Dear Mr. Man Points,
A couple of months ago I took my brother, a burly garbage man, to a French bistro for his birthday. I figured he’d really like it, especially because bistros serve hearty dishes like beef bourguignon. But later I found out through his friends that he hated it. I was hurt because the meal cost me close to two hundred dollars. Even worse, he has been avoiding me ever since I took him there and I fear I may have lost Man Points. Have I made some kind of gaffe and if I did is there anything I can do to make it up to him?
Good God, man, what are you, some kind of a sadist? Taking your hard-working, all-American brother to a French restaurant? Even if we concede that the French bistro offers “hearty” meals, your brother still had to navigate through an emasculating menu featuring creamy goat cheese, glazed figs on arugula salad with Roquefort, Fracassee Escargots with wild mushrooms, duck confit with glazed butternut squash, and Roulade of Petrole Sole Meuniere. And what kind of desserts are we talking about here? Lemon tarts with walnut crust? Le Gateau au Choclat Chaud? L’Assiette de Fromages Fancais? No wonder your brother is avoiding you. You’re a complete idiot, hopelessly ignorant of the Male Code, which stipulates that American men in general avoid restaurants that have the name “bistro” and positively hate anything that is French. To underscore this point, be aware that France is the only country in the entire world where the men are indifferent to Man Points. Let me repeat: Manliness means nothing in that country and in fact France is the only country where the men do not read my book. Having no interest in Man Points, they are solely focused on French Points because they are judged on how “French” they are, not on how manly. Sorry for this digression, but I had to emphasize just how disastrous it was for you to take your brother to a French restaurant.
In addition to French bistros and their ilk, you must understand that American men are equally put off by “museum food,” entrees that look like tiny sculptures, often made of ribboned pasta, julliened zucchini, and shredded coconut and always containing some “essence” or other, and so god-awful small that they can be consumed in one bite.
So let us be clear. You totally screwed up in the Man Points department and now there is only one way to redeem yourself. Take your brother to one of those “theme” restaurants that are aptly decorated like Wild West saloons. These restaurants specialize in oversized portions of steak, prime rib, baby back pork ribs, spicy chicken wings, cheddar cheese mashed potatoes, and deep-fried onion ring “flowers.” The waitresses soothe and indulge their manly patrons buy bringing them unlimited servings of garlic cheese toast. The desserts are simple and easy to read: carrot cake, cheese cake and chocolate fudge cake. The portions are so big that the waiters have to practically use cranes to get the platters of food from the kitchen to the patrons’ tables. Big helpings of food require big tableware. The knives resemble ivory-handled scimitars, and they evoke a more primitive age when men dressed in animal skins and tore the blubber off of beached whales and woolly mammoths. Giving your brother the opportunity to relive the Apex Predator Dramas of his caveman ancestors should get you back in his good graces. And don’t wait for his next birthday to come around either. Take him out for some manly eating ASAP.
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