Category Archives: Socio-Sexual Studies

Sneak Peek/Sample Chapters, Socio-Sexual Studies

Paradox Chapter 2: Meet the Mother

July 31, 2023 Machine Trooper Leave a comment

Nothing seemed unusual when I got back to the trailer after school. But it was a segue into something that would prove very unusual.

Mom was watching TV. She turned briefly to check who was walking through the front door, and said, “Hey. There’s some hot dogs in the fridge.”

“Okay,” I said, and stumbled over piles of laundry and empty cigarette cartons on the way to the fridge. I found the weenies and buns, and pulled them out. The buns were stale, but we had no other bread. I stuck one in the toaster but didn’t push the lever down just yet. I unloaded stacks of slimy dishes from the sink until I found a Teflon pot. I rinsed and wrung the dish rag several times before dripping some dish detergent on it. I rinsed out the pot, then scrubbed it with the rag without waiting for the water from the tap to warm up. Once reasonably clean and rinsed, I filled the pot with water, set it on the burner of the stove that still worked, and began hunting for a match.

“Hey Mom, can I borrow your lighter?” I finally asked.

“Bring me a wine cooler please,” she said, eyes still glued to the TV screen.

I reopened the fridge, plucked a pink bottled beverage out of a four-pack, and delivered it to her on the couch.

We lived in a three-bedroom trailer, so I had my own room—which was nice. The third bedroom was filled with Mom’s extra shoes, clothes, and other stuff, so effectively we had just two bedrooms. Only one toilet worked, but if one of Mom’s future boyfriends turned out to be a plumber, the second one might get fixed. The dingy carpet in our living room sagged down to form a depression where a section of the floor had rotted away under it, but Mom usually stacked something in that spot so it wasn’t so obvious.

I handed her the wine cooler and she dug around in her purse until she found the lighter, and handed it to me.

That purse was scary. There was so much junk in there, I sometimes imagined her hand coming out with a dead rat one of these times.

I lit the burner and the water slowly began to warm. I went down the hall to my bedroom to retrieve a paperback to read while I waited for the water to boil.

“Can you make me one, too, Sweetie?” Mom asked.

“Yeah,” I said, transporting another weenie from the refrigerator to the pot.

During a commercial break, she turned from the TV to address me with eye contact. “So. Something else about your Uncle Si, huh?”

“What?” I asked, realizing he must have paid her a visit or made contact with her somehow.

“Recovering from a coma,” she explained. “I figured he would die in that hospital, or hospice, or whatever it was. But he looks really healthy. It must not have been as serious as we heard.”

“You saw him today?” I asked.

She nodded. “He stopped by. He really does favor your father.” She twisted her lips, examining me. “And you. If your father wasn’t such a loser…well, anyway, Simon reminds me why I got with your dad in the first place.”

“Oh, puke, Mom,” I said.

“I know,” she said digging a cigarette out of that frightening purse. “But I sure didn’t feel like puking those first few weeks with him.” She snapped her fingers and did a little seated dance on the couch that she obviously found more cute than I did.

“What did you talk about?” I asked. “With Uncle Si?”

She shushed me, showing her index finger, as her head whipped back toward the television. Her show was on again.

I read the book until the weenies swelled, then pushed down the lever on the toaster.

“Why do you always have to toast the bread?” Mom asked, eyes still locked onto the idiot box. “You don’t use enough electricity already?”

“I don’t always toast it,” I protested. “Only when the bread’s stale. It kinda’ covers the bad taste.”

“Toast mine too, then. Let me see.”

I navigated the obstacle course between the stove and the couch, delivering our meal to eat together in front of the TV.

The phone rang. Mom’s show was back on, so she gestured toward the phone without looking away from the screen. “Get that, Sweetie? Mommy’s still eating.”

I was still eating, too, but I answered the phone.

“Who told you you could use the phone, loser?” demanded a haughty voice I had come to hate over the years.

“I’m not using it; I’m answering it, first of all,” I said. “And secondly…”

“Shut up, moron,” Allyson interrupted. “I need to talk to my mother.”

She consistently emphasized “my mother” when referring to Mom, as if Mom was her mother but not mine. I considered asking, “how’s it feel to need?” But that would prolong our conversation, which I really didn’t want to do; and Mom would take her side in the resulting argument, as always.

“She’s watching TV,” I said.

“Well no shit, dumbass,” Allyson retorted, in a tone that was almost gleeful. “Just because you can’t walk and chew gum doesn’t mean everybody else is stupid, too. I promise. Mom can hold the damn phone to her ear even while the TV is playing. Now give her the phone and go back to fingering your own asshole.”

I handed the phone to Mom. Even though her show was still on, Mom took it and, with a cheery tone of voice, said, “Hey girlfriend! How’s your love life?”

My hot dog bun was no longer warm enough to mask the stale taste. As I finished eating, Mom chatted and cackled. Her show ended, and I knew she couldn’t possibly have paid attention to it as well as to her daughter, but Mom wasn’t even slightly annoyed—quite the opposite.

I grabbed the paperback and retreated to my room.

Mom called me back to the living room, later, when both her TV show and the phone call were done.

There was another show on TV now, which Mom didn’t like as much.

“What do you think of Uncle Si’s offer to do some after-school work for him?” she asked, during the next commercial break.

“I’d really like to do it,” I said, already feeling defeated. I had already been allowed to have a dog, so my quota of favors had been used up for some time to come. There was no way she’d let me spend time with a cool guy related to my dad.

She surprised me by saying, “If you do it, you have to stick with it. You can’t start, then decide you’re bored with it after a few months.”

“Huh?” was all I could say.

She lowered her voice to a conspiratorial tone. “This could free me up to take that job at the jewelry store, for the closing shift. But you can’t tell anybody, or we might lose the food stamps and everything else.”

“You mean…I can do it?” I asked, incredulous.

“You’re sure you’ll stick with it?”

“Yes!”

“No going back, now,” she said, with an admonishing tone. “If I take this job, you have to keep yours. If you decide later you don’t like it, you have to keep doing it, anyway.”

I didn’t know why everybody was questioning my commitment that day. Maybe because my enthusiasm about the dog faded when she turned out to be a trouble-making retard. “It’s a deal,” I said.

It turns out, the owner of the jewelry store had just sweetened the job offer a few days before. It was hard to imagine how Uncle Si’s timing could have been any better.

UPDATE: This book is published! Click here to buy on Amazon.

Click here to buy anywhere else.

Adventure, SHTF, Socio-Sexual Studies, TEOTWAWKI

Doomsday Inn by Berber Lothbruk – a Review

June 13, 2020 Machine Trooper Leave a comment

Subtitle: Survival, Civilization, and the Socio-Sexual Hierarchy.

You could just as easily pitch this concept as “Red Pill Masculinity meets prepper fiction.”

An electromagnetic pulse (EMP) takes the power grid out, stranding a random cross-section of people at a rustic old motel in the mountains. Fortunately for them, the motel owner is a prepper, and the place is wired to go off-grid during just such an emergency. But that doesn’t mean the reset of civilization will be a picnic.

The people at the motel find themselves colonists, of a sort, in this dangerous new world. But most of the problems and dangers they will face are caused by human nature, stripped down to its raw essence when the SHTF.

Here’s an excerpt provided by the author:

“I think we’ve just suffered an EMP—or electromagnetic pulse,” Luke said. “For those of you who haven’t heard about an EMP, it’s basically a weapon that ruins all modern electronics in a specified radius. I have no idea how large the radius is in this instance, so I don’t know how much of the country has been affected. I do know a high-altitude atomic blast above the state of Kansas would affect all the continental United States as well as parts of Canada and Mexico.”

“What does all that mean?” the white woman asked, with an irritated tone.

Luke took a deep breath. “Almost nothing in the USA…civilian or military…is hardened against an EMP. I don’t know how to sugar-coat this: we’ve just been bombed back to the Stone Age.”

“You said you don’t know how much area is affected,” one of the Middle Eastern men pointed out.

“True that,” Luke replied. “But there was some evidence in recent days of hostility from China. They have the capability of detonating a high-altitude nuke above Kansas. It could possibly be a different nuclear-capable nation, or a terrorist organization. So, I have my hunch, but can’t say for certain whether it’s limited or nationwide.”

“We just heard a car start,” the other Middle Eastern man said.

Luke nodded. “In general, pre-‘solid state’ electronics are safe from an EMP. So, some older vehicles, or vehicles that have been hardened against an EMP, will still run.”

The group exploded with questions and demands. One he was able to discern had to do with whose vehicle they just heard starting. He ignored it and most others to focus on a comment from the white dad.

“There are children here,” the obese slug said. “You can’t go slinging careless remarks like ‘we’re in the Stone Age now’ or ‘all our electronics are fried.’ People are scared enough without wild exaggerations. You don’t know what’s going on.”

Luke looked directly at him. “I’ll sperg it out for your benefit, then: technically, we’ve been bombed back to the ‘60s or ‘70s. However, nearly all the electronics in existence back then has been replaced with ‘solid state’ technology. The old ‘obsolete’ stuff has been scrapped. That means that even the technology people had in the mid-20th Century is gone, now. We can’t fall back to that stage of civilization because all that infrastructure, and the know-how to build and maintain it, has been abandoned. You could say we’ve just been set back to the 1800s, but we’re not even there, really. We’ve got no horse-drawn wagons, no steam locomotives, and I’ll bet none of you know how to churn butter or knit a sweater. All that is lost, too. Civilization just got reset. I know it’s tough to swallow, but I’m telling you like it is now, because you’re going to have to adapt fast if you want to live.”

In one aspect at least, this is like the “adult westerns” and “men’s fiction of the 1980s: It has graphic sex. For those who haven’t read that old-school men’s fiction, I don’t mean “tasteful love scenes” written in a flowery style that leaves some detail to the imagination, and people don’t even have bodies but only “frames.” Nope. This is how you might hear intercourse described in the barracks or the locker room. It’s not as raunchy as some of Lou Cameron’s (writing as Ramsay Thorne) Renegade series, but it’s more than what most readers are probably used to.

I cut my teeth on Len Levinson novels, so “mature audience” stuff isn’t necessarily a deal-breaker for me. It’s easy to skip over these scenes (I think there’s about five of them, give-or-take). But frankly, some of Lothbruk’s colorful metaphors and phrases during the sex scenes are hilarious. Feminist heads will explode from reading these…or pretty much any other part of this book. No demographic is handled with kid gloves, in fact The author, like his main character, just doesn’t care who it offends.

What sets this apart from vintage men’s adventure is it is modern “red pill” outlook, that is in sync with the Manosphere like no other fiction I’m aware of. It’s very conscious of the socio-sexual hierarchy, hypergamy, game, frame, “the rationalization hamster” (though I don’t think it is called that in the book)…and the alpha of the colony winds up with a “harem” before it’s all over. Plus, there’s some R/K selection and generational theory sprinkled in.

I would describe the prepper fiction of James Wesley Rawles as novels built around reviews of survival gear (based on the one book that I read). Berber Lothbruk’s prepper/survival fiction is built around diverse characters, their interactions, and their roles from an anthropological perspective. I thought the story had a strong concept, and was executed pretty well.

However, publishing has been corrupted like everything else and the industry is now by, for, and about women. And not just tradpup/legacy publishing from the Big Five. Most (like 99% of) independent authors conform to the Blue Pill Storytelling Doctrine. Even from right-leaning authors, you’re mostly spoon-fed the same old Strong Independent Womyn tropes, virtue-signaling to the LGBTWTF Mafia, etc. Thanks to all that, masculine men rarely read anything that’s not either online, or 100+ years old.

So, even without considering the usual SJW thought-policing at Amazon, the bovine feminized cancel culture that permeates our society is probably going to bury this book so far down into e-book obscurity that it can never be discovered by readers who might actually enjoy it. Doomsday Inn took a big “social proof” hit with it’s very first review–a one-star rating by a woman who has probably never been exposed to anything so unapologetically “misogynist.” With the very first review so negative, Doomsday Inn is likely doomed for good. However, there’s no doubt I will read this one again when the mood strikes.

“You know, it had potential. There are loads of these types of books but the story here had a good angle. The writing isn’t bad, either…

…When I got to: “she had a damn nice turd-cutter” I decided that was more than enough. That was disgusting…

…It included a misogynistic tone which, although the male characters were portrayed as fairly rough around the edges, bled through past what the characters were thinking…”

Military, Non-Fiction/Documentary, Socio-Sexual Studies

Denise McAllister Speaks Truth in an Age of Lies

February 5, 2020 Machine Trooper 2 Comments

You mean we shouldn’t have revamped the American Armed Forces based on what Hollywood taught us?

The problem is that we allow fiction to be “proofs” of reality. I can’t tell you how many times when I’ve talked about women being physically weaker than men and that this is why they shouldn’t be in combat, I get the response, “But just look at Brianne of Tarth” (from “Game of Thrones”) or even the fictionalized accounts of Joan of Arc, whose combat role has been highly exaggerated.

Fiction can be a great vehicle to change how we think, and this has happened when it comes to equalizing men and women through the preponderance of female superheroes and “strong” women in film. We have been brainwashed into actually believing women can be just like men in the physical arena.

This is simply not the case, and it’s dangerous to think otherwise.

The USA has not had to face an enemy with comparable technology in a shooting war since WWII. The next time it does, it will probably suffer tactical catastrophes worse than any battle since the Little Bighorn. The combat arms are being packed with (and led by) women, foreigners, and sexual deviants, standards are plummeting, and the field grade officers who command them are fickle opportunists much more competent at backstabbing political games than at war fighting.

Nobody with the ability to prevent this scenario made any effort to do so. The public at large had been pre-programmed to accept it. And Hollywood is getting even more pozzed by the day. It will take a disaster like we’ve never seen to make Joe Public question The Narrative and demand a return to sanity. Can America survive such a disaster?

Denise McAllister’s book covers more than just Warrior Womyn in pop culture. If a lot of people read it, and realize how Homowood is mind-screwing us, they could strive to make this a better world. Read her interview with David Dubrow.

Non-Fiction/Documentary, Socio-Sexual Studies

Men, Boys, Role Models, and Advice Worth Heeding

September 14, 2019 Captain Gearhead Leave a comment

It’s yet another motion-selfie on Youtube, but certainly worth listening to.

A strong father was lacking in my life. I think it was for most of my generation (“Generation X,” “the busters,” whatever it’s called now). It’s only gotten worse for boys ever since.

I loathe and insult the males I encounter out in the world today, but really: is it fair to blame them for their apathy, ignorance, and pathos? As masculinity is purged from our culture (in males, but encouraged in females), the probability of salvaging what’s left of our civilization grows more remote.

Non-Fiction/Documentary, Pet Peeves, Politics/Current Events, Socio-Sexual Studies

You Paved the Way For This Gender Insanity

July 1, 2019 Machine Trooper 5 Comments

A link was shared on MeWe about a judge who ruled that boys and girls in high school must shower together “in order to accommodate transgender students.” I commented on the thread, as did many others. Then some guy posted the following:

“Boy oh boy would I like to see that happen . my daughter in action you see some dumbass get in the shower with her and she Going to knock him on his ass my girl is one badass” (sic)

And the guy has a Gadsen Flag as his profile pic. It’s looking like, outside of Virtual Pulp, there is no organization, group, institution or movement that hasn’t been infected by this feminista virus.

First of all, he’s delusional. Mediocre male athletes are “identifying” as female all over the place and trouncing the best female athletes in their respective sports. The guy has watched too many Kickass Grrrrl Power scenes in action movies, and has confused fetish with reality. But that isn’t the point, here.

This person is not alone. Legions of “conservative” parents have been raising their daughters to be masculine, even if they’re not jock-ettes. The “female ideal” our depraved culture has been foisting on us is women who talk like men, act like men, and even look like men (just look at all the broad shouldered, narrow hipped, square jawed models and actresses sold to us as “female sex symbols”). Dads like this guy are fully on board with all that, even if they vehemently disagree with those silly libruls about kneeling during the National Anthem.

They don’t mind gender-bending, unless it goes too far too fast. They’ll obediently have their children flirt with gender confusion, just as long as they don’t go all the way.

It’s nearly as bad in the “alt right” as it is in “conservatism.” For people so obsessed about “muh westurn sivulizayshun,” they’ve apparently never made the connection that Rome didn’t conquer the known world with coed legions led by Kickass Womyn Warriors. Sane civilizations recognized that there are biological differences between the TWO genders, and the roles men and women played lined up with their capabilities. Women are biologically suited to caring for children and keeping the home, with a degree of competency that men can’t equal. Men are biologically suited to hunt, build, explore, and fight, on a competency level that women can’t approach without imposed handicapping.

Women were not designed to be “badasses.” Denying that is a symptom of a contrived fetish. It’s a wildly popular and state-approved fetish, but still just a fetish. Women who think they are badasses are not very attractive, therefore less likely to excel at what they are designed for (childbearing, nurturing children, etc.).

Obviously, the society we live in, through relentless conditioning, has been trained to reject reality. “Conservatives” have obediently jumped on the gender-bending bandwagon. Now they’re starting to realize where the bandwagon is going, and are horrified…but too invested in feminist myths to decisively jump off and change course.

Non-Fiction/Documentary, Socio-Sexual Studies

Christianity Vs. Churchianity: Suppressing the Masculine

November 10, 2018 Captain Gearhead Leave a comment

One of Vox Day’s readers relates some of his experiences in the Feminized Church:

…I remember my mother stressing that Jesus was a superior man for not defending himself and being a victim. Combine that with a weak father with strong gamma traits and you won’t be surprised that I developed the typical passive-aggressiveness of a gamma. Just to name another example: I remember attending a bible lecture as a child where the (male) member of the church community who served there as a teacher told us that women were somehow stronger than men. I don’t remember the context, I only remember my astonishment (“don’t have men naturally more strength than women?”) but somehow accepting his statement in the end.

Does that resonate with your experience?

You’re not alone if one of the reasons you don’t care for the whole church scene is because the alleged men there all strike you as effeminate wimps. Moreover, in the average church, training males to be that way is a stealth priority.

Here’s some boilerplate messages used around the western world, requiring only some humor, pop culture references, and religious language to flesh it out and dispense it from the Churchian Pulpit.

MOTHERS DAY:

Women are heroic and strong–especially single mothers. They are also morally pure and more in tune with the Holy Spirit than men are. That’s why husbands should submit to their wives. When the Bible seems to say it should be the other way around…well, you have to understand (gaslight) it doesn’t really mean what it actually says because (feminist ideals disguised as theology), (pseudo-intellectual word salad), (male-shaming anecdotes), and (muh self-sacrificing mother and muh feelz).

FATHERS DAY:

Men suck.

You don’t do enough as fathers and husbands. You don’t do enough for the church. Since you are not morally pure like women, you are living in sin–whereas women’s only sin is not thinking highly enough of themselves. Men need to understand that they are always at fault for marital problems because (anecdotes). Since women are spiritually superior, men should submit to them in all things, as to the Lord. Watch Fireproof, War Room, and other Churchian movies made in the last 20 years, and follow the same pattern of male repentance. Remember: men engage in serious sin like embezzling and porn addictions, and require female leadership to overcome. In fact, lack of submission to a woman’s superior morals and spirituality is probably what led to your sin spiral in the first place.

EVERY OTHER DAY:

Married men, you’re all a bunch of losers. Just listen to these anecdotes (tales of abuse, cheating, etc.) The wife is the important person in the relationship–act like it. If she is unfaithful, it’s justified because you failed her somehow. You don’t understand what leadership really is (not that men should be leaders, anyway). Being the king and priest of your household means giving women whatever they want at all times. And perhaps, if you live every second of your entire life exactly the way your wife wants you to, maybe she’ll feel up to rewarding you with a token gesture of respect, some sex, or even just a few minutes of civility. But don’t you dare demand any of those things–only she is allowed to make demands.

Unmarried men, you’re not married already because you’re unworthy. To become worthy, abandon your unfair desires that a woman needs to add value to your life for you to make her a permanent part of your life. You are the only one required to bring anything to the table in a relationship. She can say or do or be anything she wants to, with God’s blessing, got it? As soon as you encounter a woman who wants to use you like an ATM machine, kick you while you’re down after a hard day of work every night, and otherwise suck the life out of you, it is your obligation to step up, man up, and commit yourself to a lifetime with no escape from her (unless she decides to divorce-rape you…which will be your fault). Maybe, if you’re really fortunate, one day soon you’ll be like one of these henpecked husbands in the congregation who I berate on Sundays for their toxic masculinity. Now hurry up and get married as soon as possible!

You can read the whole blog post at Vox Populi.

Non-Fiction/Documentary, Reviews, Socio-Sexual Studies

More on the Obligatory “Strong Female Character”

April 18, 2018 Captain Gearhead Leave a comment

This clip is from a female Youtuber who evidently didn’t get the Grrrrl Power Memo.

While her opinions and tastes in entertainment don’t exactly line up with ours (ahem), she does make some valid points, articulated well.

Why does the Kick-Butt Womyn Warrior Narrative always have to involve making men look weak, cowardly, corrupt, etc. etc. etc. ad nauseum? For a reason similar to why Marxist faggots have used “critical theory” over the generations to poison minds against America.

Marxists can’t point to any credible success stories of nations that prospered by adhering to their economic doctrines, so they instead have to ceaselessly badmouth the system that made America the most free and prosperous country in history–steering societal lemmings away from ever asking the questions that would make their entire Narrative collapse.

White knights can’t sell their Amazon Superninja Fetish Narrative without comparing their cookie-cutter RWT (Rambo With Tits) character to a man. That comparison always entails making the male character look pathetic.

Life does imitate art in some ways. People indoctrinated by the Fetish Narrative over the decades think it’s a dandy idea to put women in the combat arms, and in elite units. But they suddenly balk at The Narrative when you suggest that women be held to the same standards as men in the military. Just as they would balk if somebody seriously considered matching women against men in full-contact sports (where the predictable and embarrassing results couldn’t be covered up by legions of white knight bureaucrats in uniform).

Adventure, Historical, Reviews, Socio-Sexual Studies

Broken Trail – a (Red Pill) Review

May 6, 2017 Captain Gearhead Leave a comment

This western was probably made before there even was a “manosphere,” but those of a neomasculine perspective should find it well worth watching.

The plot premise: A rancher and his nephew strike a deal to drive a herd of horses across many miles of open range in 1898, to sell to a rancher supplying the British Army. Along the way, they run into a sleazy human trafficker transporting a wagon load of beautiful Chinese girls to a whore house. (The girls had been sold to the trafficker by their own families in China.) The trafficker rustles their horses, and is dealt with the way horse thieves were actually dealt with in those times. This leaves Print Ritter (Robert Duvall) and Tom Harte (Thomas Haden Church) burdened with the care of the human cargo.

This film was produced as a two-part series (on AMC, I think). And it was released in this millenium. But hang onto yer hats, boys, ’cause the Chinese gals don’t turn out to be invincible Kung Fu masters who beat down the bad guys bare-handed. Nor are they “strong, independent” snowflakes who wind up as successful queens of their own cattle empires. In fact, there are only a couple points in the plot where The Narrative tries to slither into this pleasant surprise of a film–and it’s subdued enough to be overlooked. Time and again, the film makers fail to inject the current year “values” into this period piece–which makes it one big macroaggressive triggerfest.

And that’s refreshing enough all by itself.

Lo and behold, not all the villains are white male heterosexuals, either. But beyond superficial details, this cinematic tale cuts against the grain in other ways, too. There are lessons about frame, hypergamy, SMV (sexual market value) and other red pill concepts that manosphere mavens will appreciate.

Our cowboy heroes are not the illiterate, bigoted raaaaaayciss stereotypes you might expect any white male heterosexual character to be (prior to the sanctifying advent of feminism) yet neither do they turn into fawning beta white knights around the high-SMV women (in a time and place where such women were few and far between). They are men, and consistently behave as such with all parties encountered. They’ve got a job to do, and do their best to stay focussed on that despite mounting distractions.

The Chinese women recognize not only that the cowboys are honorable, but are effective protectors and providers. You might expect (after being innundated with current year propaganda) that after being sold into slavery, treated harshly, and witnessing the rape of one of their own, a movie womyn would be hell-bent on avoiding all men until some metrosexual current-year-sensibilitied white knight came along, recognized her for the special snowflake she is, and dedicated himself to serving her perpetually while offering heartfelt apologies for any and every misunderstanding which may or may not be his fault. Yet, when the cowboys try to hand these women off so they can get back to their job, the women freak out in protest. They know a good deal when they see one, and need good men to protect them in this “savage land.”

The wild West wasn’t quite as savage as the inner cities in the current year welfare state, but I digress.

All my use of neomasculine terms to analyze this film is not, however, meant to imply that the heroes are PUAs (“pick up artists”) who use “game” to make themselves attractive to the girls. They maintain “frame,” for sure, but naturally–not as some learned technique to artificially boost SMV. Truth is, these are cowboys living before the culture became an over-sexualized idiocracy with ubiquitous entertainment mediums. The male-to-female ratio was abysmal in the old West, and most men had resigned themselves to being lifelong bachelors, or knew they would have to acquire significant resources before they could hope to attract wife material (and the culture didn’t encourage people to sleep around as it does now, either, so alpha PUAs in those times were not well regarded by society at all). In other words, the cowboys were not sex-obsessed, and the language/cultural barrier would have given them pause in this situation, however attracted they were to these damsels-in-distress.

There’s a lot more to appreciate about this film than just the socio-sexual dynamics. You should check it out.

Historical, Music, Reviews, Socio-Sexual Studies

Speed Week Plus: American Graffiti – a Review

April 7, 2017 Captain Gearhead Leave a comment

This installment of Speed Week Plus is a little different. There are no chase scenes and there’s only one all-out street race (not the one in the clip at the bottom of this post, which was cut short by a red light). In fact, it’s not even action adventure, but more of a dramedy. Yet American Graffiti is such an iconic film for gearheads and speed freaks of the pre-Internet generations, it just can’t be left out.

I’ve often wondered about the title–what it was supposed to mean. The only way I could connect it with the film’s content was to imagine a yearbook of the high school class the main characters belonged to (which, I guess, would fit the Dragnet-style “where-are-they-now” overlays just before the final credits. And a yearbook is actually used in the trailer below). Then I discovered the original title was “Rock Radio is American Graffiti,” and all became clear.

The film is about “cruising culture” which was ubiquitous in postwar America, right up until the gas crunch in the early ’70s I guess. What united the entire car crazy generation was rock & roll. And regional subsections of that generation were connected usually by a single personality, in the form of a radio disk jockey. In this case it’s the mysterious and almost mystical Wolfman Jack. Not only does the original title augment this theme, but in the screenplay the very first shot was not supposed to be of Mel’s Drive-In, but of a car radio dial being tuned to XERB.

Film maker George Lucas (whose only other feature to date had been the box office flop THX1138) had grown up in that generation. This movie is essentially a cinematic reminiscence of his glory days between graduating high school and packing off to film school. Two of the main characters are loosely based on Lucas himself–Kurt the aimless intellectual and Toad the nerdy braggart). The lone rebel hero (who the TV show Happy Days caraciturized into somebody called “Fonzy”) John Milner, was partially based on Lucas’ film school buddy John Millius, who went on to become a director also, despite punching out one of his professors. Average all-American boy Steve Bollander was also caricaturized on Happy Days, into Richie Cunningham (both played by Ron Howard, who also went on to become a director). And remember that annoying actress from Happy Days spinoff Laverne & Shirley? No, not her, the other one, with the dark hair. She plays Steve’s girlfriend and is not annoying at all in the role. Actually she did a fine bit of acting.

This movie was a first in many ways. Imitators cranked out nostalgic flicks well into the ’80s, trying to hitch a ride on its coat tails. The bed of vintage pop music, sometimes even with a DJ chattering over and between, became the norm in Hollywood soundtracks, nearly putting film score composers out of business until, Ironically, Lucas’ Star Wars revolutionized the film industry again. How about ensemble casts with parallel converging plotlines? That’s nearly obligatory in comedy/dramas to this day.

Though left vague enough for any baby boomer to relate to, it’s pretty much agreed to that the story takes place in Modesto, California in 1962. On the last summer night–from sundown to sunup. Filmed just ten years after the period depicted, the simulation is done so well that even folks who were born after that era was lost forever can almost… almost “remember” those times while watching it.

I don’t know that I could effectively argue that this is an “important” film, but it certainly has had an impact on a lot of people. It can so immerse you in the milieu of postwar pre-Vietnam teenage cruising-to-rock-radio that you’ll feel a part of it even when watching it for the 45th time…then be saddened by the passing of a bygone era until you watch it again.

The possible next post for Speed Week Plus is also about a story that fuses cars with music–with a different approach, set in a different era, but with much homage to this very movie.

Sneak Peek/Sample Chapters, Socio-Sexual Studies

Negotiating With Her For Marriage

July 30, 2016 Machine Trooper Leave a comment

Jennifer Scarred Wolf was an early riser. Joshua Rennenkampf was not.

By the time Josh got up and dressed, her bed was made and she was nowhere to be found in the house. Josh peeked out the window and saw her Jeep was still there, so he figured she was out taking a walk or picking flowers or some of that other girly stuff she liked to do. It was one of the things he loved about her, come to think of it: she was so easy to please, even just nature made her happy.

Another thing he loved about her was that she didn’t watch much TV. When she did, it was usually the Weather Channel. She’d sit and watch it like it was a fascinating interview or something.

Josh booted up his work station in the living room. He still had work to do on a couple of his contracts, but decided to get started on Tommy’s request instead. This was the weekend, after all.

He had lost track of time when Jennifer came inside, shedding her jacket.

“Good morning,” she greeted, cheerily. “Brrr. It’s nippy up here in the mornings.”

“Morning,” he replied, taking a sip of coffee.

She pressed her small, cold hands against the back of his neck and he jumped at the icy sensation.

“Told you it was nippy,” she said, laughing.

“You’re such a brat in the mornings,” he said, finding her cheer contagious despite himself. “Jeez, it’s not that cold outside, but your hands are like icicles.”

“Cold hands, warm heart,” she sing-songed, sweetly.

“Where were you?”

“Oh, I played with the dogs a little,” she said. “Brushed Indy down. I had to do something while you were sleeping your life away. I’ll go make breakfast in a minute.”

“Sounds good,” he said, rubbing her hands in between his to warm them.

She sat in his lap and glanced at the monitor. “What’s ‘MK Ultra’?”

“Just one of the rabbit trails I followed, checking into something for your uncle.”

Her expression turned thoughtful as she skimmed over some of the text on screen. “Monarch… Montauk… What is all this?”

Josh alt-tabbed to another window. “Oh, just some conspiracy stuff you probably don’t want to hear about.”

“Ah,” she said, poking him in a ticklish spot. “Trying to find out whether I’m real or a lizard-person?”

“Oh, I know you’re reptillian,” he deadpanned. “Your hands just gave it away, you two-legged iguana.”

She frowned, started to speak a couple times, then hesitantly said, “I’ve been meaning to ask you something.”

Josh sobered in an instant. He dreaded “the Talk,” but knew, sooner or later, they were going to have it. Was now the time? They’d already had a couple Big Talks recently—surely he had earned a postponement?

They had the Religion Talk, wherein he had assured her he had no problem with her faith. He believed in God; just didn’t know much about Him and never made an effort to know. He’d never read the Bible before meeting her, and still wasn’t very keen on it, or going to church. But he suspected there was something to Christianity, or the pinkos wouldn’t be so rabid in their efforts to smear it.

They had the Political Talk, wherein she acknowledged the Hegelian patterns he pointed out in economic and foreign policy over the last century; conceding it might be plausible that people in authority could conspire to frame their enemies and kill innocents just to accumulate more power for themselves and push an agenda that couldn’t achieve popular support otherwise. She just didn’t like to dwell on it, and he could certainly understand that.

The Talk that was still forthcoming was about their future together–if there was to be one.

“I’ve been thinking about how my dad and Uncle Tommy were framed for that murder in Indonesia,” Jennifer said.

Relief flooded through Josh’s brain, despite the sobering subject of her murdered father. “Yeah?”

“Uncle Tommy thought it must be because of what they were investigating before they left. He couldn’t think of anything else it could be.”

…

(from Chapter 25)

…

The dogs began barking outside, then he heard a droning noise—an engine straining to pull a vehicle uphill on his private drive from the highway below. He changed seats and cued up his security camera feed. He toggled between the cameras and saw a subcompact creeping up his drive. There appeared to be only one person inside but he couldn’t tell who it was.

He strapped on the shoulder rig for his sidearm, pulled his jacket over it, and yanked his Mini-14 off the rack before heading outside. He drifted into the woods to the back of his parking area, and took position at a hide which gave him a good view of the drive and parking area, while concealing him fairly well.

When the subcompact pulled up and stopped, he recognized Paul Tareen’s daughter, Terry. She remained inside her car, though, staring warily at the two large pit bulls standing stiff-legged on either side of the car, watching her.

Josh broke from cover and strode toward the car, telling the dogs to stand down. Ragnarok and Valkyrie ran back to join him, then matched his pace, one on each flank. He had really hit the jackpot with these dogs. They responded to command very well with minimal training.

Seeing Josh, Terry got out of the car with a dimpled smile and a casserole pot. “Howdy, neighbor!” she called.

Josh slung the rifle around his back and said, “Hey, Terry. Never seen anyone in your family drive a car before. Thought you did everything on horseback.”

She laughed and lifted up the ceramic casserole pot. “I couldn’t figure out how to carry this on a horse.”

When he reached her, he extended his hand to shake. She hugged him instead. It was a brief contact, but the message was received: she was interested in being more than a handshake kind of neighbor.

“What’s that?” he asked, gesturing toward the dish.

“I made apple cobbler,” she said, cheerily. “We couldn’t finish all of it, so I thought you might like to, before it goes bad.”

“Well thanks,” he said. “That’s real nice of you.”

“You’re welcome,” she said, beaming. He felt guilty that this young, possibly innocent girl was so sprung for him.

“Well, come on inside,” he said, waving toward his house. “Might as well visit a spell, since you took the trouble to drive over.”

He led her inside. She asked polite questions and made polite comments about his dome home while looking around like a bumpkin in New York City.

Josh retrieved bowls and spoons from the kitchen. “Why don’t you have some with me?”

“I guess I’ll have a little bit,” Terry said, grinning again.

She was a pretty girl, with a natural willowy figure, and more feminine than most of her generation. Her rustic upbringing by a gruff father and no-nonsense mother had gifted her with manners and a degree of humility despite her youthful confidence.

Maybe marriage could live up to the hype with a woman like this. He hoped she would find a man who appreciated what she brought to the table, and not some abusive jerk, alcoholic, or deadbeat.

They chatted as they ate the cobbler at his small table, and he again felt a pang of guilt about her attraction to him.

“Just out of curiosity,” he asked, “does your family know you came over here?”

She nodded. “Yeah, why?”

“And they’re okay with it?”

She laughed. “They’re pretty sure you’re not a serial killer, or we wouldn’t have had you over for Independence Day.”

“How do I know you’re not a serial killer?” he asked.

She laughed some more. “Don’t ever make me mad, or you might find out.”

After a couple glances into his eyes, she said “Y’know, it’s going to be dark soon. Do you think you can show me how to navigate by the stars?”

By country girl standards, Terry was coming at him with all guns blazing.

He had given her family a copy of the Ranger’s Handbook, from which they could learn as much about using the stars as he could teach her. On the 4th of July at their house he had shown her family the basics of land navigation with a compass. He also answered a lot of questions about communications and military tactics, and discussed with Paul teaching them some more skills in the future. They ate a big meal cooked by Terry and her mother, and watched American Sniper on the flat screen, too.

“There’s not all that much to it,” he said, “but that’s fine.”

What cobbler they didn’t finish went into a plastic container, which he stored in the fridge. Terry asked if she could wash the casserole pot and lid in his sink, and volunteered to wash the other dishes, too. He gladly consented, and they continued to chat as she did.

She slyly worked in a few probing questions about Jennifer. Josh answered honestly that he wasn’t sure whether they would stay together, or even if they were still officially together right then. He wasn’t seeing anyone else, and didn’t think Jennifer was, but who could tell, regarding such things?

By the time Terry finished the dishes it was getting dark. They went outside and played with the dogs until it was dark enough to see the constellations clearly. He pointed out what she should be able to see on any clear night in the northern hemisphere, and how to judge direction by their position. The most important object to find was Polaris, the North Star, which was easily done after locating the Big Dipper.

As he pointed things out, she closed the distance until she was backed up against him. Her body language suggested that he should wrap her in his own body heat to fend off the cool evening air. Josh hadn’t always been a hermit, so he knew what was going on. And the pleasance of her proximity was overcoming the guilt he’d felt earlier. She was only a few years younger than Jennifer, after all…

Their age difference didn’t seem like such a big deal anymore. It was only thoughts of Jennifer that allowed him to keep his hands off Terry.

He said he had work to do, and sent her home. She bid goodbye with a smile that promised she would test his resolve again soon.

Despite himself, it was hard to concentrate on work that night. He went to bed with the idea that it really sucked being alone sometimes, and only then realized that Terry had been the victor in their friendly hormonal struggle.

The next night Josh finished the cobbler, and Jennifer called as he did. When she asked what he was doing he naively answered honestly, and the conversation quickly became an interrogation. Before it was finished, Jennifer found out where the cobbler came from, who delivered it, what happened afterwards and how long Terry visited that night. Having shown what he thought was respectable restraint, Josh answered her questions honestly, but was on the verge of telling her to mind her own business more than once.

Instead, he went the playful route and took every opportunity to crack jokes and poke fun.

He was tired of being in sexual limbo. He had been content with going Galt before meeting Jennifer, including the whole celibacy aspect. But she had awakened hungers in him which went unresolved for an extended period, and it was kind of satisfying making her squirm for a change.

Instead of getting pissy and hanging up in a huff, though, Jennifer said, “I’d like to come visit again this weekend.”

Jennifer drove up Friday. She had an interview at a law office in town before coming to his house. He avoided obvious questions like, “Why do you want a job here when you live in Oklahoma?”

He suspected any such question would trigger an ambush she had planned, to instigate the Talk.

But he knew the Talk was inevitable, and probably this weekend, so he instigated it himself when they put Denver and Indy back in the stables after a ride.

It was time to let the other shoe drop. Maybe she would take the deal he was willing to offer. If so, great. More likely, she wouldn’t. She could get on with her life and find the perfect supplicating church boy to marry, if that’s what she wanted. Josh could go back to being a hermit, or have some fun with Terry once he got over Jennifer…or whatever. He just wanted to know, and cut his losses if it wasn’t going to work out.

The Talk took them through the evening chores, back into the house, and finished on the couch.

“You’ve got expectations, right?” he asked, after they’d gone over the love motive extensively. She’d been claiming to be in love with him ever since Indonesia.

“Expectations?” she repeated. “What do you mean?”

He sighed, uncomfortable with these touchy-feely conversations about relationships and other daytime TV fodder. “I mean you want to get married. You’ve made that pretty obvious. So you must have certain expectations about how it’s going to be. What do you expect a husband to bring to the table?”

“You make me sound so demanding,” she said.

“I’ve got expectations,” he said, shrugging.

“Like what?”

“Fine, Jennifer: I’ll go first: Outside of war, nuclear attack, or natural disaster, I’m not moving anywhere.”

She almost smiled. “I wouldn’t dream of asking you to leave this place.”

Jennifer didn’t like the cold, but she loved snow. When she visited he would often wake up to find her drinking a cup of coffee just staring out the window at the scenery, bundled up in blankets like an Eskimo even though it was warm in his house.

“Okay, good,” he said. “But I’m the king of this castle. I have the last say and the bottom line on decisions, and I expect you to back me up, even if you disagree with me.”

She flinched. “You expect me to just keep my mouth shut and do as I’m told?”

“I said king; not tyrant,” he replied. “We can talk about stuff. You can tell me what you think. If I see you’re right about something, then fine—we’ll go with that. But if I listen to all your reasons and still decide on something else, you need to let it drop and not pitch a fit.”

“That’s not really fair,” she said. “You could refuse to admit I’m right, and stick with your decision just to be stubborn.”

He shrugged again. “If you can’t trust me, then you got no business marrying me.”

She mulled this over for a while. “I guess I’m not really against you being king of the castle. But I would expect to be queen.”

“I have no problem with that,” he said. “Just don’t start thinking we’re on a chess board.”

“What else?” she asked, warily.

He hadn’t expected to get past that one. He had been sure she would storm out calling him a sexist pig and plenty other names. Still, she hadn’t explicitly agreed to the term, either. He decided not to press her on it right now, because he had plenty more he was sure would bring her claws out.

“I’m not gonna tolerate disrespect from you,” he said. “I don’t care how mad at me you are, or if you’ve had a bad day, or if I’ve done something really stupid. If you’re my wife, then you give me respect, period. You can disagree with me or whatever without disrespecting me.”

She nodded. Well, that was easier than expected, too.

“You have to put up with my lunacy, ” he said. “Because I’ll probably never change. My worldview isn’t going to change; I’m not giving up my guns; I’m not going to get a national I.D. if it becomes mandatory; I’m not getting kitchen appliances with microchips for the smart grid; I’m not going to register or get permits for anything I already have a right to.”

“I’ve never called you a lunatic, Joshua. I just get scared sometimes because you dwell on gloom and doom stuff so much. I think I ought to get a gun of my own. Something like what Uncle Tommy has, but maybe doesn’t kick as hard.”

At that point Josh’s goal began to transform from scaring Jennifer away as fast and decisively as possible, to seeing if there was actually a glimmer of hope they could be together long-term.

“My rule about cellphones stands,” he added. “And anything else that can be used to spy on me. That’s a deal-breaker.”

This was it. No woman on Earth, once aware of cellular technology and social networks, would ever give them up. They would die first.

She sighed. “I know. What else?”

His jaw dropped. “Do you mean you agree?”

She nodded, frowning. “I’ll go along with that. But there’s got to be some kind of compromise we can both live with. For now: okay. Anything else?”

“W-well,” he stammered, still off balance, “you’re not allowed to kick me when I’m down.”

“Okay.”

He scratched his head. This had gone completely different than he had imagined. Normally he would suspect she was lying just to trap him, but she had proven honest to a fault so far. “I want sex,” he said.

“That’s part of marriage,” she said, with a reserved laugh.

“Well,” he licked dry lips, feeling awkward about all this, “I want it often, and I want…you know, passion. You can’t just lay there like you’re bored or being traumatized.”

“I don’t think I would be like that,” she said.

“You can’t be claiming headaches all the time, or you don’t ‘feel sexy,’ or other excuses.”

“What if I’m sick?” she asked, with an indignant sharpening of tone. “I’m still expected to…?”

“No, no,” he interrupted, shaking his head. “Legitimate reasons are one thing. But you can’t use sex as a weapon. It’s not a training tool for you to withhold as punishment or give as a reward. It’s just something we do. And if you’re not gonna enjoy it…if you’re not gonna give it a good ol’ college try, then I really don’t want to go through the trouble. What’s the point of us sharing a bed?”

Jennifer chewed on her lip for a moment, then said, “I’ve got some expectations, if you’re done.”

“I think those are the big ones,” he said, feeling dazed. “If we can agree on those, we can work out the rest.”

“Okay,” she said. “If I’m going to be your wife, then we have to find a good church somewhere around here, and I expect you to go with me.”

This was no surprise. “I can do that. Sundays and Wednesdays?”

“Probably,” she said. “We can take a day off now and then. But we might get invited to extra things I want to go to.”

“I’d be willing to do that,” he said.

She looked relieved. “Also, I’d like you to keep an open mind about it.”

“About Christianity?” he asked.

She nodded. “Just give it the benefit of honest consideration, the way you’ve done with other things you believe.”

He shrugged. It seemed like a fair compromise.

“And I would raise our kids to believe in God,” she added quickly. “To read the Bible, and believe what’s in it.”

“You can’t force people to believe something, Jennifer. I’m living proof of that.”

“That’s not what I’m saying,” she said, putting her hand on his. “I’m saying I’m going to teach my kids the truth as I see it. When they get old enough, they’ll make up their own minds just like we do. But they’ll at least have the benefit of the option.”

“I’ll go along with that,” he said.

“You won’t try to contradict what I teach them?”

“No, but while we’re on the subject of kids…”

“Hold that thought, please,” she said, pointing an index finger in the air. “We’ll get to that in a minute.”

“Okay,” he said. “Go for it.”

“I won’t tolerate abuse,” she said. “That’s a deal breaker for me.”

“That’s no prob…wait a minute. Define ‘abuse.’ Does it include when you don’t get your way, or you don’t like something I say?”

“You can’t hit me,” she clarified. “Ever. Or choke me or…manhandle me…”

He waved his hands and shook his head. “Physical rough stuff. I wouldn’t ever do that to you.”

“But just like you don’t want to be disrespected,” she added, “you can’t be verbally abusive, either.”

“What’s verbal abuse? Define that.”

“I’m not talking about arguments…”

“You mean sarcasm?” he asked. “Because I use sarcasm all the time, even when I’m not upset.”

“Sometimes,” she said, twisting her lips as if searching for the right words. “Any kind of character assassination directed at me. Anything meant to demean or defame or belittle me.”

“Okay.”

“I expect faithfulness,” she said. “If you’re my husband, there can’t be any other woman.”

“Give me sex on a regular basis and I won’t want any other women,” he said, a bit defensive.

“Joshua, I’m serious. I can’t tell you how serious I am about this.”

He squeezed her hand. “Same thing on the flip side, though. You have to be faithful, too. No exceptions, no excuses.”

“You don’t have to worry about that,” she said. “Believe me: I’ve had opportunities.”

“I’m on board. But it’s a two-way street.”

“And just for the record,” she said. “Once I’m married, I plan to give my husband all the sex he can handle.”

Josh said nothing, but his mind sure was noisy right then.

“I’d like to have three children,” she continued. “Maybe more.”

“Hmm. Who decides if more and how many more?” Josh asked.

“Something we’d have to agree on. Would you give me at least three?”

Josh thought about it. “Yeah. But what if I decided no more, and you still wanted more?”

She took a deep breath. “If I couldn’t convince you, then I guess I’d have to respect your wishes.”

He couldn’t believe how this was going.

“But we can’t argue in front of the kids,” she said. “We have to work out disagreements in private, and present a united front to the family.”

“Fair enough,” Josh said. “And you can teach them Bible stuff, but I’m gonna teach them to shoot, hunt, trap and prep.”

She seemed to look a little less worried the further along the conversation went.

“I know you love your privacy,” she said, “but I want to be able to have family over.”

“Tommy and Linda are welcome here any time,” Josh said, with a magnanimous gesture. “Same with Gunther and Carl. And Uncle Jay for that matter. I’m just not so sure about Takoda, though.”

“Me neither, right now,” Jennifer said. “But what about my mother?”

“If she minds her manners, we can do that.”

And we should go there to visit them sometimes, too,” Jennifer said. “And you’ll have to be sociable.”

“Life of the party—that’s me.”

“And I’ll work as a legal assistant; or at whatever job I can find, if you want me to,” she continued. “But when we have our first baby, I’m done. I stay home and raise our children after that.”

“You mean you don’t want to build a career first, and wait until your 30s to start popping them out?”

She shook her head.

He was stunned. He knew Jennifer marched to a different drum, but had no idea she was this divergent from the feminist norm. “Well…how soon do you want to start popping them out?”

“We can spend a year or two just enjoying each other,” she said. “But I don’t want to wait any longer than that.”

“Done. And you don’t have to get a job at all if you don’t want, baby or not. I make enough consulting to keep the bills paid here.”

She cracked a smile. “Done? Does that mean my terms sound acceptable?”

They did. In fact, he was getting excited. Truth be told, she had him at “all the sex you can handle.”

With the big concerns dealt with, they moved on to smaller stuff. He felt even better about the whole thing when he found out she didn’t want some huge dog-and-pony show of a ceremony. It seemed she understood that the marriage would be more important than the wedding.

As the exchange of terms lightened up and wound down, she snickered a little and said, “You know, I guess you could say what we’re both insisting on is an old pre-war, maybe even Puritan, marriage.”

“Welcome to the new frontier,” he quipped, kissing her hand. “The new counter-culture.”

“Well, except for your doomsday prepping, anyway,” she said.

Josh snapped his fingers. “Hey, wait right there. I got something for you.”

He left her on the couch, went back into his workshop, found what he wanted on the bench next to the soldering iron, and returned to the living room with the customized phone.

“I was saving this for your birthday, but it’s ready now.” He handed it to her and she stared curiously at it. “I modified it. It’s safe to use here at the house or wherever. And you don’t need a warranty plan from the carrier. If it breaks, I’ll fix it.”

She turned it on, eyes lighting up before the screen did. “Does it have Internet?”

“Of course,” he said, laughing. “It’s rooted. You get not only wi-fi but 4G, free. Texting. A few aps. But you can’t trust all the aps out there, so you have to check with me before you download anything.”

She threw her arms around him and squeezed with surprising strength for her size.

He slapped her on the thigh and stood. “Go get dressed up.”

“What?” she asked, tearing her gaze away from the phone to look at him. “Why?”

“I’m taking you to a restaurant in town,” he replied. “There’s a question I want to ask you there.”

…

(from Chapter 30 of False Flag)