All posts by Machine Trooper

Sports

Great Moments in Stupid Coaching

Leave a comment

Wow. Just, wow.

What a wild finish to an epic see-saw battle where the outcome was always in doubt.

I have not been pleased with the NFL for a while now, and hadn’t watched a game for a few years.  The league’s agenda conformity of late has pretty much guaranteed I will never be a fan again. So normally I wouldn’t have watched the Superbowl. If it wasn’t for an invitation from friends this year, I probably wouldn’t have.

So because of my NFL boycott, I knew nothing about Seattle running back Marshawn Lynch. But based on what I saw last night, he runs a lot like how I described John Riggins and Natrone Means in my last post. He’s a bigger, stronger Bronko Nagurski.

Which brings us to the play that will be talked about for years to come, that Seattle’s offensive coordinator may never live down: You’ve got a back who can gain at least three yards a play regardless of how a defense is stacked against him. Certainly you just hammer the line with him until he punches it in, right? No, as it turns out you call a pass play and your talented young quarterback throws his only interception, a hockey-style brawl breaks out on the field, and the repeat championship is ripped from your grasp in the final seconds.

I submit that the pass play was not the most stupid play call ever. I don’t know what the most stupid of all time is; but I know which one takes the cake that I’ve seen.

You are head coach Denny Green. Your team has gone 15-1 in the regular season, easily marching to the NFC championship despite some horrible officiating in the playoffs. Your key defensive player, John Randle, is hurt and won’t be able to anchor the defense in the game, but you’ve kept that a secret. You’ve got homefield advantage and the crowd noise in the Metrodome is a potential extra player. Up to this point your boys have blown out everybody except your one (close) loss to the Buccaneers around mid-season. But your defense is especially porous in this game (you’ve lost five starters to injuries), and you’ve botched a few drives by throwing deep down the field incomplete instead of just getting first downs. Now you’re tied at 27-27 with 49 seconds left to play. It’s first down in the Red Zone and you’ve got the most prolific offense to ever play the game. The formidable weapons your red-hot quarterback has at his disposal are Chris Carter, Randy Moss, Jake Reed, a healthy Robert Smith in the backfield and an offensive line like the Great Wall of China. You can put the game away by a score–all your mistakes and the uncharacteristic flubs by your players will be forgotten. What do you do?

You have your QB kneel on the ball to end regulation. At least that’s what Green chose to do.

You could have put the game out of reach with a chip shot field goal in your last drive, with a kicker who has been perfect all season. That’s right–he has not missed a single FG or PAT all year. Guess when he decides to miss a kick? The other team’s kicker doesn’t miss in overtime, and they advance to the Superbowl.

That missed kick is the only thing people remember about the game, saving the coach from scrutiny when it should have never come down to the kick in the first place.

Back to Seattle-New England. So far as stupid calls go, I wouldn’t even put it in the top ten. In fact, it may not even be a stupid call. Had the right guy come down with the ball, it would be considered a stroke of genius. The same people bitching about the call now would be trash-talking about how the Patriots were punked by the potential threat of Lynch, giving up the pass while focusing on the run. Oh, how brilliant a strategy! Oh, how clever!

People will also probably forget that the only reason Seattle got to the red zone in the first place was the ridiculous bobbled bounce-off-the-knee reception. It even reminded the commentators of the helmet catch a few years ago that ruined New England’s perfect season. New England fans were sure that the jinx was still in effect.

But Lady Luck was a fickle, two-timing slut last night.

Sports

Life Lessons From the Superbowl

2 Comments

The Washington Redskins first Superbowl appearance was in VII. Under head coach George Allen, with a team roster infamously called “the Over-the-Hill Gang,” they were dominated by the undefeated Miami Dolphins.

Ten years later the head coach was Joe Gibbs, but the scenario was similar. The team had to defeat the Dallas Cowboys in the NFC Championship, just like 1972, and they had to face the Miami Dolphins in the Superbowl. Not only did the AFC dominate the big game (the NFC had only won twice in the 1970s), but there was the psychological disadvantage of playing a team that had beat them the last time they met in the championship. This is a difficult disadvantage to overcome (Dallas had failed in their rematch with Pittsburgh; Cincinnati would fail in their rematch with San Francisco; and more recently New England would choke twice against New York).

Psychology is a huge factor in team sports, and not to be underestimated. It can be a little like morale in a military unit. That’s probably worth a post of its own, so I’ll move on.

The game Didn’t go well for Joe Gibbs. By the Fourth Quarter the Redskins were down 17-13 when a pass from QB Joe Theismann was deflected into the air by a Dolphin defender. An interception at that point might have crushed team morale–we’ve seen disastrous plays crush morale many times, and one of those I’ll talk about in this post. But Theismann himself kept the pop-up from being grabbed by Miami.

It would become obvious in retrospect, that was the turning point in the game. Why? Because Gibbs was forced to adjust his tactical doctrine. The Miami defense was shutting down his passing game. He was lucky Theismann was able to break up that play, but he needed to use a different weapon if he was going to change the momentum of the game, and avoid the sort of catastrophe his team had so narrowly escaped.

Fortunately, he had another weapon. The weapon was named John Riggins.

Riggins was a veteran, in what would normally be the twilight of his career for a running back. In days of yore he probably would have been called a fullback. He ran like a tank–not record breaking fast, but he routinely went through defenders like an 18 pound ball though bowling pins. Not many ball carriers have his kind of power. Natrone Means and Adrian Peterson are two rare backs who did (Peterson having the speed, too). Behind a formidable offensive line called “the Hogs” or “Riggo’s Rangers,” Riggins set the scoreboards on fire during the playoffs of that strike-shortened season.

Theismann began to call “the Diesel’s” number play after play, and #44 romped down the field, putting Washington in the lead to stay. It was like watching a bulldozer plowing Volkswagens. Riggins was voted MVP for the game, and the Redskins finally won the Lombardi Trophy.

Behind Theismann and a still-strong Riggins, Gibbs generalled the Redskins through an impressive season and back to the Superbowl the following year where they faced the outclassed Raiders. Up to this point in Superbowl history, no defending champion had ever lost.

Early in this game, though, Theismann failed to convert on third down, and the punting unit went in. The Raiders blocked the punt and went in for a go-ahead touchdown.

The Washington Redskins fell completely apart. The psychological damage was instant and visible on faces and in body language. After that it didn’t matter which team was better. The Redskins were doomed, and played like it. They only managed one touchdown the whole game (by Riggins, who rarely got the ball, since Theismann went all-pass, trying to catch up), and were crushed 38-9.

It was ugly.

Upsets are nothing new. It’s always been true in the NFL that on any given day the worst team in the league might beat the best. And that day the superior team was so psychologically destroyed after the blocked punt that even a high school roster would have given them a pasting.

How could a team of champions, so full of talent and confidence, crumble so thoroughly because of one play? There are so many variables, perhaps the best we could ever manage are wild guesses.

The next time Gibbs brought his team to the Superbowl, it was against the Denver Broncos and their cannon-armed QB John Elway. It looked like Gibbs would be a victim of another hopeless shellacking when, on the very first play from scrimmage, Elway threw a long strike that went all the way. The Redskins sputtered on offense (predictably, after a devastating play like that), and the First Quarter ended with Denver leading 10-0.

But something was different this time. At some point since that embarrassing loss to the Raiders, Joe Gibbs had taught his team to overcome adversity. Or, as we put it in the Airborne, “Suck it up and drive on.”

The Redskin defense didn’t allow Denver to score another point. Meanwhile, they lit up the scoreboard in a record-setting Second Quarter in what turned out to be a convincing blowout victory.

I’ve decided that the greatest teams are not those who win championships; but those that can rebound off stunning setbacks to win championships. It’s fighters like Joe Louis and Evander Holyfield or the glass-jawed Tommy Hearns who get knocked into queer street, but push themselves off the canvas and fight through the fog of pain and shock and fear to hammer the other guy until he goes down…they are the champions most worthy of admiration.

One of the most tragic teams in history were the Buffalo Bills under Marv Levy (that should also be a future post of its own, perhaps). They attempted to use this sort of psychological devastation (Raiders blocking the punt; Elway’s long bomb; etc.) on Dallas in their first Superbowl showdown, blocking a punt deep in Cowboy territory and sending Thurmon Thomas in for the first score on the next play. But Dallas never lost confidence, turning the tables in an ugly one-sided game forcing a storm of turnovers. Then in the rematch the following year, after leading 13-6 at the half, the Bills succumbed to emotional collapse themselves when that same Thurmon Thomas (so rock-solid dependable on a normal day) fumbled deep in his own territory. The Cowboys took it in for the score and never looked back. The Bills didn’t score again and lost 30-13.

You could argue that Chuck Noll, Vince Lombardi or Bill Walsh were the greatest head coaches in NFL history, and numbers would back you up. But to me the most inspiring were guys like Tom Landry and Joe Gibbs. Especially Joe Gibbs, who not only redeemed himself, but taught his players to do the same.

Non-Fiction/Documentary, Politics/Current Events

Volunteering For 1984

Leave a comment

George Orwell’s dystopian novel is still frequently referenced today by those opposed to privacy infringements and the other lifestyle features that accompany a socialist police state. But the “It Can’t Happen Here” crowd in the USA has long ASSumed that those who want such a system would try to force the population at large to accept their telescreens in each room of our houses.

They never considered the possibility that the population at large would ask to be put under surveillance, and in some cases pay for the privilege.

For the oxymorons who want to keep their privacy and other rights, yet vote and support the very socialist transformation which will obliterate those rights, you’d think the last entity they would trust to make it happen would be a capitalist market research corporation exploiting consumerism to multiply their own power while subjugating the proletariat. But that’s exactly what they do.

In the early years of the Internet, I used Netscape Navigator’s built-in search engine when I needed to find something online. But I kept hearing about “Google” increasingly, until it had become a common verb in our lexicon, and was the default search engine on every browser. Google not only tracks everything you search for from their home page, but every single site you visit when you have their search bar in your browser. They compile and keep this information, and charge advertisers for the benefit of their spying on you. And nobody seems to mind, because you get to use their search engine for free.

Then Google got into the email business. Why? Because they also want to snoop through all your written communication. (Read the fine print when you sign up for G-Mail.) Up until G-Mail, you normally had to pay for an email service. But after G-Mail launched, everybody got in the free webmail business, monitoring all your communication in order to build a profile for you which third parties are interested in knowing.

Those third parties aren’t just businesses that want to sell you stuff. In the United States of America Google (and Facebook) are selling all your private communications and web travels to federal agencies which evidently consider American citizens a much greater threat than the terrorists, drug dealers, child molestors, Ebola victims and God knows who else swarming across our borders. Some police organizations appear to be preparing for a war against the citizens they are paid to protect.

And now Google’s in your smartphone, too. At least one judge has ruled that spying on you via your cellphone conversations is not a violation of your privacy because you volunteered to carry around a device with a microphone and GPS tracker in it. Cellphones can be turned into listening devices without you knowing it, because you think they’re turned off.

Without any warrant or probable cause, the NSA and other gestapo wannabes can read all your email, listen to everything you say, watch you through your webcam, track all your online activity…oh, and thanks to Google Earth they’ve got both satellite and street-level imagery of your home, too.

Those of us who are aware of this don’t want to do anything to change it, because it all makes life so doggone convenient for us.

But what if you leave your cellphone in the car, or the batteries are completely dead, or you’re not where you can be seen via your webcam? How can Big Brother hear what you’re saying and see what you’re doing inside your house, then? Google’s got a solution.

Now you can PAY a monthly service fee to have cameras/microphones installed inside your house, and the footage from them uploaded to the Cloud. Ain’t that dandy? And yes, some people are paying for this “service.” One day it might be free. One day it will probably be mandatory.

Big Brother is more slick than Orwell ever gave him credit for.

Adventure, Historical, Reviews, Socio-Sexual Studies

Triumph of the Alpha…er, Sun

1 Comment

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.

This is high adventure worth reading for a number of reasons.

Action, Adventure, Reviews, Socio-Sexual Studies

A Lesson on Hypergamy From the Big Screen

6 Comments

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:

  1. 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.
  2. The funny homosexual. Also found in pretty much every comedy.
  3. 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.
  4. The sympathetic wimp/Average Frustrated Chump. Found everywhere, especially romantic comedies.
  5. 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.

Military, Non-Fiction/Documentary

They Won’t Be Combat Effective No More…

3 Comments

…But they’ll be in even more danger

Standards, morale go plummeting down

Wee! Split-tail Rangers.

 

Sometimes Tom Kratman is guilty of understatement. I know this because of how he titled his article: Women Entering Ranger School is a Bad Idea.

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.

Action, Adventure, Non-Fiction/Documentary

Action Adventure and Feminism 4

1 Comment

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.

When a dude treats a belligerent broad like a true equal, this is what happens.

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.

Because the results are predictable.

Non-Fiction/Documentary, Socio-Sexual Studies

How Men are Setting Themselves Up To Be “Crying Gamed”

Leave a comment

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.

kimbeach
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).

Non-Fiction/Documentary, Socio-Sexual Studies

Corporate Circlejerks and the Female Affinity For Nancyboys

Leave a comment

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)?