In which the manosphere and GQ are both wrong.
Beyond the Alpha-Beta-Gammas, Part 1: Dalrock and the Aristotelian Mean
In which the manosphere and GQ are both wrong.
The Creative Maelstrom of J. J. Griffing
In which the manosphere and GQ are both wrong.
There are two heathen altars in American cities on which ordinary citizens sacrifice their children on a regular basis, and it's unclear which has done the most evil, overall. I'll let others decide which is Molech and which, Chemosh, but the first, most obvious idolatry takes the form of Planned Parenthood's so-called "clinics" and other… Continue reading On Sacrificing Children to Educational Abstractions
Joseph Moore examines how we came to be Bricks in the Wall.
"One of the most important things that an author should know in order to write good and even great stories, readers and future writers, is that evil in fact exists."
It isn't politically correct, but if true, these proposals will be validated for all male and female human characters, respectively, and resonate with the disproportionately human Reading Public.
H/T to Cane Caldo.
And by “we” I mean writers and parents and teachers, and anyone who is supposed to give them an idea of how the world works. By “children” I mean those of us who were children in the last 50, maybe the last 70 years, and although the problem is most prevalent in America, it has […]… Continue reading We’re Failing Our Children: repost from Sarah Hoyt’s blog.
Neither I nor Dalrock mean to imply either that biblical headship is "a game" or that it consists of the self-appointed-stud-bull attitude marketed as being "Alpha" or having what its marketers call "Game" (capital G). They are in fact mutually incompatible, but are far nearer in form-- and this is Dalrock's point-- than either is to the culturally-popular emasculated gamma-male role that is too often mistaken for "being a Good Christian Husband."
Kriever didn’t like public trans, and insisted on driving his old Sting Ray everywhere. He glanced over to the passenger seat, where she sat with his coat still over her shoulders.
“Which way, doll?” he asked. The rain had eased up, for now...
We pushed our way through the shattered city. All around us were the signs of a race without hope, an entire nation devoid of both love and life. "Is this what they saw at Pompeii?" I wondered. Men and women both, dead before they died.
It only occurred to me this week, some few days after I opened the Stories shelf with The Bestiary and The Legend of Gnat Bunker what those two pieces have in common. They are not merely "creative" but meta-creative. They're about how we create what we do, and in a deeper sense, why.