.
I don’t agree with Howard Dean - not at all.
Here’s what I didn’t understand 25 years ago. QVC had a serious recruiting problem. Qualified candidates were applying in droves, but failing miserably on the air. Polished salespeople with proven track records were awkward on TV. Professional actors with extensive credits couldn’t be themselves on camera. And seasoned hosts who understood live television had no experience hawking products. So eventually, QVC hit the reset button. They stopped looking for “qualified” people, and started looking for anyone who could talk about a pencil for eight minutes.
QVC had confused qualifications with competency.
Perhaps America has done something similar?
Look at how we hire help - it’s no so different than how we elect leaders. We search for work ethic on resumes. We look for intelligence in test scores. We search for character in references. And of course, we look at a four-year diploma as though it might actually tell us something about common-sense and leadership.
Obviously, we need a bit more from our elected officials than the instincts of a home shopping host, but the business of determining what those “qualifications” are is completely up to us. We get to decide what matters most. We get to decide if a college degree or military service is somehow determinative. We get to decide if Howard Dean is correct.
Anyone familiar with my foundation knows my position. I think a trillion dollars of student loans and a massive skills gap are precisely what happens to a society that actively promotes one form of education as the best course for the most people. I think the stigmas and stereotypes that keep so many people from pursuing a truly useful skill, begin with the mistaken belief that a four-year degree is somehow superior to all other forms of learning. And I think that making elected office contingent on a college degree is maybe the worst idea I’ve ever heard.
But of course, Howard Dean is not the real problem. He’s just one guy. And he’s absolutely right when he says that many others will judge Scott Walker for not finishing college. That's the real problem.
However - when Howard Dean called the Governor “unknowledgeable,” he rolled out more than a stereotype. He rolled a pencil across the desk, and gave Scott Walker eight minutes to knock it out of the park.
It’ll be fun to see if he does.
Mike