The end of the male begins with aesthetics

This article is published in number 15 of Vanity Fair on newsstands until April 13, 2021

Do you remember? The earth was once infested with curious animals called humans. In the days of our grandmothers, boys roamed freely spreading their filthy customs, their limitless needs, their ruthless lust. Then, the free ride is over. Feminism, equal opportunities, Madonna and the #Metoo they have planted anti-personnel mines everywhere. They cut the penis, steal the semen, make hyenas.

Think of the things that males do well today: fashion, cooking, furniture, hairstyles. These are all girl things. And women don’t fall in love with them because they are like friends with an extra attribute. In this regard, the sociologist Domenico De Masi’s analysis of the last Sanremo is disturbing: “This year, thanks to the pandemic, the Festival made a full-blown outing for the first time, repudiating its origins, when men dressed as men and women dressed as women sang regular songs consisting of verses and choruses. In this edition the songs have become performances and the singers have diluted their sexual identity in an androgyny where the sexes faded between them, the men kissed each other, the singers threw their indifferent erotic preferences in the face of the journalists “. Amadeus and Fiorello too “were two men winking at each other, both in love with the muscular Zlatan Ibrahimovic”. What De Masi writes on LinkedIn is disturbing because there is a bunch of truth. It is enough to make a round of phone calls to friends to hear an ancient cry: sex is “treated as a worm-eaten thing; also tiring to deal with “; and you prefer a Saturday night sucking with friends to an evening of free swine exercises. “He” is of no use: at most he sets up, dusts, washes the windows, dresses up as a sexy-cubist. So the new waiter of the Maschicidal society advances. In literature he is told more and more as a “mutilated” badly survived a war of the sexes; on the weeklies he is photographed more and more as a femminiello to offer him new beauty products for his delicate skin and his fear of wrinkles; in the newspapers they write about him in all colors and pains, because he never makes a correct one: either he rapes or he is impotent, or he is gay or he is unpleasant, or he is inexperienced or he never finishes it, or he is too Marzullo or too much Rocco Siffredi. And then, what to do with a poor man who has now become a Pubic Boy, the new mask of the Comedy of Appearance that is added to that of Veline and Letterine? After all, we already live on “sugar-free”, “salt-free”, “fat-free”, “cholesterol-free” products. We will get used to living even “without a male.” So much so that the only men who still want to get married are priests and gays.

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