Where the Man Can All-Natural Bath and Body Gift Set for Men really gets us is that there's barely any unifying theme to its stupidly misinformed "manliness." The makers of the product seem so utterly horrified at the thought of a guy washing himself with mere soap and shampoo that they abandon all cohesion in their panic, opting instead to strap a bunch of cliche man-stuff together, to the point where you kind of start to suspect the motivation:

"Oh s**t, that guy's going to touch some water. Steve and Mustache Steve, we must do something or he'll grow at least 17 vaginas! Quick, dude, have this awesome rugged paint can filled with man products for man washing. Drop that sissy soap (ohs**tweswearwedidn'tmeanitthatway LOL broooooo) and take this patented Fisherman's Scrub, which makes it all acceptable by artificially attaching a manly profession to the process of cleaning up. Pay no heed to the hair products that vile, clearly woman-orchestrated ad campaigns might have tricked you to use, and rub this rum-scented bulls**t all over yourself instead, because there's no way a man would use a hygiene product without the name of a manly booze slapped on it. Ladies will get intoxicated just by being in the same elevator as you.

"Want to shave, but don't want to be a f**king Gilmore Girl in the process? Go on, try some of our patented s**cy shaving gel. And ... and we also have this neat body mitt to scrub yourself all over, and this, uh, vial of hand butter ... what? No, this isn't a boner. Shut up."

Where they really stand out are with stuff like diaper bags and, in particular, the baby carrier. This probably sounds like lame marketing to dads, but the proper rearing of your child is a critical mission, goddammit. We were dropped as children and still managed to end up graduating. Imagine if our parents had been carrying us in Mission Critical Baby Carriers. We might be in medical school instead of writing for an internet comedy site. Seriously, check this s**t out.

Now, if we know the actual and potential dads in our audience, they're going to want the coyote color like they show in that video, but who are they trying to fool? "Coyote"? That's camo. You'd carry your baby into f**king 'Nam in that thing. And when Charlie shows up, you just chuck the baby at them. He can handle it. MAN STUFF. MAN.

Mission Critical"We've seen some s**t, both figuratively and literally."

Alternatively, there's the standard black color, which looks a lot more like a "normal" baby carrier, but also sus**ciously like a bulletproof vest. It's only a matter of time before some dad walks around with his kid in a black Mission Critical Baby Carrier, his buddy asks if it's bulletproof, and our hero goes, "I don't know, but I do have some woods behind my house ..."

Wait, hold the s**t on. They're actually peddling beer-scented candles for real?

Yankee CandleACQUIRE THE YEAST. SET THE YEAST ON FIRE.

For those of you who can't see the problem, here's a fun experiment: Open a can of beer. Drink most of it, then leave the last third or so sitting around for a couple of days, preferably in direct sunshine. Then, put your nose reeeeeeal close to the open can, and really let that aroma waft in. Disgusting, yes? Now imagine that s**t is on fire. Yet, somehow, at least one company is attempting to sell this Frankenstein's monster of a stench as a real, money-worthy product, with real marketing terms someone actually thought up for it. We really haven't got the words to describe this thing, so here, have some marketing propaganda by the company itself. (Warning: The following "manly" text includes the word "scentsational" used in apparent earnest.)

Yankee Candle

Look, let's be honest here: Beer is one of the worst smells. It stinks like the unwashed underpants of alcoholism, like the rafters of a baseball stadium on a hot July day. No one likes the smell of beer, regardless of the status of their testicular elephantiasis. No one ever has, no one ever will. If you voluntarily buy beer-scented candles on Amazon, the "suggested products" lists of your loved ones will automatically update to a selection of intervention manuals.

Finally, we have to address the elephant in the room here. This hanger costs $25, which we're sure seems like a bargain to any of you Schwarzenegger types out there (we know how substantial our bodybuilding, machine-gun-wielding governor demographic is). However, a decent piece of rebar costs like $4.47, and we know a guy who owns an anvil.

This is yet another reason we're clearly not worthy to own a Man Hanger. We once dropped $9 on a pack of wooden pants hangers from a fancy-pants organizational megastore called The Container Store, and we regret that purchase to this day. If the folks behind the Man Hanger are trying to play to the stereotype that men want strong products that aren't going to break, they're going to also have to address the reality that no "man" is going to drop $25 on a f**king hanger.

Seemingly only available in Britain, which we'll remind you got the s**t kicked out of them in World War II until the good old USA came around on eagle-back to help them, Mansize Kleenex are apparently "big enough for the whole family." What does that mean? After I blow my nose, do I ask my kids if they want to take a turn? Are they the size of a blanket? Can we keep the homeless warm in a cold London winter simply by distributing them Mansize Kleenex? That vague size description could have any number of implications, because even "normal" tissues are already the size of a dude's face.

Isaac CabeNote: This is actually a normal look for Isaac. His face is listed by the layout staff under "too handsome for public display."

If that's the size of a normal tissue, then what do you need a "man-size" tissue for? Bukkake? Dimensions of an individual Mansize Kleenex have been hard to find online. We can only assume they're the size of a pillow, and when descriptions of the Mansize Kleenex say things like "soft and strong," we take that to mean that they're also totally appropriate for smothering your enemies in their sleep. But hey, maybe Britain is onto something other countries aren't. Between Brexit, =Mansize Kleenex, and a general worldwide fear of World War III, maybe the Brits are simply trying out a new kind of tourniquet. We'll just have to wait and see.