I like the internet personality that hosted the video in which a ‘Men’s Rights’ conference to be held in Detroit—a fitting post-apocalyptic location—was announced earlier this week. I read much of what is written concerning recent attempts to salvage what is left of masculine culture in the face of our overweening feminized society. However, I have a hard time getting behind a movement that claims that a single generation of nagging bitches has unraveled 40,000 years of fully articulate manhood. Really, the manosphere nerds seem to be behaving an awful lot like whining women. In my view what has them freaked out is the fact that our androgynous government has learned that women are more easily manipulated and more loyal voters, and will do more to support political intervention in family life at home, as well as war abroad.
The conversation that sparked this article, between the Canadian Socrates and his big teddy bear pal of a men’s rights advocate, did focus much on one area that is important to me; brutalizing boys, and/or drugging them up and indoctrinating them like girls. The big secret in modern family studies is that around a third of American women are beating the crap out of their little boys, either creating wimps or misogynistic gangster rap wannabes who are then pointed at as justification for raising the next generation of boys more like girls.
Some non-breeding males want to form tribes to save their gender from feminism.
Most manginas just write and talk about the social skewing that results from gender bending.
Some will inevitably lobby for legislation on behalf of ‘our’ boys.
Count me out. ‘My’ boys turned out with balls enough thank you. What you and the increasingly shrill nag you managed to inseminate do with your boys is your business, not mine.
Yes, manosphere nerds, I have predicted your next question.
‘What if my ex-wife and the school nurse decide to drug up my little Ivanhoe, so that he is more easily de-gendered, while I’m out slaving away for that child support? Shouldn’t there be a law, a union, a testicular advocacy federation of war-painted tribalist video-gamer dads?’
In all fairness, the school system, and the mommy nation, and the bimbos we 70s survivors knocked up, were not out there trying to dope up normal high energy boys when I was raising my sons.
So Crackpot LaFond, what do you suggest?’
Sacrifice.
I will use my ex-wife and oldest son as examples. The government intervention thing we had going on on the family front when I was in my late twenties had to do with spanking. I never believed in spanking. I was good at negotiating with the little yard ape, aided by his knowledge that I was feared by other men. When boys know that you are feared by other men, they do not mess with you. No child intimidation is necessary. The quieter you are the better. On the other hand, nine-year-old Vance was beginning to backtalk his Mom, my wife. To my knowledge, she never hit him. But, at her wits end one day [partially because the bastard she was married to was neglecting her] she said, at the dinner table, “You better listen to me or I’ll paddle your little butt.”
Our boy, recently programmed by his school teachers, said, “They just told us in school, that if our parents ever spank us, that we just have to tell, and they will get locked up.”
She was crushed, went crying to her room, but not before she looked at me, with that ‘your-never-getting-laid again if you don’t sort this out’ look in her eye.
Vance and I remained at the table. I was congratulatory, “Wow, I was never able to shut my Mom up like that. She still tells me what to do. It must be nice to have the whole school system and the police department behind you.”
He snickered and continued to eat the food that I had bought and she had prepared; a budding statist in his prepubescent glory. Then I said, “So, you know how your mom is when you tell her she can’t do something. Now you’re definitely getting spanked next time you mouth off.”
He shrugged his shoulders as if it was already taken care of. That’s when I struck—with words of course Stefan. “So where are you going to live, after she goes to jail?”
He looked up with a start, and met my eyes. “With you?”
“Well, Buddy, I’m going to be in jail too. You really think I’m going to let some kid have my wife locked up? You think I’m not goin’ to fight the cops when they come? I’ll be in for fifteen years. Even if your mom gets out right away, I’m already behind on the mortgage—you two will be living with your grandparents in PA as soon as my paychecks stop coming in.”
He got the message; connected the rest of the brutal dots himself. 29 years later he’s her rock, always there for her, and she helps his wife and him with our grandchildren, no spanking and no government counselors necessary.
Now, in today’s world, if I have a baby’s mamma [I haven’t given up on the Asian wives catalog just yet] who is slapping my boy, who is letting the school nurse dope his ass up so the school system does not have to invest in a gym teacher to sweat the energy out of him for an hour a day, she’s getting a similar speech. Really though, there is no need to go there unless she is a raging psychobitch. If you have principals, communicate your position as a father with your son’s mother, and let her know you will never ever back down under any circumstances. Then, even after she kicks you out, and you’re living in the cardboard box down the alley from mine, she won’t dare abuse your son.
More than ever I have come to believe that the ‘men’s rights movement’ is just an expression of the feminized American male’s yearning to be a woman, and whine like one into the wee hours with like-minded bitches. Still, for all of their manginitis, the manosphere nerds offer a balancing counterpoint to the man-haters that have done so well for their own cause.
It is an interesting world indeed and does not seem to be making things easy on us bald chimps quite yet.
