Monday, 22 August 2016

A man of principle

One of the major criticisms of Trump-Muad'dib by the (increasingly irrelevant) mainstream )))media((( has consistently been the fact that Mr. Trump's positions on a number of issues have never been very consistent.

He has veered from what were (in their minds) perfectly acceptable ideas (read: flaming liberal) to batshit-insane Hitlerite fascist craziness (read: rather straightforward nationalist).

I too have dinged The Donald for his lack of consistency. To me he appeared to be guided more by pragmatism than any kind of battle-tested inner conviction. But then I saw this video, and I realised that, in fact, Mr. Trump has been preaching a fairly consistent and principled message for the better part of thirty years:



The Donald still has a very great many flaws as a candidate. He is a far less polished orator than he needs to be, and his stump speeches are long on rhetoric and short on details (even though his actual policy ideas are unusually thoughtful).

He is combative, rude, and openly dismissive of his critics.

And I have to say, I admire him greatly for those qualities. I've had quite enough of seeing milquetoast cuckservatives being nominated by their parties, only to go down to honourable defeat against those who believe that the Constitution is worth less than toilet paper.

Call him what you will, though- the one pejorative that cannot be applied to him any longer is "unprincipled". While the details of his personal views have indeed changed over the years, the core message and theme of a strong, self-reliant America guided on nationalistic principles that put the American people first, has never changed.

There is only one other candidate for President that I can think of who maintained that same kind of rock-ribbed principle over the course of nearly thirty years in electoral politics: Ronald Wilson Reagan.

Donald Trump is no Ronald Reagan. Not yet. (If it weren't for the fact that I consider edifices to past Presidents to be more than a little out of touch with the values of this country's Founding and Constitution, I would be among those arguing hardest for President Reagan's face to be added to Mt. Rushmore.) But he has the chance to do the same thing the Gipper did: give America back her true self, and restore its people to greatness.

Few today remember that when "Dutch" ran for President in 1980, his ideas about how to rebuild America's economy, refocus her military, and defeat the Soviet Union were considered outright lunacy by the "establishment". They thought that he was going to start an outright nuclear war just for shits and giggles. They hated everything he stood for, because he posed a true existential threat to their entire worldview.

When he was elected- in an electoral landslide, no less- his foremost critics damn near went into cardiac arrest. To them, the inmates were well and truly running the asylum.

And yet, look what happened. "Dusty" went on to become the greatest President since Calvin Coolidge.

Now let's be straight about this: Donald J. Trump is NOT the second coming of Ronald W. Reagan. Not even close. President Reagan had an eloquence and a deftness of touch that Mr. Trump simply does not possess, along with a sunny optimism and a folksy wit that disarmed even his fiercest critics almost at will. Mr. Trump does not have any of these attributes.

Yet the comparison between the two remains an apt one.

Both were, and are, men of principle. Both were, and are, outsiders. Both were, and are, absolutely loathed by the "establishment".

And both were, or are being, given a once-in-a-generation opportunity to correct the course of American politics.

Can Mr. Trump do it? I have no idea. He faces the toughest tests since President Reagan himself entered office, and I simply don't have a clue as to whether a President Trump would be able to handle them.

What I have seen thus far, though, is encouraging.

Mr. Trump's platform of American nationalism is resonating with the people in a way that I have not seen since I first arrived in this land*. He has broken almost all of the old rules of American politics. He is the only political candidate from either wing of the One Party of Big Government who is actually talking about things that really matter. And he is the only serious candidate who has had the balls and the heart to take the fight right to the doors of his enemies.

He will not bend. He will not break. He will not back down.

And if he stays true to himself and to the American people, I think he will win, and win well.

The alternative is 4 years- more likely 8- of The Bitch. From what I know of female politicians, with very few exceptions they are utterly incapable of restraining themselves in their wanton abuses of the powers that they are given. (The only exception that I can really think of is the Iron Lady, Prime Minister Thatcher herself. And even she was far from cautious in her use of power.)

Make no mistake: if the Hilldebeast wins, one way or another, it will be THE END of the great American experiment in self-determination. That experiment is already very nearly dead; eight years of President Odumbass have reduced a large segment of the people to the yoke of gentle (for now) government despotism; the few remaining freedoms of the rest will be taken, one way or another, if The Bitch has her way.

Will the God-Emperor Trump manage to do any better? I haven't the first clue. But all of the evidence we have available to us thus far indicates that he will be far less interested in meddling with the personal freedoms of the American people than his counterpart.

We could well be horribly mistaken. He might turn out to be another Dubya. But at least with Mr. Trump, we have some assurances that he won't turn out to be Sauron the Deceiver made flesh.

And for now, that is reason enough to vote for a man who has shown, repeatedly, that he has principles, and is willing to take enormous risks to defend them.

*It so happens that today marks 10 years since I arrived in America. I didn't think I'd be here this long, but here I am.

Sunday, 21 August 2016

"The Last Stand"

SABATON's latest album is finally out, and it is indeed very damn good. I find it difficult to choose the "best" track off the whole thing, but if I were pressed, I would probably pick the title track:


It's not often that you hear a metal band- from Sweden, no less- perform a song that praises the name of the Lord while making a point about courage and sacrifice. But then, SABATON are not your typical metal band.

They're silly, they're over the top, they can be gloriously non-PC at times- and they are quite simply one of the best heavy metal acts out there today.

And, as I said, it is hard to pin down the "best" track on this album. The first track, for instance, might as well have been the marching music for the legendary 300:

Thursday, 18 August 2016

I fail to see the problem



Apparently some unhappy feminists are annoyed with a certain Michelle Jenneke- you may recall the name- who is becoming better known for her bouncing, uh, assets than she is for bouncing over hurdles:
Michelle Jenneke has been eliminated from the Olympics after performing her trademark warm-up dance. 
The high-profile Australian trailed home sixth in her 100m hurdles heat in Rio de Janeiro in 13.26 seconds, almost half a second slower than her personal best set last year. 
Despite there being high hopes for the bubbly 23-year-old - who was this year named the face of Coca Cola's Rio campaign alongside Jamaican Kemar Bailey-Cole - the one-time Sports Illustrated model did not even make it to the finals. 
After the race Jenneke said she was disappointed with 'one of the worst races I've ever done', saying she's been struggling with nerve pain for two weeks. 
'I've been on the table every day sorting that out,' Jenneke said. 
'But unfortunately I felt it grab on hurdle two. 
'I tried to push past it but just couldn't get the same drive off my leg I wanted to.' 
However, she admitted she should have run faster but didn't.
Well, let's take a look into the substance of the issue first. Apparently the complaint is that the lissome Ms. Jenneke has had breast implants, and then there is something about how she is better known for her glamour modeling than she is for her track performances, and at that point I rather lost interest because articles about women's sports are boring that way.

So. Here is what young Michelle looked like back in 2012, when she was just 19 and was warming up at some event in Barcelona:


And here is what she looks like these days:


Yeah, it's a gratuitous and tacky display. So what? Like that old and worn-out meme goes, if you noticed her eyes first, I have bad news for you...

Anyway, judge for yourself about whether or not she has had "performance enhancements" done to her bouncy bits. It's not a question with which I find myself overly concerned.

Now, as I have said about Ms. Jenneke in the past, once you get rid of the makeup and the stand-to-attention outfits, what you'll find is that her face is a bit odd-looking. I would go so far as to argue that her squared jaw makes her look a bit mannish.

But absolutely nothing about her face, her outfits, or her athletic performances take away from the real reason why she gets so much attention. And, contrary to what our friends in the media might like to believe, that reason is not actually directly related to her bust size.

It has to do with the fact that if you look at her, you see a cheerful, bubbly, happy young woman who looks like she is practically bursting with the joy of being alive.

She exudes warmth and femininity at all times. Her smile dazzles whether she is doing squats in the gym, laps in the pool, or stretches on the track. No matter what she is doing, she looks happy to be doing it.

If these traits make her a bad female athlete, I argue that we need a hell of a lot more just like her. (And like Simona Halep, while we're on the subject.)

These are traits that are immediately attractive and attention-worthy to anyone, regardless of sex. Men are instinctively drawn to happy women; they are instantly attractive, pleasant to be around, and immensely good company.

Some of the happiest times that I can remember have been spent in the company of a dear friend of mine who has that same kind of million-watt smile and that same effortlessly pleasant manner. She was a joy to be around, and it was easy to lose track of time in her company. She was, and is, the kind of woman who makes people feel better just by her very presence. (Which is ironic to say the least, given that she is known to curse like a sailor and is very much a Mama Bear when it comes to her kids.)

So you'll forgive me if I have a difficult time holding Ms. Jenneke's smile and cheerful manner against her.

She probably is going to go down in history as being afflicted with a classic case of Kournikova Syndrome. And you know what? As long as she doesn't squander her very obvious genetic and other gifts in pursuit of hedonistic excesses, there is nothing in the world wrong with that.

Like most of the alt-right, I am very harsh in criticising beautiful women who waste their gifts in opening their legs for every high-status man that winks at them. I do so because I also recognise a basic fact: a woman's most important and valuable assets are always going to be her youth, her beauty, and her fertility.

The unhappiest people that I have ever had the displeasure of knowing are women in their mid-30s who were once beautiful but are now faded and worn by their careers and have sacrificed their greatest assets for the high-flying lifestyle that they were told was their birthright. Michelle Jenneke strikes me as a young woman who will (hopefully) avoid that fate.

So that deals with the "question" of whether Ms. Jenneke has had breast implants. Maybe she has, and maybe she hasn't. Who cares? When she looks that happy to be alive, and is so cheerful and graceful in all of her public appearances, does it particularly matter? She is young and, in the right outfit and with the right makeup, really quite fetching. Good for her- she plainly has the business sense and savvy to capitalise on her most important assets, so more power to her for that.

As long as she keeps her head firmly planted above her shoulders and doesn't let her fame run away with her- or, worse, squander her greatest assets in pursuing that fame recklessly- then I simply cannot see what the complaint is here.

That leaves the "problem" of her lackluster athletic performances at the Olympics this year.

Leave aside the fact that I generally could not care less about the Olympics, unless there is something involving Michael Phelps or Usain Bolt pulling off yet another incredible achievement. (Or women's beach volleyball players- and then only because of the bikinis.) I'm going to do our friends over in the world of sports journalism a small favour and point out a basic, immutable truth about women's sports to them:
WE DON'T CARE.
We just don't give a flying proverbial about where Michelle Jenneke, or most female athletes for that matter, placed in their various sporting events. Most of us guys don't pay attention to women's sports. There is no reason why we should; the athletic achievements are nowhere near as impressive as those of  the men.

It doesn't particularly matter where you look- women's sports, as an almost universal rule, attract far fewer viewers and far less attention than men's sports because they are, quite frankly, boring by comparison. The level of athleticism on display is not as great. The degree of skill involved is generally lower. The ferocity of the competition is much less impressive.

The only exception that I can think of to this general rule is women's MMA. And even that exception only applies when it involves a certain Ronda Rousey- who spent a significant part of her career implying or even outright claiming that she could defeat men far bigger and stronger than her, and who honestly thought that she "could beat every girl in [her] division with one hand behind [her] back". She was proven spectacularly wrong when Holly Holm landed a superbly timed head kick to her neck and jaw and put paid to that claim.

The rest of the time, women's sports just do not warrant much by way of attention.

So, really, who cares whether Ms. Jenneke got implants or not? And who cares whether her athletic performance suffered as a result of all of the attention that is being paid to her (not inconsiderable) looks? She's young, she's quite pretty, and she knows how to make the most of those facts. Good for her.

If she wins Olympic gold in the process, even better for her. But that won't be why she is remembered. And there really isn't much wrong with that.

Tuesday, 16 August 2016

A mastermind's limits

(Note- don't watch that with the sound on. The soundtrack is awful.)

Kathy Shaidle, a fellow "mastermind" type, has some rather interesting things to say about the INTJ who gives the the rest of us a really bad name:
I assure you it pained Hillary greatly to have to pretend she thought “wiping a server” had something to do with housework. And that after the birth of Chelsea, she thought, “Well, that’s my one kid I’ve had so I can say I had one and people will shut up now.” 
No INTJ actually believes it “takes a village to raise a child.” Raising children is at the bottom of our dream job list, but we sure as hell aren’t going to leave it to some goddamn village (sotto voice [sic]: “Full of idiots…”). Clinton’s book was, obviously, more wingtips on the beach. 
Obvious, that is, to me. To millions of others, too, of course, but learning that Hillary Clinton is basically my evil (in a different way) twin has been a revelation. 
Albeit a limited one. My mother (whose nickname for me was Ming the Merciless) used to watch the U.S. presidential elections and shake her head. “Why would anyone want that awful job?” 
I’d think, “Well, there’s the private plane,” but any rich person can get one, and Hillary probably owns a whole fleet. 
As a female INTJ, she’d be so much happier living in a lighthouse than in the White House. Wouldn’t it be great for America’s future if only she admitted that, too?
That is a fairly good start as an answer to the question: why is the Hilldebeast such an atrociously bad candidate for President of the United States of America?

As far as I can tell, the answer to this question actually breaks down into two parts:
  1. Why are INTJs in general so poorly suited to politics?
  2. Why is that INTJ, in particular, so corrupt and so dangerous even when her personality archetype is taken into account?
These parts need to be looked at separately, and then brought together, to come to any kind of holistic conclusion.

The INTJ's Kryptonite

To the Myers-Briggs "Rational" types, particularly the highly introverted ones (like me), the answer to that first part is actually fairly obvious.

People like me are most comfortable with elegant theories and difficult knotty technical problems- because these are things that have structure and order and purpose.

We are distinctly uncomfortable with the messy realities of dealing with people, who are unstructured and disordered and decidedly aimless in so many ways. Some of us are so bad at it, in fact, that we are at our happiest when we simply don't have to deal with anybody. This isn't exactly healthy or advisable in the long run, but some INTJs just don't have a choice in the matter; our natural dislike of people becomes so over-developed that we simply go full hermit.

The problem is that politics is, by definition and design, an inherently messy business, precisely because it involves dealing with people. It is very much a contact sport in which elegant theories always fall apart under the extreme stress exerted by inelegant humans. And there isn't a damn thing that can be done about it.

And so, "mastermind" types- like me- tend to perform extremely poorly indeed when we have to deal with politics. We simply are not equipped with the mental "software" needed to handle it, and many of us, myself included, go to sometimes extreme lengths to avoid having to deal with political nonsense, preferring instead to concentrate on simply "getting shit done" to the best of our ability.

That embedded character trait is why it is routine and normal for INTJs to regularly receive feedback that goes something like this: "Does an amazing job, delivers exceptional results with superb attention paid to detail, on time and budget if not significantly under both- but can also be a ROARING asshole to work with".

Every single performance review that I have ever received in the last ten years has been a variation on that theme.

The "asshole" part comes from the fact that, for us, every idea must be deconstructed down to its tiniest detail. Every brilliant flash of insight, every plan, every thought process, every goal, is subjected to a truly ruthless internal filter to see whether it "really works". The most extreme INTJs have been known to subject everyone and everything to levels of scrutiny that make a Marine Corps drill sergeant's inspection of a training platoon look lax by comparison.

And since we don't care who we offend in the process of arriving at the truth, it is quite routine for other people, particularly those with a more sensitive personality, to feel deeply uncomfortable if not outright sick in our presence. (It's not uncommon for some of us to take considerable pleasure in slapping down overly sensitive idiots in public.)

These are, by the way, sweeping generalisations that nonetheless are largely true. There are exceptions to these rules. The most famous is probably President Badass himself.

President Reagan has long been considered an inscrutable paradox by many outside observers. Here was a clear alpha male who dominated politics through his charisma, his strength of mind, and his sheer willpower- yet he had almost no truly close friends and seemed truly happy only when he was alone with his wife and family at his secluded ranch in the hills above Santa Barbara.

Despite his strongly introverted nature- which by the way any halfway decent reading of his own diaries will reveal- he was also a masterful politician. He was a sunny, smiling optimist who believed in the fundamental goodness and greatness of America with every fibre of his being. And he was able to forge consensus between the bitterest of rivals through sheer force of will.

He was very much the exception that proves the rule.

Returning to the question at hand, this combination of love of ideas, dislike of people, and inability to be "sensitive" to the feelings of others explains rather well why the Hilldebeast is such a poor choice for political office.

What it does not explain in any rational capacity is just why the hell it is that she holds to so many terrible ideas, and why she is such an immoral, corrupt, and loathsome character.

The root causes for this second problem are much harder to pin down. After all, INTJs are considered to be the personality type most dedicated to rationality; we operate by the axiom that if a theory or idea is logically sound and meshes with observed reality, it must, by definition, be true.

How is it, then, that INTJs like Shillary can simultaneously hold flatly contradictory positions that seem totally out of touch with both rationality and reality?

To take just one of many, many possible examples, how can the Hilldebeast argue on the one hand for completely open borders for everyone else, and yet demand fences and walls and gated communities for herself? She isn't stupid- her IQ is easily in the 130 range, probably higher. She might be crazy- she is a progressive, after all- but that is a rather poor answer, and not a particularly rigourous one.

You see this same trait time and again with famous INTJs in the real world. Karl Marx; Ayn Rand; Mark CuckZuckerberg, Paul Krugman, Christopher Hitchens, Friedrich Nietzsche, John Maynard Keynes- the list of "masterminds" who have come up with elegant-sounding theories that flatly contradict reality goes on, and on, and on.

If nothing else, that list should teach any interested observer that the personality type least suited to wield power and influence is Hillary Clinton's. (And mine, of course. The difference is, I know it. She doesn't.)

So why is it that so many of us "mastermind" types are so easily swayed by terrible ideas?

That comes down to the second major Achilles Heel of the INTJ type: the lack of a moral centre that inevitably leads to highly rational codes of behaviour built upon entirely false premises.

Why Masterminds Believe in Stupid Things

At first glance, there is a glaring and massive contradiction at work here. If INTJs are so rational- and for most of us, our devotion to rationality and truth is a point of pride- then how is it that so many of us can believe in such patently stupid ideas?

There are several possible good answers. The one that matches my own experiences the most closely is that INTJs who lack a strong moral centre from which their principles are derived, and- more importantly- who do not know or appreciate the limits of logic, will inevitably fall for some of the dumbest ideas ever to plague humanity.

This will happen because their rationality makes them so convinced of the superiority of their superficially brilliant ideas that they are unable to see the wood for the trees, and are unable to examine whether their conclusions are actually "moral" in any meaningful sense.

You can see this at work with two philosophies that are, on the surface, diametrically opposed to one another.

Karl Marx and Vladimir Lenin are often given as examples of famous historical INTJs. Marx, in particular, was a very bad economist- we know this now, and indeed some of his peers knew it then too. His "labour theory of value" had such a poor intellectual basis, and was built on such shoddy reasoning, that one could shred it faster than a cat attacking a roll of toilet paper simply by resorting to basic kitchen analogies. In fact, Robert A. Heinlein did precisely that in the greatest military sci-fi novel ever written.

These were two men driven by ego, narcissism, and a supreme, overriding belief in the superiority of their own intellects. Neither of them had the humility or self-doubt imposed by having a clear moral centre; Lenin, in particular, had absolutely no problem with the idea of consigning millions to slavery and death in order that the socialist revolution might succeed. He had no problem turning his back on the idea of peaceful revolution the moment that it became clear that force would be needed in order to make the Bolshevik revolution succeed- all in the name of "the greater good", of course.

We all know- now- how that particular revolution ended.

On the other end of the spectrum, you have Ayn Rand and her philosophy of Objectivism. Now, Rand's philosophy is, in theory, diametrically opposed to socialism in every way. Rand celebrated and elevated the individual above all else. But she also openly rejected any external source of morality, and therefore any restraint upon human excesses. She justified her considerable personal failings by claiming that she and a select few of her acolytes were "superior beings" and were therefore justified in breaking with laws, conventions, and basic human morality because they were just... better.

That didn't work out too well either.

In both cases, we see a clear pattern: the lack of any serious moral character and utter blindness to the very real limits of logic, coupled with extreme intellectual horsepower and a healthy contempt for the opinions of others.

Consider too my own example. I turned my back on God and organised religion in general at the age of 13, and for the next 15 years I identified openly as an atheist. I refused to tolerate any other point of view on religion because I knew that God simply couldn't exist. Science and rationality could explain everything- or so I naively thought at the time.

The problem was that I didn't know, and despite studying mathematics at a pretty high level did not appreciate, the limits of logic.

As I grew older, I began to realise that there was, in fact, room for both a loving and benevolent Creator and for rational physical laws that govern His creation. That realisation did not damage my ability to be rational- if anything, I have become even less tolerant of superstitious nonsense than I was in the past, and more curious about precisely how one can reconcile the Laws of God with the realities of the world around us.

Too many Rationals never reach that level of self-awareness and understanding. From everything that I have seen, the Hilldebeast is one of those unfortunates.

"The Vision of the Anointed"

Because she lacks a firm moral centre, she is blinded by her belief in the superiority of her ideas. She actually thinks that she can fool all of the people, all of the time.

And that is what makes her so terrifyingly dangerous. That is why she is utterly unsuited to wield ultimate executive authority.

She cannot understand the concept of limits to sovereign authority. To her, such an idea makes no sense- it would be a limitation upon her ability to impose her elegant ideas and plans onto an inelegant and messy reality.

Yet those limits are precisely what keep the rest of us safe from the predations of the government that she would presume to control.

The choice that Americans face in November is pretty simple. On the one hand, you have a man who, for all of his faults- and they are many- does appear to have some kind of moral centre and has shown no inclination whatsoever up to this point to bend reality to his will. On the other, you have a woman of unquestionably high intelligence, but of absolutely no moral virtue at all, who likely believes at her core that her ideas make complete sense- if only to her alone- and that the rest of the country simply needs to "get with the program" and fall in line.

I find that a very simple choice to make. Why do so many of you hesitate, or- worse- insist on voting for her anyway?

Sunday, 14 August 2016

The first symptoms of early-onset Crazy Cat Lady Syndrome


Most Americans have never heard of a bird named Kelly Brook. There is no reason why they should have; she's not terribly famous outside of England. Within England, though, she is known for the following:
... And that's about it. Decent but not spectacular CV.

Oh, wait, one more thing: she's known for having a string of famous exes longer than my arm- including four (count 'em!) failed engagements.

And now, at the age of 36 and with her best days very much in the rearview mirror, she would like everyone to believe that she is actually totally fine with the way her life turned out:
Explaining why she believed she hadn't settled down just yet, she added: 'My life is chaotic. I'm back and forth all the time, my feet were never really on the ground, so I was kind of trying to fit in relationships and dating while managing a career which is really difficult to do. [Chick-to-English translation: I'm too busy being a STRAWNG EMPOWAHED WIMMENZ to bother with anything silly like a family!]
'I never really had a lot of time for men, even though it would seem that's all my life was about.' 
But the brunette beauty hinted that things could all be changing with her handsome new beau, Jeremy. 
Revealing that he could be her 'Mr Right', she explained: 'I’ve been dating a lovely guy from France, Jeremy, and he’s amazing. I don’t know whether it’s me or him. 
'I was living in LA and I was doing some martial arts training to keep fit and I saw a social media video and we skyped each other for six months. We eventually got together and it became romantic, but he's lovely.' [Er... why the "but"?]
As she found her new man through social media, Kelly broke her pattern of dating well-known stars. 
In the past, Kelly has enjoyed high profile relationships with the likes of Danny Cipriani, David McIntosh, Jason Statham, Billy Zane and Thom Evans. 
She was engaged to the latter four men, and tragically suffered two miscarriages whilst dating rugby star Thom. 
In another heartbreaking incident, Kelly was devastated after it was revealed Danny - who she dated on and off for years - had cheated on her. 
Kelly's tempestuous love life understandably appeared to create some trust issues with men, and she revealed to The Sun earlier this year that she was a 'secret psycho.' 
She revealed that she likes to stay one step ahead of her boyfriends and does so by looking through their messages, but ran into trouble with French beau Jeremy as she couldn't read the language. [Classic instance of the direct correlation between how hot a girl is, and how batshit crazy she is.]
Yet she managed to find a way around the barrier as she explained: 'I screenshotted them, sent them to my cousin who speaks fluent French and she translated - and I realised he was a nice guy.' [What did I JUST say?!]
I do not intend to disparage or pick on Ms. Brook- well, not more than is necessary, anyway. She isn't exactly the sharpest tool in the shed, but apparently she is a rather nice person- or so says an acquaintance of mine in the fashion industry who supposedly knows her pretty well.

Whether she is or not, I don't know and don't really care, as it isn't germane to what follows.

Her story is nonetheless highly instructive to young women everywhere who think that being young and pretty automatically absolves them from being held responsible when they say and do things that are, under any reasonable interpretation, bugf@ck-insane.

Ms. Brook stands out as a, rather unfortunate, lesson to her contemporaries and to women younger than her. While it annoys me to throw around the word "hypergamy" these days- because, after all, the usage of what were once standard terms in the lexicon of socio-sexual status theory has been greatly devalued through wanton abuse- it applies nonetheless.

She spent the prime years of her youth, beauty, and fertility chasing as many high-status men as she could. She reaped the rewards that come from being desirable and attractive, by way of endorsements and movie/television roles and ad campaigns centred around her.

In other words, she spent the very best years of her life "riding the carousel", and now it seems that she wants off it with a lower-status man than the ones upon which she had expended so much of her youth and fertility.

The difference in her looks, by the way, is material. It's actually pretty astonishing if you compare pictures of her from 6-10 years back with her snaps in the Daily Mail article. Just take a look at what follows.

Here is a picture of Ms. Brook from back when she was somewhere around the age of 24:


And here's what she looked like back in 2009, on the set of Piranha 3-D:


What the hell, here's another one from the same photoshoot, just because it's an awesome picture:


You know a woman's got the goods when a surgically enhanced porn star can't help but get in on the action herself.

Ahem... Moving along- here's what she looks like now:


There is no mistaking it: she has hit the dreaded Wall. About the nicest thing that can be said about her is that she has hit it at somewhat less than 100mph. No matter how one tries to deny it, the evidence is right there in the pictures above. She was far tighter, perkier, slimmer, and just plain hotter ten years ago than she is now.

Her famous "curves" might still be there, and she has (justifiably) made quite a bit of money from flaunting them. But she has now gone from being genuinely voluptuous- and there is nothing in the world wrong with that- to, frankly, tubby.

Having thus squandered her best years and features on chasing high-status men- several of whom, be it noted, have moved on to younger, prettier, slimmer girls- she now wishes to justify her choices in life by stating that "success", in her eyes, amounts to being 36 and not married with kids.

In the circles in which Ms. Brook runs, perhaps this is a mark of success. But back in the real world, that sort of situation is- or should be- every young and pretty girl's worst nightmare.

And Ms. Brook provides an abject and extremely painful lesson to those same young women, many of whom probably look at her with envious eyes as a "role model" of what a pretty girl can achieve.

The harsh reality is that civilisation does not need high-flying careerist women. It needs wives and mothers. And when women- even, and especially, once highly-attractive ones like Ms. Brook- turn their backs on this basic fact of womanhood, they also reject their own value.

For the fact is, and remains, and will almost certainly always be unless the Lord Himself says otherwise, that in genetic terms, women are precious.

Men are expendable- we always have been, nothing new about that. We are the cannon fodder, the builders and preservers and destroyers of civilisation. We can be slain in our thousands and millions, yet civilisations will last long after our bones have turned to dust.

Women, however, are precious- incredibly so, in fact. They are the creators of the next generation of cannon fodder. If women turn their backs on their single most important purpose in life, who then will create and build and destroy? To mangle an old saying somewhat, where then will come the rough men ready to do violence in the names of those who sleep peacefully in their beds at night? From whence shall come the next group of girls who will then carry on the genetic legacies and hard-won lessons of their mothers?

And while women are absolutely precious, that innate value does not entitle them to protection from the consequences of their own choices. When they make terrible choices with the ways in which they spend their best assets, they cannot expect to simply be given a pass and excused because vagina. That simply does not make sense.

Ms. Brook, like a good many once-beautiful women her age, exhibits many of the symptoms of a particularly nasty affliction called Crazy Cat Lady Syndrome that will leave her lonely and in pain later in her life, when her looks have well and truly faded and she has become invisible to the wider world.

She has prioritised her career over her fertility. She has exhibited anywhere from mildly sociopathic to to outright violent behaviour toward the men in her life. She has expressed no remorse whatsoever for her carousel-riding. And now she would like us to believe that she is happy with those choices.

It is certainly her right to think whatever she likes about her choices. It is not her right to pretend that such choices are good for young women at large.

Any woman who takes Ms. Brook's life as a blueprint to be followed might just find herself in 20 years' time wondering why men refuse to stick around long in her house that smells like cat-piss and where every visible surface is covered in hair.

Saturday, 13 August 2016

The operator's anthem

Normally, I absolutely LOATHE rap. I do not consider hip-hop to be "music"- in my arrogant opinion, for something to be considered musical, it must actually be bearable to the human ear.

Hip-hop and rap and most forms of similar music cause me to react the way that I imagine you would if you had to listen to, oh, say, cats copulating to the sounds produced by bagpipes.

However, there are a few exceptions that I would willingly make to this sweeping generalisation that all rap music sounds like shit.

Here is one such:


That, my friends, is as good as rap is ever going to get. As our friends at Article 15 Clothing like to say, "Keep calm and freedom on".

Thursday, 11 August 2016

"No time for losers"


It is not often that I find myself agreeing with much of what Piers Morgan has to say- especially these days. He is an arrogant ass- which is actually fine in and of itself, since I am one too, and so are many of the people I admire and follow. (As, I imagine, are more than a few of my readers. So, y'know, pot, meet kettle, etc.)

The difference between him and me is that I'm not a pompous, posturing idiot blowhard when it comes to things like, say, guns and race in America. I mean, if you're such a smug, preening, narcissistic twat that Jeremy Clarkson- the Lord's very own Apostle of Petrol- punches you in the face, then there is more wrong with you than even His host can fix.

However, Mr. Morgan's latest write-up, this time about Michael Phelps, is actually spot-on for a change:
Phelps is now inarguably the greatest Olympian of all time. 
He’s won a ridiculous 21 Gold Medals. 
Only Usain Bolt comes close to matching him for the title. 
Both share the same ethos: winning is all that matters. 
Do it fairly, do it clean, but win.
For these two supreme champions, coming 2nd or 3rd is like hoping you were going to end up in bed with Cindy Crawford and ending up with Madonna. [Gee, thanks for that mental image, jackass. We know what Madonna looks like these days. It's not pretty.]
They just don’t care about silver or bronze. 
Just as people like Phelps’ hero Michael Jordan, or Tiger Woods, or Serena Williams have never cared about anything but being No1 either. 
That’s why they have been the best at what they do. 
The truth is that in sport, if you don’t win, you lose. If you’re serious about competition, there’s no middle ground for ‘doing your best’. 
This is not a theory which endeared me to the frenzied Twitterati this morning, who lined up to abuse me for daring to suggest that Gold medals are all that matter. 
Most of the more insulting responses, I noticed, came from Olympians who had never won Gold themselves. 
This is not, I would argue, a coincidence.
A rather pithier version of the same basic sentiment was once provided by (who else?) Sean Connery in one of my favourite Michael Bay films, The Rock:
John Mason: Are you sure you're ready for this?
Stanley Goodspeed: I'll do my best.
John Mason: Your "best"?! Losers always whine about their best. Winners go home and f@ck the prom queen!
Stanley Goodspeed: Carla WAS the prom queen.
John Mason: Really?
(Hey, I've openly admitted that I have terrible taste in movies. I quite liked the Angry Birds Movie, for example.)

Thing is, Mr. Morgan is correct (for once). There is no consolation for coming in second. Why should any self-respecting man be happy with second place, when in reality, such a thing means that we have failed at our purpose?

Driven, aggressive alpha males like Michael Phelps, and other great athletes of his calibre- I'm thinking men like Roger Federer, Novak Djokovic, Lance Armstrong, and Michael Schumacher- will do whatever it takes, within whatever moral codes that they observe or adhere to, to be the best, or at least the best that they can be. They rarely, if ever, make excuses for themselves when they fail. They don't settle for second place because that means that they have failed in their mission.

The same set of traits repeats itself in any great alpha male you care to name. Ronald Reagan. Jack Welch. Arnold Schwarzenegger. Donald Trump. Elon Musk. Clint Eastwood. Andy Bolton. Dominick Cruz. Bruce Wayne. The list goes on, and on, and on.

Men like that are ruthless, driven, egotistical, ambitious, and sometimes monomaniacal in their pursuit of glory.

And- as long as they don't let these traits consume them and turn them into monsters- there is nothing in the world wrong with this.

There is certainly nothing wrong with attempting to emulate their mindset, either.

There is nothing in the world wrong with seeing failure for what it is: a painful and difficult lesson that must nonetheless be heeded. Failure is a teacher and a tool that drives men toward greatness through the pain of its sting. Failure is never something that a man should strive toward- that would be insane- but it is something that can and must be learned from.

If you are a world-class athlete, and you didn't win gold, you failed.

If you are a great businessman, and you didn't close that deal you've been working on for months- for whatever reason- you failed.

If you are a skilled programmer and you wrote some amazing code designed to solve a complex technical problem, but you didn't debug it thoroughly enough and now it's crashed and taken down critical infrastructure with it, you failed.

If you are a powerlifter and you didn't manage to get the bar back up after attempting a heavy back squat or bench press, you failed.

If you train in martial arts and you didn't throw a kick correctly, or didn't control your body properly and ended up screwing up a particular technique, you failed.

Fine. Dust yourself off. Learn from it. Embrace the pain. Deal with it. And then do whatever it takes to ensure that you never have to go through that again.

These are not comfortable things to hear, but at some level most adults understand them to be true. Attempting to avoid ever feeling the pain of failure by deluding people into thinking that they deserve praise and recognition just for showing up is not an adult reaction to the realities of the world. It is a thoroughly juvenile, and quite pathetic, attempt to shield one's fragile ego and psyche from the harsh but necessary facts of life.

The world isn't interested in losers or whiners. If you think carefully about the people in your life, you will quickly realise that the ones who matter the most to you are the ones with the least tolerance for self-pity and bitching.

And if you think carefully about the people who depend upon you, you'll realise even more quickly that those people work best with and for you when they know that you can be depended upon to get things done with a minimum of fuss and complaint.

It is certainly true that not everybody is cut out to be a championship-level athlete, obviously. However, that is no excuse for any man to simply give up and say, "this is as good as it gets, time to stop striving and improving".

That is the lesson that Michael Phelps provides. He could easily have just stayed retired, sat on his arse and refused to have anything more to do with competitive sports. He had a beautiful girlfriend, an infant son, boatloads of money, fame, wealth, and power. He pretty much had it all.

And yet he wasn't satisfied. He was still hungry for more. So he got back into the pool, starting training again, and carried on doing what he does best: winning.

That is inspirational. That is amazing. That spirit should be celebrated. And every man should take that lesson to heart.

Never stop improving. Never be satisfied with the way things are. Never lose that hunger to become more than what you are now- so that, if you were on your deathbed tomorrow and you saw the man that you were and the man that you could have been, you would then realise that they are one and the same.

Trigger warning

In that I'm warning you that I'm about to play a really great death metal song by IN FLAMES.


See what I did there?

Wednesday, 10 August 2016

No bikinis?!? What the hell?!!


Wednesdays are leg day at the gym for me, which of course means approximately two hours spent doing squats and deadlifts in the crucible of will and steel that is the squat rack. Now, you would think that the worst thing about leg day is, well, the fact that it involves lots of squats. But actually, the absolute worst thing about it is in fact the TV programming at my gym.

There are four TV screens in the place, and they are typically used to distract people while they're plodding away aimlessly on the cardio machines at the back. They also tend to provide gossip fodder for the "every day is chest day, brah!" asshats who often show up in pairs or (God have mercy) triplets.

Now, for reasons that are quite beyond my comprehension, most of the time, these four televitzes are tuned into the Clinton News Network. I do have a theory about this. There is one such TV screen mounted just above and to the left of my squat rack (yes, it's mine, I've been using it religiously for more than 5 years). My theory is that the proprietors of my gym- who are actually really good guys, since they've happily tolerated my chalk-embalmed-angry-gorilla-with-weights workouts for years- have put that TV there, and tuned it almost permanently to CNN, specifically for the purpose of driving away the quarter-squat types and curl bros that tend to glom on that sacred altar of the Iron God.

If that was their plan, it is unfortunately not a very effective one, I have to say.

Anyway, tonight I noticed that, along with the usual propaganda about how horrible Trump-Muad'dib is and how great the Hilldebeast is (and they are trying so hard to spin the news in Shillary's favour that their activities are now threatening to tear a hole in the very fabric of reality), CNN was also showing live coverage of some of the Olympic events happening in Rio de Janeiro.

Undoubtedly, the manly men and lovely ladies who read this blog are vaguely aware, somewhere in the periphery of their consciousness, that there is something called "the Olympic Games" happening at the moment. Apparently it's some sort of huge sporting event where all of the world's nations send their athletes to... do whatever it is they do.

Based on what I'm seeing, of course, "it" evidently involves a lot of bonking. I can't say I'm surprised; you're putting the world's fittest Alpha-male competitors in the middle of the world's fittest female athletes. If they weren't jumping each others bones, I'd question their right to be called "athletes".

Anyway, all of that aside, I am also quite sure that precisely none of you give the slightest quantum of a damn about the Olympics. Like me, you probably could not care less*. A few truly remarkable exceptions aside, the Olympics have long since gone from being about epic demonstrations of legendary athletic abilities, to being an SJW-converged shitfest about how little Billy overcame massive adversity and some horrible congenital disease, only to finish 8th in a race against the world's best.

News flash: we don't care. All that matters is who wins and who loses. Full stop, period goddamn dot.

So of course, like most of you, I pay next to zero attention to the Olympics.

With, however, one exception: women's beach volleyball. And it is not exactly difficult to figure out why.

"Who won?" Who cares?!
So there I was, just about to start on my really heavy sets of squats, when I looked up and realised that a women's volleyball team event was about to start. The teams involved were the USA, and Switzerland- for some strange reason, since as far as I know Switzerland is a completely land-locked country and doesn't have any real beaches worth a damn. I didn't think they even knew what a volleyball is.

But anyway, this was very much a good thing, to my mind. After all, what better motivation is there for a young man to be in the gym lifting stupidly heavy things than to watch beautiful scantily clad young women running around after balls?

It was at that point that I realised that the viewers of the event were about to get ripped off. Big-time.

You see, the event was not women's beach volleyball duos, where the ladies traditionally do play in the next closest thing to Speedos. This was team volleyball, and frankly, the women involved might as well have been a bunch of nuns. The Swiss ladies certainly looked like they'd just come out of a convent, given their uniforms.

This annoyed me no end. I'd been robbed.

Look, if you're going to waste my time with stupid coverage of a sporting event that I cannot be arsed to watch in the first place, at least provide some entertainment value in the process. Especially if I'm watching women's sporting events, which are for the most part completely useless.

To make up for this egregious oversight, this blatant injustice, allow me, your humble servant, to present some gratuitously stupid bikini shots of some of the women competing in Olympic beach volleyball:



You're welcome. I think I just triggered a bunch of blue-haired, pierced Trigglypuff-type fatties in the process, too, which is a real bonus as far as I'm concerned.

Now we can all go back to ignoring the Olympics, as we should. Wake me up when they're finally over and we can get back to making fun of the Hilldebeast.


*My dear American readers,

Please take note: the CORRECT usage of the phrase is, in fact, "could NOT care less". Americans have this enormously irritating habit of saying, "I could care less", as a mark of their insouciance. (Yes, I know, that's a big word. That is why the English gave the world dictionaries.) This is not only incorrect, it is APPALLINGLY bad English. While I realise that you stopped speaking English some 240 years ago, it is still immensely annoying to listen to you lot butcher the language given to us by Her Majesty's loyal subjects.

Much respect,

- Your Friendly Neighbourhood Grammar Nazi,
Didact

Monday, 8 August 2016

Grand Magus

If you are a fan of good old-fashioned hard rock and heavy metal with an epic feel to it- I'm talking the likes of IRON MAIDEN, JUDAS PRIEST, SAXON, DIO, and MANOWAR- then I have just the band for you:




GRAND MAGUS first came to my attention via probably my single favourite progressive metal musical experiment, AYREON. The vocalist and guitarist for GRAND MAGUS was a guest vocalist on AYREON's last album, The Theory of Everything. That album is quite simply one of the greatest albums ever recorded- and it is as good as it is in no small part because of JB's performance as "The Teacher".

But I'd never actually bothered to listen to JB's main band, because hey, I'm lazy. Imagine my surprise, then, when I stumbled across the GRAND MAGUS track, "Varangian", and realised suddenly that the guy with the awesome voice was very familiar indeed.

Since, as I have said, my taste in music is unimpeachable- I managed to convert at least one reader that I know of into a big fan of SABATON, after all, and I'm sure someone out there has gotten into POWERWOLF because of me- I'd strongly advise checking these guys out. They're worth it.