Ponce Alert!

I have tried to remain silent on this issue, but today's "Ask Mr. Smith" column by the Globe and Mail's resident bon viveur Russell Smith has finally forced me to comment.

From the Saturday edition, on the subject of fragrances for men:

A subtle scent on a well-dressed man is a sign, particularly to sensually aware women, that this guy is making an effort. It shows that he is trying to please. And it shows that he is sensually aware himself.

Personally, I love scents. I find them expressions of personality and of desire. I think anyone who's opposed to lovely smells is a little uptight.

Uptight, maybe, but all I know is that when I get on an elevator at 09h00 Monday morning, hung-over, the last thing I want to endure is inhaling the sensually enhanced manhood of anyone, let alone Russell Smith, Esq.

Who can take fashion advice seriously from a guy that has bangs? He hasn't updated his homepage, so you, the internet public, cannot experience Russell Smith's bangs.


Those bangs might be de rigeur on the Left Bank, but here in T.O. they make Russell look like a brain-damaged homosexual (not that there is anything wrong with that).

Which is odd, because Word on the Street is that he is a flagrant heterosexual.

Lock up your daughters! A funny-looking guy with bangs and an ascot is sensually querying them about cheese! And probably acting insouciant!


I am so strident on this point (the Bangs issue) that I am considering going to a Kinko's and scanning the Russell Smith byline photo from the Globe. So I can show you what I am talking about. I care that much!


UPDATE

You think I exaggerate? I finally found one, not the masterpiece on display in the Globe, but it gives you an idea of what I am talking about.

David Beckham: Useless Tit

Luckily for David Beckham, we haven't been treated to the spectacle of him poncing around in a sarong for a while. Because, as far as I can tell, the guy is a waste of space on the pitch.

Joe Cole, another midfielder: now there's a guy that's "on the ball" (as my dad would say). He is like the English version of Branko Segota, a powerhouse of energy and aggression. Even freak o' nature Peter Crouch (I intend a separate posting on the subject of Crouchinho) is at least making some sort of effort.

This is the first World Cup where, thanks to the twin miracles of highspeed internet connections and person-to-person filesharing, I have been able to actually watch all the games I want. Which in turn means I can watch the England games over and over, if I want, when I want. And I do!

Perhaps the source of Beckham's failure lies in the fact that he is the squad's captain, and is over-sensitive to the pressure of being the focus of English hopes. Or maybe, like Michael Owen, he is an over-rated putz that should be dropped sooner, rather than later, despite how many endorsement contracts he has listed on his c.v.

Don't get me wrong, I am not saying that David Beckham is a useless tit in all fields of human endeavour. To quote an English guy I met while vacationing in Thailand a few years ago (shoutout to Ben!):

Besides David Beckham the Sportsman, there is David Beckham the Cultural Icon, David Beckham the Politician, and especially David Beckham the Thinker.

So David has got that going for him, which is nice.

Addendum: Go Ghana!