The only thing worse than a broke ass “man” who can’t even afford to buy his own iPhone is a “man” who steals one and then doesn’t even have the decency to at least make a clean getaway–all, of course, on the L train, the hub of dicklessness and subterfuge.
And so, not only does a “man” who steals a woman’s property while riding the subway smack of the sort who might not be able to penetrate you in any viable fashion, but add on to that the fact that he’s vain enough to take a selfie of himself (another strong characteristic of missing a dick) with said stolen phone and incriminate his being into the police system and, well, you’ve got an incredible textbook case of a “man” with no puh-neese (penis). But, on the plus side, one imagines, at least his youth will be immortalized in a criminal database.
The only thing more dickless than living in Williamsburg is working there. How dare “men” try to make work fun with “loft-like” spaces and embarrassing luxuries like cappuccino machines and random bouncy balls (but no dicks) at the center of it all. What is this, a fucking playground or something? No, it’s work. In any case, the “men” of the neighborhood have apparently warranted receiving a condo-like office space that’s being referred to as a “tech hub.” Gross.
Fuck your pleasant workspace
Best of all? The building will be made of glass. All the better to not throw stones with when “men” start complaining that they’re not making enough money to afford living in Williamsburg. The developers responsible for the proposed project are also already asking for the city to, once again, re-amend its zoning laws to allow for office space–which is a great idea, since we saw what rezoning did to Williamsburg in 2005. With rumors of the L train shutdown rampant, the desire for local, no-subway-commute-required white collar jobs is likely to triumph. In which case, steer clear of every bar in the Bedford vicinity lest you endure the douche baggery of mindless post-work chatter. But hey, as long as the tech-oriented “men” of the area have a comfortable little (480,000 square feet) space to work in, who cares?
Now that the phenomenon of “man”spreading has died down, it’s time to focus on a new subway annoyance prevalent on the L train. While it’s quite encouraging to see “men” read, even when it’s something from the canon of James Patterson, the allure they possess in presenting themselves as literate is automatically nullified when they sit in a manner resembling the positioning of someone cozying up on an easy chair next to a fireplace.
Not even reading, therefore less attractive
What’s worse is that they seem to be so engrossed in their banal title (or, if they’re on their phone, probably some sort of game), that they can’t even pick up on the enraged vibes of those around them lusting after the spare seat they’ve taken up with their overpriced shoes from DNA Footwear. But then, when one can’t even feel his dick, it’s no wonder he can’t feel anyone else’s ire either.
If Two by Alberto Moravia has taught us anything, it’s that a “man” can’t be held responsible for the actions of his dick. But when one is figuratively missing one, how can this be true? In any case, a “man” riding through Williamsburg at the Lorimer stop seemed to prove Moravia’s point that the “male” mind lies inside of his penis.
L train: not exactly spank bank material
The perpetrator in question began tossing off in response to the presence of a woman in her 20s (usually the cutoff age range to be deemed “masturbatable”), going so far as to take up a horizontal position while doing so. First of all, there is nothing conducive to getting hard on the L train–it’s a cess pool of bad smells, fashion and literary taste. Second of all, don’t you got a house? That’s the appropriate place to masturbate. And even if you don’t have one, find an alley like any decent homeless person or degenerate. The train is foul enough as it is.