Ha! You’re so predictable; you just couldn’t avoid clicking on a subject heading like that, could you? Well, we are not the bait-and-switch kind here at Virtual Pulp. That headline is actually relevant to today’s content. Andrew Klavan will explain:
So if you weren’t sure what #gamergate is all about, now it should be clear as mud.
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.
While collectivists evidently have no problem with weapons in the hands of those who would use them to murder and for other crimes (Mexican drug lords carrying their gang wars across the border; Islamic Jihadists, etc.), it has always driven them batty that non-criminal American citizens are armed. Especially non-criminal American citizens who prefer to live in a free state and who would participate in the militia if necessary.
Left-wing politicians have concocted miriad schemes over the years to infringe on our right to keep and bear arms, but that pesky Constitution (which they swear to uphold) keeps getting in their way. Of course, in every other instance that doesn’t even slow them down. They’ve got armies of lawyers paid (with your tax dollars) to interpret away your protections and come up with brilliant arguments like “We have to pass (this horrific new legislation) to find out what’s in it.” But for some reason, there are people left in our mind-numbed population who still understand English enough to recognize what the 2nd Amendment means.
Lots of well-made points in the video, but I like best the grammatically indentical sentence from the 2nd Amendment applied to something else:
A well-schooled electorate, being necessary to the security of a free state, the right of the people to keep and read books shall not be infringed.
That’s one for the Goodreads crowd to chew on.
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.
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.
Just getting the ol’ blog out there on some networks, like this one:Click here
My son had never seen Star Wars.
Oh, he’d seen cartoon spinoffs from the second trilogy, and played with the Lego sets. Those never really impressed him. And is it any wonder? The movies most are familiar with today, which all that spun off from, are utterly forgettable.
I’m referring to the first one—Episode IV: A New Hope. The movie that pimp-slapped all the arrogant marketing “experts” who thought they knew what would and wouldn’t sell. They all thought it would be a laughable flop. Everyone just knew that even straight science fiction didn’t sell anymore by 1977. But moviegoing audiences didn’t realize they weren’t supposed to like it, and went back to see it multiple times, keeping it held over in theaters for umpteen weeks in a row. In constant dollars there’s probably never been a movie that’s done as well at the box office. And on the clout of that one movie, George Lucas can get away with foisting all kinds of lackluster cinematic drivel on us for the rest of his life.
As I suspected he would, my son loved it. His favorite character? R2D2.
What I couldn’t help noticing this time (my first viewing of it probably since the revamped Greedo-shoots-first version in the 1990s, but perhaps my 15th viewing overall) is what a solid bit of acting the principals put in.
There are some exceptions (“You know of the rebellion against the Empire?????”), but overall it’s rather impressive. Why? Well, for one thing, they had to sell some dialog that’s rather difficult to make sound natural. And secondly…
Well, by today’s standards the special effects are dated and hokey (at least on the small screen), saved only by some rather desperate editing. But the actors didn’t even have that. Now granted, a regular person doing what actors normally have to do would feel stupid doing it. Multiply that a few times over for these guys who had to perform scenes almost in a vacuum, sure that whatever effects were put in afterwards would be of the cheesey Roger Korman variety.
In interviews later, the actors admitted they feared exactly what the studio execs did: that this would be a colossal joke, sharing the infamy of Plan Nine From Outer Space and other such dreck. But they put their hearts into it anyway and it couldn’t have succeeded without them.
Please spread the word if you know other visitors to Virtual Pulp: They’ll probably need to delete cookies to get rid of that error page when they come here.
Ugh. Had some issues with plugins starting last weekend and we were unprotected from spam for a few days. It’s resolved now and shouldn’t happen again but what a drag it’s been. We were flooded with nearly 4,000 spam messages and about a thousand were on one post alone. A vengeful screed against parasitic losers and their spambots is way overdue–stay tuned.
IPage cut off my access so I couldn’t go in to assess and deal with the problem. Then they ignored my inquiries for over a day.
I’ll never use Hostgator again after my experience with them. IPage had better not ever do something like this to me again or they’ll join the list.
Anyway, I apologize for those who got the error page and especially anybody who was spammed from this site. I hope you’ll forgive us.
Should have regular content resuming shortly.
Might as well stay in the Swingin’ ’60s this week. And what a contrast to this week’s Alpha Anthem, not just in the color of the pills, but the talent of the bands.
I find it deeply embarrassing that this band went by the name of “American Breed.” I hope they flew Old Glory at half-mast the day this song hit the charts. The gist of the lyrics is some thirsty beta orbiter is whining to the girl on his pedestal: “I’m so pussywhupped already–aren’t you impressed? Won’t you have sex with me now?”
This kind of desperation would be revolting to even the blue pill crowd…if it weren’t put to music. But music can sell the most ridiculous ideas (and dialog) like no other medium. Which is saying a lot, because TV and movies have sold our culture a whole bill of goods.
The lyrics speak for themselves. Here they are:
You are all the woman I need, and baby you know it,
You can make this beggar a king, a clown or a poet.
I’ll give you all that I own.
You got me standing in line
Out in the cold,
pay me some mind.
Bend me, shape me
Anyway you want me,
Long as you love me, it’s all right
Bend me, shape me
Anyway you want me,
You got the power to turn on the light.
Everybody tells me I’m wrong to want you so badly,
But there’s a force driving me on, I follow it gladly.
So let them laugh I don’t care,
Cause I got nothing to hide,
All that I want is you by my side.
Bend me, shape me
Anyway you want me,
Long as you love me, it’s all right
Bend me, shape me
Anyway you want me,
You got the power to turn on the light.
Bend me shape me anyway you want me…
The Stones were not only slopping over with talent, they were also quite prolific. It’s hard to think of another band (as opposed to a single artist) who can compare when it comes to volume of quality work. The Beatles and Led Zeppelin come to mind–both groups were also uber-talented and versatile; but neither were cranking out music for as many years.
As noted in Fast Cars and Rock & Roll, most bands remembered as great recorded at least two-to-three killer tunes. Few of them did better than that. But the Stones cranked out albumfulls of songs which stand the test of time, with very few turkeys in between. Their work in the 1960s, in particular, was phenomenal. Their golden years, I would call it.
You wouldn’t expect guys who look like they did to come up with an alpha anthem. In fact, somebody in the manosphere should post about the evolving standards of sexual marketplace value (SMV) some time. It’s puzzling to look at the appearance of hippie rockers (and the hair bands they inspired) and imagine that females of the time perceived them as masculine. But apparently they did. Or they were just tripping too far out on acid to notice who they were giving out all that free love to.
This particular song is one I never used to think about much, but it has fresh relevance now. The lyrics tell of the triumphant transition of a young man from blue pill to red pill.
The former supplicating beta’s girlfriend once had him down; pushed him around. But he’s turned her into “the sweetest pet in the world.” She’s changed her ways and now “does just what she’s told.” She’s dressing differently (more feminine, I’d guess) and now “talks when she’s spoken to.”
Any wonder why the bra-burning feminists hated this song?
Take it easy, babe. The change has come.
