Ok man-bun beta men, stop.
We’ve let you run around looking like a closeted elf reject from the last Hobbit movie flop long enough. You’re not a samurai. Unless you can swing steel like Leonardo from the Ninja Turtles, you don’t deserve that haircut 🤡⚔️🐢
Everyone outside your friend circle already clocked you as next in line to swipe right on Harry Sissons’ Grindr account.
A man does not need an onion knot parked on his skull. Yet here you are in the Home Depot lumber aisle, frozen like a possum, because a two-by-four weighs more than your last three emotional support poodles combined
LinkedIn says freelance vibe curator. You spend six hours a day answering Slack from a mesh hammock. Your bathroom counter looks like a Sephora warehouse exploded and the survivors were sea-salt spray and lavender beard wax
At home you’ve got a vintage manual typewriter that has never touched paper, sitting on a reclaimed pallet desk like a shrine to doing absolutely nothing. Let a summer thunderstorm knock the power out for ten minutes and you’re bartering your indie vinyl for chamomile tea, crying about structural oppression while the rest of Florida is lighting a grill
That hair-nub is an ego handle. You look like a hot-air balloon tied to a disappointment
Drop the wax, pick up a chainsaw, and do something useful before the swamp rats file squatters’ rights on that hairball 🐀🪵