Based on the swelling numbers of this species, it would seem that the infantilization of the North American male is nearly complete - short of an actual diaper full of shit and accompanying bawling. But hey - the millenium's still young. Really young. He's the perfect stooge for our times; consuming anything you tell him to, easily distracted with useless shiny things waved in his face, and handily placated with the instruments of instant gratification. Requiring even less effort or thought is the fact that he can pretty much wear the same outfit from cradle to grave. Great! Life is one long kindergarten with super-sized drinks and a trail of crud down your shirt-front. Is it too early for man-bibs as casual wear? Go to any mall, airport, or casino and you'll see virtual armies of the Toddler Man, quite literally toddlin' and a-waddlin' along thanks to the cut of his massive crotch-heavy pants and sausagey McGirth. Turn on the TV and there he is again as the modern sitcom dad - the slow-witted slob on the couch, worshipper of the idiot box, sports-addicted, bereft of dignity and as feckless as a newborn - further infantilized by his sassy yet indulgent (and invariably disproportionately attractive) wife. Here he lolls, the new ideal.