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THE STINGER
December 2014
OPINION
The Last Laugh
Jacob Puleo Opinion Columnist
The Good-Looking, the Bad-Looking, and the Ugly Part II: The Revenge of the Sequel The backlash hath floweth forth. “What’s wrong with being skinny?” Nothing. “What’s wrong with wearing makeup?” Nothing. “What’s wrong with yoga pants?” That’s a loaded question. “Isn’t it a bit early for a sequel?” What’s next? Are you going to tell me the book was better? The time has come. There are still things left to be said. It’s not over until the fully-figured independent woman sings. This sequel is necessary because I have been unfair. In the previous installment of The Last Laugh, I critiqued the blind and superficial nature of females in modern society. Now, I have decided to focus on males to avoid having paint thrown at me, or whatever frustrated social activists do these days. Truth be told, I could spend all of eternity ranting on about knee-high Nike socks and the unending quest to obtain maximum swag. And so I shall beat this dead horse until PETA comes knocking at my door. You asked for it. What makes a man attractive? Don’t ask me; I’ll just tell you “being Kevin Bacon.” But if you conduct a survey of the women described in the previous column, chances are you’ll notice a trend.
Abs. Whenever I say the words “What’s so great about abs?”, before I can take another breath I hear “You’re just jealous, Jacob. You’re so jealous, people should call you Jealous Jacob. Or abless Jacob. But Jealous Jacob has a better ring to it.” Perhaps I don’t hear those exact words, but I know they’re thinking it. However, my disdain has nothing to do with envy. Countless occasions of Internet usage have ended with me scrolling to the bottom of a page and seeing those advertisements. You know them well, the ones that read “12 Celebs who have Plaque Psoriasis” or “One Weird Trick to Lose Belly Fat in Seconds” or “Top 10 Jewish Women You’d Give Up Bacon For.” But the ones that always grinds my gears are “Why Abs Matter to Women” or “If You Don’t Obtain a Six-Pack Right this Second You’ll Die Alone Surrounded by Cats with an Issue of Cosmopolitan Magazine Stuck to Your Hand and Tears in Your Eyes.” I may or may not be exaggerating, but it still brings me sorrow to know we’re hollow enough to so easily become hung up on physical qualities. “I don’t get it,”
you may or may not be thinking. Allow me to explain it mathematically. It’s all quite simple. We live in a world where attractiveness can be found using the formula s = a + g, where s = satisfaction, a = number of abs, and g = skillfulness in playing the guitar. And if that doesn’t do anything for you,
allow me to explain it like a disgruntled shrink who’s losing touch with his own profession because he himself is having a midlife crisis: “It’s all about conformity, just like that song by Huey Lewis and the News. You know the one. I don’t remember the name. Look it up on your own time. It also probably has something to do with Communism, but mostly conformity. Look around you. What do you see? Nike shirts.
Nike shorts. Nike socks. Nike shoes. Hair gelled into a vertical spike, I don’t even know what the hell that is. Sideburns groomed into a spike. Seriously, why spikes? All the same. Never different. Just like my wife. Damn Commies. Our session is over. That’ll be $300.” I could easily be jealous of them. Jealous of the sentinels of swag who know how to operate sports and get all the ladies. But then I remember. These are the type of people who pledge allegiance to American football. The type of people who feel the need to constantly remind you of their heterosexuallity, yet treat women like garbage. The type of people who use the word “gay” as a synonym for the word “bad.” I remember that if I should try to be something, it shouldn’t be good-looking, it should be anything better than them. And then I smile. Actually, it’s more of a smirk, but I think I’ve made myself clear enough. Also, Merry Christmas.