Muscles bunch, string pulls taught.
Fingers relax ever so slowly.
Release.
Bated breath as moments tick over.
That satisfying thwack as the arrow hits smack in the center of the bullseye.

The snark is strong with this one.

Manowrimo?

This one time, when I got drunk at band camp...

Apparently his name is mud...

I hereby declare that earth is the satellite of the moon. (Come at me bro.)

I call horseapples.

Sadly, the dreyfusfish's efforts to attract a mate... had the opposite result.

It's ginger beer time! *pop* *ppsshhhhhhh!!* *tormented screams*

IT IS TEH MORONITH! I CAN HAZ CAPS!

*throws fireball level 4 at figure wearing asbestos outfit*

You had me going there. Took me a second read to realize I was being taken for a ride in the first paragraph. :-)

Bingo. You nailed it. Dressing up was not the core issue. The signs, and the stereotypes they represent, those were where the train went horribly off the rails.