Like its cousin St. Patrick’s Day, Cinco de Mayo holds a special allure to frat boy types inhabiting Condoburg (the new Murray Hill). While each holiday promotes drinking to a blackout state, Cinco de Mayo is a bit harrier in terms of the offense “men” can cause.
Drinking Corona is the extent of a “man’s” knowledge of Cinco de Mayo
You see, if we’re being honest, it’s primarily white males who enjoy “celebrating” these “holidays.” And since Irish people are white, it’s a bit less bristling when the average “man” chooses to adopt the event as his own. With Cinco de Mayo, however, things start to get a bit trickier. When a “man” dons a sombrero and drinks Corona and/or margaritas to “honor” what most people assume is Mexico’s Independence Day, but is actually a date that commemorates the Mexican army triumphing over Frenchies at the Battle of Puebla (a place where Cinco de Mayo has a legitimate right to be celebrated), it just automatically comes across as plain dickless.
For the most part, “men” who celebrate St. Patrick’s Day are not even actually Irish. They are Williamsburgian by way of Murray Hill. They use St. Patrick’s Day as arbitrarily as Cinco de Mayo for their own drunken pleasure. And, like Halloween, as an excuse to capitalize on the drunkenness of other people with a vagina.
These “men” can’t even stomach their alcohol
The true “man” drinks on his own time, not at the urging of a so-called national holiday. He also doesn’t binge drink to impress anyone but his damn self. And, being that binge drinking is only impressive when you’re in a sorority, most “men” with a dick know this isn’t the way to a girl’s heart–luck o’ the Irish or not.
I never much understood people who attempted sobriety, whether long- or short-term. Thus, when “men” in Williamsburg and the greater Brooklyn area try to make a big to-do about “sober January,” I feel a little bit queasy. Function without alcohol? But why? To maintain your “mannish” figure? It makes no sense.
“Not for me. It’s sober January.”
The one good thing about being a “man”—apart from being able to act like a totally condescending asshole and not get called a bitch or a slut for it—is that worrying about your body is not necessary. There will always be a woman with low self-esteem there to make you feel like you have the Ryan Gosling aesthetic that you don’t. So I’m just a hair unclear on why “men” would want to give up one of the only enjoyable social (and often non-social) pleasures there are in this life (especially the life specific to Brooklyn).