John C. Wright's Journal » John C. Wright's Journal Fancies, Drollery and Fiction from honorary Houyhnhnm and antic Science Fiction Writer John C. Wright Tue, 30 Sep 2014 16:09:18 +0000 en-US hourly 1 When Christianity Recedes, Slavery Returns Tue, 30 Sep 2014 16:09:18 +0000 Robert Oscar Lopez has an article over at The American Thinker everyone should read:

Children have an inalienable right to a mother and father, cannot be bought or sold, and are entitled to know their origins. Whether it is straight people or gay people using divorce, surrogacy, trafficking, or any other means to deny people these rights, I oppose it.

This is a teachable moment because it reveals a great deal about what makes the Human Rights Campaign tick. They’re after your kids, plain and simple; all their other issues are mere window dressing.

They have convinced themselves that gays are a tribe unto themselves, so their consuming goal is to populate the tribe so they don’t disappear.

Parenthood is their great white whale. They want to have children to love them and call them Mom and Dad. They need to get those children from you because biology prevents them from siring them naturally. Gentlemen readers, these folks are trying to find a way to get the sperm out of your testicles and into their laboratories; lady readers, these folks need to find a way to implant an embryo of their sperm in your womb, keep you obedient during the gestation, and take your baby away forever.

The main item on the gay lobby’s agenda is patently insane. People don’t generally want to let lesbians milk sperm out of their testicles. People don’t usually like the idea of gay men gestating babies in their wombs and then taking them away. (And no, “visitation” plans where these gamete donors get to see their progeny a few times a month are not a good arrangement; that stuff’s really creepy.)

And at least with me, these HRC lackeys cannot pull the old “are you saying my children are worth any less?” routine. Just because you control a human being doesn’t mean that’s your child. Even if someone is your child, criticizing you is not the same as insulting your child. This is basic, but somehow the HRC manages to whitewash the complexities. Despite all the choreographed photographs of happy gay couples with children, people generally do not like growing up and knowing that half of them was sold to a gay couple.

In America, a large segment of the population has been lulled into accepting same-sex parenting. Virtually everywhere else, there are roadblocks, as there should be. The European Court of Human Rights recently ruled that gay marriage is not a human right. The U.N. Human Rights Council recently voted to affirm the centrality of the family in international law, citing the Declaration of the Rights of the Child, whose seventh and ninth articles would seem to nullify any legal basis for same-sex parenting.

The people at HRC might be amazingly illiterate when it comes to geography, but all it takes is a decade or so of Americans talking to people in countries like Canada (where selling sperm and eggs is illegal) for the lapse in judgment to end and for people to wake up, saying, “Hey, this is really weird.”

I made four trips to Europe and visited the United Kingdom, Belgium, Italy, and France. That’s it. I never even did anything in Canada or Mexico. If I had gone to those countries with a church to preach from Leviticus, nobody at HRC would care.

The four countries I visited have very little homophobia and a lot of public support for legislation protecting gays from discrimination. (Also, anyone who goes to France knows that nobody exports ideas to France – they don’t like to be told what to believe.) So it is a losing battle to play the pity card in such locales as a way to deflect attention from the fact that gays are stealing people’s DNA to engineer filial cyborgs.

But here is what drives HRC bonkers about my trips to those particular countries: these are places where there are sufficient barriers to commercial surrogacy so that gay couples from there have to fly to California to buy babies from paid breeders. (HRC seems to want to keep secret that the international gay lobby has turned American women into incubation ovens, and instead of slaves originating in Africa, they now originate in Anaheim.)

That’s the other thing. Not only does the HRC explode into hysteria when they see me traveling to Paris and – gasp! – talking to people in French. They also hate when I bring up history. They love to compare themselves to black people. Their comparisons are vaguely based on their sense that black people were enslaved and held captive, while gay teenagers didn’t get to go to a prom, and isn’t that all a similar kind of suffering? I mean, isn’t the Middle Passage a lot like the pain of not having a bridal registry for two men at Nordstrom’s?

Cursed am I for having studied so much antebellum black literature. I can’t help but point out that black suffering came from a practice of people buying people, and now, because they can’t procreate naturally, homosexuals are buying people and calling them their children. I know, I know – we’re not talking about whips and chains or being forced to harvest sugarcane. But is slavery minus atrociously painful labor no longer slavery?

Wasn’t slavery the problem with slavery, not all the horrors that sometimes accompany slavery and sometimes do not? The thing itself – buying people like livestock and owning them, no matter how long the contract runs, whether you are a house or field servant – is the evil, not the byproducts.

Read the whole thing.

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SciPhi Journal #1! On Sale Now! Mon, 29 Sep 2014 19:00:33 +0000 Buy yourself a copy now, and two or three for friends and family, of the journal devoted to science fiction and philosophy, two great elements that combine into wonder!

Issue #1 of the Sci Phi Journal is now available at: and

It includes an original Novellete from John C. Wright, The Ideal Machine, a tale of aliens from a distant star come to visit an old country church and offer our world a chance for the future.

The Goodreads page for Sci Phi Journal: Issue #1 is at

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SUPERVERSIVE: Storming the Moral High Ground Mon, 29 Sep 2014 14:16:06 +0000 Sarah Hoyt hosts a significant announcement by my lovely and talented wife:

“Why can’t we have more stories that don’t involve poop?

“You know, good stories? No anti-heroes. No dour nihilism. No descriptions of gross stuff for no particular reason except to produce a mood we didn’t want to read anyway. Just…action, adventure, heroism, even perhaps a few…I realize this is going way out on a limb and no one else wants to read this but me but…good Christians, or something really outrageous like that.

“But not pious stories mind you. I’ve never found those entertaining. No stories where good guys are squeaky clean, and only very, very obviously evil people who cackle and have warts are allowed to use magic.

“Why can’t we have good stories and good messages. The dreary, depressed literary crowd have held the moral high ground for far too long, I think some people have forgotten that good stories can get there, too.”

“So you want good stories? Heroism? Christian values? What we need is a literary movement.”

There was a pause in the moving car.

“Why don’t we start one. Let’s storm the moral high ground!”

This conversation happened a bit over a year ago. Well, all right, it didn’t really happen quite like this, but this is the spirit of what occurred.

John and I were driving home from Balticon 2013. We had just had a great time at the convention and were fired up with new ideas for stories. And we talked for a long time about the state of stories today. What we liked. What we missed.

Both of us were impressed with a story a friend had invented that was clearly heroic and Christian but had not even the slightest whiff of Sunday Morning piousness about it.

We wanted to write stuff like that.

“If we are going to have a literary movement,” John stated. “It needs a name. All the best ones have names. We could call it the Space Princess Movement…but that already exists and had to do with Space Princesses.”

“Nah, that won’t work,” I said.

So we discussed names for some time.

“What about the Superversive Movement?” asked John.

“You mean like Superversive on LiveJournal? That gentleman who writes those excellent essays?” I asked. “What does it mean?”

“You know how subversive means to change something by undermining from below? Superversive is change by inspiration from above.”

“Perfect! When we get home, let’s invite Dan Lawlis*. We know he’ll be onboard.”

And so, the Superversive Literary Movement was born.

It took over a year, but as of next week, the Superversive Literary Movement will have its own web post. Once a week, on my website and Glipho account.

Our opening post will be, God willing, an essay by Tom Simon, Mr. Superversive (from LJ) himself, on the nature of what Superversive means.

After that, the sky’s the limit.

Come on by and see what we’re up to!

(And let me know if you’d like to participate!)

We’ll be the ones storming the castle.

*Dan Lawlis—the cover artist for Jagi Lamplighter’s Roanokean novels and the author of a Christian allegorical comic called Orange Peel 3.

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What a Man! Sat, 27 Sep 2014 19:00:10 +0000 S020847

I came across this article from about a year past:

I was at first baffled at this selection of what to me seems a rather handsome bit of advertising art portraying a rather cute and frankly desirable situation: a man with a loving wife and daughter.  He adorns the wife with jewels. She shows a becoming modesty upon being discovered by the daughter.

This picture, dear reader, is meant as scorn. This picture is an attempt to depict a nightmare of neanderthalish and hateful agape, unconditional love of man for woman, Christlike and self-forgetful love.

The hit piece is here:

The original article of mine which the dwarf-hearted toad is too pusillanimous to link to is here:

The proud liberal is too craven to sign her name to the article, which is organized such that if one switched the first, last and middle paragraphs at random, they would make as much or little sense as they do now: by which I mean it is disorganized litany of liberal talking points.

She quotes me where I say

” For her part, she must vow to love and honor and obey. And if you do not understand about that obey part, you do not understand women. She wants a leader, an alpha male, a chief, a Christ, and you must be willing to die for her as Christ was willing to die for you, or she will not feel secure in your love. If she does not swear to obey, you are not a couple, not a dyad, not a unit, but are still two sovereigns dealing with each other at arm’s length, not intimate, and she cannot trust you fully, cannot love you fully, not with a divine and self-sacrificing love. And she knows you don’t love her fully, not with a love that is more than madness, more than sense, more than the universe.

But does not quote the other side of the obligation, where I say the man must be willing to lay down his life, live his life, and devote his life to the woman.

She says

I know almost no women who want to be meekly led by an “alpha male.” Maybe I just tend to surround myself with strong willed women because passivity annoys me. But maybe, just maybe, women are not the sheep that Wright thinks they should be.

But I said nothing about meekness, nor strong strength nor weakness of the will, nor about passivity, nor about sheep. All this is nonsense she invented in her mind because the liberal mind (I use the word metaphorically to refer to the seat of their incoherent emoting they use instead of thought) has only one message, one method, and one mode of attack.

1. The message is “I am a victim – pity me.” Here she plays the victim card by pretending my words insult or attack her, when, in fact, quite the opposite.

It is, of course, White Blackmail. If I were actually the neanderthal savage and fear-filled warrior on women instead of their most ardent champion, I would laugh an iron laugh to hear my victims cries for mercy, and her tears would be my wine.

2. The method is to do that opposite of reading the words, and instead to use a free association technique to discover whatever it might be that the words most vaguely remind you of, and, if that fails, to make up meaningless drivel.

In logic, this is called a strawman argument. You make believe there is something you find offensive, and when you can find no one actually saying that, you pretend some passing bystander (in this case, it happened to be me) said the offensive thing, and then you shriek, or weep, or call for the big, strong, police man, or have a fainting spell, and do other things even Victorian matrons would have been embarrassed to do.

Odd that this women is so sheepish, weakwilled, and passive that she has no other tactic than to pretend to be offended by a boor. As with the White Blackmail technique, one actually has to be a refined lady, a woman of modesty and dignity, a woman of class, for this technique to work. And it only works on gentlemen, the very type of man she is here damning to hell.

3. The mode is to pretend the person making the argument is a bad man so that no argument will be uttered or answered. This mode avoids argument at all cost. If you notice, not one of the statements in the rebuttal of ‘proud liberal’ even on the same topic — how to have great sex — as the column allegedly being answered.

The liberals have only one argument, namely, ‘Shut up’, He explained and only one way of presenting the argument: shoot the messenger without reading the message. Disqualify the speaker. Change the subject. Ad hominem.

That is all they have. That is the whole trick.

From that praise of self sacrificing and all consuming love, she eructates this conclusion:

Wright’s Neanderthal view of gender [sic: she means sex] is hardly atypical for conservatives and is the core of the right’s war on women’s rights. The idea that women should be equal to men in our society is terrifying to them. The reasons for this are numerous and a topic for another time but the fact remains that the right, especially the religious right, is openly hostile to progress for women.

Got that? A man whose views, as far as I know, are only shared by a few enthusiastic Catholics is now depicted as typical for a conservative, and is proof that a war on women’s rights is being waged. Of course, there is no mention of any war or any rights in the article to which she failed to link.

Then, this ‘them’ (who, exactly? Me?) is terrified of the idea that women should some day in the far future get the vote and the right to own property. I assume this is what is meant by equality. It seems to me women already enjoy these benefits, and have for all my life, and my father’s life, and my grandfather’s.

If I were openly hostile to progress for women, why did I not openly say it?

The motive stated in the article is that the writer, namely me, claims to know the secret to a wonderful sex life and would like to share the news to a generation that has been lied to repeatedly. This hardly is an odd or incomprehensible motive. If you discovered a big lie that had been making neighbors, fellow citizens, and even strangers miserable for years beyond count, wouldn’t a sense of largesse, if not a love of truth, urge you to spread the word?

She surely means that I am secretly hostile, because what I openly said was that women have been lied to their whole lives about the most important thing in life, love and romance, and that they will be happier if they hear the truth, and insist on their rights, and stop selling their birthrights for a mess of pottage.

Maybe I am openly hostile in a secretly way, or secretively hostile in an open way.

But if I am secretly hostile, this raises the question of how she claims to know my inner motives when she says she does not even know who I am is a typical blithering babbling bit of Lovecraftian madness which is uttered so frequently these days, we are all in danger of getting use to it. We should never get used to such treatment, whether directed at us, or at our fellows, or at strangers.

Not to put to fine a point on it, saying a thing known to be untrue is called fibbing. Fibbing for a malign reason is called lying. Lying an illogical and silly lie, one when there is no hope of being believed, merely out of a hatred for the truth and logic is called Political Correctness.

But notice most of all what this moron selects as a picture meant to be damning. A handsome man kissing his beautiful wife while a bemused daughter looks on, holding up the heart that represents the family love.

That is what they hate? That?

Let us cut  to the core of the matter: this writer writes like a girl. If this a boy writing, he is effete, and wears footie pajamas while sipping chai and talking about health care.

She is obedient and sheepish to her masters. In this case, she has no husband, no lover willing to vow eternal fidelity and endless love as I vowed to my wife. She has no man willing to die for her, who has the leadership ability her sex naturally craves.

She denies the craving, but she lies. Instead of a husband who loves her, she has a party, a political view, a worldview, a faction, a cult,  who tells her lies, ruins her life, exploits her gullibility, and hates her.

Instead of being a wife with a husband in a leadership role, she is a slave with a glorious leader, or a set of anonymous opinion-makers, as her master.

Have you ever known a woman who was really, deeply, into a cult, whether political or religious? The devotion they otherwise would lavish on home and children they lavish on indifferent and deceitful politicians or smarmy preachers. They never question the leadership; they are devoted to the end; they never disbelieve the propaganda; they are faithful and loving and devoted as only the heart of a woman can be.

And they are followers, not leaders. They merely follow someone who has indifferent contempt for them rather than love.

When women move into a leadership role, their maternal instruct comes to the fore. Even queens and political leaders of the fair sex act motherly, and treat their followers like children. And to see one’s fellow man as children creates this same hatred and contempt for them, the same fear, which the craven liberal in this column attributes to any disagreement.

She reacts as if I am not smarter, older, better educated, a lawyer, a philosopher, a writer, with a genius level IQ. She reacts like I am a smart mouthed child who is boasting, and whose judgment that one way of life is better than another merits me a sharp slap on my knuckles with the ruler.

So there is no equality involved. Women either follow their men, or follow Big Brother, or act like mothers surrounded by a world of smelly and disobedience children whom they have no authority to discipline.

The first option is love; the second is hate; the third is weariness and despair.



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A Note on Book Pedigree Sat, 27 Sep 2014 15:00:10 +0000 Do you remember the first book you read that opened the door to one of the major interests in your life?

For me, it was hearing a young blonde lawyer on the telly call the Europeans a race of cowards which the fathers of the American risked life and limb by sea storm, by starvation, and by Red savages to flee, that first made me believe that politics in the abstract had an interesting real world application. Her name was Anne Coulter. Thanks to her, I started listening to G. Gordon Liddy read the news on the radio.

It was Ayn Rand who first got me interested in politics in the abstract, since it was she who first argued to my satisfaction that morality and economics and politics were interrelated manifestations of the same thing. Her novels interested me, at that time, less than her nonfiction essays.

It was Ludwig von Mises, not Adam Smith, who first got me interested in economics, since it was he who first convinced me that economics was a legitimate branch of philosophy, and a science that could be studied rigorously, not a mere mass of bafflegab and opinion, as, for example, Keynesian so called economics is.

A.E. van Vogt, in his novel WORLD OF NULL A first persuaded me to study philosophy, by making it seem like a superpower: the use of reason to learn not only the truths of the universe but the Truth about mankind, and about oneself!

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Teddy Roosevelt’s Lion and Bear. Obama’s Bike Helmet. Fri, 26 Sep 2014 15:18:39 +0000 Someone posted a link to this in the comments, and I wanted to emphasize and applaud this clear and even wonderful article. Hear, hear.

It begins thus:

Conservatives like to talk about the causes of Western Civilization’s downfall: feminism, loose morality, drug abuse, Christianity’s decline, reality TV. Blaming civilization’s downfall on lardy hagfish such as Andrea Dworkin is like a doctor diagnosing senility by an old person’s wrinkles. The fact that anyone listened to such a numskull is a symptom, not the cause, of a culture in decline. The cause of civilizational decline is dirt-simple: lack of contact with objective reality. The great banker-journalist (and founder of the original National Review) Walter Bagehot said it well almost 150 years ago:

History is strewn with the wrecks of nations which have gained a little progressiveness at the cost of a great deal of hard manliness, and have thus prepared themselves for destruction as soon as the movements of the world gave a chance for it.

It hits its stride in the midpoint:

I think there is a certain worldview that comes from violent experience. It’s something like…manhood. You don’t have to be the world’s greatest badass to be a man, but you have to be willing to throw down when the time is right.

A man who has been in a fight or played violent sports has experienced more of life and manhood than a man who hasn’t. Fisticuffs, wrestling matches, knife fights, violent sport, duels with baseball bats, facing down guns, or getting crushed in the football field—men who have had these experiences are different from men who have not. Men who have trained for or experienced such encounters know about bravery and mental fortitude from firsthand experience. Men who have been tested physically know that inequality is a physical fact. Men who know how to deal out violence know that radical feminism’s tenets—that women and men are equal—are a lie. We know that women are not the same as men: not physically, mentally, or in terms of moral character.

Men who have fought know how difficult it is to stand against the crowd and that civilization is fragile and important. A man who has experienced violence knows that, at its core, civilization is an agreement between men to behave well. That agreement can be broken at any moment; it’s part of manhood to be ready when it is. Men who have been in fights know about something that is rarely spoken of without snickering these days: honor. Men who have been in fights know that, on some level, words are just words: At some point, words must be backed up by deeds.

Above all, men who have been in fights know that there is nothing good or noble about being a victim.

The conclusion:

Modern “civilized” males don’t get in fistfights. They don’t play violent sports. They play video games and, at best, watch TV sports. Modern males are physical and emotional weaklings. The ideal male isn’t John Wayne or James Bond or Jimmy Stewart anymore. It’s some crying tit that goes to a therapist, a sort of agreeable lesbian with a dick who calls the police (whom he hates in theory) when there is trouble. The ideal modern male is the British shrimp who handed his pants over to the looter in south London.

How did we get here? Estrogens in the food supply? Cultural Marxism’s corrosive influence? Small families? Some of the greatest badasses I’ve known had many brothers to fight with growing up. When good men who will fight are all extinct, there is no more civilization. No lantern-jawed viragos are going to save you from the barbarian hordes. No mincing nancy boys with Harvard diplomas will stand up for the common decencies: They’re a social construct, dontcha know. The conservative movement won’t save you: They’re chicken-hearted careerists petrified of offending a victim group.

Teddy Roosevelt, my ideal President, kept a lion and a bear as pets in the White House and took his daily exercise doing jiu-jitsu and boxing. He even lost vision in an eye in a friendly boxing match while he was president. Our last three glorious leaders are men who kept fluffy dogs and went jogging. I don’t trust squirrelly girly-men in any context. When confronted with difficult decisions, they don’t do what’s right or tell the truth—they’ll do what’s easy or politically expedient. Unlike the last three, Teddy Roosevelt never sent men to die in pointless wars, though he was more than happy to go himself or risk his neck wrestling with bears.

I’m no great shakes: I’m a shrimpy egghead in a suit who thinks about math all day. I don’t train for fighting anymore, and my experiences with violence are fairly limited. Nonetheless, I judge people on these sorts of things. When I first meet a man, I don’t care what kind of sheepskins or awards he has on his walls. I don’t care if he is liberal or conservative. I want to know if they have my back in a fight. That’s really the only thing that matters.

In an utterly unrelated news story, the chief of police of Ferguson offered an apology for one of his officers shooting a over-sized violent criminal punching him in the face after the criminal was done robbing a store. The mob was stirred to greater fury, and the mainstream news media merely clucked its collective tongue that the apology was not more prompt, more unctuous, more submissive, and he should have resigned.

This has nothing to do with this story at all.

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Judging the Judge of Ages Fri, 26 Sep 2014 14:58:24 +0000 A review by Joseph Moore over at Yardsale of the Mind:


Short form: This book ends well, but, even though the pages kept turning, was less satisfying in the middle sections. Still, there’s enough momentum to keep me eager for book 4. 


In the Hermetic Millennia, we got the back stories on all the races created by Blackie’s henchmen, which were interesting and inventive. However, in this book, a hundred plus pages are spent in a fight scene that read like I imagine the climax of a really huge and imaginative RPG would come down. I myself have never played, but my kids do, and I’ve heard them in their sometimes hours long set up, where characters and powers and weapons and vulnerabilities are chosen, a setting is created – and then, eventually, a battle takes place where a skillful dungeon master uses all the set up to create as epic a battle as possible, wherein the players get to use all that cool stuff. Maybe that’s totally wrong, but that’s how both RPGs and huge part of this book appear to me.

It was interesting enough that I read right through it, but I was less than fascinated or thrilled. From a moving the story forward perspective, it could have 1/10th as long. Then comes some very dramatic plot twists – and another 50 pages of people standing around talking, then we get more plot twists and another cliff hanger.

Now, I *like* the philosophical digressions and reveals. I liked all the back story stuff in Hermetic Millennia.  But here, riding on the heels of the long battle scenes, it was a bit much.

None the less, by the end, Wright had recaptured the sense of wonder and surprise that is so much on display in this series. He has a wonderful talent for leaving enough clues that the reader can figure out some of what’s coming next, yet he always adds a twist or 6 – fun.

Conclusion: worth reading, and didn’t dampen my enthusiasm for the next book, but not as good as the previous 2 installments.

Read the whole thing

My comment: Far be it from me to comment on a commenter, since the customer is always right, and I am sad that I could not appeal more strongly to Mr Moore’s tastes. I say this because his tastes are good and agree with mine on other books he’s read. Mr Moore’s good judgment cannot be doubted. He is actually a critic who does his work correctly.

His sounds like a half-negative half-positive review, but I myself think it is right on the mark. A fight scene sprawled across a hundred pages of explosions and bloodshed, giants and poisoned nymphs, haunted coffins, posthumans, automatons with Gatling guns, warrior-aristocrats with staves and knives, a blind knight astride a horse wearing powerarmor, a haunted albino, witches and vicious dog things, is indeed meant by the author to be an epic where everyone gets to use all his cool stuff. There is a lot of stuff and a lot of cool in that scene.

I like fight scenes, and I like long fight scenes but some readers complain that the fighting does not allow for dialog. I also like talking scenes, and I like long talking scenes, but some readers complain that the talking does not allow for fighting.

Be that as it may, a skillful writer can mix and manage both, like a juggler spinning plates, without boring or annoying the reader: here the skill was insufficient for Mr Moore, but he graciously admits he found merit nonetheless, for which I am grateful.

I will say, though, that the talking scene he thought to slow was, if I am reading between his lines correctly, the one where my version of Hari Seldon, the Pyschohistorian and arch-manipulator of history, is put on trial for the crime of manipulating history.

I admit I have a personal fondness for the scene, which may indeed have tempted me to include matter that should have been cut. One must be as emotionless as a surgeon operating on the brain of one’s own child when writing a novel, you know, and perhaps I allowed sentiment to jar the elbow of my judgement in this case. But, if so, I regret nothing: putting the Judge of Ages on Trial was too rich an irony to pass up.

And if you do not think Psychohistory is a crime and a conspiracy against human nature, I urge you to reread Isaac Asimov’s FOUNDATION and deduce what the author there is actually saying. Put yourself not in the shoes of a common man of Terminus, the world whose fate is arranged by the Seldon Plan for future greatness, triumph, and dominion, but a common man of Kalgan or Anacreon, whom the plan condemns to conquest, failure, and obscurity.

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Vaunting Thu, 25 Sep 2014 15:09:49 +0000 I read this comment by one Joshua over at Vox Day’s blog:

When I was young they told me to be reasonable and negotiate and not resort to violence. I stupidly believed them, and was instantly beset upon by bullies who would push me around and torment me. I tried reason and truth, but that doesn’t work at all.

Eventually I decided to rebel against authority and decided to lift weights, become strong and meet force with even greater force. Unsurprisingly, this worked immediately, as the beaten bullies helpless retreated bloodied and humiliated from my iron fists.

These Leftists have never had to fight. They come from soft comfortable environments run by nannies and other overprotective womenfolk, who frown on masculinity and teach their boys to be sissies who act like women.

It was written on a topic unrelated to this, but by an odd process of association, I was inspired to write the following:

I believe that even a Christian gentleman is allowed, from time to time, to vault over a fallen foe, and point out if the man fault in a dastardly, low and craven fashion rather than like a fellow noble.  In the war of words called the Culture War, a similar rule applies, but obviously to a smaller degree, since this war is still in the phase where heralds exchange defiance, and no weapons have been drawn nor drawn blood.

The latest cultural warrior marching under the banner of barbarism against the cross of Christendom and civilization appeared under the ironic name Liberal Genius and came to vomit ink all across my pages, boasting and swaggering and declaring victory before the engagement had even begun. His comments were unreadable stream-of-consciousness oxbows of hysteria and halfhearted attempts at wit.

My reaction in all cases was merely to request he phrase his arguments in a logical form, so that they could be answered.

There were FOURTEEN messages from this toad, consisting of nothing but dreary self-congratulation, non-sequitur, ad hominem, insult, nonsense, and strawman-mugging kabuki theatrics, without once actually making an argument in a logical form.

Fourteen times, I allowed myself to be spat upon, and the heard of my beard plucked out, without raising a hand to defend myself or my honor. Each time, without agreeing nor disagreeing with anything said, neither returning insult nor asking to retreat from the conversation, I merely requested that he restate his argument into an answerable form.

Finally, my patience paid off. With an effort that no doubt left his red in the face, brow drenched with sweat, cross-eyed with concentration, and tongue protruding from his mouth, the man who calls himself a genius managed to cobble together a weak and sophomoric, but actually passable argument. At least, the false statements were put into a coherent order. Amazing. He finally, finally did it.

He could not restrain himself from pooping insults and self-lauds all over his pants in public, because that is an innate part of the Leftist mindset and approach, but beneath the layer of garbage, he actually almost made a coherent point: his argument was that I had defined my terms incorrectly:

Any dictionary will correct your mistaken ideas about what the phrase “Political Correctness” means. “politically correct (adjective): agreeing with the idea that people should be careful to not use language or behave in a way that could offend a particular group of people”

“POLITICALLY CORRECT: conforming to a belief that language and practices which could offend political sensibilities (as in matters of sex or race) should be eliminated
— political correctness (noun)”

Mirriam Webster,

I hope you can see that “Not offending people” is not the same as abolishing the very concept of truth.

Here, abolishing the very concept of truth is his characterization of what I said Political Correctness was.

I replied with two points: first, that his definitions contradicted an earlier contention he raised that both Right and Left were equally eager to use Political Correctness (which there was equated with any partisan speech) but that this contention could not fit the definitions given; second was that the definitions I had given were based on the historical use of those who had first coined the terms, a point he had yet to address:

You offer two definitions of Political Correctness. Neither has anything to do with the historical origins of the phrase.

One says “agreeing with the idea that people should be careful to not use language or behave in a way that could offend a particular group of people” this is the definition of courtesy, not of political correctness, and it has nothing to do with the historical origins of the phrase. It is a misleading definition, to say the least, as it does not distinguish political correctness from other forms of polite speech.

The second is “conforming to a belief that language and practices which could offend political sensibilities (as in matters of sex or race) should be eliminated” which raised the question of what constitutes ‘political sensibilities’. Note that this second definition gives an imperative to eliminate, what one assumes, from the definition, to be a current practice.

Now, you earlier made the contention that Rightwing and Leftwing equally indulge in political correctness. But, by the first definition, that would indicate that Right and Left are equally concerned with polite and inoffensive conduct. Look over your messages to me and mine to you and tell me if that is the case here?

By the second definition, your contention is that Rightwing and Leftwing equally wish to eliminate language and practices which could offend political sensibilities as in matters of sex or race.

Notice that the definition emphasizes the subjunctive, that is, language and practices that COULD offend, not ones that are. It is a subjective definition, and implies the party alleging himself to be offended gets to define the standard of what constitutes offense. While I am familiar with many, many Leftwing examples of this subjective standard, I can think of no Rightwing ones.

In either case, there is no Rightwing political correctness, even by your definitions, because Rightwing political philosophy is concerned only with matters of law and government and public policy. We don’t consider matters of personal courtesy to be political issues. It is not an issue where the government has an interest. We don’t consider language to be subject to politics. You and yours do.

And you have not answered, nor even addressed, the historical argument. Gramsci and the Frankfurt school were primarily concerned with the Marxist overthrow of existing Western economic and political structures, not with personal courtesy, and it is from them that the phrase, and the idea, and the definition of ‘political correctness’ comes.


Is that clear? After riding in full and blazing panoply up to my shield, and pounding on it for day after day, writing page after page of defiance, blowing his horn, challenging me to a passage of arms, finally, finally, I emerged from my pavilion, armed at all points, and spurred my charger toward him, and lowered my lance at his flimsy little targe.

And the caitiff fled into the wood, whimpering.

Because you have refused to respond in any meaningful way to anything I have written in any comment on this topic, I have no hope whatsoever that you will do so now. I am unsubscribing from notifications, deleting this site from my history, and removing past notification emails from my inbox. Instead of responding to this comment, please re-read what you wrote in the article above, and reflect on whether it embodies the values you profess.

Emphasis mine. His last word to me while in full blown, fingers-in-the-ears retreat, was his begging me not to respond to his comment. But he cannot speak without spewing nonsense:

Finally, I beg of you, please seek competent psychiatric help. You don’t have to stew in your hatred for liberals like this. All we want is to help people, even people who hate us. It’s really not so bad when the government does things for the public good. Even conservatives used to recognize that, before the Reagan Revolution.

Emphasis mine.

ADDENDUM: In the name of honor, not because of any inclination of my own, I sent a copy of this article to the self proclaimed Liberal Genius. His email is disconnected. Not only did he run off, tail between legs, whimpering, but he brushed away his footprints after.

I bring your attention to the opening paragraph above, the comment by Joshua:

These Leftists have never had to fight. They come from soft comfortable environments run by nannies and other overprotective womenfolk, who frown on masculinity and teach their boys to be sissies who act like women

And, apparently, they teach their boys to emote like schoolgirls and not to reason like men. They can neither fight literally, in war, nor fight figuratively, neither in debates with scholars, nor in the free market for customers, nor a non-totalitarian polity for the assent of voters and lawmakers. It is no wonder they hate reason, hate capitalism, love totalitarianism.

It is not because all they want is to help people.

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Unnatural and Perverse Wed, 24 Sep 2014 15:03:29 +0000 This same thing happened to my stepmother. My stepbrother and sister were ages seven and four when the Dad up and left. She did not have her children taken from her, however.


Breaking the Silence: Redefining Marriage Hurts Women Like Me – and Our Children

Every time a new state redefines marriage, the news is full of happy stories of gay and lesbian couples and their new families. But behind those big smiles and sunny photographs are other, more painful stories. These are left to secret, dark places. They are suppressed, and those who would tell them are silenced in the name of “marriage equality.”

But I refuse to be silent.

I represent one of those real life stories that are kept in the shadows. I have personally felt the pain and devastation wrought by the propaganda that destroys natural families.

The Divorce

In the fall of 2007, my husband of almost ten years told me that he was gay and that he wanted a divorce. In an instant, the world that I had known and loved—the life we had built together—was shattered.

I tried to convince him to stay, to stick it out and fight to save our marriage. But my voice, my desires, my needs—and those of our two young children—no longer mattered to him. We had become disposable, because he had embraced one tiny word that had become his entire identity. Being gay trumped commitment, vows, responsibility, faith, fatherhood, marriage, friendships, and community. All of this was thrown away for the sake of his new identity.

Try as I might to save our marriage, there was no stopping my husband. Our divorce was not settled in mediation or with lawyers. No, it went all the way to trial. My husband wanted primary custody of our children. His entire case can be summed up in one sentence: “I am gay, and I deserve my rights.” It worked: the judge gave him practically everything he wanted. At one point, he even told my husband, “If you had asked for more, I would have given it to you.”

I truly believe that judge was legislating from the bench, disregarding the facts of our particular case and simply using us—using our children— to help influence future cases. In our society, LGBT citizens are seen as marginalized victims who must be protected at all costs, even if it means stripping rights from others. By ignoring the injustice committed against me and my children, the judge seemed to think that he was correcting a larger injustice.

My husband had left us for his gay lover. They make more money than I do. There are two of them and only one of me. Even so, the judge believed that they were the victims. No matter what I said or did, I didn’t have a chance of saving our children from being bounced around like so many pieces of luggage.

A New Same-Sex Family—Built On the Ruins of Mine

My ex-husband and his partner went on to marry. Their first ceremony took place before our state redefined marriage. After it created same-sex marriage, they chose to have a repeat performance. In both cases, my children were forced—against my will and theirs—to participate. At the second ceremony, which included more than twenty couples, local news stations and papers were there to document the first gay weddings officiated in our state. USA Today did a photo journal shoot on my ex and his partner, my children, and even the grandparents. I was not notified that this was taking place, nor was I given a voice to object to our children being used as props to promote same-sex marriage in the media.

At the time of the first ceremony, the marriage was not recognized by our state, our nation, or our church. And my ex-husband’s new marriage, like the majority of male-male relationships, is an “open,” non-exclusive relationship. This sends a clear message to our children: what you feel trumps all laws, promises, and higher authorities. You can do whatever you want, whenever you want—and it doesn’t matter who you hurt along the way.

After our children’s pictures were publicized, a flood of comments and posts appeared. Commenters exclaimed at how beautiful this gay family was and congratulated my ex-husband and his new partner on the family that they “created.” But there is a significant person missing from those pictures: the mother and abandoned wife. That “gay family” could not exist without me.

There is not one gay family that exists in this world that was created naturally.

Every same-sex family can only exist by manipulating nature. Behind the happy façade of many families headed by same-sex couples, we see relationships that are built from brokenness. They represent covenants broken, love abandoned, and responsibilities crushed. They are built on betrayal, lies, and deep wounds.

Read the whole thing:

Need I make a comment? Our culture has sanctified selfishness to the point where two men performing acts of masturbation on each other is indistinguishable in law from the sex act.

A person who used simply and obvious logic, see the truth for what it is, and calls these unnatural passions and unnatural acts what they are, and uses a polite and neutral term like ‘unnatural’ or, more clearly and concisely, a polite and neutral term like ‘perverse’ is regarded as shockingly rude among the Right and as a pariah and a devil among the Left.

If a passion that drives a man to divorce his wife and abandon his children, or, worse, steal those children from their mother, in order to erect a pretend marriage with a pretend wife, who, instead of a womb uses the anus as a makeshift or ersatz womb, a pretend womb, with whom to perform a pretend copulation, and then to prop the catamite before his own children and tell them this is their new mother, or new second father, or new family head who will love and lead and instruct them in morality — if such a passion is not properly called unnatural and perverse, then those words have no meaning.

However, the word unnatural means no more than the passion that deviates from an innate norm, or a practice that is diverted from its innate end toward an artificial end. The word ‘perverted’ which is regarded as so insulting is a merely a synonym for diverted. It means something bent aside from its natural course or path from means to end.

The idea that sexual organs and sexual passions are not innately directed toward the ends of sexual reproduction but instead can licitly be directed to the end maximizing  pleasure of the sex act while minimizing the sexual union of the act, the spiritual product, and the sexual reproduction of the act, the physical product, is an idea so patently and obviously paradoxical, logically absurd, ugly and false, that is would not be discussed nor proposed except in a world where moral relativism, the idea that all things are unnatural, all things are manmade, nothing has innate meaning, was the default assumption.

Perversion is nihilism. Nihilism is perversion.

This is a quote from a talk by philosopher and theologian Peter Kreeft, from his talk, Christ’s Concept of Happiness Versus the World’s which can be found here.

Sex is, quite simply, our society’s new god; our new Absolute. Anything is done, tolerated, sacrificed, justified, sanctified, glorified for this god.

A third of our mothers murder their unborn babies in sacrifice to this god. Of course abortion is about sex. The only reason for abortion is to have sex without babies. Abortion is backup contraception.

Or, look at the acceptance of divorce. Families, the one absolutely necessary building block of all societies are destroyed for this god. Half of American citizens commit suicide for this god; for Divorce is suicide of the ‘one flesh’ that love has created.

No one justifies lying, cheating, betraying, promise-breaking, devastating and harming strangers; but we justify, we expect, we tolerating doing this to the one person we promised most seriously to be faithful to forever. We justify divorce.

No one justifies child abuse, except for sex. Divorce is child abuse for the sake of sex.

Even all the churches justify divorce, except one: the one that does not claim the authority to correct Christ–and she is accused of being authoritarian.

And also, his Refutation of Moral Relativism found here:

Already, the demand for sexual freedom has overridden one of nature’s strongest instincts: motherhood. A million mothers a year in America alone pay hired killers, who are called healers or physicians, to kill their own unborn daughters and sons.

How could this happen? Only because abortion is driven by sexual motives. For abortion is backup birth control, and birth control is the demand to have sex without having babies. If the stork brought babies, there’d be no Planned Parenthood.

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Ayn Rand as Author Wed, 24 Sep 2014 10:00:29 +0000 Let it be said at the outset that I have never been an Objectivist nor am I now a Libertarian, albeit, obviously, I share many of their aims. There is much in Ayn Rand’s philosophy I admire, and much I despise. She has the odd ability to write pages and pages of very insightful wisdom argued with almost Thomistic rigor and logic, and then to stagger like a screaming drunk into page after page of vituperation and nonsense based on an apparently inability to distinguish radically unalike concepts, such as selfishness versus self-interest, or altruism versus communism.

But this is neither here nor there when it comes to judging her as an artist. I am continually flabbergasted by those who say they either admire, or at least do not find offense with, her philosophy, but who think her novel writing trite or cardboard or boring or hectoring.

With all such condemnations, I disagree in the strongest terms. Ayn Rand is — and I say this without qualification — among the best novelists of the Twentieth Century. Those who surpass her in skill and craftsmanship perhaps can be counted on the fingers of one hand.

Ayn Rand was a better novelist than she was a philosopher, and she was the only philosopher worthy of that name since Kant, the only one to my knowledge who used logic to deduce moral truths, logic which she carried out with remorseless precision.

In terms of her novel writing, hers is the most exactly structured book I have ever read, with the sole exception of Dante. Every paragraph, every metaphor, practically every sentence and word puts forth and re-emphasizes her moral point and dramatic point.

She has the clean economy of simile that reminds me of Art Deco, that is, classic themes such as Atlas and Atlantis, reinterpreted into her modern pro-individualist moral code.

The characters were chosen with a delicate care of balancing themes: each heroic individualist character has his opposite among the collectivists: Hugh Akston was the antithesis of Robert Stadler in philosophy; Richard Halley the antithesis of Mort Liddy in the arts; Orren Boyle is the head of Associated Steel, antithesis of Hank Rearden; Dagny is the antithesis of her brother, and so on, and on.

The book was written as a detective story, which might lack action and adventure, but certainly was not boring.

This was also the best love story I had ever read, except for its regrettable climax (the heroine picks the wrong fellow). Her characterization of what women want out of men is the only one unblinkingly honest enough to say it, and her decision to cast the love story as a choice based on the philosophy and values of the men involved, giving it both a romantic and a symbolic subtext, was simply brilliant. (I am, of course, disgusted that it is a love story is like that of Lancelot and Guinevere, an adultery, but this should be no bar to anyone corrupted by modern theories on the matter.)

The characters are perfectly well realized, and a critic undermines his credibility to call them flat or cardboard. Ayn Rand has greater insight into the motivations of the despicable people allured to Leftist and Collectivist projects more than anyone else I know.

The ambitious and entrepreneurial folk I know act EXACTLY as she depicts, even down to little matters. They differ from her imaginary characters only on one point: They cannot make striking, and strikingly logical, long speeches justifying and explaining their behavior.

And, more to the point, Ayn Rand is the only author who moves with grace and perfect mastery between the genres and tropes of science fiction, detective story, pulp, romance, adventure, railroad stories, philosophy, and morality play. In three places, stories are told of John Galt which have the flavor and substance of ancient myth: the most difficult of all genres, which Rand carries to perfection.

There is even a scene where the cigarette collector announces that the mysterious brand of cigarette stamped with the image of a dollar sign is a blend and a brand does not exist on earth; or where a typewriter repairman unwittingly prophecies the downfall of the city whose days are numbered. At that moment the mood and tone become one of Gothic horror, or the supernatural, and even that Ayn Rand carries that off perfectly and with perfect aplomb.

The only thing the book does not have in it is humor. She is Russian, so the author is somber.

I am aghast that even those who disliked the book would dismiss its craftsmanship. There is no one who has even attempted anything this ambitious and universal since Milton tried to marry Moses and Homer in his PARADISE LOST.

Ayn Rand is the only novelist I have ever heard of who invented her own theory of aesthetic principles and then wrote a huge and hugely successful novel according to those principles without any smallest deviation from them.

There is an old saying. “Even Homer nods” which means even the greatest of poets makes lapses in craftsmanship. The saying is not true in this case. She makes no lapses, that is, not a single page has a word she does not intend to be there for a reason she could no doubt articulate.

This reader or that may not care for what she is trying to articulate, but, even a bored or hostile reader, is he is honest, must be astonished at the precision of a book like a vast garden of many acres without a leaf or a grass blade out of place.

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