“Bombing sensation! Five dead! Film at seven!”

“Bombing sensation! Five dead! Film at seven!”

A Ramblin’ Gamblin’ Willie story

March 16, 1986

“Left, left, left – all right, hold it!” The slim man with the clipboard made a notation. He looked with satisfaction at the video monitor before him.

I was watching a small-town video crew making films of a sewer grating. I didn’t know why they were photographing a sewer. I was just taking a walk and stopped to watch. Mr. Clipboard was supervising two youngsters who looked like recruits from the high school AV lab, one working the camera, one on the videotape recorder.

“All right,” Clipboard ordered. “Shoot it!”

Just then a van pulled up beside their blue station wagon. It was a real TV truck, the roving eye of a probing video magazine. A dapper young man with a thatch of sandy hair and an authoritative moustache jumped out of the truck. He stood before the local crew like a teacher confronting a naughty child. He cocked a sandy eyebrow in a probing wink. “We saw you from the road. What’s the story?”

“Story?!?” demanded a gruff voice from inside the truck. ”What story!?! Who said there’s a story? Who says there has to be a story every time dog meets tree!?”

“Oh, come on!” said Sandy Eyebrows. “This is a TV crew isn’t it? Where there’s a TV crew there’s a story. You trust me about this. I have an instinct about these things.”

“Look, kid,” the Gruff Voice replied, “I understand, I really do. You’re young, ambitious, enthusiastic… You want to make a name for yourself by doing more than anybody’s paying for. But take it from a man who’s been in the business a long time: You do the stories the assignment editor hands out, you get on TV. You do the story you find on your own, you get on the shelf. Besides, there’s no story here. We’re just wasting time.”

“Oh, yeah?” Sandy inquired, his voice mixed with amusement and awe. He pointed up the street. “What’s that?!” Another video truck was approaching, this one from the news staff of a distant city. “If there’s no story, what are (more…)

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Pre-figuring Caitlyn by thirty years: ‘How She Became a White Male.’

“On the form it does not say ‘supply a skin sample taken from your sex organs’. It says ‘check the box’. I checked the box, and now I’m a white male. It’s so easy to be what you want in America!”Photo by: Delaney Turner

A Ramblin’ Gamblin’ Willie story

June 6, 1985

Something about him just didn’t seem right…

How many numbers can your mind add up at once? For instance, his chest was just too deep for his height and weight. And his knuckles were hairless. And his fingers tapered too much. And the only hair on his face was a pair of tufts beside his ears.

We were trapped under an awning, exiled by one of those thundershowers that poets always leave out of their rhapsodies of Spring and weathermen always say are headed for Connecticut. The well-dressed young ‘man’ beside me looked like one of the black businessmen you sometimes see in Wall Street.

Except that ‘he’ was a she.

I said: “You’re a woman.”

“No,” she replied matter of factly. “I’m a man.” Her voice was deep, almost gruff.

I shook my head. “Nice try. You could fool nine out of ten. But it’s just not right.” I told her about the knuckles, the fingers, the beard. I don’t like to talk about breasts, so I gestured, saying, “And some things you just can’t hide.”

“You’re wrong. I’m male.”

I tapped my toe three times. I looked at my watch. I craned my neck out to see if the storm was letting up. It wasn’t. I said: “Listen, if you want to pretend to be a male, I won’t quarrel with you. Would you rather talk about something else?”

“But I am a male!”

“Lady, saying so doesn’t make it so. You’re female. Probably a very good looking young black female, if you’d let your hair down and put away that three-piece suit.”

“I am not a black female. I am a white male.”

When in doubt, say nothing…

“Look,” she said, “you can talk to me. It’s an unwritten rule that we white males can mutter to each other about things we’d never say out loud.”

I pulled a (more…)

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How the nigger in the woodpile became the elephant in the room.

“I am The Lorax. Who the hell are you?”

“I am The Lorax. Who the hell are you?”

Forget that antique wuss Mohammed, the unmentionable bête noire in American politics is race. We’re so eager to prove we’re not racists, we infantilize everyone by refusing to call the Boojum under the bed by its true name.

Oh, yes, it’s The Church of Splendor, and you ain’t never been to a church like this.

Links:

And so to church:

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An illustrator’s guide to making your marriage last a lifetime.

A fully-commuted man’s four hugging appendages deployed to their best advantage.

A fully-committed man’s four hugging appendages deployed to their best advantage.

As part of everything else I’m doing, I am hauling marriage back from the abyss. I am very much a champion of the family, but your marriage is what makes your family possible – and someday your children will move away. Your marriage is by far the most important interpersonal relationship in your life. Working hard to make it great will make your lives together perfect.

My friend David Brodie linked to some wonderfully charming illustrations of the everyday miracle of a happy marriage. The image to the left is but one thrilling example: A man has four appendages – two hands, his chin and his tumescent homunculus – with which he can commit himself to hugging his wife, and this simple sketch shows a very-happily married man deploying each one of them to its very best advantage – and to his wife’s palpable delight. That picture is sexy beyond anything – to me, at least – because I can feel that hug from the inside. I like to feel precisely that way several times a day.

Frame embraces frame: He’s a man, she’s a woman – and they fit together perfectly.

Frame embraces frame: He’s a man, she’s a woman – and they fit together perfectly.

And that’s the point: The everyday miracle of a happy marriage consists of the repeated expressions of just that kind of loving, lustful commitment – the poetry of authentic affection. It doesn’t matter who does what chore. What matters is why each of you is doing what you’re doing. A man worth being wed is never not a man. A woman worth marrying is never not a woman. But if their marriage is working, they are always an “us” together – us before anything, us against the world. When they see their marriage that way, they can see it that way forever.

The illustrator is Puuung. Click the link to see many more of her images of loving marriage. Showy speeches and grand gestures are the search-and-rescue missions of a marriage that is failing. Small loving gestures are the stuff of a marriage that will (more…)

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How can a married man maintain his masculine frame? Like this: “Pipe down. You’re such a silly woman.”

What to do about your lying, cheating, abusive wife.

What to do about your lying, cheating, abusive wife.

Reflecting on a blog post in which a wife comes to realize that she has been abusing her husband with a Cautious tyranny, this week’s Church of Splendor homily takes on the means by which women lie to, cheat and abuse their husbands – and what a man should do about it.

We’re taking up the idea of masculine frame, with a much deserved hat tip to Socrates at ManningUpSmart.com.

The good news: You don’t have to settle for less than you bargained for.

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Jon Favreau’s “Chef” wins my vote as an exemplary benedy, a comedy that makes everyone better.

If you like the idea of good people working hard and winning, “Chef” will make a hearty meal for your soul.

If you like the idea of good people working hard and winning, “Chef” will make a hearty meal for your soul.

For the past few years I’ve been bitching at the would-be progenitors of a so-called ‘conservative culture,’ pointing that an actually-egoistic art would be about real people working through real problems, doing better over time by learning and mastering new ideas. I’m just about the last person on earth anyone wants to listen to on any subject, possibly because I am so obnoxiously right, but it remains that learning and mastering the new ideas I am proposing would work wonders for producing art that is actually worth rejoicing in.

Not more fake John Waynes. Not blood, guts and alien gore. Not preachy didacticism, whether the indisputable doctrine comes from god or some scowling ideologue. Just stories about people who get themselves out of unhappy situations by learning and doing better. You know, just like real life.

In his film “Chef,” currently Netflixable, Jon Favreau displays a better understanding for this kind of art than anyone I know of who is actually trying to help people change their lives for the better.

“Chef” is a true benedy in my formulation. The action moves from worse to better, as compared with a maledy, where the story moves from better to worse. Carl Casper, the chef who is the central character, is the change character, and he is most improved by the end, but virtually every one of the ‘above-the-line’ characters is better by the end of the film, which I always love to see.

The DISC synopsis is simple: Carl is a Incandescent-Driven who, after a career melt-down, discovers how to restructure his life as a Driven-Sociable instead. In less clinical terms, he learns how to be a better man and a much better father and husband by taking a food truck cross-country with his son and his most-loyal friend. Funny characters and situations, fast, fun dialogue and a man who redeems everyone around him by redeeming himself. Social media, especially Twitter, stands in as the chorus, and that’s fun just by (more…)

Posted in #MyKindOfBenedy, Poetry and fiction | 4 Comments

#JeSuisMarkSteyn for #EverybodyDrawMohammed day: “Do your worst. I will not kneel.”

“Do your worst. I will not kneel.”

“Do your worst. I will not kneel.”

I don’t admire many people, more’s the pity. I know too much and see too much, and too much of what I see taxes me of the respect I might otherwise feel for a person’s accomplishments. A rare exception is the irreverent, irascible Mark Steyn, whom I’ve followed in the public prints since the Arkansas Mafia last soiled the White House. For all I know he kicks kittens and mines payphones for abandoned quarters, but everything I have seen of the man has inspired me, a living embodiment of the words I’ve always lived by: “Do your worst. I will not kneel.”

By way of Twitter, Steyn reminded me that today is #EverybodyDrawMohammed day. I built the sidebar you see in the image to the right on Monday, this because I have so much on the subject to link to, and because I don’t wish to imply that I am acquiescent in the deafening silence that greets every ugly display of the infinitely ugly Islamofascist temperament. I didn’t know I was celebrating a very important holiday, and yet here I am.

If you pursue the links in the actual sidebar, not the image, you can read and hear what I’ve had to say over the years, going all the way back to 9/11. There are two Ramblin’ Gamblin’ Willie stories in there, for comic relief, but for all of me, the best of the bunch is the video I did just after the Charlie Hebdo Massacre: Why you must never silence yourself.

And that’s a Steyn-like message, I hope. None of this matters. Allah is a petulant, impotent crybaby. Mohammed was a mentally-defective child-molester. The best of his followers are sweet but deluded, like most religionists of all creeds. And the worst of them are mooks and mutts and mongrels whose only hope of having a life is to deliver themselves unto death in the most pathetic and ignominious of possible ways – and may they writhe thereafter in bacon grease until the universe collapses on itself. But to fail to speak when speech (more…)

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The last refuge of the Clan Testudo: How to shield your family from poisonous pop culture.

The world may be going to hell in a hand-cart, but you and the people you love most don’t have to go along.

Photo by: umer malik

A little while ago I met a wonderful family who exemplify everything I’m looking for in modern-day Hoplites: The adults share a firm and fixed moral philosophy, with dad firmly in charge and with mom supporting him fully in that executive authority. Accordingly, the children are growing up as secure, charming, self-responsible individuals.

This is the way happy families work. This is the only way families can work happily. If mom competes with dad for dominance, their Runaway Minivan is destined to crash. If dad abdicates on his responsibility to lead, so much the worse. If the children learn how to drive a wedge between their parents, they will spin out of control. But if they all live according to the ideals dad upholds, they will be as one against the world.

In Sunday’s Church of Splendor service, I talk about this family, likening their approach to the world to the testudo formation used by ancient Hoplites to march imperviously into a rain of arrows and spears.

This same kind of metaphorical testudo is how you can shield your family from the noxious cultural influences you encounter everywhere. The world may be going to hell in a hand-cart, but you and the people you love most don’t have to go along.

Posted in Love and marriage | 2 Comments

Bright young man (or woman) on the make? Learn about mentorship from a master, Edward Druce.

Edward Druce, master of mentorship.

Edward Druce, master of mentorship.

I met Edward Druce last fall at The 21 Convention in Tampa, nominating him as my choice as the star of the event. The talk he gave, How to find a mentor in business, was not the most polished, but it was eminently useful, and what Druce lacked in public-speaking experience, he more than made up for in the depth of his knowledge and the extent of his preparation. I made a point of talking to him after his presentation and then again on the shuttle that took us both to the the airport.

My evaluation: A most impressive young man, a man to watch as he rises in the world. He’s an INTx high-C, in my quick ’n’ dirty estimation, working very hard to become a high-D. That’s a killer combination, a planner mastering the demanding art of doing.

As evidence of doing, Druce has gone the world one better by turning his ideas on mentorship into a book: This Is Where to Start: Find Superstar Mentors, Master All They Know, and Get Ahead in Your Career.

Why does it matter? Because genius undiscovered and untapped is genius wasted. Druce will show you the remarkable ways he has come up with for making the acquaintance of business giants – and he’ll teach you what to do to make the most of those relationships once you’ve forged them.

As a disclosure, I am thanked in the afterword, but I assure I did nothing to deserve this expression of gratitude. I’m flattered, but this work is all Edward’s, and I am eager to see where it takes him.

You can always count on me for big-picture advice, but when you get to the “Now what?” question, this book is a very good place to begin.

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A question for pro-gay-marriage libertarians: Isn’t it well past time to admit you were wrong?

Nothing says ‘libertarian’ quite like the faithful capitulation to Marxist tyranny.Photo by: Ross Angus

I don’t pay much attention to libertarians. They start wrong and stay wrong, with politics rather than the underlying ethics of self-adoration, which is why they cough up so many ugly, anegoistic cult leaders. Much worse, they’re anti-family, which leaves me wondering if formalized libertarianism might not be a Soviet- or CIA-crafted Emmanuel Goldstein false-flag op – the cult of the ineffectually childless super-stoked poindexter rebels. But, worst of all, whenever any random Marxist sneers their way, they fold like a house of cards.

I took note of them early last year, when a friend pointed out that at least one bigfoot libertarian, Stephan Kinsella, had jumped onto the gay-marriage bandwagon. This is not an anomaly. Putative friends of human liberty are forever waking up next to smelly Marxists, this going back to the times when Marxists still bathed once in a while. I didn’t care too much – the state’s sanction of marriage is plainly criminal rent-seeking, and, hence, the only appropriate libertarian response to that sanction is to eradicate it entirely. I realize now I might have cared more.

Nota bene: Sex outside of marriage is bound to be self-destructive. By marriage I do not mean an elaborate ceremony, with or without the state’s seal of approval, but rather the mutual commitment of the married couple to their enduring, exclusive storgic and romantic love. Without that, it does not matter with whom or what you frolic, since your ‘love-making’ is simply meat-mannequin masturbation – except that ordinary self-pleasuring doesn’t inflict you with lifelong painful memories. Even so, that much is your business. The only way most people learn to avoid self-destruction is by living through it too many times.

Likewise, the claim that homosexuality is genetic in origin seems dubious to me. That which resembles all other obsessive sexual fetishes seems much more likely, to me, to be nothing more than yet another obsessive sexual fetish – the irrational sexualization of inappropriate objects beginning with a sexual trauma occurring at (no surprise) the age of (more…)

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Illuminating the Splendor of exuberant indomitability from the inside out.

Watch me surf my own elation.

Photo by: Spirit-Fire

I’m in love with the ideas of exuberance and indomitability. In the videos I have made in the three years since Man Alive was published, I’ve made a stout effort to illuminate what it’s like to live my life from the inside out. I am in an empathy of opposites with everyone else, and I want to show you what I think by showing you how I think, but I also want to show you what it feels like to think my way.

I wrote the book Nine empathies on Saturday, August 30th, last year. A serious book of philosophy, completely revolutionizing the idea of empathy, written in a single day? I don’t think the way everyone else does, and, accordingly, I don’t work their way, either.

The Grand Unifying Theory of Human Motivation – as taught to me by a turtle, and by an eternally-outraged human reptile.To read more about empathy, see me, feel me, touch me, heal me at Amazon.com.

The Grand Unifying Theory of Human Motivation – as taught to me by a turtle, and by an eternally-outraged human reptile.

To read more about empathy, see me, feel me, touch me, heal me at Amazon.com.

Even more fun for me, on the next day, Sunday, August 31st, I made a Church of Splendor homily elaborating on the book. I was beyond exhausted by then, and I was both elated and addle-pated, and, hence, the video was a choice exposition of my exuberant indomitability.

I thought I had lost access to that video, but I was able to recover it yesterday, to my immense delight. It’s embedded below. If you watch it, you’ll learn more about empathy than anyone on earth knew last year on August 29th. But even better, you’ll learn all about what exuberant indomitability feels like from the inside out.

I owe my brother men nothing, and I detest the idea of indiscriminate charity, but the gift each one of us confers upon all the others, as an unsought consequence of being alive, is the gift of his example – one may hope a good example. This video is me setting a good example, showing you why my way of thinking is better for you in every thriving cell of your body:

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#MothersDay makes for a good brunch, but the #BaltimoreUprising shows us why #fatherhood matters much more.

The people who will matter tomorrow are the children who are being well-brought-up today, and well-brought-up means well-fathered.

Photo by: Julian Povey

What’s the most important thing to talk about every year at Mother’s Day? Fatherlessness.

Last year I spoke about the epidemic childlessness of Western Civilization: No #father, no #family, no #future.

This year, I addressed a Big Picture question, my favorite kind: “I would be fascinated to hear what you think the future holds for mankind.”

Could it be that you can’t guess what will matter most to the people who will meet, greet and make the future? It’s fatherhood, of course.

The people who will matter tomorrow are the children who are being well-brought-up today, and well-brought-up means well-fathered. Underfathered children grow up late, if ever. Moreover, since males who regard themselves as men will not yield for long to feminine dominance, single mothers cannot engender well-brought-up sons (that is, the fathers of the future) without significant masculine intervention.

This is not mean or sexist, it is a simple recapitulation of painfully (murderously!) obvious biological facts: Mothers nurture but fathers cultivate, and uncultivated children very often grow up to be awful parents – repeating their own parents’ cycle of failure.

And thus to Sunday’s homily, “Mothers Day news: The future is fatherhood.”

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My recipe for sane Muslims: Ashes of Koran fried in bacon fat drizzled over dog shit.

My recipe for sane Muslims: Ashes of Koran fried in bacon fat drizzled over dog shit.

Reposted from September 24, 2012. Cum taces, clamas.

Daniel Pipes (by way of Kathy Shaidle):

In brief, any Westerner can buy a Koran for a dollar and burn it, while any Muslim with a platform can transform that act into a fighting offense. As passions rise on both sides of the democratized Western / Muslim divide, Western provocateurs and Islamist hotheads have found each other and confrontations occur with increasing frequency.

Which prompts this question: What would happen if publishers and managers of major media reached a consensus, “Enough of this intimidation, we will publish the most famous Danish Muhammad cartoon every day until the Islamists tire out and no longer riot”? What would happen if instances of Koran burning happened recurrently?

Would repetition inspire institutionalization, generate ever-more outraged responses, and offer a vehicle for Islamists to ride to greater power? Or would it lead to routinization, to a wearing out of Islamists, and a realization that violence is counter-productive to their cause?

I predict the latter, that a Muhammad cartoon published each day, or Koranic desecrations on a quasi-regular basis, will make it harder for Islamists to mobilize Muslim mobs. Were that the case, Westerners could once again treat Islam as they do other religions – freely, to criticize without fear. That would demonstrate to Islamists that Westerners will not capitulate, that they reject Islamic law, that they are ready to stand up for their values.

So, this is my plea to all Western editors and producers: display the Muhammad cartoon daily until the Islamists get used to the fact that we turn sacred cows into hamburger.

I think this is great idea, but it makes more sense to me cut out the middleman. This is war, and there are two ways to fight it. Either sane Muslims can wake up to the reality of human indomitability, or craven opportunists like Barack and Bibi can use the intransigence of the insane Muslims as a pretext for nuking Tehran.

So here is my recipe to help sane Muslims keep their religion inside their own skulls, which is the only place it can ever exist:

1. Take one Koran (why not (more…)

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The #KochBrothers are wisely recruiting new voters. I can show them how to eliminate #divorce.

Instead of repeatedly and resentfully failing to change things with the same old failed tactics, the much-reviled Koch Brothers are pursuing a true strategy with our new undocumented friends, who may soon be newly-anointed voters. In this week’s Church of Splendor homily, I talk about other strategies for redeeming Western Civilization, including a simple legislative change that would all but eliminate divorce:

I am consistently amazed at how committed people are to making the same mistakes again and again. If you want the world to change, DO SOMETHING DIFFERENT! You can start by contributing to The Church of Splendor, the only place you’ll hear ideas like these.

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The implications of deliberate thoughtlessness? There can be no justice for know-nothings.

Deliberate Thoughtlessness Tee ShirtI’ve been pondering deliberate thoughtlessness — and so far my brain has not imploded.

I came up with that turn of phrase — deliberate thoughtlessness — as a way of describing the amazing ineptitude of the ruling class. As you can see from the photo, the coinage itself is not unique to me. But the words got stuck in my head like a popcorn hull between molars, and I’ve been thinking about them ever since.

I wrote this in passing in a Facebook comment:

Deliberate thoughtlessness is ubiquitous where, logically, it should not be possible at all.

Why, in logic, should deliberate thoughtlessness be an impossible state of mind to attain? To deliberate is to think. To think thoughtlessly should not be possible, but the miracle of waste creation that is Marxism makes it achievable even so. (Note that ‘waste creation’ is another seemingly logically-impossible notion, and yet Marxism makes it real.)

What is it that I’m talking about?

If you think about the way an old-school logic teacher might guide you, again and again, back to the way of rigor and merit in your arguments, leading you away (leadership is what puts the duc in education) from demonstrably fallacious claims — turn that all ass-backwards and think of an anti-logic professor instead.

What would an anti-logic teacher teach? Fallacies, obviously, along with every style of demagoguery, question-begging, subject-changing, specious conflation — all the rank nonsense you see and hear everywhere.

But here’s the real trick, the magical mystical Marxist miracle: The point of the entire dysenterprise is to give incompetents the cargo-cultish ‘benefits’ of mastery — without going to all the work and bother of, you know, mastery — so the better way to teach anti-logic is simply to teach nothing, but to tell students that they are even better educated than those stuffy old rigor-mongers.

Anti-logic is simply the puerile logic of children, so wasting twelve or sixteen or twenty years in pre-school results in — ta da! — the American electorate. They cogitate, they ruminate, they definitely fulminate, but they have never been taught how to ratiocinate. And that term — ratiocination — is an extremely useful (more…)

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