The New Immature Man

           “Only men with cargo should be permitted cargo shorts!” declared Rico the doorman at the notorious Black Banana. His exhortation, uttered in the midst of checking the IDs of two clearly underage twinks, was punctuated with two raises of the right eyebrow overselling an already very obvious statement. “So many men are lacking in that department.” True dat.

            Men who are low on inventory I presume, having been around the world of double entendre myself for many years. As funny and astute as Rico’s observation is it seems to me that the next step downward in the evolutionary chain has already appeared. I’ve witnessed this personally crawling out from the slime of the puerile fantasies of western culture. I am referring to the “new” Immature man, the man who wears cargo shorts as fashion default 24 hours a day 365 days a year.

            You’ve certainly seen him around Anytown, USA, T-shirt, ball cap turned backward and the ubiquitous cargo shorts. It doesn’t matter that it is 5 below zero the “new” immature man is still in his cargo shorts blithely strutting his sorry shit. Why is this? Does the wearing of Big Boy pants usurp the integrity of the “new” immature man? Does he wear these shorts all year round as a counter culture statement, that only the “bought and paid for” wear long pants and he is his own man or is it merely a convenience enjoyed only by “new” immature men with the added perk being that observers who suddenly find themselves in his presence for the first time can determine which team he roots for by the perpetually visible tattoo on his outer calf?

           Add a wallet chain and a bad fade (zero on the sides, one on the top) and you have America’s newly minted archetype.  “You get laid with that haircut?” asks the jackanapes in the next chair over. Apparently the “new” immature man does. He has found a woman who embraces this downward trend. Spiked heels, spandex pedal pushers, 6 XL Steelers Jersey. This is a woman that lives to please the “new” immature man.

           Cargo shorts on, pliable, acquiescent woman by his side; it has been a great week for the “new” immature man.  The black and gold kitchen cabinets have been installed and the black and gold Lazyboy has been delivered.  Now the “new” immature man has everything he needs to bask in the glory of the new immaturity. Sports all day and a woman who will suck the filling from his cannolo (which is Italian for “little tube”) at half time You got 12 minutes, bitch! 17 if he’s watching hockey. And never, ever during pre-game! Show the “new” immature man some friggin' Black and Gold respek.

            And maybe if the Stillers win, the “new” Immature man will want to celebrate by hoisting the thick, monolithic slab of suet from under his woman’s Ben Roethlisberger jersey that has been blocking view of the goddamn TV for most of the game and try some o’dat nasty ol’ bean dip that’s been simmering for the past 20 years. Get out the crackers, baby victory makes the  “new “ immature man hungry!