What the Fuck Has Happened to Men? A Brad Pitt Emasculation Saga

Brad Pitt is facing his wife’s departure and accusations of screaming drunkenly at his teenaged son, what we used to call typical parenting, with all the backbone of a middle child barista. According to US Weekly which has spoken to several sources not the least bit connected to the story, Brad is a sobbing mess. He calls his elderly mother daily. He’s submitted himself to blood and alcohol testing despite there being no such demand for such a concession. He’s nearly complete with a book of somber poetry on love and loss. Way to show your heel, Achilles.

Pitt’s agreed to let Jolie have physical custody of the kids and limit himself to therapist supervised visits. He’s also conceded to family group counseling to fill in any free time. Both Pitt and Jolie have piles of cash so there’s no need to figure out who’s footing the bill for the $90,000 a month new beachfront hideout for Angie and the kids. That’s glamour refugee status. Pitt’s people claim he was blindsided by the divorce filing, even though Jolie’s threatened numerous times and even her own father would agree she’s noteworthy crazy. An IMDb credit search couldn’t hurt if you’re unaware what your wife has been up to the past decade. Or a WebMD profile. This is the kind of naiveté you expect from a man maybe at twenty-two, not at fifty-two after a couple of marriages.

Pull on your big boy pants, Pitt. People look up to you. There’s no crying in love past high school, only drinking. Decent god-fearing Americans are rooting for you to start fucking a string of young models. Stop being so selfish. Buy your older kid an wildly extravagant sports car for his sixteenth and call it even. Third World kids are inherently practical. You could learn a lesson. You’re fucking killing our masthead.