Men Over 24 Who Are Still Claimable As Dependents.

“Men” used to be reliable for at least one thing, and that was self-sufficiency. It was the gung-ho, can-do attitude that made them take jobs in factories or work thankless hours in the cubicle just to support their families. But like Celine said, “Those days are gone.” Monogamy and propagation are deader motivating forces in a “man’s” life than Blanche Hudson on the beach (oops, spoiler alert). Now, you’re not only lucky if a “man” even goes to college (though there is a fair share of faux learned “men“), but also if he manages to find it in his lackluster wherewithal to get a job after that will get him off the double breast of his mother and father.

His lack of drive is only further spurred on by the shittaytay parents of today, who, instead of inflicting any sort of work ethic on their “male” children, encourage them to “take their time” in “figuring it out” for their own selfish motives of using the “men” they raise as continued tax write-offs. Because if you’re going to have a blob, you might as well have one that gives you as many financial benefits as detriments. It’s already pushing the limits of youth when a “man” is still not able to do his own tax return by the time he’s twenty-four. Anything after this point is quite simply Exhibit A of perpetual babydom. As one New York-based CPA has remarked, “Your kids can be dependents on your tax
returns forever.” And, thanks to the milquetoast fuckboys being birthed more prolifically with each passing day, they probably will be.

Men and Their Parents.

I’d be lying if I said that I’m all for a “man” who loves his parents. Rather, I accept the guilt that comes with feeling like you owe your parents something when, as a white “male,” they probably paid for your college education and are still paying for your various needs as you navigate the “real world.” The attachment to one’s parents is, if we’re being totally honest with one another, generally motivated by financial incentive. Of course, a certain amount of emotions hinges on a natural rapport as well (they’ve known you since birth, so it’s kind of a vanity thing, you being allured by how much they give a shit about your biography. But make no mistake, it’s only because they’ve invested so much time and money into you turning out a specific way). And sure, everyone’s always going on about how having a child is the most selfless thing you can do, but it’s really a means to wield a modicum of authority over someone for the rest of their lives for one’s own selfish, power-hungry purposes. To have a child is the ultimate admission of feeling like there’s nothing else you can do. It’s a way to take back the power you thought you were going to have in life.

Get over it, she's practically dead.

Get over it, she’s practically dead.

I’m not saying, you know, throw your parents in a trash bag and put them on the curb or anything. I’m just saying, maybe limit their influence by maintaining communication in short, controlled doses. Because, eventually, being into one’s parents comes across as decidedly dickless. Like, can’t you just form your own opinions without asking mommy and daddy for their take on a situation? It’s really unsexy. It’s okay for you to cut the umbilical cord. This isn’t Europe. This is motherfucking Williamsburg. You have no cultural excuse to continue to suck on your mother’s tit or your father’s dick (though he’s probably missing one too, if the apple falls anywhere near the tree). You should be sucking on a woman’s tit (or “man’s” dick, since that’s more likely your taste anyway) who isn’t related to you at this point.