“When you see a deer you see Bambi / And I see antlers up on the wall.” Paisley innocently describes his affinity for outdoorsmanship, but dark overtones sneak into his words — presumably, he’s never seen “Bambi.” Or, he’s cruel and soulless. This leads to a frank discussion of his personal hygiene issues, phrased as an immature boast, but with what seems to be a desperate cry for help bubbling beneath the surface. Scrub as hard as you’d like; Paisley shall yet remain a guy — a perpetually filthy psychopath.

“When you see a priceless French painting / I see a drunk, naked girl.” Next topic: fine art, which Paisley seems to interpret as jack-off material from a bygone age. Also, he likes riding bulls. D-d-d-double entendre!!! … Oh, almost forgot: He’s still a guy — sexist, perverted, potential animal rapist. But he’ll hold your purse maybe?

“I’ll pour out my heart / Hold your hand in the car / Write a love song that makes you cry.” Not much to argue with here, beyond how out-of-character this all seems for the guy who visits museums for the crudely rendered images of exposed areola. And also the violence, which still doesn’t seem as bad as shooting Bambi and stuffing his corpse to mount above your fireplace.

“But when you say a backrub means only a backrub / Then you swat my hand when I try / Well, what can I say at the end of the day / Honey, I’m still a guy.” Why yes, Mr. Paisley, all of us have come a long way from living in caves and walking like chimpanzees, which is why backrubs can just be backrubs, unless you’re at a massage parlor in certain parts of Bangkok. But honey, he’s still a guy — horny and blue-balled.

“These days there’s dudes getting facials / Manicured, waxed and botoxed.” Again, nothing to argue with. There are indeed people who do this, and a lack of calloused hands would potentially limit one’s ability to grip a tacklebox. Or anything else.

“I’ve still got a pair,” protests Paisley, shrill and desperate. We’ve all seen you hold her purse, bro. Busted. But yes, you may insist that you are still a guy (until you want to buy something and then you have to give her the purse your balls back).

“Oh my eyebrows ain’t plucked / There’s a gun in my truck.” Good news: As of yesterday, it’s probably no longer legal for Paisley to keep that gun in his truck in New York. May this ban soon extend to cartoon-killing, animal-sodomizing sexists everywhere.

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