The Three Musketeers

The Three Musketeers

Strauss Home / Humor Channel / Bullz-Eye Home

Men always have heroes in their lives. 

Our heroes are other men that we as men look to for courage, inspiration and hope.

Men who step beyond the boundaries of everyday existence and offer each and every one of us the opportunity to dream of a better life. A better place. A better tomorrow.

A hero is a man like your father. Or your favorite childhood athlete. Or a policeman. 

Or Kid Rock, if for no other reason than that he's kerplunking Pamela Anderson.

Like all men, I've had heroes.

At one time, my dad was my hero. But when I realized he was having sex with my mother, I decided he couldn't possibly be my hero anymore.

And there was O.J. Simpson. But he…well, nevermind.

And there was Bill Veeck, who was a true genius if there ever was one. But he's dead.

I think O.J. killed him.

Today, even at 40, I still have heroes. Actually, I have three of them.

Brent, Howard and Tony.

They're ordinary men. But then again, they're anything but.

Brent, Howard and Tony.

Chances are, you don't know them. But if you did, you'd realize these are the kind of men all men wish they could be. 

Although if we were, our wives would probably kick our asses.

This is the story of these three great men. Men's men. 

The kind of men our sissified world needs more of. The kind of men who remind us all what life as a man should be like. The kind of men who rule with an iron jockstrap.

As different as they are from each other, they each possess a special manly skill that I ache for. And combined, they possess the characteristics of the perfect man. 

A man's man. Which is why they're all my heroes.

Because while I'm a lot of things, one thing I most definitely am not, is a man's man.

Isn't that right, sweetheart? And can I make you some more tea, honey bunny?


If a bulb goes out on a lamp in my house, my gut instinct tells me to throw out the lamp and invest in some new lighting.

If a bulb goes out on a lamp in Brent's house, he'll disassemble the lamp, rewire the base, reconfigure the internal electrical mechanism and then design a pulley system that enables you to turn the lamp on and off by twitching your right finger while you're sitting in your car three miles away.

For five years, I lived next door to Home Depot. I mean, Brent. 

In that five-year span, my hero Brent fixed, in no particular order, the following items in my home:


From toilets to sinks to refrigerator doors, Brent is a man I will always view with awe for his remarkable ability to do manly things with his hands. 

I can only do one thing with my hands. And my wife highly encourages me, so I'll leave her alone.

Brent is my hero because he can fix, build or design anything, He knows everything about every tool every created. Socket wrenches. Miter saws. Vice grips.

As a practicing Jew, my toolbox contains two items: the yellow pages and a telephone.

Hi! Can you fix my thing? And when can you get here? Please hurry. I'm really annoyed that my thing is broken. 

Brent is the kind of man God had in mind when he decided to invent guys. He loves his car. He likes playing golf. And he's a complete pervert.

Which, as we all know, are the exact three qualities God was looking for when he began the species.

In many ways, I wish I were more like Brent. 

I wish I could cut wood at a 90-degree angle. I wish I could look at a Lowe's circular and wet my pants. I wish other men would call me for my expertise in a moment of crisis.

But I can't, I don't, and the only thing another man would call me for my expertise on is my secret to walking through a doorway with such big ears.

Brent is my hero. He's what I think every man should aspire to. He's smart. He's funny. He's a great husband and a terrific dad.

Brent is my hero because he exhibits strength, confidence and guile.

And best of all, he shares my deep-rooted obsession with Britney Spears.


Brent was my next-door neighbor for five years. And while Howard lived two miles away, he's loud enough to sound like he was my next-door neighbor.

Howard takes being a man very, very seriously. 

Not one second in one day goes by that Howard isn't doing -- or thinking about doing --something manly.

Going to work. Making money. Wheeling. Dealing. Talking about sex with his buddies. Eating manly meals. Surfing porn. Reading his kids a bedtime story. But still thinking about surfing porn.

There's no question who wears the pants in Howard's house. Just like there's no question who wears them in mine. 

And she's a size eight, by the way.

Howard's my hero because he's the only honest human being I know.

If Howard thinks someone is an asshole, he'll say, "That guy's an asshole."

If Howard thinks the food sucks at a restaurant, he'll say, "The food sucks at this restaurant."

If Howard sees an ugly woman, he'll say, "That woman is ugly. But she's got a nice ass."

What makes Howard even more impressive is that the first person he'll point the ugly woman's ass out to is his wife.

"Hey sweetie, check her out. I know she's ugly, but don't you think she's got a nice ass?"

While his wife may not like what comes out of Howard's mouth, she always knows she's getting exactly what she paid for.

Me? I can't be that honest. I'm not honest enough to be that honest.

One time my wife asked me if I thought Charlize Theron was beautiful. I said, "She's OK if you like that type. I like your type, honey."

I think she believed me, too.

Howard's my hero because he can say whatever he wants to anybody at anytime and it's OK because he's Howard and people expect and appreciate that.

I wish I could be that honest. But I don't have the courage. 

Not only that, I can't run very fast.

Howard's my hero because in a world of lies, Howard's found that the secret to a successful man is to simply tell the truth. Because above all else, nothing earns a man's honor and respect like honesty. However truthful that honesty might be.

I wish I could be that honest. But I don't have the courage. 

By the way, have I mentioned that I love each and every one of you?

Really I do. I swear to God.


I know a lot of married guys. And I know a lot of single guys.

But Tony's the only married guy I know who's a single guy.

And for that, he's my hero.

Tony's the only man who gets to do all the manly things we like to do without having to act like a woman to do them.



Honey, I brought you flowers tonight. God you look so pretty. This is the best dinner I've ever had. Did it really come from a box? You're kidding about this being powdered cheese, right? God, you'd never know. Thanks for knowing how to use the microwave.

So anyway, um, sweetheart, do you think it would be OK if um, maybe, I dunno, if I went and played cards tonight? Because if you don't think it's OK, I'm OK with that. Whatever you want. Really.


TONY: Hey, listen. I'm playing cards tonight. And tomorrow night, I'm going to a basketball game. Don't wait up. And don't forget to take out the garbage.

Tony plays by a different set of rules than I do. Tony is my hero because he does what he wants, when he wants. 

I tried to do that once. But I realized that I really don't want to do anything that could potentially jeopardize my ability to look between my legs and see an attached penis.

Tony is a man's man. Nobody tells Tony what to do. 

Last time I counted, there are 17 people who tell me what to do. Not including my three-year old daughter.

Please don't misunderstand. Tony loves and cares about his family with all his heart. 

In fact, I'd have to say that he loves his family almost as much as he loves his cigars, his cell phone and playing poker.


Tony's my hero because of all the married guys I know, he's the most single. He's shown the remarkable ability to juggle wedded bliss and bachelorhood at the same time.

I think I speak for all men when I say, congratulations. We're jealous.

Frankly, I don't know how he does it. 

Sometimes I think maybe I just married the wrong woman. 

I dunno. Maybe I should've found someone I could be in charge of.

And if my wife says it's OK, I just might do that.


And there they are. Brent, Howard and Tony.

Three men. Three great men.

Men's men.

Each of them, a hero in my eyes. Today and forever. 

To me, they'll always be my heroes for what they've done. For what they continue to do. And for what they represent.

Besides, as far as I know, none of them have ever had sex with my mother.

If you're trying to reach men in their 20s and 30s, or you're trying to reach male readers who have a great sense of humor,'s Humor Channel can be an excellent resource. We offer text link ads and banners of all sizes. Our traffic has grown to more than 60 million page views and 4.5 million unique visitors per month! Contact us and we'll help you meet your advertising needs.