I suspect Wilbur Smith is a closet anthropologist…not just because of the attention he gives animals in some of his novels, but because of the human actions and interactions he depicts–usually according to type. In this novel especially, Smith writes like somebody who is a manosphere junkie…except he doesn’t use the lingo.
There is a beta protagonist (Ryder Courtney); an alpha hero (Penrod Ballentyne), some nubile Victorian-era babes rife with symptoms of hypergamy/AFBB…and a whole lot of blood and thunder.
All these characters, and more, intersect at the siege of Khartoum. They are all depicted masterfully by the writer, who gets you to care about them before shoving them to the brink of death repeatedly. At any point in this book there’s a lot at stake and the suspense is high.
Like most true alpha dogs, Ballentyne is willing to take bigger risks than the average Joe. While this elevates his status in the eyes of women from both cultures (Muslim and Western), it also tends to put him in the most hopeless situations. His life dangles by a precarious thread for most of the second act, though he earns the respect of his bloodthirsty captors just being himself (a theme I’ve noticed in other Smith novels). And also like most true alpha dogs, Ballentyne is willing to dish out harsh preemptive justice, retaliation, and revenge, with little to no remorse. And he’s certainly not above using people to get what he wants.
Courtney is a good man who is moral to a fault. He’s sympathetic, smart, and certainly not lacking in courage, but destined to be a beta provider for a headstrong woman (of which the Victorian era had a few). There’s one scene in particular where he really needs a big dose of alpha ruthlessness, but his untimely mercy puts everyone at risk and causes unnecessary suffering and death.
This novel accelerates to a quick start and romps like a steamroller right to the end.
An action comedy from the 1980s features one of the last thoroughly masculine heroes in pop culture. By the time Crocodile Dundee hit theaters, male role models were already being relegated to one of the following sterotypes:
The incompetent boob. You can find this guy on any sitcom at any time on any channel. (He also populates plenty of big-screen comedies.) He needs the obligatory strong, take-charge independent woman to rein in his hare-brained schemes (I Love Lucy in reverse). Of course she doesn’t need him…but they’re together anyway because patriarchy.
The funny homosexual. Also found in pretty much every comedy.
The metrosexual. This occurs more in the music industry than movies, but millions of young men get the idea that this is the way to be.
The sympathetic wimp/Average Frustrated Chump. Found everywhere, especially romantic comedies.
The dangerous violent sociopath/rapist/cheater/con man/serial killer/racist/wife-beater. This is the entertainment box into which Hollywood locks masculine men.
It’s a minor miracle Crocodile Dundee ever got made. But audiences loved it.
During an interview, actor/screenwriter Paul Hogan provided a keen insight about the Mick Dundee character. In a nutshell, what’s different about Dundee is he doesn’t change. What makes for interesting stories is to drop him into strange environments and watch how he deals with the dangers of them.
This pioneer-type hunter from the Outback is taken from his stomping grounds and transplanted in New York City. But his personality is so strong that (within the context of the film) he changes civilization…because civilization sure can’t change him.
In red pill parlance, this means Mick Dundee is a natural at maintaining frame. Not just with women, but in all situations.
If you’re not familiar with the movie, here’s the gist of it: Sue, a reporter from New York, hears about a man who survived a crocodile attack. She hunts him down. He lives up to the legend, and saves her life as well as performing other impressive feats. Sue talks him into visiting New York with her. He does, continuing to rescue her and perform impressive feats. A woman with milder-than-normal feminista conditioning, Sue is offended by his “chauvenism,” yet falls in love with him anyway.
There are a couple scenes worth highlighting.
When we first meet Dundee, it’s in a pub. He is obviously the alpha dog in this pack. All the other men look up to him and if there were many “Sheilas” around, they’d be throwing themselves at him, too.
Mick Dundee is the real deal, but even so, shortly after Sue arrives in the Outback, he resorts to some dramatics to accentuate his he-man image–like pretending to tell the time down to the minute by the position of the sun, and to dry-shave with his Bowie Knife. Although his overt attitude toward her is one of amused indifference, he’s obviously laying the machismo on thick in the hopes of impressing Sue.
And who could blame him after seeing her hidden charms in a scene like this?
Sue is involved with another media bigwig back in NYC, but alone with Mick on his turf, his natural he-man game is too much for her. She makes it clear she’s his for the taking while they’re there. Alpha Fux; Beta Bux.
In New York, Mick tags along with Sue and her beta provider boyfriend to a hoity-toity restaurant. The beta is under the assumption that on his civilized turf money and prestige equal alpha power, and “Tarzan” (as he calls Mick) is lowest on the totem pole. He flaunts this alleged power in front of Sue by challenging Mick to read the foreign language menu, and snidely slipping in some other veiled insults. Mick may be out of his element, but he recognizes the boyfriend is trying to humiliate him. He distracts Sue, reaches across the table and tags Beta Boy on the chin.
Sue is pissed at Mick on the one hand, but obviously lusting after him, too. Alpha Fux; Beta Bux.
Mick is invited to a fancy dinner at Sue’s parents, where Beta Boy pops the question to Sue. Mick is naturally the life of the party, and continues playing that role even though it’s obvious he wants Sue for himself. But he doesn’t throw a fit, make a scene, or even question her. You can almost hear him thinking: “What a waste. Oh well. Next.”
Crocodile Dundee is textbook red pill, and it’s got some funny parts, too.
In the spirit of that title, I would add that long-term storage of steel machine parts in saltwater aquariums is also a bad idea. Keeping radioactive waste in your refrigerator might be a bad idea, too.
Nevertheless, he makes some points that few people have the wisdom and courage to make. For instance:
Want to prove that women can be artillerypersons? No problem, the Army will gladly commission a Female Artillery Study, which will take an outsized crew of women, train and condition them extensively, have men do all the really heavy work while the women merely load and fire the lightest artillery piece in the inventory, and claim with a straight face that women could do it all.
And even though there wasn’t as much social engineering going on when I was active duty, I saw this kind of garbage getting underway. In fact, the social engineers and the pantywaist staff officers sucking up to them had already turned Jump School into a joke by making it coed. The double standards necessary to put women everywhere else in the military were mandated in the Airborne, too. And though men still had to demonstrate greater strength, speed and stamina than the G.I. Janes (the opposite of what you’ll hear in movies and on TV), overall physical standards plummeted. Pretty much anybody can get jump wings as a result.
Now they want to do the same to Ranger School, and in Ranger units. As has already been proven, men will have to pick up the slack for these womyn; but we’ll perpetually hear how heroically these poor victims had to outperform their male counterparts to be accepted.
One reason these idiotic agenda-driven policies are welcomed by the ignorant is because of the Amazon Superninja myth rammed down our throats ceaselessly in pop culture.
It’s important to remember that, in a military context, physical standards weren’t mandated in order to make soldiers/sailors/marines/airmen healthy. Physical standards were instituted to ensure a man could meet job requirements in stressful situations under conditions wherein their bodies were already severely taxed; and the lives of the men on his left and right depended on him being able to meet those requirements. The sucky conditions of combat (nor field exercises) don’t magically change to accommodate slower, weaker people with a host of periodic gender-specific ailments, often incapable of thinking beyond their emotions (and who, sooner or later will wind up pregnant) simply because the feministas want them to.
In previous posts on this blog, we’ve documented some examples of the amazon superninja in pop culture. This is most blatant in action adventures, in every medium (the worse being film and comics).
To be an action hero in pop culture a character either has to undergo intense, extensive combat training for years in seclusion…or they need to be born with a vagina. This was bad enough 30 years ago, but since then it’s become obligatory. It doesn’t matter the story being told or who it’s about–some excuse will be found to show a male-female fight scene, and the womyn will win every time.
A recent incident on a big city subway inspired me to see if there was any more video from the real world, and I found some. A lot of time can be wasted watching all the stuff out there, so I chose just a couple selections.
And below, even when the female is bigger and more experienced…
It’s no mistake that males and females don’t compete against each other in professional sports…because it wouldn’t be competition, unless it’s an exhibition match in which a womyn in peak condition is pitted against some wimpy couch potato.
Feminists had a collective orgasm around the globe when Billie-Jean King beat some old senior citizen at tennis. But even in that sport, the 203rd-ranked men’s tennis player, a decade and a half older, while smoking and drinking, spanked the two best female tennis champions in history.
But of course, the same people supposedly for equality, and buying into the female supremacy memes, scream bloody murder when men actually treat women as they would treat other men.
Watch this video first, then I’ll have a few words.
Funny, right? I laughed, too, but not at all of it. There’s something sort of disturbing beneath the surface, here.
First of all, I get it: the hotter the chick, the crazier she can be.
1. Are you sure what plumbing is concealed by the clothes? 2. Is there any legitimate motivation to find out?
First point (and this is a minor one): what you’ve noticed is that the more physically attractive a woman is, the faster her rationalization hamster runs and the greater her sense of the feminine imperative. I guess you could call that a mental disorder; but I consider it more like programming. Like how a spoiled child (once she realizes she can get away with what others can’t) develops a superiority complex.
But what should disturb you is the punchline–this idea that you would rate a transvestite (or trans-whatever) an eight, nine, or ten.
Initially I was baffled. How could presumably heterosexual men (those in the video and the one who recommended it to me) even conceive of a she-male they would be so attracted to?
It didn’t take long to figure it out, though. And the answer is related to another baffling phenomenon among what seems to be the majority of men today, including among the red pill community.
That phenomenon has to do with the desired female body type.
“Feminine” by 2014 standards?
Looking solely at faces, it makes some sense that a person of one gender could masquerade as another–there are boys born with soft facial features who could artfully apply eyelashes, makeup, and so forth. Rating them in the 8-10 range is still a stretch IMO, but I’ll accept it in theory. (Of course, judging by the actresses in a lot of movies and TV shows, plain-faced is the new beautiful, anyway.)
The problem for potential cross-dressers (at least in a culture with more traditional gender roles and tastes) is that healthy male and female bodies do not look alike.
But this is far from a problem in our society, where so many males are attracted to women built like teenage boys. The emaciated scarecrow look is currently en vogue: Broad shoulders, narrow hips, six-pack abs and visible ribs. The only female characteristics commonly desired are breasts and long hair. Anything failing that criteria is called “fat.”
Mmm, shapely!
Some guy the other day actually said Kim Kardashian is fat. And he didn’t mean when she was pregnant, either. I pointed out that women are supposed to have some meat on the hips. Not only do wide hips help with childbirth, but put a shapely woman in high heels (or if you run into one of those super-rare treasures that knows how to walk like a lady even without high heels… then even sneakers and tight jeans will work) and simply watching her move from Point A to Point B is better than watching the Superbowl halftime show. Yes, that’s right: including the one with Janet Jackson’s “wardrobe malfunction.”
“Yeah, alright,” the guy said, “she should have hips…but not that are wider than her shoulders!”
“So in other words,” I said, “what you’re looking for is a man.”
I heartily agree with red pill men that femininity makes a woman desirable. What I don’t understand is why they insist that feminine personality should occupy a masculine physique. At least one of the professors I remember from college would smugly accuse you all of being a bunch of closet cases. Add to that the desire for women with deeper voices and butch attitudes (at least among the blue pill male population) and the evidence mounts.
A lot of gay mafiosos and homophiles will opine that everyone has latent homosexual proclivities. I don’t believe that; but then I can’t explain these bizarre mate selection tendencies, either. My best guess is that it’s largely inspired by self-contradictory conditioning from pop culture absorbed during a boy’s formative years in our gender-confused society.
She doesn’t have ribs or hip bones sticking out her skin!! Whale on the beach!
The French expression “Vive le difference!” makes a lot of sense to me. Men and women attract each other in large part not because we are biologically interchangeable, but because we are so different. We compliment each other, and that harmonious design is reflected right down to our body types.
Anybody can grow their hair long, or invest in fake boobs, guys.
I guess I understand the thrill of the unknown so far as some things go, but I can’t think of a more powerful boner-killer than not being sure what type of genitalia is inside a date’s panties (or whether they were born with it or not).
I had to sit through a day-long corporate meeting and I’m taking my frustration out on you.
There is a certain personality type that just luuuuuuuuuuu-uuuuuvs meetings. In fact, they’d probably rather spend an entire work year having meetings than actually doing any work. It seems to be the same personality type obsessed with titles and glorified job descriptions (which serve as camouflage to disguise the fact that they get paid for shuffling papers and enforcing/generating bureaucratic red tape).
During these self-congratulatory orgies with the trappings of business meetings, a lot of time and money is spent, but nothing gets produced. The best of them may present 45 minutes of useful information while the remaining seven hours and 15 minutes are little more than mass mutual ego-stroking–an opportunity for the vain and self-important to dress up and receive awards for dubious accomplishments.
This last meeting only reinforced my opinion. In addition, the Random Seat Assignment gods were pissed at me that day. There were two top-tier babes and at least four second-tier who could have wound up beside me. Instead, the seat to my right was occupied (at the invitation of an obese woman at my table) by probably the last individual on the company roster I would have preferred.
I’ve seen this effiminate little character around before at smaller-scale meetings. Don’t know what department he’s in and not interested in knowing. But I made an effort to be friendly (by Two-Fisted standards, anyway). Maybe the guy was raised by a single mom and only had sisters, and thus was completely oblivious to how uncomfortable he makes men with all his mincing and such.
I had to scrap this benefit-of-the-doubt upon noticing how every female in the company he was acquainted with fawned all over him. Several embraced him and kissed his cheek like a long lost sister. That’s kind of a giveaway.
Okay, western women have been squirting for metrosexuals from Rudolf Valentino to Prince. I get that. (Sorry I can’t provide any more recent examples, but I intentionally avoid pop culture as best I can.) But there was no sexual tension in these greetings–quite the opposite. It was obvious they found him as unthreatening as a stuffed animal.
Going back to junior high, before I truly believed that homosexuals actually existed, I couldn’t help noticing this weird upperclassman who preferred to hang out with the girls. Not for the natural reasons, either. He was obviously much more interested in gossiping with them than any sort of romantic ambitions, and the girls in his circle were all protective of him. None looked at him or reacted to him the way they did me or the other jocks. Their demeanor changed around him in some other way, like he was a puppy with a broken leg or something.
This is a consistent phenomenon in our culture. I always thought that junior high situation was rare when I was a kid; maybe it was rare to find among adults…but not so anymore. When in college I discovered that (prior to the doubled-down media blitz to legitimize homosexuality in the mind of Joe Public) such women were commonly referred to as “fag hags,” even among homophiles.
Now it seems like every female is a fag hag. (A whole lot of males, too, come to think of it.)
I’ve heard women say things like, “I think that’s so cute!”
Let two males, behaving as if one were female, walk into a large group of women and listen to the collective “Awwwwwwww!” erupt as if scripted. You get the same thing in movie audiences after carefully manipulative homo-erotic scenes.
Once in the Bahamas, watching some comedy/musical/variety show put on by the resort staff, actors and actresses came out in various costumes, impersonationg different famous celebrities. The audience was international (though mostly from western nations) and the thespians were attractive. That seemed to be a requirement. There was very little applause for the hot babes–maybe because the men present had brought their dates, as I had. There was mildly enthusiastic applause from the gathered women for the bare-chested beefcake. But when one of the male actors appeared in drag, the hooting, cheering and applause was thunderous by comparison.
On another date a few years later, I watched a belly dancing demonstration. When it was over, the dancer instructed some kids how to dance and their parents all laughed and clapped. But after that she asked the crowd if they’d like to see a guy dressed in the costume and forced to dance. The question was asked like she already knew the answer, based on experience with other crowds. And sure enough, the crowd cheered its approval and some poor mangina was singled out to humiliate himself in front of everybody.
It’s all enough to make a man wonder: Is the same psychological compulsion driving women to invade male turf and ruin it also driving their collective desire to see men feminized (whether it be literally or superficially)?
Racial tensions aren’t going to go away just because I wish they would. In fact, for the first time in my life, I’m convinced they’re not going to go away at all. Peacefully anyway.
The turdstorm of lies, distortions and disinformation obviously is only getting worse, too. So here’s Bill Whittle saying what nobody else has the balls to say on camera:
I’ve come to like Truth Revolt, especially Firewall. They don’t recognize or won’t admit the disease destroying our form of government. They still use Newspeak and still believe the GOP is ideologically where it was 80 years ago (free market capitalism, national sovereignty, individual rights, etc.), but it’s hard to find anyone willing to be honest even about the symptoms anymore.
The glaring oversight in this video is how the press also covered up for Clinton (so effectively, in fact, that “conservatives” have been bamboozled into seeing his only crime as lying about a blowjob in the oval office). It’s still worth a watch.
You’re likely to hear all sorts of excuses and rationalizations about “net neutrality” in the coming days/weeks/months. The Marxists (“liberals;” ABC, NBC, CBS, CNN, MSNBC, HuffPo, WaPo, NYT, ect. ad infinitum) and the NeoCons (Fox News, etc.) will debate about superficial aspects of the issue, perhaps even passionately.
Don’t buy the crap about connection speeds–that’s a smokescreen.
I’m gonna cut through the BS and just get right to the core of the issue: Censorship and coverups.
The globalist left has been herding policy makers in the USA for well over a century, and they’ve enjoyed a complete monopoly on the flow of information for nearly as long. Their mass media has become increasingly blatant about the agenda in recent decades, but then somebody let the genie out of the bottle.
That genie was the Internet. The Internet has completely saturated the culture, and is the ONLY medium of significant reach that the globalist left doesn’t control outright (NeoCon straw men notwithstanding). Understandably, they don’t like that.
Even the Internet is dominated by leftists and left-leaning voices. Only about 30% of the content is truly outside the good cop/bad cop political theater, and of that, most is garbage posted by legitimate crackpots and probably Establishment shills spreading disinformation (subscribe to Before It’s News and you’ll get more of this than you can stomach).
A tiny percentage actually reports truthfully on the disease (as opposed to only some of the symptoms, like Breitbart, the Blaze, or Fox). But even that tiny percentage, though ignored, dismissed or libelled, is too much for the Establishment’s liking. What’s even scarier to them is there are millions of quiet, unnoticed individuals on the web who might start thinking for themselves at any time, then asking questions outside the frame of acceptable debate.
That’s what “net neutrality” is really about.
And if they don’t ram it down our throats this time, watch for an epidemic of some sort of abuse or unfair business practice by providers to manifest, justifying regulation “for our own good.”
After Trayvon Martin and Ferguson, plus having my finger on the pulse of the Official Victim Class where I live and work, I’m removing my rose-tinted Ray-Bans: There will never be a post-racial America. Those who truly desire harmony (and I believe there’s not many who actually do) don’t have the power or influence to compete with those who are inflaming racial tensions in America.
The present occupant of the White House promised a “post-racial America.” But then he also promised you could keep your doctor and health plan if you liked it, and that he would cut the national debt in half or he wouldn’t run for a second term. Obviously he does exactly the opposite of what he promises…with one glaring exception: his mission statement of “fundamentally transforming” America.
Got a whole lotta’ that going on.
The Official Victim Class never cared how or why the fatal shooting in Ferguson occurred. All they needed to know was who is black, who is white, and their minds were made up, permanently.
Exactly their same attitude in the last two presidential elections, come to think of it. Ironic that they accuse whites of racism so often.
So anyway, Radical Times is about the first “race war” in America–the South during Reconstruction, when blacks truly were oppressed. The original cover was okay, but nothing special. I like this new one much better.
The novella is a quick read with action, lost history, and my first attempt at a romantic sub-plot.
And hopefully it’s much less depressing than what’s going on, now.
Red-Blooded American Men Examine Pop-Culture and the World
The present occupant of the White House promised a “post-racial America.” But then he also promised you could keep your doctor and health plan if you liked it, and that he would cut the national debt in half or he wouldn’t run for a second term. Obviously he does exactly the opposite of what he promises…with one glaring exception: his mission statement of “fundamentally transforming” America.
Ironic that they accuse whites of racism so often.