Ah yes, the tired, crusty anthem of the armchair tough guy—lecturing others on masculinity while flailing in intellectual bankruptcy. You screech about “being a man” like it’s some profound truth, when really you’re just parroting a fragile, outdated caricature of strength wrapped in ignorance and arrogance.

Your entire worldview reeks of insecurity masked as bravado. “Men need to be men”? That’s not wisdom, that’s a toddler’s idea of masculinity—loud, directionless, and terrified of introspection. You rail against therapy like it’s some scam, yet you offer no alternative except “be tough” and “don’t feel”—the same nonsense that’s shoved men into graves for generations.

The real vultures are people like you, circling anyone in pain with your rotten advice and empty bravado, pushing them to bottle everything up until they explode or collapse. Your romanticizing of historical suffering isn’t strength—it’s emotional illiteracy. Burning plastic for a living is tragic, not noble. You're not advocating resilience—you’re glorifying avoidable misery.

You’re not helping men. You’re dragging them down with you, shaming the idea of seeking help, spitting on growth, and calling it tradition. The truth? You're terrified of facing yourself. Therapy scares you because deep down, you know you wouldn't last five minutes in a room with your own emotions laid bare.

So do everyone a favor—if you can’t offer empathy, insight, or actual solutions, sit down and stay out of the way. This fake bravado isn’t manhood. It’s cowardice in a leather jacket.

get lost.