Esquire’s little black book, The Rules: A Man’s Guide to Life, is an awesome stocking-stuffer. The beauty of books like this, which simply dispense advice in little bites, is that they’re fun to read at the Christmas/Hannukah/Kwanzaa/Festivus party right after you’ve opened them. Some of the rules:
Rule 3:
Do not trust a man who calls the bathroom “the little boys’ room”.
Rule 13:
The team mascot sleeps alone.
Rule 21:
Talk half as much as you listen.
Rule 22:
If you have been drinking, arrested, or touring a hostile land full of gun-toting fundamentalists, or if you are the lead singer of Sugar Ray, talk one-fifth as much as you listen.
Rule 34:
People will compliment you on the cheap artwork you purchased at IKEA, but it will feel hollow.
Rule 45:
The soft taco is the only taco that matters.
Rule 56:
No mammals on the sweaters. Or belts.
Rule 63:
Never trust an act of civil disobedience led by a disc jockey.
Rule 72:
A man whose belt is fastened on the last hole is a desperate and resourceless-looking man.
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Advice in old-timey books was just plain weird, man.
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Dude.