The Other McCain

"One should either write ruthlessly what one believes to be the truth, or else shut up." — Arthur Koestler

NARAL: ‘Tactic Of Humanizing Fetuses’

Posted on | February 7, 2016 | 57 Comments

by Smitty


I realize we’re not supposed to ask “hahrd” questions, but it would be helpful if the Servants of Moloch could explain something.
Accepting for the sake of argument that humans are not continuously human from conception on through death, how DOES the fetus transition from non-human to human state? What magical chrysalis occurs, when the embryo goes from non-human to human status?
I realize that this is a key component of abortion mythology, but I’ve never heard any proponent of the fiction explain it.

Category: Abortion

Rule 5 Sunday: Super Bowl L

Posted on | February 7, 2016 | 21 Comments

— compiled by Wombat-socho

We’ll have none of your barbaric non-Roman numerals here on our traditionalist website, buddy. This week, our appetizer is courtesy of the Carolina Panthers’ Top Cats, “…representing all regions of the Carolinas.” Indeed. As usual, please exercise discretion when clicking on the links below, many of which are to pics generally considered NSFW. The management is not responsible for any penalties called for lack of discretion in clicking, including loss of downs, loss of possession, clock resets, and/or removal from the game.

See if you can find the 40-year-old in this picture.

Goodstuff leads off this week with that marvelously plush bunny, Kirstie Alley, followed by Ninety Miles from Tyranny with Morning Mistress, Hot Pick of the Late Night Bananarama, and Girls with Guns. The Last Tradition checks in with Mileena Hayes and Sessilee Lopez, Animal Magnetism has Rule Five Campaign Speech Friday and the Super-Sized Saturday Blondepocalypse, and First Street Journal chips in with Off We Go Into The Wild Blue Yonder.

EBL’s herd of mutants and merkins begins with Angela Merkel and continues with the legendary Mud Shark, and more Carolina Panthers cheerleaders.

A View from the Beach offers Alyson Michalka, Circuit Court Strikes Down MD Gun Restrictions, Friday Swimming with Manatees, Power Glitch Kills Pennsylvania Carp yea, really, I’ve Seen Flying Fish Before . . ., New Zealand: A Nice Place Except for All the Da*n Vampires, Eat Mo’ Fish!, “Riding Shotgun Down the Avalanche”, No More Eastern Shore Nutria?, It’s Bikini Season in Poland!, To Be Fair, He Has a Point, and Now There’s a Talent!

Soylent Siberia serves up some coffee creamer, Monday Motivationer Distraction, Tuesday Titillation, Humpday Hawtness’ Lofty Asspirations, Fursday Sushi, Corset Consternation, Weekender Sabrina, and Bath Night Bingo.

Proof Positive’s Friday Night Babe is Katie May, his Vintage Babe is Inger Stevens, Sex in Advertising is covered by Mrs. Tom Brady, there’s Women of PETA XLVII, and of course the obligatory NFL cheerleaders. At Dustbury, it’s Lauren Hutton and Mary, Crown Princess of Denmark.

Thanks to everyone for your linkagery! Deadline to submit links to the Rule 5 Wombat mailbox is midnight on Saturday, February 13.


Visit Amazon’s Intimate Apparel Shop

Category: Rule 5

#GOPDebate Feedback: Women In Combat Is A Progressive Position

Posted on | February 7, 2016 | 105 Comments

by Smitty

The GOP debate in New Hampshire was relatively well done, once everyone got onto the stage. The one curve ball is the topic of this blog post. Sorry, Governor Christie, there is no “natural right” to serve in the military, and the overall swellness of any individual aspiration to serve is not a basis for policy or military strategy.

The proper basis for any actual veteran (that is, non-careerist, brown-lipstick-wearing senior brass tools in the Pentagon) is this: combat power of the military unit.

Had we shred #1 of intellectual honesty, we’d do a cost/benefit analysis of our decades of experience with co-ed units, and locate the sweet spot of “co-edfication” and combat effectiveness, and be willing to admit that we may very well have sacrificed the ability to win a war on the altar of Political Correctness.

Which, by the way, is not to take anything away from any of the really excellent ladies with whom I (genuinely) enjoyed serving. They rock. The point is simply that their overall rockingness is not the proper question, and, sadly, nothing short of abject ruin will trigger an honest appraisal.

War is The Evil That Men Do. I shall go to my grave unpersuaded that War Is More Awesome When Women Are Part Of The Team.

Category: Chris Christie, Republicans

Feminism Is a Synonym for ‘Shut Up’

Posted on | February 7, 2016 | 67 Comments

Feminists despise all men and never want to hear a man say a word:

“I wish all men would shut the fuck up forever honestly. I never want to hear another unsolicited male opinion in my fucking life, least of all on feminist issues. It seems that all ‘feminist’ men care about is getting nice guy points and sleeping with women, or stroking their own egos and thinking they’re soooo great because they show basic human decency to women.”

This quote from an anonymous young feminist’s Tumblr blog expresses the esoteric reality of feminism — what feminists really think, and say to each other privately — in contrast to the exoteric rhetoric feminists speak in public when trying to recruit new members and attract “mainstream” political support. In public, feminists claim to believe in equality between men and women; privately, feminists seethe with resentment toward men, dismiss men’s accomplishments as “male privilege,” denounce men as entirely useless and — as in the example above — express a wish to silence men. As I have previously explained:

Feminism is always a lecture, never a debate. Feminists have no respect for men. No feminist ever wants to hear anything a man has to say, so what’s the point of saying anything to a feminist except “good-bye”?

Meanwhile, consider this headline:

Gloria Steinem Says Young Women
Only Support Bernie Because Boys Do

The iconic feminist Hillary supporter denounces the socialist Bernie Sanders as a patriarchal conspiracy? It’s too perfect!

America Needs Hillary for President Like a Fish Needs a Bicycle.

 

Category: Sex Trouble

FMJRA 2.0: Breakdown

Posted on | February 7, 2016 | 1 Comment

— compiled by Wombat-socho

Rule 5 Sunday: Nighthawks
Animal Magnetism
Regular Right Guy
Ninety Miles from Tyranny
A View from the Beach
Proof Positive
Batshit Crazy News

Feminism: A Problem, Not a Solution
Rotten Chestnuts
First Street Journal
The Daley Gator
Regular Right Guy
Batshit Crazy News

Police: Louisiana Teacher and Teen Girl Had Year-Long Lesbian Relationship
Batshit Crazy News

FMJRA 2.0: Pallas Athena
The Pirate’s Cove
A View from the Beach
Batshit Crazy News

Is This Donald Trump’s Testimony?
Regular Right Guy

IOWA CAUCUS PREDICTION
Regular Right Guy
The Daily Spew
Batshit Crazy News

The Iowa Caucus Is Rape Culture
Regular Right Guy
The Lonely Conservative
Batshit Crazy News

‘Rape Culture’ in Tuscaloosa?
Regular Right Guy

In The (Rape Culture) Mailbox, 02.01.16
Regular Right Guy
Proof Positive

LIVE AT FIVE: 02.02.16
Regular Right Guy
A View from the Beach
Proof Positive
Batshit Crazy News

Rape Culture: German Women Terrorized by Growing Menace of Muslim Violence
Batshit Crazy News

How @RooshV Trolled the World
Batshit Crazy News

In The Mailbox, 02.03.16
Proof Positive
Batshit Crazy News

Don’t The #TrumperTantrum Gags Just Write Themselves?
Regular Right Guy
Batshit Crazy News

In The Mailbox, 02.04.16
The Lonely Conservative
A View from the Beach
Proof Positive
Batshit Crazy News

‘Neo-Masculinist’ Fail? @RooshV Cancels Meetups After Feminist Threats
Batshit Crazy News

Friday Fiction: 100 Word Challenge
Batshit Crazy News

Top linkers this week:

  1.  Batshit Crazy News (14)
  2.  Regular Right Guy (9)
  3.  Proof Positive (5)

Thanks to everyone for their linkagery!


I Robot

Category: FMJRA Award

When @RooshV Is Right

Posted on | February 6, 2016 | 36 Comments

Currently 3,000 words into writing a very long article about the denouement of the drama about pickup artist (PUA) Daryush “Roosh V” Valizadeh, I need to take a break and give readers something to chew on in the meantime. As a father, a husband and a Christian, of course I must frown in disapproval at the entirety of PUA discourse. On the other hand, (a) I’m old enough to remember the “swinging singles” scene of the 1970s, and (b) I was a Democrat back then, so it’s not as if I don’t know how The Game is played. Or at least, how The Game used to be played. Exactly what it’s like for a young guy on the scene in the 21st century, I can’t say and, given the toxic aspects of contemporary “hookup culture,” my advice to any young man would be: If you can find a sane woman, marry her, and stay the heck away from the singles scene.

Whether viewed from either a practical or moral perspective, the prevailing insanity of young women’s attitudes and behavior in 2016 is a strong argument against pursuing the kind of hedonistic pleasures that pickup artists seek. It seems that the more a young woman goes through the “pump-and-dump” experience of a carousel rider — a hookup here, a “friends with benefits” arrangement there, cohabiting for a few months at a time with various boyfriends, etc. — the crazier she becomes. A girl who might have been potential wife material at 16 starts bouncing around from boyfriend to boyfriend and, by the time she’s 21 or 22, she has sustained so much emotional damage she is probably doomed to become a Crazy Cat Lady, gobbling antidepressant pills and updating her Tumblr blog between appointments with her therapist.

No father would want his daughter to become a carousel rider, nor would any mother want her son to date that kind of low-self-esteem trash, and yet PUAs are chasing after these “pump-and-dump” girls? Why? Oh, wait a minute — I’m having a flashback to the summer of 1978. However, I was a Democrat then and, also, I have the right to remain silent and to have my attorney present during questioning, Sheriff. But I digress . . .

Obviously, I do know why young guys go to nightclubs in search of easy action, but with the benefit of hindsight, I recognize this as a game for losers. If a guy is really a winner, he’s got a girlfriend, and if your girlfriend is a winner, well, why not get married, settle down and make babies with her? With two parents who are winners, your kids are almost guaranteed to be winners, and the world needs more winners, right?

There are way too many losers in the world already, which explains why these losers are all reading pickup artist stuff on the Internet, trying to figure out how to win. This is not to say, however, that what Roosh V says is always wrong. In fact, a lot of what he says about male/female dynamics is very insightful, despite his bad motives and the deliberately insulting language he uses toward women. And here is one of those cases where he makes an excellent suggestion:

A man at a bar will roll his eyes at feminist talking points, but he will nonetheless persist in his pursuit of the notch. This must end. . . .
Not only must you pass on a feminist, but you must let her know why you are passing on her. It must be clear to her that a man she was considering for sex has rejected her solely for her beliefs. Examples:

Girl: “It’s too bad that men still make more than women.”
You: “Wait, are you a feminist?”
Girl: “Well yeah.”
You: “Too bad, I don’t date feminists. Have a good night.”

Girl: “Birth control should be a human right, like mobile internet access.”
You: “So you’re a feminist?”
Girl: “I think if you believe in true equality, you’re a feminist, too.”
You: “LoL. I don’t talk to feminists.” Backturn

An argument or debate is not on the table. Do not give her the chance to explain her beliefs or demand to know yours. Once she admits to being a feminist, someone who believes in female superiority at the cost of male well-being, she no longer exists in your world.

This is exactly right, or almost so. Roosh V is correct that no man should ever let himself be drawn into an argument or debate with a feminist in a casual conversation. Seriously, guys: Once she identifies herself as a feminist, or exhibits the kind of hostile attitude that is typical of feminists, this is your cue to walk away, even if (a) she looks good, and (b) she’s otherwise giving you green-light signals. What you must realize is this: Feminists consider men their inferiors, and if a feminist signals sexual interest toward you, the question is, why?

Feminism attracts selfish, cruel and dishonest women by offering them a political rationale for their sadistic revenge fantasies. The only reason a feminist is ever interested in any man is because she craves the opportunity to humiliate him, thus to prove her own superiority to him. Jessica Valenti married Andrew Golis in 2009 and has been publicly humiliating him ever since, a shame that Golis (five years younger than his Vindictive Man-Hating Boss Lady wife) is required to endure in his assigned role as The Good Liberal Man, the Ice Queen’s sperm-donor/roommate/babysitter in their loveless sham of a marriage.

Only a masochist with zero self-respect could be interested in a relationship with such a heartless monster as Jessica Valenti, and this is what any pickup artist must consider if he encounters a woman who calls herself a “feminist.” Clearly, Roosh is correct that snubbing her — and making sure she knows why you’re snubbing her — is the smart play.

Do not argue or debate with her. Feminism is always a lecture, never a debate. Feminists have no respect for men. No feminist ever wants to hear anything a man has to say, so what’s the point of saying anything to a feminist except “good-bye”?

Heed my wisdom, young man: Nine times out of 10, the only reason a woman like that ever flirts with a man is to prove to herself that she could get him if she wanted him. Feminism is the political rationalization of neurotic women’s psychological deficits, you see. The feminist has self-esteem issues which she reverses into a grandiose narcissistic projection of herself as a Heroic Crusader for Social Justice. If you find yourself in a situation where such a woman is giving you green-light signals, therefore, this question is always why? And the answer is that she wants you to  make a move (thus validating her sense of herself as sexually desirable), so that she can have the sadistic pleasure of rejecting you, thereby demonstrating her superiority to you.

This is certainly not The Game a smart player would ever play, and so Roosh is right: Walk away. Of course, an unscrupulous cynic could probably think of alternative ways to play that scenario, but this would require (a) a genuinely wicked imagination and (b) master-level skills. Since I hung up the spurs when I married my wife in 1989, there are probably very few young riders in the carousel rodeo with the necessary combination of skills and attitude to execute the old Triple-Burn Play, and I’d be a fool to give away that kind of strategy, even if it eweren’t for my Christian moral objections to sinful fornication. Besides, if I waive my Miranda rights, anything I say can and will be used against me, and therefore I’ll invoke my right to remain silent, Sheriff.

The Game is a bad game, boys. “For the wages of sin is death,” and you can believe what you want to believe, but there is such a thing as justice in this world, and what goes around comes around sooner or later. Sinners usually learn that lesson the hard way, and a wise man would never play The Game rather than to risk becoming an Andrew Golis.

God must really hate that poor fool for some reason.

ADDENDUM: Let me add, while it’s on my mind, a further thought about PUAs. The median age at first marriage in 1959 (the year I was born) was about 20 for women, and 23 for men. It is now about 26 for women and 28 for men. What this trend represents is the decline of marriage, and if you haven’t studied this demographic trend as a historical phenomenon, you should. However, what the would-be pickup artist needs to think about when considering this trend is his exit strategy from The Game. By the time a guy is in his mid-20s, about half the women his age are already married. We may suppose that the woman who marries in her early 20s is more tradition-minded and also probably more attractive than the woman is still single at age 27 or 28. Remember what I said about carousel riders and emotional damage? How many times can a girl get burned in bad relationships before she’s psychologically broken beyond repair?

OK, so you are a college-age nerd who can’t succeed with the ladies, and you turn to the PUA community seeking to improve your chances. The key thing I wish to emphasize here is, don’t let The Game become your Afghanistan war. A young player — the guy who’s 21 or 22 and scoring regularly — may be tempted to believe he can keep playing The Game forever. If you pay attention, though, you’ll notice guys who stay in The Game too long, and it’s a sad sight to see a dude in his 30s hanging around bars trying to hit on girls 10 years younger than him. See, guys, there is ultimately no future in The Game, and the only way to win The Game is to quit The Game. And your chances of getting out of carousel rodeo, to exit The Game as a winner, are best if you find someone to marry before you get to the point that you’re picking through the culls and rejects that other guys didn’t consider keepers.

 

Category: Sex Trouble

Feminism: A Problem, Not a Solution

Posted on | February 5, 2016 | 57 Comments

The Ivy League Is Decadent and Depraved, as I reminded readers a few weeks ago, and you’ll pardon me for quoting myself, but the evidence of elite depravity keeps slapping me in the face. Adriana Miele is a senior at Yale University:

Brunch is the ideal time to do it. Dinner is usually too crowded, and lunch and breakfast are so rushed that I don’t have the time. On any given weekend, I arrive at a dining hall past noon, usually with leggings and a warm, knit sweater. I swipe my card.
Then I count the amount of rapists in the room.
Girls at Columbia and Brown got in trouble for releasing lists with names of known rapists on their campuses. My friends and I have still considered doing the same, but we’re too exhausted to deal with the inevitable backlash.
I can’t speak about other campuses because I know only this one, but Yale has an epidemic. Each day, students fear for their safety as they walk across campus. Whether stepping into the library or taking a seat in a classroom, they’re reminded of some of the most traumatizing moments of their lives.
I think it’s true that you can survive Yale despite an experience of violence, sexual or otherwise. You can do it. I have endured Yale. But you shouldn’t be enduring Yale: you should be attending and enjoying Yale. Women and queer people aren’t thriving at Yale the way we should be. According to the Association of American Universities’ 2015 Campus Climate Survey on Sexual Assault, most of us here at Yale have been physically violated and intimidated. Among straight women, it’s over half; among gender-queer students, it’s over 60 percent. . . .
When over half of your undergraduate female population is being assaulted, you have an epidemic. . . .
Since I started counting, I can’t remember a single weekend without noticing at least one rapist (that I know of) in the room. . . .

Either (a) Yale is the Rape Capital of the World, or (b) Adriana Miele is in the grip of a paranoid delusion. Considering annual tuition at Yale is $47,600, and most of the boys she imagines are “rapists” are mild-mannered brainiac nerds, I rather doubt most women on campus in New Haven “fear for their safety.” Does anyone believe these geeky Yale boys, many of them National Merit Scholar finalists, are committing sexual assault on a regular basis? Is dating a Yale boy like partying with the Hell’s Angels during Bike Week in Daytona? What kind of lunatic would claim such a thing? A quick bit of research turned up an autobiographical essay Adriana Miele published last fall:

I didn’t like Massachusetts because my parents got divorced in Massachusetts, and in Virginia, everything was sunny and perfect and the winters weren’t even that bad. . . . I hated everything about the fact that my parents were no longer together, and I felt like something had died. . . .
One of the few places in New England that didn’t feel heartless and evil was the town of Newton, the place where my brothers, mother, and I all attended school: a private Montessori elementary school for the kids, and Lassell College for our mom, who decided to pursue her bachelor’s degree once my dad left. . . .
My mom . . . met my bearded, New Englander father in D.C. Following the affair with his client’s paralegal, my parents separated, and I became extremely depressed. . . . Out of concern, mom got me a therapist in Newton. . . .
My therapist’s office had a big, comfy green chair and bookshelf full of games and books with titles that mentioned “childhood trauma” and “anxiety,” but we didn’t use those words. Dr. S taught me card games and tried to get me to talk about my father and stepmother.

Well, you can read the whole thing, but the short version is, her father is a selfish creep and her parents’ divorce when she was 8 years old inflicted a psychological wound in Adriana Miele from which she has never recovered, and therefore she hates and fears men. This probably explains why she got into Yale, really. Elite schools require applicants to submit essays along with their applications. Because of grade inflation and programs that teach kids specifically how to take standardized tests, lots of kids finish high school with near-perfect GPAs and high SAT scores. The admissions essay is a way for students to signify their “progressive” politics by telling stories about themselves, signalling their solidarity with radical faculty on the admissions committee.

This is why there are dozens of Adriana Miele clones on all the Ivy League campuses, see? If it weren’t for their feminist “Look at Me I’m an Oppressed Victim” narratives, they’d be attending one of those overpriced second-tier liberal arts schools that exist merely to provide a pseudo-Ivy experience for rich kids who got rejected by Harvard, Yale, Princeton and Columbia. Adriana Miele leveraged her victimhood (and half-Peruvian ancestry, to check the “diversity” box) into an acceptance at Yale, so that now her Daddy can pay the tuition bill while she proclaims to the world how all the men at Yale are rapists.

How could anyone even stand to be in the same room with a whiny overprivileged brat like Adriana Miele? The belief that Ivy League kids are “the best and brightest” in America was never really true, and the prestige of that bogus “meritocracy” continues to decline. There is no standardized test for virtue, so maybe the boys at Yale are as bad as the girls at Yale, and rape is everywhere on campus.

Simple question, Adriana: Isn’t your stepmother a feminist, too? Hasn’t all this “liberation” and “empowerment” of the past 40 or 50 years produced a lot of messed-up kids like you? And what about those rapists at Yale, huh? Here’s $20 that says every one of those Yale boys you’re accusing of being sexual predators is the son of a woman who considers herself to be a feminist. Two generations after “Second Wave” feminism emerged from the New Left in the 1960s, it is nearly impossible for young fools to understand the difference between (a) the traditional values that feminism condemns as “patriarchy,” and (b) the selfish attitudes that feminists celebrate as “liberation.” If feminism is to a great extent the cause of your problems, what kind of fool would insist that more feminism is the solution to your problems?

Answer: The kind of fool who attends Yale University.

* * * A SPECIAL REQUEST * * *

The Sex Trouble project, exploring the depths of feminist insanity, is an exercise in reader-sponsored journalism, and I have fallen far behind in my thank-you notes to those of you who have generously contributed. Your generosity would be especially appreciated today, because I’ve got until 6 p.m. ET to hustle up an extra $82 in the tip jar. This involves a brief if rather embarrassing story that might amuse readers.

A few weeks ago, things were going splendidly. My Army son came home for a visit, and we all gathered ’round the TV to cheer Alabama to victory in the BCS National Championship game. Meanwhile, I had received a belated payment for some work I’d done two years ago, which enabled us to catch up some overdue bills and I even took my wife out for lunch at a Mexican restaurant, $24. The PayPal account was doing OK, and I paid the phone bill from that and noticed a surplus sufficient that I could afford to order $58 in feminist books as further research for the second edition of Sex Trouble. What could possibly go wrong?

 

Well, the Great Blizzard of 2016 didn’t create any particular expense, but it did distract me quite a bit, and somehow I overlooked the cable bill, which is also the Internet bill, and the thievish scoundrels nice people at Our Friendly Local Cable Provider told me on the phone the other day that I have until 6 p.m. ET today to come up with an unusually large sum (overdue amount, fees, blah blah blah) or else, no Internet.

And obviously, no Internet = no blogging.

OK, check my PayPal account and then check the balance remaining in our regular account and . . . Yeah, I’m $82 short. And $82, of course, is equal to the sum of $24 (lunch at the Mexican restaurant) and the $58 I spent on books. It’s as if God had been watching every penny and decided, “Yeah, let’s remind him who’s running the show.”

“Fear not!” I told my dear wife. “The tip-jar hitters have never failed me yet. Just maybe say an extra prayer, OK?”

Pushing it to the edge of catastrophe is a bad habit, but there were times I hit the road on The Shoe Leather Fund with no other plan for how I’d get back home. Really, I’m too old to be doing things the gonzo way and should be more prudent about such matters, but for the time being there’s a deficit of $82 and whatever you can chip in — $5, $10, $20 — will be deeply appreciated. Contrary to what feminists claim, patriarchy is usually just another word for “paying the bills.”

HIT THE FREAKING TIP JAR!

Never doubt God answers prayers. Thanks in advance.




 

Category: Education, Feminism, Sex Trouble, Shoe Leather Fund

Friday Fiction: 100 Word Challenge

Posted on | February 5, 2016 | 4 Comments

by Smitty

They were awesome. Cute, healthy (thank God!) and absolutely a blast. Ellen had waited so long for children.
He arranged them on the hospital bed for a photo op. The cards and flowers continued to pour in. No way to work all that in. Mom & Dad would be arriving any moment, radiating pride that their “grandparent score” was upped another notch.
He barely heard the door to the room open.
The gynecologist entered, along with another physician he didn’t remember. The room temperature seemed to drop 10 degrees; the bulbs were somehow dimmer; their faces: stone.
“Ellen. . . ?” he ventured.
“We’re sorry.”

via Darleen

Category: Friday Fiction
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