Archive for ‘sex’

August 5, 2009


WARNING: This post contains content from the Immoral Minority blog, written by “Gryphen,” a/k/a Jesse Griffin, who has been a kindergarten teaching assistant in Anchorage.

“[T]he school has done extensive background checks on me and I am squeaky clean.”
— “Gryphen,” A/K/A, Jesse Griffin, Aug. 4, 2009

“You know the reason that many people enjoy adult movies is that it is sexy to watch people making love. . . . I think that this trend toward real people having real sex is definitely the way to go. I always had a little guilt watching an adult movie and wondering if the female performer was a drug addict, or victim of molestation, just prostituting herself to make a buck. I am not Jewish, so guilt and sex don’t really go together for me. But when you see a video of an amateur couple having sex you can tell that they are simply doing it for the sheer excitement of sharing their passion with a bunch of middle aged pervs who are going to wank off to their sexual exploits. Well great here comes that guilt again.”
— “Gryphen,” a/k/a Jesse Griffin, June 3, 2007

“Yes I DO work in a Kindergarten class during the school year. My main job affords me some time during the day and I have chosen to use it teaching children to read, and helping them to become more independent.”
— “Gryphen,” a/k/a Jesse Griffin, Aug. 2, 2009

“Having somebody reveal your “secret identity” can be a little unsettling . . .”
— “Gryphen,” A/K/A, Jesse Griffin, Aug. 4, 2009

“What is morality? Who decides? Are we in charge of our own destiny? What is right? And what is wrong? Are these questions which can be answered? You betcha.”
banner sllogan at Immoral Minority blog (changed after Aug. 2, 2009)

“All of the fun of sex is drained by making all of these rules and labels. If sex is not naughty then it is almost not worth doing. I love kids, but in my opinion they are just a side effect of a healthy sex life.”
— Gryphen,” a/k/a Jesse Griffin, June 14, 2007

“But just where did Trig Palin come from? As of today, as of this minute, and after over a month of searching I cannot tell you. I simply do not know for certain. I do know however where he did not come from. He did not issue forth from Sarah Palin. . . . He was not conceived in her uterus. On that one fact I have absolutely no doubt.”
“Gryphen,” a/k/a Jesse Griffin, June 6, 2009

“And your penis will respond more readily if you take it out and put it through its paces more often. Duh! So the next time your girlfriend/wife/mother bust you for watching porn on your computer, simply tell her that you are exercising and you would appreciate some privacy.”
— “Gryphen,” a/k/a Jesse Griffin, July 7, 2008

“That’s right I am promoting self pleasure. Does that really surprise anybody?” — Gryphen,” a/k/a Jesse Griffin, Oct. 17, 2007

“I do it because it brings me joy to work with these children and I believe, and have been told, that I am very good at it . . .
“[Y]ou now know my dirty little secret. I am an assistant teacher in a room full of five year old children. . . .”
— Gryphen,” a/k/a Jesse Griffin, Aug. 2, 2009

“I am teaching my boys to wear dresses and swish when they walk because being ignorant or drug addicted is no longer a guarantee of being passed over. If your not willing to suck cock then pack up your going to Iraq.”
“Gryphen,” a/k/a Jesse Griffin, June 10, 2005

“[A]s of right now I have every confidence that I will be vindicated.”
— Gryphen,” a/k/a Jesse Griffin, Aug. 2, 2009



May 5, 2009

The Cosmo Syndrome

(BUMPED; UPDATED) Dylan Sauders has a brilliant takedown of Cosmopolitan‘s sex-marketing scam:

The four prompts are 1) Sex headline 2) Smiling face showing approval of sex 3) A desirable bust-line 4) Second sex headline. . . .
These four prompts are enough to make your subconscious feel healthy, attractive and sexual – just like the girl on the cover. Cosmo found that they sold the most magazines by taking advantage of the natural eye pattern your eyes take accross a magazine cover and putting these four prompts in their path.

You should read the whole thing. (H/T: Conservative Grapevine.)

It must be noted that Sauders is a self-made “expert” on seduction, which will cause a lot of female readers to snort in derision. But since this is National Offend A Feminist Week, his article offers a good talking-point to discuss the degree to which “feminism” is an ideology advanced via brainwashing and propaganda methods.

My grievance against Cosmo (and Glamour, etc.) is one of long standing. In 2000, I wrote a Washington Times column about it:

It seems impossible to go through a supermarket checkout line without being confronted by magazine covers like the January 2000 Cosmopolitan, offering “Sex Tricks Only Cosmo Would Know: 20 Earth-Quaking Moves That Will Make Him Plead for Mercy — and Beg for More.”
The Kroger grocery chain has, thankfully, decided to install racks that conceal such lurid stuff from general viewing. Perhaps someday it will be safe again to take our daughters to the grocery store.
What is the point of schools and parents telling girls that they can be valued for their character, their intellectual abilities and their personal achievements, when the newsstands are full of magazines displaying near-naked supermodels and telling girls that their true worth is their ability to master “earth-quaking moves”?
Scarcely had my daughter learned to read than I found myself troubled by what she was seeing on women’s magazine covers at the checkout lines. A child with a knowledge of phonics can figure out what “s-e-x” spells and — according to Cosmo, Glamour and the other major women’s magazines — “s-e-x” and “d-i-e-t” are the most important things in a woman’s life. . . .

And you can read the whole thing, if you’d like. Having been excoriated recently for criticizing Carrie Prejean’s decision to get breast implants, and having long baffled female readers by my relentless jihad against feminism, this is as good a time as any to point out what should have been obvious: I hate feminism, I hate breast implants, and I hate Cosmo for the same reason — because I love women and want them to be happy.

You cannot have a happy life built on lies, and Cosmo is selling you lies. People want to give me a hard time because I occasionally blog about boobies, but my readership averages about 6,000 visits a day. If my readers are not all adults, they are at least old enough to operate a computer and care about politics. Whereas Cosmo‘s leering come-ons are displayed on thousands of magazine racks all over the country and, as Sauder says, they reach a readership of some 39 million women.

Cosmo sells a lie, namely that sex and beauty are the sum of a woman’s value. And this evil propaganda is conveyed effectively (that is to say, women accept the lie) because of the perception that this is “woman to woman,” that these messages are being related by other women — and glamorous, sophisticated women, at that.

There is a basic factor of communications psychology called the “halo effect.” If someone has certain attributes that you consider positive, you will tend to generalize this into an overall positive perception about that person, often giving them credit for personal qualities like being smart, kind, honest — attributes for which you have no direct evidence at all.

Parable of the Glen-Plaid Suit
Being physically attractive is one of the most powerful factors in the “halo effect,” which is why magazine ads feature attractive models. The positive perception created by the model’s good looks is psychologically transferred — generalized — to the manufacturer’s product. Let me tell you the story about my glen-plaid suit.

Back in the day, after I’d graduated college and was a bachelor on the hunt, I was something of a clothes horse. I had always desired to be a well-dressed man — to look sharp — but now I had a little more disposable income to devote to fashion than I’d ever had before.

GQ and Esquire were required monthly reading for me. In the summer of 1986, you might have seen me bopping around Atlanta in robin’s-egg blue slacks (triple-pleated, cuffed), a pleated-front pink tuxedo shirt, a robin’s-egg blue bowtie, and a sport coat that was striped in pink, robin’s-egg blue and white. (I’d bought the coat first, then bought the rest of my ensemble to match.) Buddy, I was styling, and the ladies loved it.

So, one day I saw a fashion layout in GQ featuring a guy in a double-breasted gray glen-plaid suit, wearing a red bow tie. Man, that dude looked sharp. I resolved that on the next payday, I’d get me one of those suits and a red bow tie like that. So I did, and got myself slicked up for a night on the town with my buds. And when I showed up at the club, one of my buddies said: “Look, it’s Pee-Wee Herman!”

Indeed, this was exactly the wardrobe that the absurdist comedian Pee-Wee Herman had made his trademark. But I hadn’t been thinking about that. I had been looking at that ruggedly handsome model in the magazine — briefcase in hand, standing with Manhattan skyscrapers in the background, the very epitome of a smart young businessman. But I was not a ruggedly handsome model and this was not Manhattan.

The money I’d spent on that suit had been spent in an attempt to purchase the perception conveyed by the magazine display. I wanted to feel like a smart young businessman. I wanted to look ruggedly handsome. But this suit did not magically transform me. I was still the same goofy guy I’d been before I bought the suit, and even goofier for inadvertantly dressing like Pee-Wee Herman.

Well, the money wasn’t entirely wasted. I seldom wore that suit again, but I’d learned a valuable lesson.

Marketing and Manipulation
One of the fundamentals of marketing psychology is the concept of how role models affect our perceptions. Because of the “halo effect,” we have positive reactions to attractive people, but we have the strongest positive reactions to attractive people who resemble us in some way. Such people can be said to represent our idealized perception of ourselves.

Thus, the smiling woman on the Cosmo cover represents an ideal — she is what women want to be, the aspirational self. And Cosmo uses this aspirational self to tell women that diet, fashion and sex — sex! sex! sex! — are the secrets of happiness. Oh, one other secret: Buying the products advertised in Cosmo.

William F. Buckley Jr. said that the hallmark of successful indoctrination is that the subject doesn’t realize he’s been indoctrinated. In fact, if you try to tell him he has been indoctrinated, if you point out the means and methods of his indoctrination, and cite evidence of the fallacious nature of his ideas, the indoctrinee will become angry. He will not only defend the indoctrinated beliefs as self-evidently true, but he will vehemently insist that he arrived at these beliefs by independent thought.

So it is with the 20-something “Cosmo girl,” who has been reading these trashy magazines every month since she was in middle school. She has a closet full of clothes and 42 pairs of shoes. She has enough cosmetics to equip the road company of Les Miserables for their North American tour. She has mastered every one of the “99 Sure-Fire Sex Secrets” and has been through two dozen boyfriends.

And she is desperately unhappy.

By the time the “Cosmo girl” has been consuming this propaganda for a good 10 years, complete de-indoctrination is almost impossible. She has internalized the belief system so deeply that it has become part of her identity. She will interpret criticism of her Cosmo beliefs as a personal attack. To question whether her mastery of “Earth-Quaking Moves” is beneficial or necessary is to criticize who she is.

Debunking the sexual mythology of Cosmo is as simple as getting a guy to talk honestly about women. Back in the day when I was sporting around in my pink-and-blue sport coat, a stylin’ babe-magnet with the cool Patrick Swayze mullet and the lean, tanned Speedo-worthy physique, I was scarcely an exemplar of the Christian ideal of chastity. Or any other Christian ideal, for that matter. (Hey, I was also a Democrat back then.)

What Matters?
Let us ask this question, then: When a young man is out there on the hunt, looking to “score,” how does he evaluate his conquests? That is to say, what is it about the chick he picks up that makes him want to brag about it the next day, and perhaps call the chick for another date?

Two things: Looks and enthusiasm.

The first factor is obvious enough. Among his various conquests, the fellow who rides the romantic rodeo circuit will tend to have the most favorable opinion of the drop-dead beauty with the bitchin’ bod. That’s just how guys are. But the stuff that Cosmo is selling — the clothes, the shoes, the jewelry, the cosmetics — has very little impact on this evaluation. Ask any guy.

A really sexy girl is sexy even when she’s in sweats and an oversized T-shirt, shopping for groceries. And women’s near-universal embrace of the cosmetics/fashion industry is kind of like escalation in the Cold War arms race: At some point, everybody’s got enough nukes to destroy the entire planet, and the argument for additional nukes is attenuated by the problem of diminishing returns. If every girl’s made-up like a fashion model, a little extra skill in applying make-up isn’t really going to gain you any advantage.

Somewhere in Pennsylvania today, there is at least one beautiful 19-year-old Amish girl who has never worn make-up, never worked out in a gym, never read Cosmo. And that girl, in her homemade plain dress, is more truly beautiful than any of the styled-up, decked-out hotties hanging around the most fashionable nightspot in Hollywood. Like I said, ask any guy.

So much for looks. Ceteris paribus, the better-looking girl is the more desireable pickup, the one the guy will brag about and ask for a second date. However, what about the sex itself? It may be — consider this a hypothetical, if you wish — that a young man on the prowl will score with lots of good-looking girls over the course of his prowling. Insofar as the performance of the sex act itself makes any difference in his evaluation of his conquests, what is the key factor?

Enthusiasm. The guy likes the girl who is not only “into” sex, but is evidently and unabashedly “into” him. She’s kissing him passionately, can’t keep her hands off him, she’s saying his name and telling him how crazy she is about him and — Oh yes! Oh yes! Oh yes! Yes! YES!

And here, ladies, is exposed the cruel lie of all those “sex secrets” they push in Cosmo. They want you to believe that a guy will evaluate you, sexually, based on your mastery of specific sexual techniques.

Think about this for a minute, ladies. However limited or extensive your sexual experience with men, ask yourself: Is a guy’s workmanlike mastery of sexual technique really what turns you on?

Of course not. If a guy is really “into” you — that is to say, if he has the necessary sexual enthusiasm — he’ll eventually figure out what you like. That eager-to-please attitude where you are so crazy about your partner that you’re actually asking them what they like, and doing it exactly the way they like it — it’s that fundamental enthusiasm, you see, that makes all the difference in the world. Ask any woman.

But don’t let the ladies kid you, guys. Being tall, handsome, muscular and wealthy kind of helps, too. The Pee-Wee Herman suit has nothing to do with it.

The Myth of ‘Sex Ed’
What this all means is that, even if a woman’s desire is to “spread it around” and be that chick that guys pick up in bars, Cosmo doesn’t tell her anything useful. Reading “sex secrets” in Cosmo is not going to make you more erotically attractive, or make your sexual performance more memorable. The idea of sexual “success” as being a function of technical expertise is a myth and a lie.

This relates to my disagreement with the proponents of “sex education.” It is a remarkable thing that mankind has, through sexual reproduction, flourished to the tune of 6 billion people on the planet and yet “sex education” wasn’t invented until the 20th century. If you buy into the sex-ed mentality, this means that for at least 92% of recorded human history, people had no clue what they were doing.

Furthermore, the sex-ed proponents would have us believe, unless sex is taught to children in classrooms — in a government school by a government-certified teacher using government-approved curricula — there is no possibility that kids will ever learn the basics of sex.

That these assertions of the sex-ed enthusiasts are self-evidently untrue. Sex is not rocket science or brain surgery, and untutored human beings have throughout history figured out the basic “Insert Tab A into Slot B” of sexuality without textbooks or classroom instruction. Three random thoughts:

  • Given the alarming failure of the government education system to teach math and reading, what kind of fool would trust a public-school teacher to instruct his children about sex? (Hello, Mary Kay LeTourneau!)
  • In the information age, surely mere facts and data about sex is not hard to find. But the religion of Educationism is based on the false belief that no one can learn anything without going to school to learn it. (Fact: Jimi Hendrix never took a single guitar lesson.)
  • What is the real value of knowing the Latin names of the genitalia? Never let it be said that public schools no longer teach Latin — every sixth-grader in America is now required to memorize such terms as labia, clitoris, urethra and vas deferens, and to identify these items correctly on an anatomical chart.

Such are the transparent fallacies of this perverse ideology. There are 501(c) non-profit foundations dedicated specifically to the purpose of promoting sex-education in public schools, without anyone ever questioning the false premises involved in their “philanthropic” mission.

Insightful readers immediately recognize the connection between sex-ed in schools and Cosmo on the magazine stand. Not only are they are both promoting the same ideology, but perhaps more importantly, they are promoting the same attitude. This attitude — of sex as a matter of technique to be studied and mastered, in which a superiority of knowledge and skill is the ultimate objective — is central to the sexual worldview into which the elite desire to indoctrinate the masses. And it is a monstrous lie.

Whether in gushy Cosmo “sex secrets” features or in the Educationist terminology of a middle-school sex-ed textbook, this attitude toward sex presumes that all sexual problems are the result of a lack of information. If you’re not getting off, or if your partner is not getting off, or if you’re both getting off but neither one of you is really happy, then what you need is more data.

My goodness, what did people do in the Dark Ages, before every middle-school child was required to study anatomical cross-section diagrams of the pelvis, learning to identify (by the proper medical terms) the prostate gland and the uterus? Pity poor Romeo and Juliet, who knew not the joy of the anatomical cross-section!

American young people today have more sexual information than at least 90 percent of the human beings who ever lived. Yet out-of-wedlock births, abortions, sexually-transmitted diseases and divorce are more rampant than ever. Somehow studying those cross-section charts, memorizing the Latin names of the genitalia and practicing how to put a condom on a banana have not prevented the skyrocketing levels of romantic misery.

We don’t suffer from lack of information. Instead, we suffer from a lack of virtue.

Good luck trying to locate “virtue” on the anatomical charts. God knows you won’t find it in Cosmo.

* * * * *

Well, I’ve been working on this for few hours and have reached a stopping point, but not the end point I had in mind when I started writing. If you’d like me to finish out this essay, just leave a comment, sharing your thoughts and requesting more, and I’ll come back and write more. But first, I need a nap. Ah, the joys of blogging. (Please hit the tip jar!)

And to Cassandra, in the famous words of Ulysses S. Grant: “I intend to fight it out on this line if it takes all summer.”

* * * * *

The comments — and correction, thank you — are piling up, leading to the conclusion that I must lead on to the conclusion of the matter. Thanks to the commenter who pointed out that when, in May 1864, Grant vowed to “fight it out . . . if it takes all summer,” he actually ended up fighting nearly another 11 months. And, in fact, he did not continue fighting on the same line, but maneuvered to his left in the famous campaign that brought him finally to besiege Lee’s army at Petersburg.

Yet it was his dogged determination, his unrelenting commitment to take the fight to the foe, that made Grant victorious. “I cannot spare this man. He fights,” Lincoln said and, while I am not in the habit of quoting Lincoln to make a point, in this he was entirely right.

Having had (not much of) a nap, I now remind you that we began this examination of The Cosmo Syndrome with a mention that it is National Offend A Feminist Week. I have found myself recently chastised for (a) criticizing Carrie Prejean for having breast implants, and (b) employing the words “slut” and “whore.” Ah, nothing gets ’em like plain English, eh? Well, then — forward!

* * * * *

Virtue, Vice and ‘Civility’
Virtue shiould always be praised, never derogated or dimissed as irrelevant. Virtue may be its own reward, but the natural human desire for esteem in society provides an incentive toward virtuous behavior, at least insofar as society esteems virtue.

When we praise the courage of heroes — the firefighters who went into the inferno of the WTC on 9/11, for example — we thus incite others to emulate such brave men, in the expectation that they might also merit praise. If we praise diligence and honesty, we likewise encourage people to be diligent and honest. Whatever society esteems, whatever is commonly praised and celebrated, it enshrines as a goal that attracts the eyes of the young and ambitious.

By the same principle, vice should always be condemned. Deceit, sloth, cowardice — if such traits and behaviors do not elicit scorn from society, if we tolerate and refuse to be “judgmental” about vice, then we may expect vice to flourish. Think about the “gangsta” rap culture, with its celebration of violent drug dealers and pimps, its lyrics boasting of drive-by shootings and rape, its costumes of garish “bling” — Bill Cosby is surely right that this perverse phenomenon has badly damaged the black community.

“Woe unto them that call evil good, and good evil . . .”
Isaiah 5:20, KJV

To celebrate vice, to mock virtue — these are cursed behaviors. And thus we must recall our discussion of Jessica Valenti, the feminist whose book is called The Purity Myth: How America’s Obsession with Virginity Is Hurting Young Women.

Is chastity not a virtue? Premarital chastity is the dress rehearsal for the main performance that is marital fidelity. It is a natural presumption (though one seldom voiced in our increasingly unnatural society) that the ability to restrain one’s passions in youth — to resist temptation — would be a reliable predictor of the ability to be faithful in maturity. We might further reflect that habit is a great force in human behavior and that the habit of adventurously sleeping around, acquired early in life, would later make it difficult to adjust to the monogamous routine of marriage.

These are not merely philosophical speculations, but sociological fact that can be teased out of the available data if one is statistically minded. However, I need neither statistics or philosophy to know the truth, because I am a fool.

“Experience is a hard school, but a fool will learn in no other.”
Benjamin Franklin

Yesterday, in mock-Victorian mode, I declared that “years of youthful association with companions of low character have irretrievably corrupted me, rendering me permanently unfit for polite society.” You see, I had been condemned for demonstrating a lack of “civility” in my description of Valenti’s philosophy:

A perverse non-judgmentalism, that refuses to praise virtue or condemn vice, is moral nihilism. Valenti goes beyond this, to celebrate whoredom and condemn chastity.

If that was uncivil, what would they say if I started telling tales of my own experiences, about the things a young rebel does, and the things he sees, when he’s riding on that Highway to Hell? And if, by grace, I somehow managed to survive the ride, is it not my obligation to the memories of those who died on that road, to warn others against taking that wrong turn? If I see others making the same mistakes I made, or the mistakes that led others to an early grave, shouldn’t I tell them to turn back before it’s too late?

What a strange conception of “civility,” that would rob civilization of its natural defense, the social disapproval that is rightly heaped upon the coward, the liar, the sluggard, the whore. In the name of “civility,” we are supposed to allow Jessica Valenti to argue that chastity is a “myth” without fear of rebuke, lest we damage the fragile self-esteem of tramps, floozies and strumpets!
Next thing you know, your daughter will encounter some clever user — perhaps a practiced player of Dylan Sauders’ “game” — who’ll spring “the Cosmo routine” on her, and you may be sure that the upshot of this experience won’t be an increase in her self-esteem. Do you really think that Valenti and Sauders and the editors of Cosmo, who preach a religion of unabashed promiscuity, deserve to be protected by the cloak of “civility”?

Cosmo is read by 39 million women and Valenti promotes her book on the “Today” show, but somehow my right-wing “incivility” is the real menace? Come now, Cassandra — whatever my faults and failures, I think you’re taking aim at the wrong target.

It’s National Offend A Feminist Week, you see, and the ridiculous insistence that no man should be permitted to call a slut a slut is a byproduct of feminist ideology. It’s all about The Sisterhood, an Us-vs.-Them mentality in which even conservative women are supposed to align themselves in sheltering Jessica Valenti from the thorough condemnation she deserves.

Remember what Buckley said about successful indoctrination? Conservatives who instinctively invoke feminist concepts — e.g., non-judgmentalism toward promiscuity — might want to contemplate Buckley’s observation in silence, and stop superficially criticizing those of us who have already spent many years examining the ideological infrastructure of the Left. Just because you don’t know what I’m doing doesn’t mean that I don’t know what I’m doing.

And if anybody wants to hit the tip jar, now would be a good time to do it. Being “openly shameless” can be a tough row to hoe.

No pun intended.

April 27, 2009


(BUMPED; UPDATES BELOW.) Cassy Fiano has this video of Feministing’s Jessica Valenti promoting her new book, The Purity Myth, on the “Today” show last week:

Visit for Breaking News, World News, and News about the Economy

Why does Jessica Valenti derogate virginity? An excerpt from her book explains it all:

I was once that teenage girl struggling with the meaning behind my sexuality . . . I was the cruelly labeled slut . . .

Which is to say, It’s about her. Remember my rant about Bill Maher, who seems stuck in a phase of eighth-grade rebellion? Jessica Valenti is his distaff analog.

Valenti’s mislabeled “pro-sex feminism,” like Maher’s childish atheism, is merely an unresolved adolescent emotional issue carried forward into adulthood by immature personalities. Unable to accept and adjust to their own failures to live up to traditional ideals, they manufacture their own counter-ideals, which naturally compel them to scoff and sneer at tradition.

Yet, as Cassy Fiano points out, the consequences of anti-traditionalism are disastrous: Despite all the prophylactic propaganda, diseases like herpes, chlamydia and HPV are pandemic, and despite the easy availability of contraception, we have more than a million abortions a year in the United States, in addition to a record level of bastardy.

Given the self-evident wrongness of Valenti’s whorism — we cannot call it “feminism,” since it has nothing to do with equality of political or economic rights — why would anyone endorse it? Why would the producers of NBC’s “Today” show give publicity to an author advocating moral nihilism and (at least tacitly) endorsing teen promsicuity?

Valenti’s book carries the absurdly misguided subtitle, “How America’s Obsession with Virginity Is Hurting Young Women.” Is it not rather the case that an obsession with sex is the source of the problem? Were it not for the sexualization of popular culture, virginity — the default condition of youth, whose abandonment requires willful action — would be taken for granted. It is only because fornication has become a high-school ritual (the median age of first intercourse is 16 or 17, according to various studies) that it is now “conservative” to think that teenagers can or should be chaste.

So we see that NBC has a political excuse to promote Valenti’s whorism. By making adolescent fornication a political issue, liberals can now demand that “both sides of the issue” get a hearing. And yet this is not enough for them. Cassy Fiano points out that Valenti’s readers are complaining that abstinence advocate Lakita Garth got equal time on the “Today” show. Just as with the same-sex marriage controversy — where opposition to the gay-radical agenda has become stigmatized as “hate” — soon it will be considered a species of bigotry merely to disagree with Valenti.

Valenti’s perverse ideology makes sense only if you ignore everything we know about human nature. Liberals erupted in outrage at my assertion that selling Plan B over the counter to 17-year-olds would serve only to make teenage girls more vulnerable to male predation. But who has more insight into the habits and attitudes of the typical 17-year-old boy? Me or Andrew Sullivan? (Who, by his own admission, was never typical.)

Common-sense observations about human nature are now politicized as “conservative,” so that every knocked-up 15-year-old can be said to be engaged in liberal activism and her baby-daddy is a “community organizer” of sorts. One imagines that nowadays the high-school Lothario, encountering resistance as he tries to get to second base with his would-be conquest, chides his prey: “What are you? Some kind of Republican?”

UPDATE: With cross-posting privleges hither and yon, some of my observations are nowadays promiscuously scattered abroad. At Hot Air’s Green Room:

Let’s face it, if Valenti’s ideology is embraced by liberals, this will certainly make matters simple for horny teenage boys looking for an easy score. How can you tell which girls put out? They’re the ones whose moms have Obama stickers on their minivan bumpers.

Ba-da-boom! And at Taki’s Magazine:

Back in the late Sixties, some distaff radical declared, “Feminism is the theory. Lesbianism is the practice,” which is at least teleologically coherent. . . . Valenti can be said to postulate a corollary to the original syllogism: “Feminism is the theory. Whorism is the practice.”

Dishonest writers like Valenti seek mainstream acceptance of their ideology by expressing it in mild language that won’t offend the soccer moms. The critic who distills their argument to its radical essence — as is my wont — will naturally be denounced as an extremist. Which I suppose is true in the sense that it takes one to know one. But one cannot be moderate in the discussion of virtue, which allows no compromise.

One is virtuous or one is not, and while I have never claimed to be a paragon of virtue, I can at least distinguish between virtue and vice. And must, lest I incur the ancient curse:

Woe unto them that call evil good, and good evil . . .
Isaiah 5:20 KJV

A perverse non-judgmentalism, that refuses to praise virtue or condemn vice, is moral nihilism. Valenti goes beyond this, to celebrate whoredom and condemn chastity.

UPDATE II: Over at Right Wing News, I illustrate a quote with this neoclassical artwork:

Of course, Phryne was the 4th-century Greek prostitute whose acquittal by the Aeropagus might be construed as evidence of the decadence of paganism in the Hellenistic age. In our own decadent age, we have seen the divine grace of Jesus toward the woman caught in adultery perverted into an imbecile non-judgmentalism, forgetting entirely Christ’s parting commandment to the woman who owed him her life:

“Go, and sin no more.”
John 8:11 KJV

Christ offered mercy to sinners, but never pretended that sin was not sin, as do today’s acolytes in the temple of non-judgmentalism.

UPDATE III: Over at my friend Russ Smith’s Splice Today, Zach Kaufmann numbers me among the “fascist womanizing prigs.” This is rather an oxymoronic appellation. Can a womanizer also be a prig? Does my long marriage not at least exempt me from the accusation of womanizing? Since I am self-evidently not priggish — frank discussion of sexuality does not shock me in the least — what exactly does Kauffman intend to denote? And how does fascism figure into this, except as a simple-minded slur?

Really, Russ: We’re in a buyer’s market for content providers. Can you not afford better help than these impudent young liberal idiots? And as for Kaufmann’s title — “Hey, Robert, Is Your Daughter Single?” — the answer is: Single, lovely, redheaded, 19, and so far out of your league it ain’t even the same game, punk.

UPDATE IV: Note how Pandagon accuses Mark Regnerus of attempting to relegate women to “chattel” status, merely for advocating marriage. (Via Memeorandum.) The Left well knows that its perverse “Progress” requires the annihilation of all traditions, even the tradition of young love. I’ll have more to say about Regnerus later, but now must attempt some actual paying work.

UPDATE V: Linked at Conservative Grapevine. Thanks. Please also see “Amanda Marcotte: Feminism as Paranoia.”

April 21, 2009

McCain on Palin sex video?

No, I mean, Meghan McCain:

The latest Tweet from McCain: “I used to have the hugest crush on Eminem when I was in high school and he still looks hot in his new music video!!”
This would be, presumably, the music video in which Eminem depicts himself having sex with Sarah Palin.

Allahpundit is worried that the negative attention to Meghan’s Twitter blatherings will cause her to stop Tweeting. BTW, here’s the Eminem video:

April 13, 2009

Consensual teen sex-texting

First gay marriage, now this:

The Vermont Legislature is considering a bill that would legalize so-called “sexting” between teenagers.
Sexting refers to the exchange of explicit photos and videos via mobile phone. Under current laws, participants can be charged with child pornography, but lawmakers are considering a bill to legalize the consensual exchange of graphic images between two people 13 to 18 years old. Passing along such images to others would remain a crime.
Supporters told The Burlington Free Press they don’t want to condone the behavior but they don’t think teenagers should be prosecuted as sex offenders for consensual conduct.

(Via Hot Air Headlines.) You never know what you’ll encounter on your slow slide down the slippery slope, do you? From the Kinsey Report to the Pill to “no-fault” divorce to abortion to “don’t ask, don’t tell,” to pro-pedophile academia to women in combat to the 16-year-old sex-change — the general direction of the slide is clear, but the next milestone is always a surprise.

UPDATE: I linked this in my first post over at Hot Air’s Green Room, an interesting new group blog concept. BTW, while I was compiling the list of links below — recent milestones on the slippery slope — I was reminded of a preacher’s famous observation that maybe God owes Sodom and Gomorrah an apology.

UPDATE II: Linked at Creative Minority Report. Obviously, the key to the Vermont legislature’s thinking involves the magic word “consensual,” which vanquishes all opposition.

UPDATE III: Two commenters at the Green Room are dug in like bulldogs, tenaciously defending Vermont’s what’s-a-little-porn-between-teens loophole. It’s weird. They’re on their side, I’m on my side, and nobody’s going to persuade anyone. So why do they persist? I’ve ceased trying to persuade them, and now they’re just attacking me. Sigh.

4/3: Iowa gay ruling: Power to the elites!
3/31: Because insane is the new normal
3/16: 11-year-old girl self-porn
3/15: Ross Douthat, porn expert?
3/13: ‘Mamas, Don’t Let Your Daughters Grow Up to Be Downloads’
2/28: Hobo teen rape menace
2/11: The Hasidic pornography defense
2/10: Pre-teen transsexuals?
2/10: Sixteen-year-old sex change
1/20: Obama’s gay agenda
1/15: The ‘culture’ defense
1/13: Diversity is our strength!
1/11: ‘Science’ and teen sex
12/26: Perversity and popular culture
12/5: Planned Parenthood exposed
11/28: Her right to jailbait
11/14: Tolerance, social justice, kiddie porn
10/30: Planned Infanticide
10/14: Obama’s ‘sex rebel’ mentor
6/19: Incredible. Just incredible.
5/15: Jodie Foster’s gay divorce
5/14: Pre-teen pole dancers?
5/1: Pomocon does Miley Cyrus
4/19: ‘Underage sex cult’
3/20: Imported perverts

March 27, 2009

Your ‘right’ to get nude in nightclubs

I’m sure this is what George Mason had in mind:

A popular Colorado Springs nightclub that was punished by the city’s liquor board with a 10-day suspension of its liquor license after several women exposed their breasts during a rowdy “Girls Gone Wild” filming is appealing the decision.
An attorney representing the owners of 13 Pure, 217 E. Pikes Peak Ave., said women flashing their breasts is protected by the First Amendment.
“It’s our position that it’s constitutionally protected conduct,” Denver-based attorney Mike Gross said Thursday.
But prosecuting attorney Scott Patlin said the nightclub violated local and state laws.

See, this is just like “gay rights.” If I happen to be in a nightclub and the girls start taking off their clothes — which is strictly a hypothetical scenario, you understand — I’m not going to file a complaint with the City Liquor Board. On the other hand, don’t tell me it’s your “right.”

This is another one of those phony liberal “rights” you don’t actually have. Liberals peddle phony “rights” because it’s a way of convincing people they’re being victimized and oppressed by The Man. The intended message here is: “Vote Democrat, or else those evil Republicans will force you to keep your clothes on in a nightclub.”

You’re not stupid enough to believe that, are you? Now, you’re probably wondering: What about the “right” to get nekkid as a jaybird to protest taxes? That’s different. Ever hear of “civil disobedience”?

(H/T: Hot Air, the coolest blog evah.)

UPDATE: I’ve got a few minutes here before a blogger conference call, so why don’t I refer you to my story about Judge Roy Moore and Ex Parte HH. People want to imply that, just because you disagree with someone about their “rights,” it means you don’t like them. Can anyone credibly accuse me of hating hotties? Am I “anti-breast”? You people need to wake up and smell the indoctrination. You’ve been brainwashed and haven’t even been through the “rinse” cycle yet. HTTJYUB.

UPDATE II: Hey, how about a teacher’s “right” to have sex with her teenage student?

UPDATE III: Linked by Doug Mataconis, with whom I have a dialogue in the comments.

UPDATE IV: Dave C. e-mails to say the back-and-forth in the comments reminds him of this joke:

Three married men were talking about their sex lives during coffee. The first man — the newlywed of the bunch — said, “It’s been good. No complaints here. My wife and I have sex three to four times a week.”
The second man — at the seven year mark — gloomily mumbled, “Once or twice a month. If I’m lucky.”
The last man — who has been married the longest — was bouncing off his seat when he said, “Once a year!”
The other two men looked at him in astonishment.
“Why are you so excited then?” one of them asked.
“Because tonight’s the night!”

Yeah. But I’ve dug my grave so deep now, I’m going to stop digging before I get to China.

March 23, 2009

Romantic renegades

“Why do women love Bad Boys? Why do ‘nice guys finish last’ with the ladies, while no woman can resist the charm of a ‘black-hearted varmint’ like Rhett Butler? . . . What if, beneath the rugged veneer of the proud renegade, a woman espies something more tender, honest and decent than is apparent to those who judge superficially? Well, then, if she can win his love, she will have gotten herself a genuine romantic bargain. And, as you know, no woman can resist a bargain.”

* * * *

You might also enjoy Wythywindle’s “Athens & Jerusalem” analysis of my critique of feminism and Washington culture. His analysis is couched in terms of classical philosophy and literature. My critique is mostly based on long years of observation and experience. So if I am making points that in some way resemble the arguments of, inter alia, Erasmus, Mary Wollstonecraft, Jurgen Habermas and Harvey Mansfield — well, we are all observers of the same phenomena, and therefore our descriptions will be similar. But I can’t say with surety that I’ve read anything by any of those writers, except perhaps Mansfield.

Also, Wythywindle says I “distinguish . . . male predilections for reason with female predilections for emotion.” Not exactly. I do not insist that men are “reasonable,” or logical, or empirical, or any such thing. I just mean they don’t sit around talking about their feelings about relationships the way women do. It is the obsession with the emotional content of personal relationships (who likes who, who hates who, who snubbed who, etc.) that I find remarkably distinctive in women’s routine conversation.

I have argued (er, somewhere) that the typical girls-on-the-third-grade-playground cattiness — the tendency of girls to form cliques, and to tally up perceived slights to themselves and their friends, etc. — exists in large measure because girls seldom resort to violence to resolve disputes. If a boy tried that routine (“Oh, you can’t be her friend and be my friend, too, because blah, blah, blah . . .”) over on the boys’ side of the playground, he’d pretty soon get punched in the nose.

If a boy gets his feelings hurt that way, he’ll either sulk until he gets over it, or else he’ll get violent with the person who hurt his feelings. And here, the Alpha-male factor comes into play: The bigger, stronger, rowdier boys on the playground tend to dominate by the threat (implied or expressed) of violence. Ergo, the big tough boys don’t have to worry about any lesser boy saying anything hurtful to them, because that would result in a pounding for the lesser boy.

Boy-culture is therefore naturally hierarchical, with status based largely on physical prowess and perceived toughness, in a way that girl-culture never is. To the extent that queen bee of the third-grade playground is dominant, she is dominant because she is pretty and nice. But in general, the absence of the threat of violence means that girl-culture is more naturally egalitarian.

The importance of niceness in girl-culture status hierarchies is seldom mentioned by those who speak of sex differences, although it has been studied somewhat by developmental psychologists. But niceness is not always nice. It coexists with, and is inextricably bound up in, the cattiness and bickering that typifies girl-culture.

At any rate, these fundamental differences in boy-culture and girl-culture are reflected in the characteristic attitudes and behaviors of adult men and women. Understanding the nature of status within girl-culture is therefore key to the man who desires the esteem of women. But that’s a lot more complex subject than I feel like exploring just now.

March 20, 2009

U.S. spawns record number of bastards

No, we’re not talking about Tim Geithner or Chris Dodd, but those 1,714,643 babies born to unmarried women in 2007, according to the National Center for Health Statistics (PDF). Way to go ladies! Just glut the market with free milk so nobody can sell a cow! And congratulations is also due to America’s teenage boys and all you other guys who like to shag teenage girls, the New York Times reports:

Also in 2007, for the second straight year and in a trend health officials find worrisome, the rate of births to teenagers rose slightly after declining by one-third from 1991 to 2005.

Score! And of course, we must celebrate diversity:

Racial and ethnic differences remain large: 28 percent of white babies were born to unmarried mothers in 2007, compared with 51 percent of Hispanic babies and 72 percent of black babies. The shares of births to unwed mothers among whites and Hispanics have climbed faster than the share among blacks, but from lower starting points.

More bastards, more knocked-up teenagers — the future of Weimar America looks bright!

March 19, 2009

Men in Love: The Courage to Conquer

“Men want access to women so they make the effort, or sometimes do. Many men give up. The benefits of companionship don’t outweigh the challenges the relationship brings. . . . There has been a concerted attempt to demonize typically masculine behavior. Worst of all, many men seem to have conceded the argument.”

March 11, 2009

Insightful political commentary, etc.

Thanks to Smitty for the hard-hitting expose about Jesus and Elvis, plus moderating the comments, while I was out of pocket Tuesday evening. The man is owed cheeseburgers and beers for his labors, so hit the tip jar, people. (Second rarest sentence in the English language: “Thanks for picking up the tab, McCain.” Because of extremely low wages, newspapermen are cheapskate moochers, and I’ve eaten enough free food to alleviate Third World famine.)

Update blogging is in order:

Now, it’s time to address something that needs to be said: I naturally expect that, when I blog about gay rights/gay marriage in terms of God and sin and Anglo-American legal tradition, gay people are going to take umbrage. It is inevitable.

During CPAC, I met conservative lesbian Cynthia Yockey, and Miss Yockey gives me a very gentle and friendly Rule 2 rejoinder on my belief in biblical authority. (Note to self: Resist temptation presented by opportunity for brilliant double-entendre.)

As is my wont (and Miss Yockey can ask commenter Victor about this), I will avoid engaging the specifics of her critique, and instead focus strategically on holding more defensible terrain. To wit, refuting the routine slander that alleges that Bible believers:

  • Hate gay people.
  • Are ignorant of the reality of gayness.
  • Suffer from twisted sexual “repression.”
  • Lack familiarity with scientific evidence.
  • Wish to deprive gay people of their rights.

These are lies, Miss Yockey. And who is called “the father of lies”? ( Church Lady voice.) Satan!

Ye are of your father the devil, and the lusts of your father ye will do. He was a murderer from the beginning, and abode not in the truth, because there is no truth in him. When he speaketh a lie, he speaketh of his own: for he is a liar, and the father of it.
John 8:44 KJV

Miss Yockey, if you will read that chapter, you will find that Jesus spoke those words prophetically. The scribes and Pharisees, jealous of Jesus’ influence, were indeed already plotting his death. They kept questioning him, trying to trip him up so he would say something that would either justify his religious condemnation as a heretic, or else that would be seen as subversive of Roman authority and justify his condemnation for sedition.

John 8 begins with one of the most famous of these incidents, “the woman caught in adultery.” As everyone knows, Christ challenged the woman’s accusers, “He that is without sin among you, let him first cast a stone at her” (John 8:7), and all of them walked away.

This woman quite literally owed Jesus her life. What transpired next?

When Jesus had lifted up himself, and saw none but the woman, he said unto her, Woman, where are those thine accusers? hath no man condemned thee?
She said, No man, Lord. And Jesus said unto her, Neither do I condemn thee: go, and sin no more.

Romans 8:10-11

Jesus did not condemn the woman, but he nonetheless commanded her to “sin no more.”

Now, Miss Yockey, do not read that passage and think of yourself. Think of me. You have no idea how often I have cheated death. One night when I was 19, I consumed the better part of a half-gallon of psilocybin mushroom tea and tooted up a goodly amount of Bolivian flake cocaine.

Having started smoking pot as a 14-year-old, I’d done (and dealt) many drugs by the time I was 19. But psilocybin and cocaine I’d never tried and, as I did not realize at that time, I was under tremendous stress. My mother died when I was 16, I’d barely graduated high school, I’d goofed off so badly in college that I was on the verge of flunking out and — this was the real heavy one — my conscience was burdened with knowledge of my own sins.

By the time the psilocybin really kicked in, I had practically forgotten about that half-gallon of magic mushroom tea, whose effects I’d never before experienced. And as anyone who has ever done a lot of coke will tell you, that stuff makes you feel smarter than Einstein, a euphoria that borders on a sense of omniscience.

To say that I freaked completely out is to understate the case. I’ve always been about half-crazy, but for about 10 days there, I was 110% crazy, and when my older brother finally got me to the emergency room — oh, that was a wild ride — the doctor didn’t need to examine me much before he spoke those three fateful words: Nurse, Thorazine, please.

Recovering from that experience was a long, hard road, and I went so low that many doubted I’d ever recover, period. All that splendid talent, such once-promising genius, seemed destined to either institutionalization or else slumping along as a dim shadow of his former self.

However, people were praying for me, and people were willing to help me. I returned to college a year later, with only one last chance to make good or flunk out, and thus forfeit the full-tuition scholarship that the state of Alabama granted to the children of disabled veterans. My father had been quite nearly killed by German shrapnel while serving in France in 1944. (His Purple Heart and other medals hang on the wall beside my desk as I type this.) The merit of my father’s service had been rewarded with a scholarship for me — an opportunity I was on the verge of wasting.

I made Dean’s List that semester, my still-unstable psychological condition compelling me for the first time in my life to develop systematic study habits. It happened that one of my classes that semester was Introduction to Psychology, where I learned that long-term treatment with anti-psychotic drugs produces a debilitating side-effect known as tardic dyskinesia. So I weaned myself off the meds and, slowly, fought my way back to something like my old half-crazy self.

Now, Miss Yockey, I could elaborate at length all the miracles that God has wrought in my life over the past three decades. If you should ever see me write about angels, trust that there are angels, sent in answer to prayer, and “some have entertained angels unawares” (Hebrews 13:2).

“Go thou and sin no more,” Jesus said to the woman who owed him her life. Miss Yockey, if you think I’ve spent the past 30 years without sinning, you’re crazier than me. The apostle Paul once said, “Christ Jesus came into the world to save sinners; of whom I am chief” (I Timothy 1:15), but if Paul was chief of sinners, I’m definitely part of the tribe. The only one of the Seven Deadly Sins at which I have not excelled is gluttony, being skinny by nature. (On the other hand, I’ve gained 25 pounds since my Speedo glory, and can’t resist a buffet, so I guess I’m a perfect 7-for-7 in the deadly sins.)

Last fall, I got an Instalanche for a post titled, “Is babe-blogging a sin?” And in all good conscience, I contend it is not. One of the happy blessings of advancing age is that my appreciation of beauty steadily becomes more aesthetic than erotic. (My extremely beautiful wife is skeptical of such assertions, with ample reason given the fact that she is the mother of our six children. The main reason we don’t have seven is that I manage to keep myself almost constantly in the doghouse.)

Make no mistake: Lust remains a real temptation, and quite dangerous, and I would hate to think that I was leading others to perdition by such silliness as “Sarah Palin bikini pics” or “Old School upskirt.” But if you think about it for two seconds, this is the Internet. Everybody reading this is one quick Google search away from as much raw porn as they want.

So if there are recovering pornoholics out there who need a little methadone to help them get off the heroin, a little Christina Hendricks is relatively benign. (Don’t you agree, Dr. Vodka?) If by happy accident that random porn-Googler finds himself reading a right-wing blog run by a homophobic hillbilly holy roller . . .

Miss Yockey, I don’t believe in accidents. I’ve been involved in too many conspiracies, and have been the recipient of too many prayed-for blessings (e.g., Mrs. Other McCain) to think that things “just happen.” The person who is reading this is no more reading it by accident than I am writing it by accident.

BTW, did I ever tell you about the time my 1973 VW Beetle went head-on into a pickup truck, and I walked away with nothing worse than a headache? One of many potentially deadly encounters I’ve survived. If you believe in accidents, how is it that I’m even here to be writing this?

Richard Spencer recently paid me the fine compliment of noting that, in my Taki’s Magazine columns, I have shown an ability to write about sex in a funny, engaging way that is not preachy or boring, as is most conservative writing about sex. Such is the tragic dimension of human nature and the decadent situation of contemporary culture that, it seems to me, we must learn to laugh about sex or else it will drive us to despair. Ted Haggard, Jim McGreevey, Mark Foley, Eliot Spitzer, the Big Sexy — oh, wait a minute. Never mind. Failure to send a promised box of Godiva chocolate isn’t all that scandalous.

My point is that sexual sin seems nowadays so widespread that even the most respected and eminent persons might appear in the tabloid sex-scandal headlines tomorrow. And whatever your sins are, or my sins are, or the Big Sexy’s sins are, the fact that they’re not splashed in 96-point type on the front of the New York Post doesn’t mean our sins are unknown. You know your sins, and I know my sins. And if we have sinned against others (which I most certainly have), then those against whom we have sinned are also aware of our sins.

Is there a God who is aware of all our sins? I believe there is, and I believe His judgment is far more to be feared — because it is eternal and righteous — than any judgment man can make. We are sinners in the hands of an angry God.

Now, at last, the gay thing. As I look at the clock just now, it’s 3:50 a.m. ET, and a couple of guys somewhere in Atlanta are strolling out of an after-hours disco, arm in arm, on their way to an eagerly anticipated carnal satisfaction. Sinners.

Simultaneously, however, it is 12:50 a.m. in Modesto, California, where a pimply teenage boy — with the assistance of a 4-pack of wine coolers — has finally gotten to third base with his girlfriend. Sinners.

To quote the American poet Bob Seger, they’ve only got one thing in common, they’ve got the fire down below.

Will you accuse me of “ignorance” or “hate”? You haven’t the slightest idea what I’ve known or who I’ve loved. (Or what I’ve loved and who I’ve known.) As for the charge that I am unfamiliar with scientific evidence, that can be easily refuted, if necessary. Everybody knows I’m not “sexually repressed.” More like irrepressible.

Ask my friend Michael Petrelis how much I hate gay men. Ask Tammy Bruce how much I hate lesbians. Ask Lynn Conway or Dierdre McCloskey how much I hate transsexuals. Far from wishing to deprive them of their rights, I will stand up for their rights — especially their First Amendment right to tell meddling politicians to go straight to hell, or their Second Amendment right to defend themselves against assault.

Miss Yockey, you have yourself said that I am irresistible, and you may have thought you were joking. But ask anyone who’s met my wife . . . well, she’s gotten better at resisting me, but it’s a difficult feat to accomplish. My late mother said that I could accomplish anything, if I ever put my mind to it, and please don’t tell me my mother lied.

The question of resistance, however, brings me to a conundrum that long contemplation has not resolved in my mind: Are “gay” and “straight” mutually exclusive categories? Would a Venn diagram show them as non-intersecting circles? Is Andrew Sullivan utterly incapable of erotic interest in a woman? Could Camille Paglia ever feel attraction toward a man?

I answer: “No,” “no,” “maybe,” and “it would certainly be nice to think so.” I do not doubt, Miss Yockey, that you and your partner are happy together. But if somehow you were to become so unhappy as to split up, or if by misfortune you were widowed (as it were), I would not automatically rule out the possibility that your next partner could be male. More amazing things have certainly happened.

Teenage dopehead psycho becomes notorious right-wing journalist with beautiful wife and six kids? Impossible.

My dear grandmother used to say that I missed my calling, and should have been a preacher. Well, if you miss one calling, you never know what the next calling will be. And if you ignore that one, and are called again . . . But God keeps calling and calling, like the finance company wanting to have a friendly discussion about my 2004 Kia Optima. And by the time you finally answer the call, maybe you’re so messed up that the only use God has for you is as a perpetually impoverished blogger. (Hey, it’s not His fault that I didn’t answer the first call.)

Well, it’s 5 a.m. now, and Mrs. Other McCain’s alarm clock is set for 5:30 a.m., so we’ll see how irresistible I am when I bring her a fresh hot cup of coffee. But if I’m not entirely irresistible, what about God? Can I resist God, Miss Yockey? Can you?

You did not read this by accident, did you? My original career goal was to be a rock star. I been bloggin’ all night, my hands are wet on the keys . . .

UPDATE 6 a.m. ET: OK, so it turns out I am resistible. But I did bring her the coffee and thought of something: Am I privileging patriarchal heteronormativity, or whatever they call it in Women’s Studies course nowadays?

Do I appear an arrogant chauvinist, to suppose that if Cynthia Yockey and her partner woke up this morning to find Brad Pitt standing there with two fresh hot cups of coffee, that they’d decide to have a Brad sandwich for breakfast?

Excuse me while I leave you to contemplate that scenario. As an old football junkie, my bet is that Brad would put it in the end zone, even if he didn’t make the two-point conversion.

UPDATE 6:10 a.m.: Just talked to Mrs. Other McCain again. Sly humor: “I don’t know!”

Trying hard to maintain family values while talking about baseball. Which reminds me that today the Braves play the Phillies in spring training. Who’s pitching and who’s catching? No, who’s on first! I don’t know! Third base!

UPDATE 7:15 a.m.: Professor Glenn Reynolds: “It figures this would come from a lesbian.” Ah, so two can play the old double-entendre game, eh? Well, back at ya, Professor!

Nothing says “family values” like ZZ Top . . .

I’m going to have to ask blogospheric neologian William Jacobson what to call it when the Professor sends me traffic via a carom shot off a lesbian blogger. Or perhaps Gunnery Sergeant Hartman will have some suggestions.