Brought up in a military family in Florida, Russell's worldview was shaped by the expectation that he would one day join the forces, and he was taken aback by his father's (successful) attempts to talk him out of it.

Consequently, there's a sense of disconnection in these essays, in which he explores expressions of American masculinity as diverse as Amish baseball, veterans of Afghanistan and snake handling. This is really two books, the essays linked by vignettes concerning Russell's relationship with his father, and his self-confessed streak of callousness and spitefulness spills over into his journalistic pieces. He does seem to feel a sort of companionable empathy for the snake handler, but at an Insane Clown Posse festival he simply gawps without making any attempt to engage or understand. To be fair, Russell is perfectly candid about where his head's at, but the undercurrents of self-loathing and misanthropy tend to distract from his subjects when he should be illuminating them.