The Chron Exposes Man Caves; Not Half as Exciting as It Sounds

Categories: Local News, Media
I'm thinking I need to track down Tommy Naylor from the second grade, because he once wrote that "Girls Have Cooties!" on my homeroom desk and the Chron is totally plagiarizing. Sunday's edition carried an article whose title alone ("Anatomy of a man room, where men can be men") was enough to send me back to bed with a sippy bottle of Kamchatka. While a "man room" or "man cave" could be many things in this town, the cave of which this article speaks is a a place where "men can be men with each other."

Oh, wait -- that still sounds vaguely sexual. Let's read further, shall we?

Jon Ries is a 43-year-old Oakland man with a "man cave" where he can watch sports and hang his Wayne's World poster. He explains its purpose thusly: ""The man room is a place to get away from the wife...You can't really have a man room without a wife, because then there is really no one to get away from." (Note to Ries' wife: Once you're done decorating the Chronicle with your tears, come over to my house. There's vodka!) He then exposes the reporter to a litany of horrors that would reduce a seasoned war journalist to tears: "Ries walks into the guest room down the hallway. He is clearly out of his element here. The guest room has a daybed with a flower pattern quilt neatly placed on top. A love seat with bright pillows sits across from the bed. On one side of the bed is an elegant Tiffany lamp and on the other is a wicker basket full of Cooking Light magazines and an assortment of romance novels." I'm not sure what is supposed to offend me more about this scene, the "bright pillows" (foul!) or the presence of wicker (has she no soul?).

The second dude with a man cave, Mike Maurer from Richmond, calls it "Mike's Man Room" (because nothing is manlier than alliteration) and has adorned it with an eyebrow-raising sign that reads "What happens in the garage stays in the garage."

The article ends with a list of "manly must-haves" dudes should buy for their man caves, which includes, among other things, a microwave (for when the wife kicks you out of the house!), an iPod, and a DVD collection. I own none of these things because I am too busy expelling menstrual fluid, knitting, and belittling the men in my life to hop on Amazon and buy them.

In a really twisted, depressing way, articles like this are refreshing because they insult both genders equally: Men are like children, and women are like their mean mommies who strew flower-encrusted crap all over the world. And by "refreshing" I mean the whole "Take my wife ... please!" schtick is tired and offensive. Pass the Kamchatka.

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