Where have all the good men gone? You’ll find them where their values are appreciated and admired.

Me from May 2013, fortified by Church today: Stand by your man.

Things fall apart. What happens when they do?

SkatePark

We walk our dogs late at night at Rio Vista Park in suburban Phoenix. I love to go past the skate park, because the boys are such amazingly hard workers — toiling away at ten at night, and some of them will have been there for twelve hours.

The culture at large has nothing but contempt for exclusively-male pursuits, with skateboarding standing in as the cypher for the whole. But the boys who work at things like skateboarding or softball or skeet shooting or homebrew electronics or ceaseless home-improvement, these guys are amazing in their skill and dedication, their willingness to keep working and working and working until they get it just right.

No one notices their efforts, no one admires their perseverance, no one cares. But if you want to know where all the good men have gone, look for them in places where being a good man is honored and revered, instead of always being denounced or ridiculed.

The position of modern American women puts me in mind of prideful retailer standing under a huge sign that reads “The Customer Is Always Wrong!” Emotionally Continue reading

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The lesson of the Charlie Hebdo Massacre: You must never silence your self.

Slavery is voluntary: When you surrender your voice, you surrender your soul.

Slavery is voluntary: When you surrender your voice, you surrender your soul.

One purpose of public ‘debate’ is to confuse the issue with quibbles. The battle for free expression has nothing to do with the content of that expression – and everything to do with the freedom.

Cautious tyrannies – like Islam, like Marxism – must silence all speech – not as offensive treasonous blasphemy but simply as dyscompliance with the perfect order of everything. To say anything is intolerable since that implies a state of rebellion against heaven itself.

Human life is self expression. The purpose of tyranny is to prevent it.

Me from Church yesterday:

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Four words to cure Islam of its vestigial insanity: “Fuck you. I quit!”

The solution to every problem posed by anti-human dogmas is four-words simple: Fuck you. I quit. When the sane believers of every sort of doctrine work up the nerve to say those four words to their would-be masters, the world will be a better place overnight.

The solution to every problem posed by anti-human dogmas is four-words simple: Fuck you. I quit. When the sane believers of every sort of doctrine work up the nerve to say those four words to their would-be masters, the world will be a better place overnight.

I skipped Church Sunday – I’m down with the ObamaCare Flu – but I did everything I needed to do in September of 2012, just after Benghazi and just before my first dance with Charlie Hebdo.

Published on Sep 16, 2012:

When Man Alive was first published, a number of people were distressed that I didn’t take a harder line on religion. My reason for doing as I did was pretty simple: Although I am a very strident atheist, and although I have nothing but contempt for theology and for all religious apocrypha, I like, respect and admire many people who say they are religious — including my own Best Beloved, my wife, Cathleen Collins.

I care a lot less about what you say you believe than I do about how you actually behave. If you are capable of leaving me alone to live my life as I choose, I don’t care what you say Continue reading

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Make 2015 your best year yet – the first of many.

Church from Sunday, how to plan your 2015 so that it comes to be the first in a long string of best-years-yet:

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I am Charlie Hebdo!

How do you know for sure that Allah is impotent?

Screen Shot 2015-01-07 at 6.47.45 AM

Why can’t he ‘avenge’ himself?

If they can’t take a joke, fuck ’em.

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Someone to thrive with.

I wrote this twelve years ago today, but it describes events that happened seventeen years ago. You’ll figure it out… If you wonder what a gorgeous woman like that is doing with a schlub like me, I commend you to the power of poetry. –GSS

 

Someone to thrive with.

So… She says it’s time she goes
But wanted to be sure I know
She hopes we can be friends

I think… “Yeah, I guess we can,” say I
But didn’t think to ask her why
She blocked her eyes and drew the curtains
With knots I’ve got yet to untie…

What if I were Romeo in black jeans?
What if I was Heathcliff, it’s no myth?
Maybe she’s just looking for
Someone to dance with…

The song is ‘No Myth’ by Michael Penn, a very folky kind of Rock ’n’ Roll. There’s this one and ‘Thunder Road’ by Bruce Springsteen: “You can hide ’neath your covers and study your pain, make crosses from your lovers, throw roses in the rain.” We never had an ‘our song’ because we always had two.

I found her on the internet, like every good thing. It was just after Christmas in 1997. She was a widow awash in sadness, and her sister pestered her into posting this completely impersonal Continue reading

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How to slay dragons.

CandlesForMyDeadA Ramblin’ Gamblin’ Willie story

And now I am a man-killer.

We live with the consequences of our choices, and we cannot fail to live with all the consequences of all our choices. Sic semper nobis, sic etiam mihi. Thus always to us, thus even to me.

Your money? Or your life? Your mind – the means of your life? Or your life – the end of your mind’s devising? Lie or die? Can any such choice be made? And if it can’t – what then?

What if you choose neither?

What then?

I got mugged, that’s what happened. Or almost mugged, anyway. On New Year’s Eve of all days, the very last day of the bloodiest century in human history.

I live on the edge of a world you barely know about, that place you read about in the newspaper, that fetid cavern that seems to house everything that is vicious and venomous and vile. I’m not interested in vice except as the object of derision, which is why I’m on the edge of that world. But I know the price of living where you do instead, and I choose not to pay it.

So I was out on New Year’s Eve. Not out partying, not out driving Continue reading

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