A guy walks into a bar--a lesbian bar in Manhattan, in fact. Disguised as an unattractive woman--a look, he admits, that is almost effortless for him to achieve--he sets out to see how many attractive women he can pick up. It's an experiment to determine the relative superficiality of gay females vs. straight males, or something like that. The punch line: well, there isn't one, really. Our social scientist is eventually recognized by a patron as Toby Young, a 35-year-old writer for the men's magazine Gear. Young denies being on assignment ("Not me. My name is Jennifer"), makes an abrupt exit and goes home to recount his experience in a piece titled "I Was a Lesbian for a Night."
It is this element of teenage pranksterism and boorish humor--combined with pictures of women in the sort of bathing suits that would remain on for a millisecond were they ever deployed for actual bathing--that typifies the new breed of men's magazines, among them Gear and Maxim. The latter has become so popular with its twentysomething male audience that it recently spawned an even more vulgar offshoot called Stuff. Stuff endorses products like Belcher soda and flaunts cover lines that leave no doubt about how far the magazine will go to capitalize on feelings of hostility men may possess toward the opposite sex--"A Grizzly Tale: 'I Saw My Wife Get Killed by a Bear.'"
This homage to manhood at its most base has not been confined to the printed page. If lughead chic is the reigning ethos of men's periodicals, it is also spreading its reach further into the culture as an increasingly dominant force on cable TV. The cartoonishly staged wrestling programs airing on USA, TNT and TBS continue to draw millions of young male viewers, occupying a majority of the top spots on lists of cable's most watched shows. Next month the FX channel will launch The Toughman Championship Series, a program that will pit real-life paunchy men against each other in purportedly unscripted boxing matches. Since January, TNN has offered RollerJam, a venue for voluptuous women in Lycra to go at one another on Rollerblades. Dancing women without Rollerblades--or much clothing--are the main attraction on Happy Hour, a relatively innocuous, if boring, hourlong USA variety show that made its debut in April, with Frank Zappa's sons Dweezil and Ahmet as its hosts.
The next few weeks will usher in two new and ostensibly humorous nighttime talk shows: The X Show, premiering on FX this Wednesday (11 p.m. E.T. each weeknight); and The Man Show, a weekly series making its debut on Comedy Central June 16 (10:30 p.m. E.T.). Clearly influenced by the get-a-babe-and-grab-the-largest-brew clubbiness proffered in the men's magazines, the two shows have hosts almost interchangeable in their ordinariness, sets that look like a freshman lounge, and a fair amount of Fred Flintstone-ish whining about the demandingness of women.
With four relatively unknown young comedians and actors as hosts, The X Show will attempt, as the pilot brags, "to filter out all the c___ and just give you the WD-40 that you need." That WD-40 seems to consist of words of wisdom from exotic dancers and a segment called "Gettin' It," which, for example, might instruct men on how to fake being sensitive. Also featured is the regular modeling of men's underclothing by women.