Then I did an awful thing. I grew up. Came of age, took a wife, made a family, signed a mortgage and reached a point where a punch in the shoulder no longer seemed to qualify as deep conversation. Became a man, I did. Woe is me.
Boys are king.
Indeed, every which way you turn, you're bombarded with the sights and sounds of . As in TV wrestlers bashing each other over the head with metal folding chairs. As in the XFL, the alternative for people who find the NFL insufficiently violent. But that's not all. Turn on the radio, and you find that pop music now consists largely of angry boys yelling.