Illustration by Sam Woolley/ GMG
Illustration by Sam Woolley/ GMG

Fellas? Fellas.

Fellas: Don’t do it. Put it down. Put it back. Put it far, far away. Don’t even let it enter your apartment. Don’t even go in the store where it’s sold. Don’t accept it as a gift. If someone gives it to you as a gift, throw the gift as far as you can, then cuss out the person who gave it to you. There is nothing there for you. Nothing good can come from it. You should have nothing to do with it. This morass. This seductive pit. This siren of doom. When you come into contact with it, you should shudder involuntarily. It should make you sick. That is the only way to keep your life in proper working order. You know what it is: that killer that goes by the name of “crystal meth.”


But even more so: cologne.

Hello my man. Are you twelve years old? If so I think you need to stop reading this sexually explicit website and go play outside. If you are not twelve years old then please—by all means—read on. I have a very pressing question that perhaps you could help me figure out:

Why would you ever wear cologne? Ever?

Consider the following list of circumstances. First we will say the circumstance. Then we will all pause, collectively, and ask ourselves: “Is this a good time to wear cologne?” The answer will be provided. Ready? Here we go.

On a first date? No.
On a second date? No.
Perhaps, the third date? No.
Hanging with the fellas? No.
Going to work? No.
To a wedding? No.
To a funeral? No.
To the club? No.
For a stroll around town? No.
Other [____]? In fact, no.

This is the key point which I would like to communicate to every single man who has at any point in his life—drunk or sober—purchased a bottle of cologne, been gifted a bottle of cologne, or, through any other quirk of fate, come to obtain a bottle of cologne: Do not, under any circumstances, spray the cologne on yourself. Don’t let it out of the bottle. Just don’t do it.

Just don’t do it.

“Ladies love it.” I DOUBT IT. And if they do, you should be suspicious of them. Not the type of person you want to associate with. And I’ll tell you who else doesn’t like smelling your fucking cologne: Me. I don’t like smelling your fucking cologne when I’m sitting close to you in a restaurant. I don’t like smelling your fucking cologne when I’m walking by you on the sidewalk. I don’t like smelling your fucking cologne on the subway. I don’t like smelling your fucking cologne at the beach. I don’t like smelling your fucking cologne in the locker room. What do you think this is—the cologne “testing” counter, at Macy’s? It’s not. It’s a locker room. And I don’t like this situation at all. Not a bit. “I don’t care if you like it,” you say—tough guy. Real tough “scent” guy. Do you know who else doesn’t like smelling your cologne?


EVERYONE ELSE—including other “tough guys” who are huge. Real huge. This is not about whether or not you could beat me up; this is about principles.

Axe Body Spray commercials. Like em? I assume you do. In fact I assume you have modeled your entire persona after them. That is the only reasonable conclusion I can draw after I was walking behind you, when you were wearing your fancy clothes and your button up shirt with the top three buttons undone, and I was hit with the unmistakeable stench of men’s cologne—from your body. This can only lead me to trust and believe that no book, movie, song, or other piece of cultural detritus has ever impacted you as much as Axe Body Spray commercials. Axe Body Spray commercials are the only existing cultural products that shamelessly assert that it is “cool” to cover yourself in disgusting artificial scent. That’s your role model. That is your king.


Axe Body Spray commercial ass motherfucker.

Many young men today lack positive male role models and that’s a shame. Untold young men reaching the age of maturity are susceptible to being influenced by some pop star or pornographer or “Reddit” friend and coming to believe that it is appropriate or even cool for them to wear cologne, in some setting. That’s a tragedy. These are the wayward young men, deprived of proper father figures, who end up adrift—skulking around Meatpacking District rooftop bars, wearing a suit without a jacket and they also took off their tie, releasing scents in a wide radius. The lost boys. They know not what they do. Unfortunately as a society we still have to put them in prison. It’s only the youth that we can save now.


Youth: Don’t ever wear cologne.

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Senior Writer.