Category Archives: Non-Intersectional

Freaks and Geeks

I’ve often said there’s a kernel of truth in every crazy idea the academic Left has crapped out.  Here’s one the feminists got right:  Modern technology imposes impossible beauty standards.

Now, I most certainly do NOT mean “swimsuit models make girls anorexic;” “porn turns men off normal women;” etc.  I mean that apps like Facebook, Tinder, OK Cupid, etc. have skewed everyone’s mating expectations, with bad results for everybody.

Skim Chateau Heartiste for the gory details, but the upshot is: Since women are mainly driven by ego-inflation, and since any halfway presentable girl can get scads of attention from doofy hornballs just by posting a cleavage shot, Plain Janes quickly convince themselves they’re hot stuff, and so only the Fifty Shades of Gray guy will do in real life.

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Meanwhile, men have been indoctrinated since birth by their let-your-freak-flag-fly feminist teachers (BIRM at least 3x) to believe that the whole “M’lady” fedora-tipping act really works in the brave new social media world:

He white-knighted for you on the Internet, so please for to make with the sex.

She thumb’s-upped your thumb’s up of her cleavage shot, so you’re thiiiiiis close to true love!

Which brings me to this.  I can pretty much guarantee you that the “lesbian trapped in a man’s body” a) isn’t a lesbian; b) knows full well he’s really a dude; and c) would’ve found himself a girlfriend back in my old high school.  No, not because I attended some fantasyland campus, but because I matriculated back in the Jurassic, when the only people who had heard of the Internet were using it to argue about Star Trek and/or exchanging missile schematics with other Defense Department contractors.

While most of us were vaguely aware there’s a big wide world out there, it was entirely theoretical.  Ever seen one of those movies from back when, where the kids all swear that the minute they turn 18, they’re on the first bus out of this lousy one-horse town?  That was really a thing back then… and so was the way the movie ended (for all but the sensitive artistic protagonist): Everyone still stuck in the one-horse town, working shit jobs and making do.  We’re social creatures by nature; inertia is the strongest social force; “making do with the society you have” has been mankind’s default since we first figured out agriculture.

Admittedly my high school was larger than most one-horse towns, but no matter how much of a dork you were, you had at least one peer.  And since they knew the social value of bullying back then, the bonds between peer groups were quite strong.  Short of actual, Elephant Man-level disfigurement or florid psychosis, then, you could find a friend or two (even Jeffrey Dahmer had high school buddies, for pete’s sake).  Math being what it is, chances were good that at least one of those friends was of the opposite sex, and — teenage hormones being what they are — chances were high that one thing would eventually lead to another….

Nowadays, though? Fughettaboudit.  Your “lesbian trapped in a man’s body” has neither the incentive nor the opportunity to go out and make a friend in the real world.  Not to get all Baudrillard here (speaking of another Lefty with a kernel of truth in his metric tons of bullshit), but for folks like this, the Internet’s “virtual reality” is far more “real” than actual Reality.  When you can instantly get in touch with a worldwide community of folks who’ve arranged their entire lives around their socio-sexual hangups, why not embrace it?

Sure, you’ll be miserable in ways nobody stuck making do in their one-horse town will ever understand, but at least you’ll be permanently disfigured by surgery and hormone “therapy”….

 

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Asking For It

Our friend Robert posted this on HKB (facebook) … I had a comment on it that I wanted to save in case I or others wanted to refer to it in the future.  Incidentally, I once found this very fabric.  I thought about buying some and having someone make me a shirt out of it just because….

consentYou know, when people point out that when you dress a certain way you might expect certain unwanted attention (you certainly want the attention, or you wouldn’t dress that way) and sometimes that brings along assholes that go beyond just looking … we’re not saying it’s OK for the asshole to touch you. We’re just telling you you are increasing your chances due to the nature of assholes.

If I’m backpacking in the Rockies, I wouldn’t take a pound of bacon with me and lay it all over my clothes and backpack, because I know the nature of bears. It’s a danger to me whether it should be or not.

And no, I’m not comparing all men to bears, I’m comparing assholes to bears, because both will engage in behavior I wish to avoid, and I have some control over how much and what kind of notice they take of me.

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