Have a great day.
Have a great day.
I wonder if arguments will start over this. LOL
The only way to get over your fear of what is out there is to look at it, learn about it, and then do something about it.
Just as with the Trumpeter winning the US presidency, an attack in my hometown of Toronto required me to take some time to process my thoughts before I would weigh in on this latest example of extremism. Thankfully, there is no religious indoctrination associated with this incident which killed ten and injured thirteen. I have flogged that dead horse enough over the years anyway. No, this one is truly “new”, and would require some research on my part. By “new”, I mean a new take on a 5000 year old idea; men should rule and be the masters of all that is in their domain. What I found bothers me more than Trump and his bandits. So let’s take a look at the latest scourge reaped by our downward spiral in parenting and education.
misogyny – a hatred of women
In my book I toyed with misogyny while exploring my emotional damage from past relationships and coming to terms with how I feel about women, North American culture, and humanity as a whole. It started as a humorous idiot’s guide to manhood for my nephews, but it became something else . . . a complete instruction manual for life as a decent human. Sadly, I did not know how few men read such books when I wrote it. They are conditioned to appear as though they have it all figured out－causing most to actually believe they do. North American culture is of course an oxymoron as few of its citizens are cultured by definition.
cultured – having or showing good education, tastes, and manners
I will not give the perpetrator of the attack any mention other than to say it is doubtful he is sane. When something horrific happens close to home people want to know why and it is here where things become dark, murky, and disturbing. There are known to be approximately 40,000 others like him out there who share similar beliefs. They call themselves Incels.
Incel – a person who thinks of themself as being involuntarily celibate
When trying to imagine the membership of this group, one would naturally think of unfortunate individuals with deformities or who were disfigured in some way; thereby limiting their chances of attracting a romantic partner. However, this does not appear to be the case.
The following excerpt is from an article by By Rebecca Jennings published on Racked.com which gives you a sense of what they are about.
Incels see women as either “Stacys,” who are hyperfeminine, attractive, and unattainable and who only date “Chads” (muscular, popular men who are presumed to sleep with lots of women), or “Beckys,” the “average” woman. Women in general are also referred to in dehumanizing terms such as “femoids” or “FHOs (Female Humanoid Organism).”
Allegedly, these are nerds, geeks, dorks, dweebs etc. who have been publicly shamed and bullied to such an extent they are now stigmatized, leaving them socially awkward and incapable of engaging effectively with women they desire. They apparently use math to support their contention they only have a shot with the castoffs of the Chads. They think this is wrong and unfair.
Nerds, geeks, dorks, and dweebs are typically smart. Smart people know how to research to find a course of action which solves a problem. I have been called a nerd and a geek, mostly because I read and spend time in libraries, but it was time well spent. I did the work. I LEARNED. I understand women, human behavior, and our society which makes me very interesting to a Stacy who is tired of Chad’s shit. The more you learn, the more aware you become which leads to personal growth and change
They were ill-prepared for life. Sadly, they have formed an online group where they denigrate what they want the most－women. It is a support group gone wrong.
I object to them believing themselves to be nerds. A nerd is far more than a sci-fi enthusiast, gamer or comic book collector. These guys are pretenders; and just as their feeble minds did with women, they missed yet another point entirely.
THEY do not know how to stimulate a woman’s erogenous center.
THEY do not know where that is.
THEY do not care and are too lazy to find out.
THEY equate real women with their rubber porn star vagina sex toy.
THEY think women are just a collection of holes for their pleasure.
THEY do not respect women because they were never taught this.
THEY believe women won’t pick up on their misogynistic vibe.
THEY think they are superior to women.
THEY believe they should be entitled to any woman they wish.
I do pity them though. It’s not all their fault. Poor genetics, bad parenting, a low quality education, and unresolved emotional scars all combined to make them what they are.
At best, Incels are throwing the world’s biggest pity party and of course none of it is their fault. They are not happy with natural selection, nor are they willing to improve themselves in order to get in the game. Essentially, they are damaged and lazy with entitlement issues. In the worst cases, as with the Toronto incident, dangerous sociopaths are in their midst being primed for action.
It’s been a long, long, long time since I have had a day like this－literally years since I published a slightly impaired blog titled: An Intoxicated Tirade, or words to that effect. A conscientious blogger would create a link, but I don’t care.
Life as a struggling author is tough, and full of duties and obligations. Today was different though; I fulfilled all those daily tasks by 2:00 p.m. on a sunny and warm Sunday afternoon which allowed me a shopping trip including a visit to the liquor store.
It should be noted that I mark the return of warm weather with a cocktail we Canadians call a Caesar－made from tomato/clam cocktail, vodka, and spices, including salt, pepper, celery salt, Worchestershire sauce (Did you seriously expect me to spell it right?) and Tobasco sauce. (Ditto.)
I spent TWO magical hours alone with my thoughts (and the booze) in direct sunlight which has always been my drug of choice when I needed to re-energize and refocus. There was a part of me who screamed I should have a book with me or what will the neighbors think? F*ck ’em.
I moved to this neighborhood to be amongst the poor and down-trodden. Granted, houses in this area sell between one and two million dollars, but that does not mean the people here are rich; they just have good credit. As property values have gone from ridiculous to insane while I have been here, it led me to think about the retirees on a fixed income being displaced because they could not keep up with their property taxes as their property’s value exploded, forcing many to take out equity loans just to keep their homes.
After the second drink, I noticed a deep exhalation that I am certain has not been a part of my existence for some time. Some people meditate to accomplish this state-of-being, but I have not been making the time for any spiritual journeys of this nature lately. I am just too damn busy.
So, about the squirrels . . . Ever notice the squirrel who is busting his (or her) ass (Who can tell?); digging up chestnuts and running across a busy street to bring home the bacon? He/she is unlike the other squirrels who have trained humans to feed them, and who unknowingly have become reliant on their trainees. I respect the hustler’s choice. I hope he/she doesn’t get squished by one of the vehicles travelling much too fast in our school zone.
It occurred to me upon sipping my third drink, I could really use more days like this. This prompted a revised want ad stolen from my book.
Dinner Update: One part is burnt, and one part is still frozen. Balance is key.
On to the airplanes－you can’t help but notice them while you are positioned to be face-first into the setting sun in the West, which coincidentally, is also where our airports are, relative to where I live. There are fast-movers, a.k.a. military stuff, at serious altitudes leaving twin contrails. Those are our F-18s. I did however see a fast-mover with a single contrail; I hope we didn’t buy one of those piece of sh*t single engine F-35s.
FYI: The texture of my chicken patties can be best equated with cutting cardboard with your standard cutlery. And again, I don’t care. Two hours of direct sunlight and four cocktails will do that to a person.
My man-bun-daddy neighbor with way too many health issues for his age and I just talked about using some of our more useless neighbors as food when the apocalypse comes. I suggested a barbecue sauce.
What are the passers-by thinking as they acknowledge my smile, nod, or wave as I sit in my lawn chair basking in the sun? Are they jealous of my leisure time inactivity, or do they think I am hurting property values in the neighborhood? At the moment, I can confidently state I don’t give a flying f*ck about what others think.
One neighbor who regularly parks her car in front of my house chatted about her court day with our street’s bandit parking cop, and how she was kayaking on a river today. She does lead an interesting life.
I chatted briefly with my hot neighbor about how confusing this time of year was for her when it came to choosing what to wear. She was in sandals and a sweater coat. I suggested she remove the coat.
I saw some kids playing road hockey while armed with squirt guns. I guess I didn’t get that memo.
Birds chirping; the sounds of motorcycles and children at play; and the guy with saws. Dude, give it a f*cking rest already.
I thought up a killer book idea, but I’ve thought that before . . .
Much can happen in two hours if you go outside to figuratively stop and smell the flowers.
I admit I have been neglecting this blog, but sh*t happens. My Ms. Creant site blog has kept me busy with a ten-ish part series on the book publishing game. If you are a soon-to-be-published author not picked up by the big 5, you would be well-advised to tune in.
It’s now 10:30 p.m. and my nightcap is almost gone.
Ever notice how I only use contractions when I’m drinking?
I just witnessed an act of Christian terrorism on my street.
While many of us were erecting ladders to put up Christmas lights, others had even more politically incorrect intentions.
A woman with her three girls from a few doors down, just skulked passed my house carrying a large standup carboard cutout of Jesus which they covertly placed in front of another neighbor’s house, a few doors up the street from where I live. I am guessing this mom is an artist, and the girls all participated in this craft project. I do not know either of these neighbors, but I grinned as the perpetrators ran by in a full retreat. A short while later, the terrorist leader mom walked by again to take a picture of their evil-doings; presumably to be used in a propaganda victory speech which would undoubtedly be posted on their radical facebook page tagging the victims. As she returned from her photo recon bomb damage assessment mission, she commented to me, rather matter of factly, “He hates religion.”, to which I replied, “Oh my.”, still wearing my amused grin but laughing hysterically on the inside as this woman had no idea who she was talking to. To me, this Sunday was quickly becoming more entertaining than any of the ones spent in the hundreds of Houses of Worship I have visited in my travels. It would not take long before a woman, who I presume is the wife of the aforementioned “He”, would walk by looking a little embarrassed as she carryied the big Jesus back to the terrorist’s encampment. I suspect this was just a good-natured prank among neighbors as big Jesus was leaned carefully against a tree in the yard of the terrorist’s command and control bunker, and no hostile words were uttered or shots fired as she departed.
We must now look at the victim of this atrocity who was targeted by these extremists because “He” believes differently. “He”, who apparently “hates religion”, could be an atheist, and if this is the case, we should be respectful of his choice of belief system. But what if “He” is not an atheist? What if “He” is like me? What if “He” has come to despise most religions as I have, because they have corrupted the messages of God and their various prophets in order to amass wealth and power—often promoting division, hate, the subjugation of women, and even violence. Am I next? How long before I can expect big Jesus in my garden? I think it’s time to pick a religion just to be on the safe side.
So. let’s see what comes up when I google: What religion should I follow? Oh look, Belief-O-Match; they should be able to tell me. After taking their quiz, they decided I am a Seventh-day Adventist? I don’t know this one. Let’s find out what they are all about.
Not even close. So much for Belief-O-Magic.
Back to the drawing board. I will eliminate all religions with significant wealth that don’t spend most of it to feed starving children. Let’s see what google has to say.
Let’s try googling the most charitable religions. It is interesting that this search netted little of substance; just a few articles about do-gooders, putting Muslims, Agnostics, and Buddhists well in the lead. You would think that some of the other major religions would step up and single-handedly save a famished nation just for the bragging rights, but none do or have.
Although I could probably squeeze my beliefs into the Agnostic box, as a historian, I feel as though I should be able to find something—and I did—but unfortunately it is in decline with just 190,000 followers left. Maybe it is not about the popularity.
Zoroastrianism worships a single deity: Ahura, The Lord Creator, and The Supremely Wise. This religion predates most all of the best known prophets with its roots going back to 2000 BCE. (I like that.) It has no major theological divisions. (I like that.) In Zoroastrianism, the purpose in life is to: “Be among those who renew the world; to make the world progress towards perfection”. (I like that.)
Its basic maxims include:
I am a Zoroastrianist . . . I think.
I have much reading to do, and perhaps I should check my terminologies while I am at it, before telling everyone. Once I have confirmed that Zoroastrianist is actually a word, I’m going to go tell the neighbor up the street—maybe “He” is one too, and just doesn’t know it yet.
This is it for a while.
To everyone, regardless of your philosophies, faiths, beliefs, and indoctrinations, I hope you all enjoy a safe and happy Holiday Season.
Humata, Hukhta, Huvarshta.
I like it.