Have a great day.
Have a great day.
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.
They tell me young people will only read memes or short posts of 500 words or less so I decided to give them a “best of” package of last year’s tweets. Please feel free to share any which stir something within you.
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?
Any problem-solver will tell you that big problems are made up of a number of smaller more manageable and completely solvable issues.
But the sheer quantity of things causing them to be outraged is what keeps them from getting off their butts to do anything about ANY of these issues. There is a new big problem, reported in their media, which causes them to be outraged almost every day—new threats—new scandals—new protests. . . Their news sources bombard them with new and exciting things to be outraged about to keep them from becoming FOCUSED on any one GOAL.
Let’s look at why being reactive has not moved America towards positive change for over 60 years; while also looking at some of the time-wasting ineffectual reactive responses of outraged, but well-meaning, Americans who simply lacked a clear vision of how to create change.
Almost all of America’s biggest OUTRAGE inducing problems are a result of a government representatives lacking either a conscience or the bravery to stand up to the bankers, agencies, corporations, and other groups who believe themselves to be out of the reach of the taxpayer’s wrath. Keep this in mind when you are asked to choose, nominate, or support a candidate.
Please get off your butts and create change while you still have the freedom to do so.
Most of the other 6.7 billion people on Earth are very concerned about you.