It's high time we acknowledge the wisdom of the only man who made the mullet look good. In each issue, there should be an excerpt from MacGyver that explains how us ordinary guys can cut through a 20" steel door simply by using candle wax, shoelaces, and urine from a rabid hyena.

Why? Because if there's one thing we learned from that show, it's that you're better off having that rabid hyena urine and not needing it, than needing that rabid hyena urine and not having it.

This one should be pretty obvious. Sharks are cool. Sharks are mean. Sharks can, and will, eat anything that fits in their mouth. Fish, seals, people, pre-Trimspa Anna Nicole Smith... it doesn't matter, they'll eat it. You can talk all you want about the latest heavyweight boxing matches that went a full 15 rounds, but when compared to a brutal shark attack, they're about as bloody as the Care Bears having a tickle contest with Rainbow Brite.

If there weren't any shark attacks during that particular time period, feature dolphin attacks. Believe me, they're killing people when nobody's around to witness the act. Dolphins are just a little too nice. I don't trust 'em one bit.

While I'm sure writing advice letters to some drunk whose "bro" got him a job writing for the men's magazine has some use that I've yet to discover, think about how much more inspired men would be if they knew Chuck "Missing in Action" Norris was going to personally respond to their letters in an advice column. I can picture it now...

"Dear Chuck, I feel like I'm really screwing up at my job lately. No matter how hard I try, I always feel like I'm stepping on somebody's toes and getting in the way of things. Please help! Sincerely, John"

Dear John: hold your chin up, son! Remember, I don't step on toes. I step on necks! -Chuck Norris

Seriously, do we really need to read interviews with the same stars we hear about every goddamned day? I'm sorry, but I'll bet my bottom dollar that an interview with "Dirtwoman, the homeless pride of Richmond, VA" will be 50 times more interesting than another interview with George Clooney.

Unless of course, George Clooney himself becomes homeless. It might admittedly be more entertaining to hear what a train wreck his life has become now that he has to give sponge baths to Dirtwoman if he wants to share a delicious can of beans and botulism later that evening.

Listen, not all of us guys are Bob Villa, for chrissakes. I'm in my mid 20's and until just a few months ago I thought I was supposed to pour anti-freeze into the same hole that I poured the motor oil. Yet men's magazines nonetheless expect me to be able to build huge shelves with adjustable track lighting in my living room.

I don't think so. It's high time we simplify projects for men. I'm talking about the stuff that always came naturally to us when we were still in high school. Project one: how to make a paper ninja throwing star capable of of taking an eye out.

Look, I don't give a shit how hard you try, we're never going to look like Brad Pitt. This being the case, it'd be nice to not have to see so many photos of the guy.

Instead, show more photos of Steve Buscemi. Now there's a guy we can all aspire to be like with very little effort. Hell, if you're reading this piece chances are you look like him already. You think if you looked like Brad Pitt you'd be reading this? No, you'd be in Columbia busting a drug lord while simultaneously cheating on your wife with Angelina Jolie.

Remember fellas: never set your goals too high. They'll only come crashing down on you.

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Not all of us can afford $1000 suits, but I'd like to personally thank every men's magazine out there for continuing to cram them down our throats. If I wanted to look like James Bond, I'd hire a butler, kill him and steal his outfit.

In my proposed "Fashion for the Average Joe" column, it would simply show the wonderful outfits that us guys can get for less than 5 bux on a trip to the local thrift shop. Those places are goldmines that aren't exploited nearly as much as they should be. So what if the jacket is shiny silver and wrinkled more than Pee Wee Herman's giant ball of tin foil... maybe I like it that way. DEVO-style, baby!

I don't wear cologne. I never will. You can try to call it whatever fancy name you want, but it's perfume. You think Chuck Norris wears perfume? Tell you what, why don't you go send him a letter asking him if he does and see how quickly he shows up on your front doorstep to deliver you a face full of fists.

If underarm deodorant doesn't do the trick for your personal destinkification and you still want to spray something on your body, learn a lesson from grandpa in "The Lost Boys" - put a few dabs of Windex on your face and you're good to go.

While we're on the subject of cologne perfume, you know how a lot of magazines will be stuffed with samples that you can smell? Why limit it to just scents? I propose that all men's magazines now start including food samples.

What could be better than flipping through the pages of your favorite magazine only to find a big piece of beef jerky begging to you consume it? It'd be like finding your very own Cracker Jacks prize in the middle of a magazine.

Say, that's not a bad idea either! Cracker Jack prizes must now be included in all men's magazines too. Make it happen, people.

This will be a new section dedicated to overpaid athletes. I think it's about time we start mixing sports with other activities. If Roger Clemen's wants to make 22 million a year, I want to see him truly EARN it.

Anybody can chuck a baseball into a catcher's mitt with enough practice, but when you're asking for that much money, there should be a little more on the line than just a championship for your team. That's why instead of pitching a baseball game, he'll be thrown into a den of starving lions with only a bucket of baseballs to defend himself with. Sure, it's not "Running Man", but it'll do. For now.

Alright, it's time to stop screwing around with all of those "15 ways to killer abs!" and "Lose those extra pounds fast!" methods that never work. From this point forth, your new personal trainer is Lou Ferrigno, the original Hulk. And Lou isn't gonna let you slack off with your workout routine either. You wouldn't want to make Hulk mad now, would you? The goal of your workout is to eventually be able to flex your massive muscles so that your clothes literally burst from your body, yet still somehow magically cover your groin area. Of course, this will naturally require you to expose yourself to gamma rays, but hey—no pain, no gain.