I haven't always been blessed with this abundance of worldly wisdom. I had to work at it. When I was born, I was a pathetic, womanly creature affectionately called "birdman" by my parents. As I developed, it became apparent that I would need corrective eye surgery or suffer the curse of being a crosseyed jackass for the rest of my life. After my eye surgery, I had to learn how to cope as an undersized male in a household dominated by older alpha-male sibblings. And so the trend toward eternal wimpiness continued...

Being farted and loogied upon for the remainder of my life was not a goal I aspired to attain. Fortunately, at the impressionable age of 10, I was given the only hand-me-down that ever mattered: The Manly Handbook, by David Everitt and Harold Schechtert. It was a new world man's Holy Book written by two guys that nobody has ever heard of, either then or now. And yet it was the plainspoken truth. I began to compete in athletic events (Granted, I was usually soundly trounced, but the effort was always appreciated by my peers and I earned respect). The chicks began to look twice in my direction (So what if they quit doing that once I hit puberty- at least I didn't feel like such a homo). And over the years as the confidence built, I would always think back to that fateful day- when a real man was still in the oval office, when the ladies put out, when the words "gun control" meant hitting your target, and when it was OK to drink and drive- and thank my lucky stars that I had been set on the truly righteous path to manliness.

And so I have maintained a steady course through the years to what I am today: the embodiment of every feminist's most secret wet dream.

-King Slosh