Why it’s better for men to be homosexual

It really is fun to stay at the YMCA!  This, of course, is the first reason of many that all men should take a walk on the wild side.  That would be faaaabulous!

Note well, the following isn’t a serious endorsement of buggery like Men’s Health didIf you like it that way, you’re already doing it.  If you don’t, then you ain’t gonna go there.  However, since I’m still in a fine mood, this is a good a time as any to explain the benefits of the Love That Dare Not Speak Its Name.  Consider all this as tongue in cheek – or yanno, right between both of the lower ones.

The nightgame is much friendlier

As a straight guy, I don’t like nightgame very much.  Fortunately, you no longer have to endure clouds of cigarette smoke that give you a past life flashback from when you were killed in the gas attack during the Battle of Ypres.  Still, music nearing the audible threshold of pain remains a problem, and obviously precludes any conversation short of screaming.  What I find the most aggravating are the bad attitudes.  I never really could understand why chicks would go to a social venue and act like it’s not a social venue.  They’re out to get picked up, they know it and we know it, so why pretend otherwise?  As I put it in Deplorable Diatribes:

The bad attitudes are completely repellent, and they do this to themselves. It’s as absurd as if they took an hour to get their outfits ready, but then rolled around in mud before walking into the place. A little charm and grace would go a very long way, and set themselves apart from the competition too.

With gay guys, it’s completely different.  They’re the most libertine people in the world.  Saying “Hey, how about it?” to women gets you a bad reaction, but it’s exactly the opposite when men are approached by someone they like.

How does a nightgame pickup usually go?  Let’s say there’s a straight singles bar with 50 customers.  We’ll assume the sex ratio is exactly half and half, though in real-life cases, there usually are fewer women.  So for this example, if a straight guy goes into that club, there are 25 women he can meet.  For anything to happen, there must be mutual physical attraction.  (He probably won’t like some of them, and some won’t like him.)  The personalities also have to click, or at least they have to find each other tolerably agreeable.  Meanwhile, there are 25 competitors for his 25 prospects.  He might be able to pick up someone, but the result is far from certain.

Actually, this is a great understatement of the difficulties involved.  Nightgame has become a pain in the ass, and not in a good way!  First of all, if someone is an amateur with game, then he’s at a big disadvantage because he doesn’t know the unwritten rules of modern courtship.  Then when you factor in problems like Bitch Shields, cockblocking, and AMOGs, it can be a real drag.  Then there’s the hypergamy problem, in which most of the bar flies have unrealistic expectations.  They think they deserve a celebrity or something, when it’s actually the men they’re shooting down who deserve better prospects.  When sex ratios become unfavorable, then it can get to be a sausage fest.  At least these places have overpriced liquor for customers to drown their sorrows!

On the other hand, the 175ers have an obvious mathematical advantage making their social venues a target-rich environment.  Let’s say that next door to that singles club, there’s a gay bar that also has 50 customers.  When another one walks in, he doesn’t find half prospects and half competitors.  Instead, he potentially can pick up anyone there, and anyone else might be interested in him, assuming they turn each other on.  If a gay bar is a sausage fest, that’s certainly not a bad thing for them!  And did I mention that homosexuals are the most libertine people on the planet?  These places sometimes have a room set aside where the customers can have a quickie before returning to buy a couple more beers and finding someone else for the night’s next hookup.

That’s right; they’re getting laid like rock stars.  Meanwhile, what’s going on at the singles bar next door?  Straight guys all too often get used as free drink dispensers by chicks with a case of Princess Complex.  If that fact alone doesn’t make you want to get on your knees and give some dude a BJ, then this means you’re confirmed 100% heterosexual.  Sorry bro…

You’ll save lots of money

If that wasn’t enough reason to drop the soap, there are economic factors too.  Those fortunate enough to be queer don’t have to spend money on girlfriends, wives, kids, or (if things go badly) alimony and child support.  There’s a reason why gay neighborhoods often are in upper middle class parts of town, with lots of nice high-rises.  Think about it!  With a thriving hookup culture (see above) then there’s not even any reason to spend extra cash on dinner dates, expensive gifts, and anniversaries.

Also, there’s no need for a ring with a glittery rock that’s supposed to cost a quarter of your annual salary.  (That’s probably a standard that some marketing executive from the DeBeers diamond cartel made up a century ago.)  There’s also no expectation for a bridezilla wedding that costs the same as a new car.  Everybody knows that gay marriage was a lot more about political theater than genuine interest.  The only rational reasons these days to get married are for religious-inspired morality, or to have children, and gays aren’t big on either.

The reason why marriage doesn’t make sense for anything else is because half the time they end in divorce, which is like a cruise missile hitting your bank account.  What happens to the small number of homosexuals who actually do get the holy handcuffs if they later decide to bail?  This is still a relatively new phenomenon, mostly uncharted legal territory, but I predict that it will work like this:

  • Straight divorce:  The ex-wife steals the ex-husband’s property and children in court
  • Lesbian divorce:  The ex-wives trade property and cats
  • Gay divorce:  The ex-husbands just break up and keep their own stuff

See how much more sensible that is?  The difference between being gay and straight is that the gay guy takes it up the ass in a bathhouse, and the straight guy takes it up the ass in a divorce court.  Who is having more fun in that scenario, huh?

You’ll be special

gay pride San Fran01

Still not convinced that buggery is faaaabulous?  Well, what special recognition in society do “breeders” get?  You’ll have either Mother’s Day or Father’s Day, and that’s only if you’ve fulfilled your biological imperative.  That’s right – you might get a card and a phone call from each of your children.  Wait – that’s it?  Once again, the sodomites are having all the fun!  Heterosexuals aren’t even remarkable as a class.  We’re boringly ordinary!

First of all, as a homosexual, you get to have special parades.  Pretty cool, huh?  There, you can let it all hang out – literally too, if you know what I mean!  Like, who doesn’t want to walk down Main Street dressed in assless chaps, fetish gear, or maybe not much at all?  If people ever called you a degenerate, now is your chance to prove them right!  Why try to win over their hearts and minds when you can make their eyes bleed instead?

This is only the beginning, though.  According to cultural Marxism, because gays used to get a hard time, normal society must compensate for that from now on.  Therefore, gays should enjoy elevated status, and everyone else must bend over backwards (or preferably forwards) to accommodate them.  You’ll have dozens of political lobbies to champion your cause.  There are countless clubs, professional organizations, and so forth just for you.  If you come out of the closet, you’ll emerge right into a welcoming hug-box with the rest of the gay community.  The media loves you, and corporations will virtue signal obsequiously for you.  You have a handy “get out of criticism free” card too.  If you disagree with someone else, it’s an opinion; if someone disagrees with you, it’s a phobia.

Still, you’d better act fast.  There have been a few rumblings by the cultural Marxists that gay guys are becoming too “privileged” and need to be kicked out of the coalition.  Part of it is from having all that extra money, you see.  (What can you do?  I recommend playing the persecution card more; you’re not getting much of it now, but apparently you can keep the racket going for 75 years or longer.)  Anyway, enjoy your elevated status while it lasts, because it will be a rude awakening if the rug gets pulled out from under you.

And lastly

I hope you’ve enjoyed this April Fools Day edition.  Cheers!

Why it’s better for men to be homosexual

I’m so tired of the Wuhanic Plague

Like much of the public, I’m hunkering down at home.  So is the rest of the household.  I’m trying not to succumb to cabin fever.  An odd idea came back to me, one that’s been kicking around for a while.  Perhaps I could write a modern series of stories inspired by Boccaccio’s Decameron, which would be rather fitting.

The economy went into a very rapid drop from the panic.  It doesn’t help that many of our businesses will be temporarily offline, or permanently if this drags on for too long.  So naturally my portfolio took a big hit.  Luckily I made some defensive moves before this happened, but I wish I’d gone further with it.

I’m not going to be one of the people who chicken out and sell out at the bottom.  Instead, I’m going to make a big play at the bottom, and perhaps this will be enough to make me a millionaire.  Now that the Fed is going to dump another $1.5 trillion into the economy, made up out of thin air, we’ll get more inflation and being a millionaire will be easier than ever, because money will be worth less than before.

Other than that, I’ve got all the supplies I need for a while, so long as the water and electricity hold out.  We Mormons are supposed to have a year’s worth of food on hand.  Utah is going to do fairly well.  I’m a very bad Mormon, but I am partially stocked up.  That’s a good thing, since supermarket shelves are getting bare in places.  It’s what happens when all the Gentiles become last minute preppers.

It’s not a bad idea, but it’s a much better idea when carried out earlier.  Other than that, my supplier for dry survival rations has jacked up the prices to nearly double.  They’re a Salt Lake City business, by the way.  I can’t help but laugh.  Those clever bastards!  I wish I’d gotten a piece of that action!  Maybe I should get a warehouse and stock it with toilet paper for the next disaster?

Kolejka TP
TP line in Warsaw, late 1980s

On that note, toilet paper is unobtainable, and I hear it’s like that all over the country.  It resembles something out of Communist-era Poland.  When all this is over, everyone will be laughing at the situation for years to come.  As for now, if everyone runs out of TP, runs out of Sears catalogs, and runs out of corn shucks, then there’s always the Turkish method.  Specifically… kıçını bir derede yıka.

Well, shit happens!  We have to get Epictetus about it here.  If we weren’t all staying at home, then we might be faced with worse problems.  Either we can laugh about the situation or cry about it, so better to laugh!  Still, I’m tired of the Wuhanic Plague already.  At least that’s better than being sick of it.

I’m so tired of the Wuhanic Plague

Iranian cleric develops a rectal cure for coronavirus

In Iran’s holy city of Qom, once the fave hangout of that jolly old fellow Ayatollah Khomeini, a cure has been developed for the new COVID19 coronavirus.  This is just in time, since it’s now spreading throughout the world and has the potential of becoming a new plague.  Medical professionals are scrambling to confront this.

For Iran, however, that simply will not do.  An Alaraby article goes into their unique approach:

Users on Twitter describe how the Ayatollah Tabrizian has publicly denounced Western medicine as “un-Islamic”.

That’s hardly a surprise.  According to Iran’s ruling class, everything is un-Islamic.  They even think that Barack Obama isn’t a real Muslim.

The good news, of course, is their new coronavirus treatment protocol.  Three cheers for Iran then!  The article goes into some specifics:

According to an Iranian news site, which obtained a screenshot of the message, Tabrizian recommends consuming copious amounts of brown sugar, burning wild rue, as well as inhaling snuff.

I wonder if they have oatmeal in Iran?  I have a weakness for that stuff, especially with lots of butter and brown sugar.  Well, maybe not; they probably think oatmeal is un-Islamic too.  I bet smiling is considered a dark heresy over there.

His eighth tip is the most striking: “Before bedtime, drench some cotton in violet oil and apply onto your anus”

Will this turn your butt lavender?  If so, it’s a small price to pay for curing that nasty case of coronavirus.  As a bonus, you’ll get promoted to middle management, because after that, your Shi’ite doesn’t stink.  That’s something to think about next time you visit the Ayatoilet.

Iranian cleric develops a rectal cure for coronavirus

In search of Onion John

It’s been a while since I read Onion John.  As I recall, I was fourteen then.  Correction; it’s been a geological epoch since I read it.  It’s one of those forgotten classics of children’s literature.  The overall atmosphere reflects the placid and idyllic 1950s.  In retrospect, it unintentionally seems slightly corny.  (This is an effect that I do deliberately with some of my books like Space Vixen Trek Episode 17.)  Still, as charmed of an age as it was, being a little corny and Leave-It-To-Beaverish seems rather like a blessing compared to Clown World poz.

One subplot is the father-son relationship.  They don’t always see eye to eye.  Still, that much was fairly small potatoes as far as conflict goes, and I don’t remember much of that part of it.  The generation gap didn’t get started in earnest until the “kill your parents” 1960s.  (Thanks once again to the Frankfurt School for screwing up our culture!)  The other subplot, of course, is about Onion John himself.

Avast!  There be spoilers!

The titular character is an enigmatic old fellow from an unspecified location which (at the time I read it) I figured was somewhere in Eastern Europe.  Only one of the boys, Andy, can understand him.  It turns out that he has a number of peculiar beliefs, or if you will, superstitions.  Other than that, he lives in a shack up on a hill and collects odds and ends, storing them in bathtubs around the dwelling.  He grows plenty of onions in his garden, of course.

Then Andy’s father organizes the town to provide better living conditions for him.  They tear down the shack and take away his junk collection, which causes him some distress.  Then they build him a modern house.  The problem is that soon after, he tries to kindle the stove with newspaper, since he doesn’t know how to operate modern appliances properly and nobody had the foresight to demonstrate it.  According to my recollection of the story, he dies tragically.  According to other synopses I’ve read, he survives but leaves town to go it alone after they want to build him another house.  Was I remembering incorrectly, or was there was a difference in editions, where the ending was softened?

Again, Onion John is pretty enigmatic, since his origins are a complete mystery.  He comes across somewhat like a slacker, which was out of step with the spirit of the times, though actually he does work some odd jobs.  On the other hand, it turns out that he’s of retirement age, so the fact that he can provide for his own modest needs goes in the plus side of the ledger.

Looking back on it, he seems like a more innocent version of Aqualung, the eponymous character of Jethro Tull’s song, a homeless WWI vet who rasps like Darth Vader because his lungs were scarred during a gas attack.  (WTF were they thinking with this “War to End All Wars” nonsense?)  The song does capture some of the same quiet desperation.  The difference is that Onion John isn’t homeless.  Actually, he built his own place, all by himself.  That worked, until the townspeople decided that wasn’t good enough.

On one side of the tragedy, they meant well, but the problem is that the road to hell is paved with good intentions.  (So goes the proverb, but I certainly hope the old fellow had a better final destination.)  On the other side, one could say that the townspeople forced a harmless eccentric to conform, but he just couldn’t cope.  If I recall correctly, they didn’t ask him about tearing down his place and putting up a new one; it was pretty much a surprise.  He was happy the way he was.  They could’ve just let him spend the rest of his days as he wished.

A few clues about Onion John

The surprising thing about this was that the basic plot was nonfiction.  Names and location were changed.  I didn’t know this until fairly recently.  Some of that is discussed in the article “They Killed Him with Kindness. Literally.”  Another discussion, which ties up some of the loose ends posed by that one, is a digression in the bottom third of a post about Louisville, Nebraska.  That one even has a picture of the headstone for his grave:

UHAN KLEBAN
ONION JOHN
1882-1955

Taking the previous two mentions at face value, he’d been around for a while, arriving in the small town of Belvidere, New Jersey probably during or before the 1930s.  The stove accident really happened, and I’m sad to relate that it was fatal.  The fact that this was real makes it all the more poignant.  These items, along with a couple of real-life anecdotes about him, provide a little more depth to the picture.  I’ll add a few other observations.

His name is quite unique indeed, and a little online searching helped to spot where he likely was from.  Kleban is a rare name of Ashkenazi origin.  It probably means “baker”, and I’d bet that Klobuchar (a more famous name lately) does too.  It’s most common in Ukraine and Belarus.  The name Uhan is even rarer, but might be a phonetic or variant spelling of the Estonian name Juhan.  That does indeed mean John!  If he didn’t actually come from Estonia, then it’s likely that he came from either Belarus or perhaps Poland’s former territories east of the Curzon Line.  However, if one goes back far enough, it was all the Russian Empire.

Given the facts of history, as well as immigration policy and trends, I’d speculate he arrived in the USA during the 1900s or early 1910s.  (In other words, he was fortunate enough to skip some interesting times.)  His lack of proficiency in English argues against an earlier arrival; if he’d gotten here as a teenager, he would’ve had the immersion experience in school.  The language he speaks – which only one kid eventually deciphered – remains a mystery, since several were in use in the part of the world he likely came from.  My bet is a patois of Yiddish and extremely accented English.  It would’ve been considerably harder, for example, for Andy to figure out Polish.

So maybe that’s a little more to go on.  Maybe someone with the interest and resources might be able to dig through immigration records.  Perhaps Onion John came to NYC via Ellis Island, then held some factory work for a while until it dried up during the Great Depression.  Then he became a hobo, like so many others back then, and went on walkabout until he came to Belvidere, NJ and managed to get by doing day labor and eventually become a permanent fixture of the community.  Although that’s the likeliest scenario, we’re back to the realm of pure speculation.

In search of Onion John

Tequila, the wonder drug

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Tequila, the wonder drug

Get Woke Go Broke: Scandinavian Airlines (SAS) believes that Scandinavian culture is nothing

Recently, Scandinavian Airlines (SAS) produced one of those advertisements typical of woke capital lately.  This sort of thing is political propaganda piggybacked onto what should just be commercial propaganda.  This one was particularly noxious, a cringe-fest full of cultural Marxism.  One jarring aspect was the frequent juxtaposition of real Swedes with incompatible residents who are only there because their government is full of globalist sellouts.  That was meant to be in-your-face; they knew exactly what they were doing.

That certainly wasn’t the only problem with the advertisement.  It makes the claim that there is nothing uniquely Scandinavian.  The way it does so is by cherry-picking facets of their culture that had antecedents originating from abroad and later were adapted to local use, sometimes developed considerably further.  It’s rather like saying that the Greek alphabet isn’t Greek because it evolved from the Phoenician writing system.

With that tactic, essentially the commercial makes a fallacy of composition.  I could go further into memetic theory and how ideas get around, often internationally.  I might add that Western technology has benefited the developing world tremendously.  We don’t scream about cultural appropriation when (for example) non-Whites use electrical appliances made possible because of folks like Messieurs Tesla, Westinghouse, Edison, etc.  That doesn’t bother us – why would it?

That said, Scandinavia does have a culture of its own.  It’s part of my heritage.  I’m serious enough about it that I learned Old Norse and some Gothic.  Therefore, SAS can kiss my grits.  I’d rather row across the Atlantic in a longboat than buy a plane ticket from them.

What is the point of that commercial?  This was pretty obvious; it’s demoralization propaganda wrapped up in sugar-coated universalism.  It’s for the SAS ad execs to tell their own countrymen that they don’t have a culture.  Why, they’re nobody!  Moreover, since the Scandinavian people are such a nonentity – according to enlightened leftist opinion – then their homelands are fair game for colonization.  Way Of The World explains it below, but don’t miss his original version.

How does this help SAS sell plane tickets?  It doesn’t!  Remember, that wasn’t the object in the first place.  The munchkins at the ad department used this company’s resources to make a political message to promote their views and rub their own countrymen’s noses in it.  As it happens, this turned out to be tremendously unpopular.  Counter-Currents described reactions to this turkey and how the company then went into damage control:

When simply ignoring the problem failed to work, SAS and Swedish media then moved on to the next weapon in their arsenal: Deflection. Not just any kind of deflection, mind you, but the most cliched kind possible: SAS and the media claimed that the backlash against their video was made possible by clandestine Russian influence and a coordinated network of Internet Nazis.

They screwed up to begin with by making this cringe-worthy demoralization propaganda.  After it proved to be unpopular, they followed up on their error by claiming that the bad reaction was astroturfed via a politically incorrect conspiracy.  Way to go!  Why can’t these snotty leftists in the ad department simply admit that they made a mistake?  A little contrition would do wonders, but they don’t think they did anything wrong by insulting their own people.  Did I mention that SAS can kiss my grits?

Get Woke Go Broke: Scandinavian Airlines (SAS) believes that Scandinavian culture is nothing

China, please stop eating bats, cats, and dogs

The biggest event in today’s news is the spread of coronavirus, a new plague that China is desperately trying to contain.  This seems to be basically a newer and worse version of SARS.  What might have caused it?

There’s been some speculation that it was genetically engineered and managed to break out of the laboratory, something rather similar to the opening of Stephen King’s The Stand.  There’s been some other speculation that it was effectively an anti-Asian race bomb which the Chinese unleashed on themselves.  If so, it was unintentional and they didn’t know what they were doing.  Luckily for them, China doesn’t have cultural Marxism, so their politicians have no reason to behave treasonously or self-destructively like this.

The official and non-conspiratorial explanation is that coronavirus emerged from a bad batch of bat soup at a seafood market.

It’s possible that multiple of the above explanations may apply.  That seafood market just so happens to be located very close to a biological warfare research facility.  (The Google Maps location has been changed for unspecified reasons.  Explanations?What if one of the workers at the lab was told to destroy samples, but then thought of making a few extra yuan by selling dead bats to this seafood shop?  What’s the worst thing that could possibly happen, right?

One question that needs to be asked is, why the hell does anyone eat bat soup over there?  Bats are unique and special creatures, of course.  Still, they’re flying rodents.  If you eat them, then you can catch whatever chupacabras they’re carrying.  Some bats even have rabies.  (Those who’ve read Cujo, another Stephen King classic, should be aware of that one.)  It’s time to cut it out!

On that subject, it’s not just rodents that should be avoided.  It’s time for them to stop eating cats and dogs too.  They’re our friends.  They love us, and we should love them back.  They certainly don’t belong on the dinner table.  As much as I admire Chinese culture, this is something that leaves me horrified.  After five thousand years of civilization, it’s time to do better.

China, please stop eating bats, cats, and dogs