Maximum Male Models: A Review

Are the juices of your pleasure ready to be titilated?

 

 

Last Friday night, I went out to support a neighborhood small business by allowing myself a few alcoholic beverages and singing Celine Dion louder than anyone asked. I then came home (10 pm, because I’m in my late 20s) and fell asleep for about three hours, before I woke up at 1 am, unable to do anything except think about the crushing reality of the world we live in. As I get older, this is increasingly the way my body reacts to alcohol, and I have to find various ways to occupy my time, lest I dwell on the American political landscape too much.

That night, I scrolled through YouTube to kill time, unfortunately finding that my algorithm has read me for filth over, particularly that I would enjoy watching various WWE clips. The very first one was for Max Dupri’s introduction of the Maximum Male Models, a long awaited segment that finally took place after weeks of postponing to generate minimum-to-light buzz. Moderately buzzed myself, I decided to see what all the fashion fuss was about.

Dupri announced his breakthrough into the fashion world like he didn’t sell $20 Fruit of the Loom t-shirts on Pro Wrestling Tees for much of his career. He then brought out ma.çé (Dupri claims we remember him as Mace, of Retribution fame, but that’s a very bold claim to make), alongside mån.sôör (previously the plucky underdog Mansoor, now transformed into a man who wouldn’t let you sit at his table in high school.) Both models walked the runway solo and then together, posing for pictures as Dupri told us of their succulent features, their [insert food here] sized calves and their beautiful waists.

The segment ended with promotion of Dupri’s new website, and a final victory lap for the two models. All in all, it barely cracked five minutes, and I fell back asleep dreaming of a world where fashion and wrestling can finally co-exist (you know, outside of Stokely Hathaway’s fantastic suits.)

The following is my half-drunken, 1am evaluation of the gimmick (cleaned up for spelling and general readability, things that seem to matter when you’re texting anyone besides your ex).

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