Evolution has a funny way of working: man came from apes, but while apes are still smart enough to subsist on healthy bananas, men stuff their faces with wings and nachos. They don’t even like nachos (let’s face facts: anything with green onions on it is technically a salad), but it’s a great excuse to ogle waitresses in their natural habitat.
An ape would never demean himself like that. If he needs sex he’ll grab the first ass sticking up in the air and it’s over. If evolution continues like this men will soon be begging for sex (oh, damn. Evolution has already won).
At least there’s one place knuckle-draggers can go to feel like a man: Hooters. Unfortunately, the thrill of a side of supersized mammaries with your un-chicken-like buffalo wings wears off after about 3 minutes (about the time heart burn sets in). And as soon as your top-heavy server struggles to speak beyond one-syllable chirps you realize that bimbos should be left to roam free in libraries where they will slowly develop self-esteem for future generations. So where do you go when you want to meet a woman who has read something more challenging than her horoscope?
My friend, we have the answer. A new establishment called Cougars. Come on in, the first order of emasculation-infused herbal tea is on us.