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.