Category Archives: Non-Fiction/Documentary

The Book Biz, Blogging, and Amazon Reviews

Seems like there are thousands of bloggers in the manosphere, and most of them either have books published, or will have soon. So a lot of you probably understand the significance of the much-coveted Amazon review.

My first book was published in 2010 and I did pretty much everything wrong. (I became a blogger not long afterwards kind of by accident.) If there was a mistake to be made as an author, I made it. An opportunity to be missed? I missed it—for the first three years of my writing career. Long story short: One truth I found out the hard way was that an indie author’s career lives or dies by Amazon.

The more essential I realized Amazon was, the more of a presence I tried to maintain there.  That, and my old blog, were the reasons I became a prolific Amazon reviewer for a while.

I still get more review requests than I can ever hope to fulfill, so this post can also serve as a disclaimer. My methods may be peculiar or even bizarre; sometimes perhaps inconsistent as well. But nobody’s paying me for this, so I make the rules. At least I have a modicum of ethics, unlike many reviewers out there.

First off, my reviews are honest. I may cut authors slack (see below) with Amazon’s star rating, but I don’t make stuff up or try to BS anybody.  If the book flat-out sucks, I usually don’t even review it. If a review was requested and the book sucks, I contact the author to tell them. If they still insist on a review, I write one and let people know it sucks. I make an effort to be constructive, but you can’t polish a turd.

My schedule is very tight and I have an impossibly-gigantic To Be Read pile. Because of that, I use audiobooks whenever possible. I have an Audible.com subscription and I get my money’s worth from it. If you have an Audible version of your book, that increases its chances of getting read/reviewed 10X, all other factors being equal. It’s a real sacrifice to stop what I’m doing, halt my productivity and read a book. But I can listen to a book while getting other stuff done.

Back in the day I used to read for the pure joy of it, and the escape it offered. Without audiobooks, that phase of my life is long gone. I’ve served my time when it comes to Quixotic thankless jobs helping other authors succeed, so I am less and less inclined to spend precious time needed for my own career to read/review scads of other authors’ books. If you get your foot in my door at all, most likely you’ll have a long wait on your hands (again, unless you’ve got an audio version).

Next, I usually give preference to indie authors. As an indie, I know what an uphill struggle it is and I empathize. So I push indies toward the front of the queue and also cut them more slack on Amazon (I have no star-rating scheme on the blog so just say what I think and leave it at that).

There are exceptions: As a result of my reviewing, I’ve made friends with tradpubbed authors whose books I love. Because they are friends, I sometimes shuffle them to the front, too.

Also, I’ve stopped mucking about with books outside my genre umbrella. Unless I owe you a favor, I’m probably not going to read your book if it’s not men’s adventure (be it science fiction, fantasy, war, western, TEOTWAWKI or whatever flavor of men’s fiction). I occasionally review non-fiction and classics, but solely at my discretion. I have author friends, and sometimes stretch beyond my preference to help them out, but don’t count on it. If you see me review a romance or horror novel, it’s safe to assume that’s what I’m doing.

I’ve gotten picky in other ways, too. In the past, I read/reviewed indie books written from the typical leftist/feminist/America-hating perspective. (Some of the better ones I even gave four or five-star reviews on Amazon. )That’s history. You pinkos already have the deck stacked in your favor, and don’t need additional help from me. Apolitical work is great, but my patience for leftard, globalist…and even neocon…stuff has been worn completely through. I get enough of that crap everywhere else and I’m definitely not gonna expose myself to more when I have a choice. Same goes for “gay” pandering and the obligatory pixie ninjas and other “strong female characters.”

The buck stops here.

And if you sucker-punch me with any of that…one strike and you’re probably out. A while back I was working my way through a series written by some fellow pulp writers. I got sucker-punched a third of the way through one book with some establishment-approved homophile bupkus and stopped reading right there. Never finished the book; never will; and may never try another one from that series. I definitely won’t read that author again. This kind of thing has become a deal-breaker.

As you can surely tell from this post, I tend to be long-winded. Most of my reviews were lengthy—more like scholastic book reports than typical Amazon feedback. (Actually, you’re lucky to get more than a sentence or two from the average Amazon reviewer.) I have begun making an effort at brevity. Don’t feel cheated or spurned if I only give you a paragraph—that’s probably my new standard, for everybody.

It used to be Goodreads was an afterthought for me. I’m in the process of making it my default venue. It’s probably the closest to social networking I will get, anymore. In fact, unless requested by the author, it’s possible I won’t even bother to duplicate Goodreads reviews on Amazon. If you’re on Goodreads, hit me up. I could use some book recommendations from non-SJW/feminista/homophiles.

Finally, there’s an issue that really chaps my fourth point: Amazon’s helpful/non-helpful votes for reviews.

There are a whole bunch of worthless reviews on Amazon. These include:

  • Reviews by people who have obviously never read the book.
  • Reviews by people who have only skimmed the book, or not finished it.
  • One or two-sentence drive-bys that give an “it sucks” opinion without any clue as to why the book allegedly sucks.
  • Hatchet jobs by leftards out to sabotage non-leftard authors based on their beliefs, not on whether the book was good or bad.
  • Combinations of two or more of the above.
  • The positive equivalent of any of the above examples of negative reviews.

“Reviews” like those are deserving of a “not helpful” vote. However, what I’ve noticed is that people vote “helpful” or “not helpful” based on whether the reviewer personally liked or didn’t like the book.

I sacrifice valuable time to write thoughtful reviews. Whether I liked the book or disliked it, I take pains to be constructive in my critiques. I use examples and give reasons for what I say, which makes it possible for the reader to intuit whether they would agree or disagree with my opinions. (Some negative reviews I’ve read have convinced me to buy a book.) I’ve never written the equivalent of “It rocks! Buy it!” or “It sucks! Next!” without explanation. And yet it’s pretty much guaranteed I will get “not helpful” votes any time I give an overall negative report.

Not only that, but I’ve gotten “not helpful” votes on positive reviews because I didn’t rate the book in question five stars!

What a bunch of bovine assclowns.

One more thing along these lines: So far I’ve avoided responding to negative reviews of my own books. But if you’re foolish enough to mouth off a stupid comment about one of my reviews, you will likely have your ignorance thrown back in your face.

UPDATE: Forget  what I said about Goodreads. It is an SJW-converged playground; I have taken my toys and left the sandbox.

UPDATE 2.0: I have now, on occasion, begun responding to negative reviews of my books. Not always, because some readers are honest and honestly just didn’t like something. Others, however…well, we’re in a culture war, and I’ve decided to shoot back.

 

Lessons in Masculinity From an Unlikely Source

Bill is right, I have to admit: as horrible this series was as a whole, the early episodes (in black & white) were not that bad, as TV science fiction goes.

My sophomore year in high school, this show was on the air when I got home on weekdays. My family never had cable, so choices were limited. I watched it most of the time simply because there was nothing else to do.

There was an upperclassman I changed next to in the locker room that year. He obviously watched the show a lot. His favorite character was Dr. Smith, and he hated Don West.

On the surface this seemed idiosyncratic because the guy was a loud, egotistical blowhard whose behavior bordered on bullying. In other words, what most people would assume to be alpha male traits.

Looking back, though, I realize the “alpha traits” were just part of the guy’s defense mechanism. It was a facade he put on, probably because he’d been victimized by the sort of males he was imitating by the time I met him. Peel the facade away, and he is pretty representative of males of my generation (and later ones). It makes perfect sense why he would choose Zachary Smith as a role model.

Thanks Bill Whittle, for your analysis.

50 Shades of Hoopla

What is so bleeding “hawt” about an S&M chick-lit novel, anyway? Haven’t those been around since Victorian times?

As authors (and aspiring full-time authors) here at VP, we take an interest when success stories are waved in our faces. Whiletemp3 getting work published is easier than it’s ever been; the writing racket is also tougher than ever before. Fewer and fewer people read; yet there’s more and more competition from other authors to capture the (mercurial) attention of that shrinking pool of readers. And those readers, by-and-large, don’t necessarily care that much about the quality of the material.

It’s worse than that when you’re a man, writing books for other men. Why? Because men have never been the avid readers women were (on average). Fewer still read fiction. Here are a few distractions contributing to this imbalance:

  • Work (even in this age of “equality,” men still put in more hours than women).
  • Movies (they’re everywhere, now–you don’t need to visit a theater).
  • Video/computer games (often they’re written better anyway).
  • The Internet.

When the New York Publishing Cartel abandoned male readers in the 1990s, the male population abandoned literature in a mass exodus.

temp1(Anybody remember how J.A. Konrath snuck by the NYPC gatekeepers to get published in the first place? The fact that he used the androgynous “J.A.” in lieu of a first name was no mistake. Neither was the “strong female character” orthodoxy.)

So when 50 Shades or some other literary fad comes along and makes big money, we pay attention, but generally don’t learn anything useful from it.

What this bestseller-turned-blockbuster(?) movie teaches us has more to do with the state of our culture than anything else. And I’m not even referring to the kinky sex fetishes. I’m referring to the fact that 50 Shades of Grey is just a hyped, edited work of fan fiction derived from the Twilight series.

 

 

 

 

A picture’s Worth 1,000 Divorces

Spoiler Alert: You should go read the article and look at the pictures before you come back here and read the next paragraph. When you find the “clue” (it’s more of a smoking gun), it might give you a case of the creeps. But in a fascinating way.

Maybe the picture was photoshopped and this viral story is all a hoax. I haven’t heard as much, but anything can happen in the Information Age. It’s still very plausible, though. So I’m gonna treat it like it’s real unless told otherwise.

So this guy leaves for a business trip or something (I guess). He comes home without warning to surprise his wife. He takes a picture of her, still chilling on the bed, evidently happy at the surprise.

For some reason (and this is the part I’d like to know more about) he later takes a closer look at the picture. Maybe he caught a wierd vibe off his wife, or she said or did something suspicious. Maybe his subconscious mind picked up on what was semi-hidden in the photo.

The back door man that wifey had been screwing while hubby was gone happened to be hiding under the bed. And he might never have been caught, but I guess he really wanted to see the expression on his victim’s face (so he could gloat about cuckolding, perhaps) so he positioned his head for better viewing. And the camera flash penetrated the shadow he probably assumed would mask him.

Here’s what you should take away from this story, though (especially if you believe in the inherent purity of the female heart): Take a look at the wife. Does she look any less than utterly sincere in her joy at hubby’s return? What picture of innocence and love…if you don’t look too closely.

Not many women become movie stars; but nearly all of them are talented actresses capable of Academy Award performances.

Volunteering For 1984

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.

The Right Stuff: Enormous Egos and Wristwatches to Match

Tom Wolfe’s 1979 novel about the Space Race (late ’50s-early ’60s) is a portrait of the test pilots who became the first astronauts. The film based on the book is an artistic rendering of history as myth.

Wolfe compares the Space Race to single combat in ancient warfare: rather than armies clashing in the field, a champion was chosen to represent each side. Whichever champion prevailed sealed a victory for his city or nation. (Think Achilles or Goliath). This was what the Americans and Soviets were doing with their astronauts, according to Wolfe.

Once the Americans got rolling, they were unstoppable. The first to reach the moon, they could have gone well beyond if the ambition of the space program wasn’t seriously scaled back. But in those early days the soviets had a head start.

Americans relied on bombers to deliver bombs, should a nuclear war become reality; but the Russians concentrated on cheaper unmanned missiles to compensate for their inferior aircraft technology/industry, and used their captured Nazi rocket scientists to get the jump on the Yanks. The US Air Force was already working on an aircraft that could break out of our atmosphere, but when Sputnik shot into orbit, all effort was redirected at catching up to the USSR’s capsule-launching method.

Wolfe’s character portraits of the first American “star voyagers” was both fascinating and hilarious. I’ve never forgotten his colorful expose` on the collective subconscious of the test pilots/astronauts, in particular. Like the ziggurat metaphor used to describe the egocentric construct of the unspoken hierarchy according to how much of the Right Stuff each individual thought he and his peers possessed.

The Mercury astronauts were alpha males to an almost comical degree. It’s rare in this world to get so many of them crowded together in one place. You’ll usually only find such groupings in elite military units or perhaps professional sports teams. The egos are huge, but also fragile. Deep down, each of these men feared getting left behind (not making the cut) at every stage of their climb up the ziggurat.

Except, probably, Chuck Yeager. This penultimate test pilot was never invited into the space program–possibly because he’d never been to college. (Sad to think of how many potential Yeagers who will never even get a chance to fly because of this snobbery.) But in both the book and the movie you get the impression that despite all the hype about “Spam in a can” (astronauts in capsules), he remains alone and unchallenged at the top of the ziggurat, with that heavenly light shining on his aloof indifference.

I wish the clip above included just a few seconds prior, when Yeager asks his buddy about the latest high altitude record. Nobody cares about that, his buddy informs him; it’s all about capsules and astronauts these days. After a pause, the undaunted Yeager looks at the test prototype jet and opines that it just might be capable of breaking the record. Next thing you know, he’s going through the Beeman’s chewing gum ritual with his comrade, and up he goes.

Anyway, the psychological insights are only dressing for the thorough investigative reporting Wolfe wove into an informative and entertaining inside story of an elite subculture in history.

For those who haven’t both read the book and seen the film, I encourage you to correct that. It’s not a case of one being better than the other; instead they compliment each other.

They Won’t Be Combat Effective No More…

…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 and Feminism 4

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.

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

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).