Some kind of strange and unexplainable primal forces are at work when the cleavage is exposed. When a man’s eyes make contact, our breath turns to short little panting noises as a pleasant warmth begins to develop in the nether region. Remember the Seinfeld episode where George stares at the NBC executive’s daughter’s low hanging fruit? Jerry says they are like giant and powerful magnets to the eyes with an effect much like Kryptonite has upon Superman.

Once again, it cannot be explained by mere rationale, but when the globes are in orbit, our eyes MUST make contact. Whether they are small and firm, or large, round and jiggly, it does not matter…we HAVE TO look! We HAVE TO. It’s like some unwritten law in the ancient records, scribed on the walls of the Mayan Temples. The luscious valley between the mighty peaks grips a man’s being much like the Sirens who seduced Homer in the Iliad and the Odyssey. Its spell is intoxicating driving a normal man to the very brink of childish behavior, not to mention – utter stupidity (or is that udder stupidity?)

We males have become masters of our craft. We have studied this vertical space of flesh and nothingness and have learned how to catch that sacred glimpse of nirvana at the perfect time. We look the female in the eyes, smile as we talk, nodding as if we are actually listening to a word the shrew is saying. It’s a peek of the holy grails that we are after and nothing will stop our valiant quest. We use cunning and guile to move their attention elsewhere – and the moment their eyes turn, OUR eyes dive in for the kill.

“Oh, look… that kitten must be lost.” We say with an innocent yet sinister glow.

“Oh, where?” she says, as her head moves about.

“Over yonder, in the bushes” you point, as your pupils all but burn a hole into her chest.

“Where?” she asks, “I don’t see a… um, what are you looking at?”

SNAGGED! You have been snagged! She begins to change the subject while awkwardly tugging her blouse upwards. As she continues to talk, you sit there like a fool – a large pulsating letter “L” is emblazoned upon your forehead as the beauty that once was is buried six miles deep in cotton and polyester fibers.

This previous action on the part of the female, I do not understand, as it confuses the male species here and abroad. Let me explain. A woman wears a shirt or sweater that by her choice, is low cut, as her ta-tas are in full display for all the world to gander. They’re swingin’ high and low, loose and free, giving the male populous the joy we so richly deserve. Yet the moment our woman – this teasing harlot – notices where our eyes are fixed, she folds her arms or grabs the nearest Cosmo to cover up those mountains of grandeur. UNFAIR I say!

I, the Zman, speak on behalf of heterosexual men everywhere on this wretched planet. Women, take heed. When you “CHOOSE” to wear a low cut top that exposes your upper region, DO NOT act so alarmed when we men are gazed upon your earthly beauty. Why do you wear such attire if you do not wish for us to stare? Why do you purposely dress so provocatively, yet cover up the moment we sneak a peek? I’ll be honest, ladies… since my early manhood this phenomena has really irked me to no end. You put the sale rack up on display, but when an interested shopper passes by, the curtains are drawn and the shop is closed. Again, UNFAIR I say!

I have to admit that this very horrid plight happened to me only today and I could not go another moment without speaking up for my fellow man. I was taken aback as my character was unfairly thrown into question. This was rude, degrading, and unjust in every way.

I’m telling you, there really was a lost kitten in the bushes. I swear.

- Zman

A while back we talked about the ten things you NEVER say to a guy – written by of course a chick without a friggin clue because of one major detail…SHE THINKS LIKE A CHICK!

Well, today I have the list of TEN Things that WE WISH (oh a tall wish indeed) our women would say to us! Can you imagine if they thought like this? Wow, would we all have a better world to live in…

#1 – What time is the football game on?
“I only ask, honey, because I’ll take some of the yard work off your hands – and then I’ll go out for a while – umm, probably giving you enough time until the post game show over. Oh yeah, chili is on the stove and cold beer is in the fridge. And I hope the Giants tear Dallas a new ass!”

#2 – Would You Mind If My Two Smoking Hot Divorced Friends, Sandy and Kelly Come Over and Have Some Drinks With Us Tonight?
“Honey, it would be such a thoughtful thing to do. Those two have been so lonely and do they ever need companionship. Hey, we can break out that vodka that gets you drunker than hell. I don’t remember a thing from the last time we drank that stuff. Plus they have got to be the sexiest women I know with kids – especially after the boob jobs. Please, baby, I’ll make it up to you.”

#3 – Damn It Babe, When the Hell Was the Last Time You Golfed?
“I can’t remember the last time you played a good round with your buddies. What the hell, Man, I didn’t buy you those Pings so you could just do work all the time. And I don’t give a shit what a weekend round costs – your sanctity of mind is what’s important. Oh by the way…here’s a few Montecristos. Those should last you through the day.

#4 – I Bought the Kids Movie Tickets for Tonight So We Can Crawl in the Hot Tub and Hump
“You cool with that?”

#5 – I Know the Economy Sucks and All, but God Dayum, You Would Look So Hot Driving a New Corvette!
You know honey, maybe it’s time I started showing you off a little. I mean I know I take you for granted sometimes and I couldn’t be luckier to have you as a husband. Just go to Chevy’s website and check out the 2011 Vette page. If I have to take a part-time job to help with the financing – well, it’s the least I can do.”

#6 – Do You Mind If We Watch Some Porn Tonight?
“Reality TV just sucks lately and I know how much you love those Cougar on Cougar scenes. Btw, there’s a large can of whipped cream in the fridge that I just picked up from Costco.”

#7 – You Know How I Told You That You Don’t Play Enough Golf?…
Well you sure as hell don’t play enough POKER, either. I mean really… when was the last time to you and your pals had a killer evening of Hold ‘Em? Tell you what, I’ll pick up a few cases, make a load of sandwiches, and wait up until you’re stinkin’ drunk.”

#8 – If I was bi-sexual, which of my friends would you like to see me with?
“Now I’m not saying that it’s gonna happen, but could you just do me a favor and let me know your opinion on this one? And don’t be shy about it.”

#9 – You Know – Call Me Crazy, But We REALLY Should Turn the Spare Bedroom Into a Walk-In Humidor.
“I know, where will our guests sleep? But, your cigars CAN’T be getting the right humidity just stuffed in all of those little boxes you’ve got them in. Come on – be practical here. You’ve spent a lot of money on all those things – especially the Cubans and the Anniversarios – and the last thing you want is for them to go to shit. I already looked on line and it’s not too hard to do, plus that cedar smell is intoxicating. Use your head, here.”

#10 – All Right – We’ll Compromise…
“We’ll divide the room in half…Half will be a walk-in humidor and the other half will be a man-cave for watching sports and smoking all those friggin stogies. The flat screen and surround sound is a given…but do you think a pool table will fit? You’re Okay with this…right? I know it’s kind of selfish on my part, but I love when you crawl into the sack all stinking like a JR Ultimate Maduro.”

Wow…if there truly is a God, this will happen some day. One day, we will all be Kings again… oh yes, we WILL be kings again.

- ZMAN

Megan Fox just may be the hottest 22 year-old on the planet right about now. The model turned actress has taken Hollywood by storm and yours truly, Tommy Z. was fortunate enough to sit down with this sensational…uh…

…all right, all right – I have a confession to make. I didn’t exactly interview Megan Fox in person. Okay…I may not have really spoken with her at all. I mean come on – you actually think an astonishing, sizzling hottie like her would have anything at all to do with a loathsome jerk-wad like me? Ummmm… nah. So as I fantasized unholy thoughts while Googling her steamy images, I thought I’d just go ahead and write the interview that I’d want to do, as well as the answers I imagine she might give. Aw, don’t be mad at me, this is probably better than any REAL interview I could ever do, and I promise to make you smile. And hey – you get to gawk over a lot of leggy photos that should have a personal defibrillator issued with your log-in.

Heh-heh…heh-heh… I said log-in.

TZ: Hey Megan, thanks for sitting down with me (As under my breath I utter, “Oh my God, you are so stinkin’ hot.”)

MF: And…who the hell are you, anyway?

TZ: I’m Tommy Z. from PlanetZman.

MF: What is that… another dirty old man porn site for a bunch of mid-life crisis looosers?

TZ: No…it’s not porn…I guess you could call it a men’s lifestyle site…you know, everything that guys are into.

MF: You mean beer and hooters? That’s about the scope of it.

TZ: You forgot cars, football and buffalo wings.

MF: And pleasuring yourself to milf sites?

TZ: You’re perceptive for your age.

MF: And you’re fat and creepy. Do you know that you’re drooling?

TZ: God, I hate that…It’s from my mother’s side of the family…something to do with first cousins marrying. Hey listen, a lot of the fans want to know if it was difficult and scary working with those monster robots in Transformers.

MF: WTF Is your problem?

TZ: Is Optimus Prime as nice in person as he is on the screen?

MF: Did your parents have any children that lived, you f@#king retard?

TZ: How do you feel about FHM Magazine voting you the sexiest woman in the world?

MF: A lot better than Sarah Jessica Horseface being named the Un-Sexiest woman alive by Maxim.

TZ: What kind of men turn you on?

MF: Pretty much the opposite of you. Do you even bathe?

TZ: I’ll take that as some sort of twisted backhanded compliment, thank you. In a GQ Magazine interview, you said that you fell in love with a female stripper when you were 18 and used the experience to illustrate your belief that “…all humans are born with the ability to be attracted to both sexes.”

MF: And your point?

TZ: Do you admit that you’re bisexual?

MF: Let’s just say I love to devour my meat from both sides of the buffet table. You get a good picture of that in your head, Polack boy?

TZ: Can I sneak off to the bathroom for a minute? I swear it’ll only take a minute.

MF: Can I ask who the hell you bribed to get this interview?

TZ: Well, nobody actually – I’m just making this whole thing up.

MF: Oh, right.

TZ: You’ve got an uncanny nine tattoos on your body, including a poem on your ribcage, a symbol for strength on your neck, your fiancé’s name on your hip, a bull’s eye on your back, a pink flamingo on your upper thigh, and a picture of Marilyn Monroe’s face on yourr right arm. You also has one on your right shoulder that says “We will all laugh at gilded butterflies,” a line from Shakespeare’s play King Lear. Are there any in an undisclosed place that we don’t know about?

MF: I’ll show you, but I WILL have to kill you.

TZ: Something tells me I’ll die with a stupid-ass smile on my face.

MF: Will you look at that…time’s up!

TZ: OH COME ON! THAT IS NOT FAIR!

MF: Life ain’t fair, sweetie – now go take a cold shower and wash that cigar stink from your ass.

TZ: Ah Jeez!…I was THIS close I tell ya…THIS CLOSE! Can I call you sometime? Megan?

She wants it.

- ZMAN

#1 – Do You Love Me?
It’s funny because the typical male’s answer to that question is almost always the same: “WTF is that supposed to mean?”

#2 – I’m Thinking of Having Plastic Surgery
Our expert claims that men want their women to have natural beauty and that the “real” you, the girl he fell for won’t be there anymore. What a crock of Shinola! I say bring on the saline and pump those puppies up. I’d love it if my wife came home with a new set of big bouncy cans. The first thing I’d do is toss her a basketball and watch her dribble in a low cut top. Although paying for them is another story.

#3 – You Used to Take Me Out and Now We Don’t Do Anything
Whaddya mean we don’t do anything? We watched the Giant’s game, grappled in the sack for three minutes, shopped on line at JR.com, and you cooked me a wonderful roast beef dinner! I think this was a pretty perfect Sunday, if you ask me.

#4 – Don’t You Like My New Outfit (Or Hairdo?)
Okay, now this is a lot of pressure for a guy because the initial response his brain makes is – “What new hairdo or outfit?” But we act cool, try not to flinch and make a suave remark like, “Sure looks better than that old p.o.s. you used to have.” And as you know, that is a very BAD answer, but at that moment your team is inside the five yard line and the friggin’ shrew couldn’t wait until the end of the goddamned game?!

#5 – Don’t You Want to Go Shopping?
Which is like asking a man, “Do you want me to stick a grappling hook in your eyes then pour gasoline and ignite your old Marvel Comics collection?” If the shopping is for you, she’s saying that your three Metallica t-shirts and one pair of shredded jeans make you look like garbage. And if the shopping is for her, well then, all right – bring on the hook but don’t dare touch the comics.

#6 – Can We Talk? (While he’s trying to watch the game.)
Unless it’s about Pittsburgh’s inability to run on the Giants D, what time the Rangers/Islanders game is tonight, if you’d like to make a beer and hot wing run, or if I think that 15 minutes during halftime is enough to pleasure me…please keep the pie-hole on auto-shut. If it’s about the yenta’s at work or the fact that I forgot our anniversary, please wait until I’m in a drunken stupor and passed out in a heaping mess of my own bodily fluids.

#7 – I Only Slept With (insert number) of Guys Before You
Yes, every man wants to have a clear mental picture of another guy shtooping the gal he said “I Do” to. Please – give me all the details, no really – want to know. The so-called expert says a woman should NEVER – EVER let this proverbial cat out of the bag. Oh come on, we’re bigger than that, we can take it… I mean I want to hear all about the days with her heals high in the air while screaming out some dirtload named Roscoe’s name while spread eagle over a duffle bag full of hockey equipment in the back of his ’76 Pinto.

#8 – You Care More About Your Friends Than You Do Me
Now the expert claims this is some kind of trust issue, but since I’m a guy, I don’t get what the hell this broad is getting at. Hey, my friends are important to my life – we smoke cigars, watch the game, go golfing, and other neat stuff. Honey, they could never replace your vacuuming skills and the fact that you dig anal. And do you think that Joe or Sal would wash my underwear? Come on.

#9 – Why Don’t You Start going to the Gym?
The expert does have this one right as she claims that nagging your man could actually cause him to do the exact opposite. “Yeah honey, I really dig looking like a fat blob of shit.” She says to the ladies to get your guy to take a hike in the mountains and then share a bottle of wine together. Sounds great, but she leaves out the part about humping in the dirt until your head explodes. And if you have Verizon, your man can even catch the scores of the games in real time.

#10 – Does This Make Me Look Fat?
The ultimate question that every broad since the dawn of time has asked every poor schlep who owns a penis.
“Og…dis bear fur make me look fat?”
“Ugh, watching dinosaur fights with Glock. Got Raptors at 3 to 1. Make fire and come back later.”
“Og…I want to know – does dis bear fur make me look fat?”
“Uh…No… course not… YOU make you look fat.”
“Owwwwwwww!” (as Bronto bone is hurled across his thickened brow.)

Honesty may not always be the best policy as a lady’s feelings get hurt, but then the woman gets mad if she thinks you’re lying to her. It is the classic No-Win situation – just ask Og.

So that’s it. I hope I cleared things up from the guy’s perspective. God knows if the Mrs. reads this I may not have the use for my hands for a while.

- ZMAN

Since you’ve landed on this website, it means that there’s a 99% chance that you are of the male species. So the question is – Do you think of yourself as a “Man’s Man?” You probably already consider yourself in that company, but how can you “really” tell for sure? Well, the Zman has come up with a self-examination quiz that will accurately measure your levels of testosterone, guy thoughts, and man sweat.

It’s the Official Planet Zman Manly Man Quiz

The following 35 questions have been technically researched and verified for authenticity. So give us your answers fair and square, and see what kind of guy you really are. How much testosterone is in your tank? Lets find out, shall we?…

1. Have you seen the movies Slap Shot, Red Dawn, Weird Science, Clerks, Lost Boys, or High Plains Drifter in any combined order a total of 20 times?

2. Do you ever find yourself saying “Go get your f@#king shine box” at the most inappropriate times?

3. Have you smoked a cigar during a game of Texas Hold ‘Em anytime in the past 2 weeks?

4. Do you know who the team with the most victories in Monday Night Football history is?

5. Do you laugh aloud every time the giant rack of ribs flips the Flintstones car in the final credits?

6. Have you ever kissed the Stanley Cup?

7. Have you ever drank Budweiser from an ashtray, shoe, or a rubber?

8. Do you religiously head bang to the ending of Bohemian Rhapsody?

9. Do you have a favorite Motorhead song?

10. Have you ever been drilled in the cubes with a street hockey ball?

11. Do you find Paris Hilton a brutally skanky, bizarre, oddity, yet you’d hit it just the same?

12. Are you a normal law abiding good citizen, yet you get off on anyone who is pummeled, maimed, strangled, curbed, or cut up into pieces on the Sopranos?

13. Do you have any sorrow whatsoever for Bill Buckner?

14. Would you stop for a sack of White Castle Sliders even though you were on your way to your mom’s for Thanksgiving dinner?

15. Have you ever given nicknames to any of your farts?

16. Do scenes of John Travolta dressed in drag in the movie Hairspray give you convulsions or seizures?

17. Have you ever spent more than 30 minutes trying to delete pop-up windows during a random porn surf?

18. Three Stooges episode or Obama / Clinton debate?

19. Does the thought of having a Corvette, a Harley, and a Hummer in your driveway make you retard giddy?

20. Do you own more than three humidors?

21. Do you soil yourself each time Col. Jessup barks “YOU CAN’T HANDLE THE TRUTH?”

22. When flipping through TV channels, do you pause each and every time on the Spanish station while trying to convince your significant other that it’s for educational purposes?

23. What do you think is heavier: Trying to figure out the meaning of life or Rosie O’donnell’s lunch bag?

24. Have you ever watched Das Boot and felt bad for the Germans?

25. Should cheeseburgers have their own box in the food pyramid?

26. Do you wish you could be Mikey from American Chopper for just one day?

27. Do you find it to be offensive when a woman displays major rack then covers up when you stare?

28. Do you still get awkwardly tense each time you hear Tommy DeVito ask, “What do you mean, I’m funny?…You mean the way I talk?…What’s funny about it?…What the f@#k is so funny about me? Tell me?”

29. Do you feel Harvey Fierstein should be held accountable for the gerbil shortage in French Guiana?

30. Bill & Ted, Harold & Kumar, or Jay and Silent Bob?

31. If it was ok with your significant other, would War Pigs be your wedding song?

32. Did you swear like a psycho drunken sailor and throw shit at your TV when the screen went to black during the Sopranos finale?

33. If Dr. Phil, Simon Cowell, and David Spade were killed in a mine shaft explosion would your immediate response would be, “huh, looks like rain today.”

34. Do you admit to drinking a glasses of ecoli laden raw eggs after you saw ROCKY for the first time?

35. Who’s on first?

OK, brothers, you’ve done your best. Good luck in your continual quest towards eternal manliness and may God bless your decrepit soul.

In an effort to stop heterosexual males across the world from wearing Crocs, men’s website, PlanetZman has declared this, International Punish Men In CROCS Week. The homepage photo shows the festivities already underway in Guam, where local police cane a man whose appalling sense of fashion earns him a well deserved beatdown.

“Somebody needed to step up to the plate and put and end to this footwear faux pas,” claims PlanetZman publisher and creator, Tommy Zarzecki (aka, the Zman). “I am truly sickened by the disregard for manliness in today’s society and I say enough is enough. In almost every civilized country around the world, there is an outcry for justice, and hopefully a week like this will serve it up quickly and painfully.”

Governator, Ahnuld Schwarzenegger’s California was the first U.S. state to back the protest, calling for stricter laws when it comes to male pussification. “I run a state where da girly-men run rampant thru da streets. Crocs were just another step in the corrosion of our great nation, and I am behind Tommy Z. in dis movement, 100%! Get ready Kalifawnia and let da ass-kicking begin!”

Parent company, Crocs, Inc. released a statement that they are saddened by the prejudice that exists behind this movement, and ask Tommy Z. to put an end to the senseless hate. But the Zman has no plans in backing down. “If you own a sack and a dangling part and feel the need to wear those hideous rubber slippers, be prepared for your very own podiatric Pearl Harbor,” says PlanetZman’s Polish kommandant, from his northern New jersey headquarters. “With Sex in the City and Queer Eye for the Straight Guy, men have been emascualted to a point where their wives keep their dick in a jar above the mantle, and it’s time we fought back. And this time, I mean it literally.”

In many major American cities, Whiffle Bats wrapped in duct tape will be handed out to law enforcement officials along with Joe Q. Public, as Tommy Z. calls upon our local citizens to take matters into their own hands. “Some call it lawlessness and anarchy, but I call it doing what’s right for the preservation of men’s men across the globe. Now I’m not condoning any kind of maiming, or life threatening violence, I mean come on, don’t get crazy on me here. But what I do condone is a little Jersey-style justice, you know, let’s just say putting the fear of God into those who offend all that is holy and right. And make no mistake about it – wearing Crocs is unholy and as wrong as it gets.”

In related news, expecting today’s announcement, PlanetZman’s stock (PLTZ) has risen a whopping 26 points in early trading, giving the Nasdaq a much needed boost.

- ZMAN

For those of you across the country who do believe that all people from New Jersey live in a putrid industrial swamp, say fugeddabouit at the drop of a hat, and will whack somebody just for taking their parking space… you really do need a little “Jersey Style” education courtesy of the Zman.

Wherever I travel throughout the U.S. or Canada, every brutally unoriginal, smart-ass jokester says the same goddamned thing every single time: “So, you’re from Joizey?” Now usually I’m a playful sort who kids back with almost anybody, but this always irks me. And the reason: NO ONE… I said ABSOLUTELY NO ONE from New Jersey says NEW JOIZEY! It’s an urban myth, my guess perpetuated by 1930 gangster flicks and The Bowery Boys movies. “Hey Satch, why don’t you grab da dames and we’ll all head fa Joizey.”

Now I admit we have our accents, especially northern NJ, which is close to Manhattan. While recently dining in Toronto I asked the waitress for an after dinner coffee and she says back, ‘Ya’s want some Caw-fee?” and proceeds to laugh. Now I possess a killer Joe Pesci imitation, and I look at the server deadpan in the eyes and said, (think Cousin Vinnie, now) “Hey toots, howz ‘bout a little respect here…huh?” She snickers again and says, “Come on, let me here you say Joisey! I just want to hear you say it!” Now all of a sudden I’m some kind of freakin’ traveling road show. Like an indignant ass – still in Cousin Vinnie mode – I blurt out for the entire restaurant to hear, “We don’t say Joizey for crissakes! Capiciche?!” She froze in her tracks as her hands started to tremble. With big puppy dog eyes the woman looks up at me and asks, “ You’re not going to hurt me, are you?”

Not too long ago in Tampa, I’m in a store and the woman starts laughing and says, “Boy oh boy, ya’ll sure do talk funny.” Unfortunately she didn’t know she wuz dealin’ wit’ Tommy DeVito from Goodfellas. I gave her the stare that could kill and said, “Whadda ya mean I tawk funny? Like clown funny, like ha-ha funny?”

This dumb-ass broad (having absolutely no inkling of a clue that I was pulling her leg) stared at me like I stepped out of a silver spaceship from Uranus. “No, sir… ya just talk funny.”

“Do I amuse you? Wise don’t you explain it to me, huh? I wanna know…do I amuse you?”

“SECURITY!!! SECURITY!!!”

For years, the much-maligned state of New Jersey has often been the brunt of many a comedian’s off-color jokes. But without question, the HBO series The Sopranos brought a new and interesting sense of pride to the Garden State. I personally happen to be half Italian on my mother’s side, and have lived all my life in northern New Jersey. I know all of the show’s landmarks and have even frequented the Bada Bing (actually known as Satin Dolls, on Rt. 17 in Lodi.) When you live in this area, you learned to recognize that when streets were closed, traffic was diverted, light towers were up, and large production trucks surrounded the grounds, The Sopranos were shooting a scene.

But as cool as The Sopranos was, it only deepened the stigma that everyone here is a buncha leg breakin thugs and that everyone is Italian! And to that again I say, stop being such a friggin’ stunad! Do any of you gabbagools realize that New Jersey has hundreds of miles of sandy white beaches and coastline, pristine forests and mountain ranges, is one of the nation’s top producers of sweet corn, tomatoes, and cranberries, is home to Princeton University, Seton Hall, and Rutgers, as well as luminaries such as Albert Einstein, Thomas Edison, Buzz Aldrin, Norman Schwarzkopf , Derek Jeter, Shaq, Bon Jovi, Sinatra, and of course let’s not forget Derek Drymon, from my hometown of Jefferson Township, and famed producer of Spongebob Squarepants? (And of course, headquarters to the greatest Cigar store and Cigar magazine on the planet.) This state is a venerable melting pot of nationalities, with Wallington Township being the 2nd largest Polish community in the country! And above and beyond anything, we’re probably best known as the “diner” state.

I will admit there’s no doubt that Jersey people are nowhere near as friendly as others around the country. We’re certainly not mean or anything, it’s just that people in the NY / NJ metro area move at a much faster pace than anywhere else in the U.S. New Jersey is the most densely populated state and the cost of living is outrageous. Our property taxes and car insurance is the highest in the nation and millions of us are cramped into this little state that basically looks like a guy with a flat head who is looking to his left.

So all of you good folks from the other 49 states – how about cutting us some slack? We’re good citizens and our state has a lot to offer. Just don’t ask me to say Joizey, cuz the next person who makes that lame-ass wise crack ends up with his friggin head in a bowling ball bag.

I’m glad we came to this little understanding.

- ZMAN

I drove past a Smart Car on the weekend and couldn’t believe this ballsy little half pint was zipping along Route 80 with the big boys of the interstate. In fact, I threw a paper clip at it, trying to knock it over, but the little bastid just laughed and kept on going. Then I tossed a handful of loose change and half a half eaten sandwich at it, but it held it’s ground. I then opened my door and farted and as you can imagine, it did give the driver a good scare.

The Smart Car is what gives the Al Gore’s of the world a perpetual woody. It is the green geekazoid’s chariot of triumph. At 8 feet long, five feet wide and five feet high, this hideous looking glorified golf cart is all the rage for the crowd that harasses whaling vessels while sucking down tofu smoothies during lunch break. At 1,500 pounds it gets around 70 miles to a gallon and is all the rage in Europe. But of course those tight little cobblestone streets are made for such a ride, not the American super highways.

The guy who invented Swatch Watches was bored one day and came up with the idea for this diminutive doo-hickey. Sure, it’s fuel efficient and good for the ozone, but it’s without question, one big rolling can of chick repellent. I love old muscle cars like Corvettes, Mustangs, Camaros, Firebirds, Challengers, Chargers, Dusters, etc. I love the look, the feel, and the power. And chicks dig a dude in a 454, plain and simple. They don’t dig 50 horsepower. The ladies go gaga over eight-cylinder super-charged beasts. They don’t get all hot and bothered by three-cylinder wimps. I sincerely ask you – how the hell are you gonna get laid in that toaster with wheels? First off, no self-respecting hottie would be caught dead dating a dud in that oversized Partridge Family lunchbox. And secondly, there just ain’t enough room to bump and grind by the dashboard light. I want a lady who’s turned on by muscle and might, not fiscal and environmental responsibility. Why not go all out and put a bumper sticker on the back that says, “I have a small dick, too.”

Save the Earth? How about saving your self worth? Any real red-blooded American male is not going to be seen behind the wheel of one of those teenie-weenie, Euro machine-ees. And guess what? These little punk-ass vehicles ain’t cheap, either. There’s three models and the base starts at around $12,000 with the high-end model topping out at around seventeen grand! Are these people kidding? You could probably juice up a riding lawn mower and save yourself fifteen thousand. At least attach a couple of rotating blades under the damned thing so you can earn a few extra bucks cutting lawns in your neighborhood. Jezuz H Christmas, man.

Now, supposedly the crash ratings are pretty good on these uglified autos, but how’d you like to drive between a couple of Mac Trucks in that rolling bucket of doom? Something tells me nailing a squirrel at 30 miles an hour would F that mini gas can up something awful. I wonder in the winter if you can pop the wheels off and snap sled runners on.

I simply cannot endorse these ass-wipe automobiles. I’m a man who loves ice hockey, beer can chicken, full-bodied cigars, full-bodied females, and I believe you can put bacon on anything and it will taste better. Why just a few months back I tore a god damned beaver damn apart with my bare hands, for crissakes.

There is no way in hell I will compromise my role as a manly creature by getting behind the wheel of one of those gaudy little go-carts. And if you think this is the way road travel should go, then check your man-card at the door of life, you Mary-ass wuss. I’d download photos of Rosie Odonnell at the Denny’s breakfast bar before I’m seen in one of these death boxes.

NFW. No way, no how, uh-huh. It just ain’t smart.

- ZMAN

As Grand Poobah of this testosterone fun park, I realize that some of you may have serious issues you need to get off your chest. So I bring you the one and only Angry Jim – a surly son of a bitch who will offer his acerbic solutions to your everyday problems. Jim has a perennial wild hare up his ass (or is it wild hair?) and sugar coating is not a part of his repertoire. Ask this prick your most personal questions at your own risk…

Dear Jim,

My job sucked so bad, my boss was a hateful dirtbag, and I was brutally miserable. My wife doesn’t know, but I quit on Friday and I don’t care because I have to chase my dream. Since I was a kid I wanted to play 3rd base for the New York Yankees. I play in a local softball league and I can hit the shit out of the ball. I’m only 43 and have a minimal beer gut. Do I go for it? Do I tell the wife? I need serious help, here.

Fitzy Larange,
Bronx, New York

Hey Fitz old boy,

First off, let’s be unmistakably clear, here:  You are a god damned loser.  If you are going to have a midlife crisis, do it right.  Buy yourself an “I have a little dick” sports car and bang the hell out of a woman half your age.  Sure, you’ll have to pay her, but something tells me that a guy like you pays for it no matter what.

As for your “dream” of playing for the Yankees – stop being a selfish retard, as you know that it’s never gonna happen.  You’re 20 years behind on steroid injections, and no one wants to see a delusional 43 year-old dumb-ass try to leg out an infield single.  Maybe you should get yourself a new dream, something more appropriate for a middle-aged man with more ambition than sense. You could make the world a better place by serving the masses as an assistant manager at the local Radio Shack.  That would have the added benefit of allowing to make further use of that polyester wardrobe you have hanging from that Soloflex you used three times in 1998.

—————————————————————————————————————–
Dear Angry One,
I’m angry too. The government sucks, the banks suck, the car companies suck, and the bail out sucks. Okay, everything sucks. I’m not really sure I have a question, I just wanted to let you know that I’m angry like you.

J.J. Cooper,
Tallahassee, Florida

JJ,

Gee, That’s just swell, fella, but howz ’bout you get your own fucking gig.  This isn’t sports radio.
—————————————————————————————————————–
Dear James,

Who would win in a fight between Mike Tyson, a ten foot gerbil, or the guy who played Newman from Seinfeld if he had a very sharp metal rake?

Irv Bitterman,
Tenafly, New Jersey

Yo Irv,

Given the fact that that Mike Tyson now fights like a six foot gerbil, I would have to take the ten foot gerbil heads up.  Fighting Newman with a rake is only slightly more frightening than fighting Newman without a rake, so that probably leaves him in third place no matter what.  So take the gerbil on the money line.

But the real question here is – is there nothing going on in your mother’s basement or in the comic book shop that could better occupy your mind? With great concentration and effort you might even be able to get yourself a girlfriend, then you could waste your time thinking about whether you will be getting laid or apologizing for something you never did.

Just sayin’…

—————————————————————————————————————–

Dear Jimbo, My wife caught me having internet sex talk on Facebook with this crazy chick from Montanna. She’s beyond pissed and now she won’t let me sleep in the bed with her. I really love her, but this Montanna chick is loney from working with farm animals all day and she loves to rub one out when we I-chat. This is so good for my ego, but bad for my marriage. I’m torn.

Giacamo Slaughter,
New Haven, CT.

Dear Giacamo… Can I call you Giacamo? Good, then may I be frank?…  If the Mrs. doesn’t want you typing nasty tidbits to your barnyard flame, then she should be doing her wifely duty on a nightly basis.

That said – you are a pussy.  You paid for that bed.  If she is mad at you then she should hit the couch.  It’s your bed so use it.  Then again, I could say the same thing about your wife.

And if typing dirty words to some 13 year old boy pretending to be a hot chick is good for your ego, then you have bigger problems than you think. If you don’t get things under control this can only end with a visit from Chris Hansen and the Dateline film crew.  That will be you standing there saying “I thought he was a hot 27 year old chick,” as you shuffle that bag full of warm beer and condoms from one shaking hand to the other.  I would tell you to get some help, but only pussies need this kind of help.  In the words of my father, you need to straighten up, fly right, and grow a pair. I am not in the habit of quoting the old man, but in this case it seems appropriate.

Hey Zman, you’d better start payin’ me to deal with these sociopaths. In the meantime, keep those cards and letters coming, people!

Angry Jim is open to your quandaries and queries, 24/7, so email me and I’ll be the much needed buffer to assure that your precious head remains in tact. If you would like Angry Jim to take time out of his busy day to serve as your temporary life coach, you can send your questions to him at my personal email, tommyz@planetzman.com

As Grand Poobah of this testosterone fun park, I realize that some of you may have serious issues you need to get off your chest. So I bring you the one and only Angry Jim – a surly son of a bitch who will offer his solutions to your everyday problems. Jim has a perennial wild hare up his ass (or is it wild hair?) and sugar coating is not a phrase in his repertoire. Ask this prick your most personal questions at your own risk…

Dear Angy Jim,

I have a spousal dilemma. I am an accomplished writer for a Cigar Magazine and a known Cigar blog, yet my wife absolutely loathes cigars! She hates the look, the smell, and throws disease and death warning in my face all of the time. The fact that we pay the mortgage because of the cigar industry doesn’t seem to register. It’s getting more annoying by the day, so what do you suggest?

Stosh Polski
Somewhere in the Bowels of Jersey

Dear Stosh,

This reminds me of an age old question: How can you tell when a women is having an orgasm? Answer: Who cares?

Why on earth do you care what she says? Women talk. That’s what they do. Nothing says you have to listen. It’s obvious who wears the jock strap in this family, pal, and YOU need to grow a pair, real fast! If she can’t stand the smell of the cigars, maybe she should go dig in the yard so she doesn’t have to spend too much time in the house. As for the death and disease warnings, just tell her than if you die young she will not have to smell the cigars and you will not have to listen to her complaining. Everybody wins.
______________________________________________________________________________

Dear Angy Jim,

I coach a Little League Team in my town and the parents are insane. They yell “kill him” when the other team is at bat and physically threaten their children when they make errors, which is pretty much every inning. I don’t want to look like a wuss, so how do I handle these people?

- W. Fontes, Pontiac, Michigan

Dear WF,

Did you ever stop to think that you look like a wuss because you ARE a wuss? Any GOOD coach knows that errors are unacceptable on any level of play. If you were a better coach they would make fewer errors. It’s about time you turned these candy-ass marshmallows into battle tested warriors. There is no reason to threaten other children, of course, but the parents of your players would be well advised to start threatening you. Winning IS everything. Now repeat, then drop and give me twenty.
_____________________________________________________________________________

Dear Angry Jim,

The new president scares me and I haven’t slept well since January. How do you suggest I cope?

- Jorge
Dallas, Texas

Jorge,

You could always while away the days by writing your memoirs. That should occupy the whole of your mind for the foreseeable future. Remember…no crayons and there’s no such word as “nuke-u-lur.” If that’s too much for you to bear I suggest whittling. The only harm you can do with that is to your own hands, and we can all live with that. Hang tight, Tiger, and make sure you’ve got your rubber toilet seat donut, cuz this is gonna be one long and bumpy ride.

Jeez Louise, who needs an Easy Button when you’ve got me?

Angry Jim is open to your quandaries and queries, 24/7, so email me and I’ll be the much needed buffer to assure that your precious head remains in tact. If you would like Angry Jim to take time out of his busy day to serve as your temporary life coach, you can send your questions to him at my personal email, tommyz@planetzman.com