When nongay authoress Naomi Wolf gets a fact about homosexuality substantively wrong, her book gets cancelled in the U.S.

When gay author Douglas Murray horrendously fucks up the facts about gay money in his book The Madness of Crowds, and when he and his publisher and agent ignore a stream of messages warning them of the error, the effect will be as follows – the book will go into second printings and a softcover edition, and Murray will continue to reiterate falsehoods on podcast interviews, which I’ve already heard him do twice.

What’s he wrong about? Let’s check his p. 242.

What if people aren’t oppressed?

Perhaps instead of seeking out oppression and seeing oppression everywhere, we could start to exit the maze by noting the various “victim groups” that aren’t oppressed or are even advantaged. For instance, studies have shown that gay men and lesbian women consistently earn more on average than their heterosexual counterparts. There are a variety of possible reasons, not least the fact that most of them won’t have children and can put in the extra hours at the office[,] which benefits both them and their employer. Is this a gay advantage?

Every part of that is simply wrong, except the lesbian angle, which isn’t really what he’s talking about. Even the single research paper he cites (evidently without reading it) disproved his own claim.

But no, of course Douglas Murray is not gonna get wolfed over an error of this magnitude. I’ve learned over the years that absolutely everybody is willing to lie about how much money gay males make (less than straight guys across the board). Murray is merely the latest such liar.

He’s got a bright future ahead of him.

C. Paglia (“The Cruel Mirror: Body Type and Body Image as Reflected in Art”):

My final slide was of the current St. Pauli Girl Beer carton (“Germany’s fun-loving beer”). It shows a merry beer-hall maid, her bosom overflowing her peasant bodice and each hand effortlessly hefting three foaming beer steins – quite a feat! Her arms are flung wide in the embracing posture of medieval Madonnas. The St. Pauli Girl is in the Rubens line of powerful, exuberant, life-affirming women.

Swiss-gay-bodybuilder variant:

(Not that Swiss gay bodybuilder [look him up on the Recons].)

(Patrick Vellner by Logan Five)

• John Rechy:

  Look, pre-Stonewall produced Alan Ginsberg, William Burroughs, Oscar Wilde, and I could go on. Post-Stonewall produced Bret Easton Ellis, who jumps out of the closet only now and then and then rushes back in, and Queer Eye for the Straight Guy, where we’re reduced to clowns for straight people. The husband of Mr. Buttigieg [q.v.] – he is so darling talking about the silver he’s going to be choosing for the White House. It embarrasses me, it embarrasses me very much, because that’s what people expect a gay man to do – to be very precious – and that’s not what we are.

• C. Donktum: “I ask you, if Helvetica became the official font of the KKK, would half the news outlets denounce it as a ‘racist’ font? Or call any other use of Helvetica racist by association? Of course not! That would be ludicrous. But that is the very discussion we are having right now.”

• C. Paglia: “American feminism has a man problem. The beaming Betty Crockers, hangdog dowdies and parochial prudes who call themselves feminists want men to be like women. They fear and despise the masculine. The academic feminists think their nerdy bookworm husbands are the ideal model of human manhood.”

• Sam Fussell – now something much worse than a bodybuilder or an author, a hunter:

  In the first few years you are in the gym, as an aspirant bodybuilder, you learn to train body parts, but you really don’t understand the fluidity of a physique and how, when done right, everything fits together. There are very few bodies on this planet where the bodybuilder has done that and every muscle ties into the next one, eventually comprising one solid, unified whole (as opposed to a collection of astounding, individual body parts).

  By the way, right-wing assholes insist Pumping Iron is a good movie. I watched it for what I believe is the first time ever. They’re right. (Killer opening scene with ballerina hardassedly tutoring Schwarzenegger et al.)

• IMAGE CONTAINED
  BABY SHOES
  NEVER LOADED

• Or is what we have now going to continue – globalist human-rights corporatist kleptocracy for the next 40,000 years?

  Should homosexuals have to register with the city they live in as a public-health matter? Thereafter, perhaps only live specific neighbourhood. No more them four by four blocks, and walled off, walled in, walled invert neighbourhood.

  These are just some of the topics that we will deal with on this show.

  Are Kamala Harris and Barack Obama bioengineered in a CIA laboratory for high-yellow house androids in Bermuda? Profound questions no one else dares touch but I will broadcast for you from here, from my tropical fortress.

• But in United States, you can see this other cold, desiccated version of Latin America already in some of the drab northeastern states, or in Rust Belt. You go old industrial town in Midwest or Rhode Island or such place, and you see all government offices there are run by sassy sheboon, or sassy African ladies, with the proud anger of a mediæval European noble and an ass you could sit a can of Coke on – steatopygia, the scientific name. The true Panamanian ass. Yoruba tropical ass of a water priestess.

  You get on the wrong side and see – it’s worthy of a Prussian Junker. My friend says this. They are the last holdout of aristocratic wrath in our time. In Nietzsche, you see the same image: A Prussian Junker whose only hobby is getting drunk on potato liquor and beating the shit out of Polish peasants with a sword and yelling. Only sheboon chimpout in McDonald continues this noble attitude in our time. Is exactly the same. The joke is they run Department of Motor Vehicle. But in fact they run all the government. They staff many large company too, and bring to it all the emotional corruption, the intensity of Southern life where everything is personal, everything is spite of family tribal favour.

• It’s the same as Spike TV. What was Spike TV? Some gay Hollywood guy’s notion of what straight guys must have liked. So they completely miss the point. Normal people, they look at “Buttjig,” at Buttigieg, this presidential candidate, they don’t see what Washington, D.C. sleek public-relation guys do, guys who have thick blinders on, that are locked into not noticing how abnormal this Buttgig type is for the vast majority of Americans. And not just Americans, I mean people anywhere, because the aversion to Buttgig is natural, you know. You can only get over the gag reflex to a Buttgig through heavy self-denial of your own instincts and tastes, like if you had to force yourself to eat insects, or to pretend that Afghanistan can be turned into Switzerland….

  So when you’re part of this social circle, like all the media is, like all the journalists, left and right, are, that kind of social pressure just erases nature from your mind. You can no longer see things as they are. But you see, Buttgig is more disturbing to a normal American than let’s say a gay queeny guy would be. I think that gay effeminate queeny guy, by now most people would be – if they’re not OK with that, at least they’re tolerant, at least they’re understanding.

  But a so-called masculine gay of this type – Buttgig isn’t exactly “masculine.” It’s something else. It sets off serious psycho-alarms for most people not caught up in the way of delusion of the pseudo-polite society. He comes off on the Jeffrey Dahmer spectrum, and that’s a far more disturbing homosexual type than the queen. I may talk about this another time, but among homosexuals, the so-called gay top – excuse me for talking such things, but this isn’t a family show, after all – but the so-called gay top is far more disturbing than the queeny effeminate gay.

  I’m not talking here about what Steve Sailer has named “predatory bisexuality” or this, or what the Afghans do, or what you find in the Gulf Arab states, or the ancient Greeks. But I’m talking in the West about a gay guy who’s exclusively gay but a so-called gay top – and not by circumstance but by type, whether born fucked-up or twisted by some experience. They’re usually twisted, these types. I probably have to explain this in writing, because there’s too much detail here; this is easy to misunderstand.

  But this is, by the way, key also to unlocking personality of very evil elite types in let’s say Catholic church faggot hierarchy – not the old original church but the ones who have taken over since Vatican II, the ones who are protected by Pope Faggot, and many others like Ross Douthat, who try to modulate Catholicism in America who are not real Catholics. And not just them but many others in the elite – they have within them an evil desire to derail, subvert, to sully, to take things that are healthy and make them unhealthy.

  But in shorthand, if I can try to explain to you this type is you must think through the psychology of a man who wants to only fuck other men but not women, who can’t fuck women but wants only to put it to men or to boys, to despoil them. You have to think through the psychology of this type to understand, to realize how disturbing it is. It’s on the serial-killer spectrum if you really think it thorough.

  An effeminate gay who wants to be sexually dominated is different. It’s actually easier to understand, and, relative to this other second kind, is actually healthier. The Buttgig type, the Ross Douthat type, is far more twisted, far more dangerous. And, well, Buttgig, I have no idea what he likes in private, I don’t know him, but he comes off on the cannibal/Dahmer spectrum, and that’s the vibe he gives off to most normal people….

  But even in his externalities, in Buttgig’s externalities, which, to the polite Washington, D.C. and public-relations class, all of his external qualities are such a plus. But in all of these externalities, Dahmer, I mean Buttgig, comes off to normal people as too much, as a kind of perverse desire to conform, to impersonate the characteristics of the red-blooded American persona…. It comes off as try-hard and gay.

  Who knows? It might work. It worked in the case of Obama, but at least he did a half-good job at pretending to be a straight black guy, at least good enough to fool some of America anyways. They didn’t know linebacker Michael “Michelle” pegged him. I don’t know if it’s called pegging. I mean, is it pegging if it’s a real cock? I don’t know.

Bronze Age Pervert has a “podcast” (even though it isn’t one as it lacks an RSS feed).

• “Let’s be the first day of school!”

  I’m Andrew and I bear a striking resemblance to Glenn Scarpelli.

  I’m also flaming and do nothing to hide my obvious gayness. I know what other kids say about me, so why should I hide what I am when they’ll just talk shit about me anyways?

  Only one teacher likes me (the spinster music teacher). The rest of the teachers hate me and have no problem making homophobic comments in front of the class.

  I’ll befriend a new kid over our mutual love of Pet Shop Boys and never judge him for being closeted. I’ll stay friends with that fat kid until I move to Toronto after graduation.

  In 1991 I’ll die of complications due to AIDS. I will be sorely missed by that once-closeted fat boy whose life I changed simply by walking up to him on September 4, 1986 and asking, “Don’t you love the video for ‘West End Girls’‽”

  — Sometimes school wasn’t terrible

• 10s stay with 2s because, somewhere along the way, there is a complete disruption of the natural gay life progression that changes the end results.

• As I told two old friends:

  • “I want my life to be more than just a scrapbook of drunken bitches I no longer talk to.”

  • “I’m not a snob. I just don’t want to hang out with people I abhor.”

• Gay bars (and girls invading them):

  • The energy was high and the music pumping as the men on the dance floor began swirling around in many different ways. All of a sudden, a slew of high-pitched, ear-shattering Whoo!s was heard as a dozen millenial blonde women slithered their way onto the dance floor. The bar manager walked up to the DJ and gave him a neck-slice sign. The DJ instantly cut off the Donna Summer megamix.

    The plethora of sweaty men began clapping and stomping with glares towards the unwanted invaders, who, instantly realizing they were not welcome, turned sheepishly away and left the club.

  • Bars used to be fun, and there was a lot more going on than just horrible music played so loud you could feel your testicles vibrating. We went because the bars and clubs had variety. Some were loud dance bars. Some were quiet piano bars. Some were trashy little holes. But it was a lot of everything.

    Now they’re all McDonalds:

    • the exact same shitty Drag Bingo

    • the exact same shitty Drag Brunch

    • the exact same horrible music that nobody dances to

    • the exact same horrible music amplified everywhere so you can’t have a conversation anyway

    • the exact same straight women who take over every bar anyway, so the gay men leave

    • bachelorette parties/hen parties that whiny bars claim they can’t stop (bullshit)

    I’ve seen more bars die from a lack of trying. They’re the perennial fat boy who is certain that every hot guy will overlook his hundred extra pounds because he got a new haircut or a new shirt. It ain’t happening.

    Fix the complete lack of socialization in your damn bars and, ummm, make them social. Quit making them hag hotels. Charge a cover, a really big cover, and create “gay men’s nights” so you waive the cover for gay men. Some guy gets pissy he gets hit on? Oh. Yet another straight guy who slid in because he wanted to hit on the straight women who hang out on there. Yep, leave or pay the cover.

    Start having game nights again. Host meetups. Quit being such damn losers about why people are on the apps. They’re on the apps because the bars damn well suck ass. Everyone is tired of trying to talk to somebody in a bar only to yell “Whaaat‽ Whaaat‽” at each other because there’s noplace to talk, and [tired of having] some skank hag constantly inserting herself into every conversation or try to dance with you or your guy.

    Solve those problems, we’ll come back. Quit using us like a Vegas slot machine and stop blaming us for your crappy management.

• Gay men are attracted to straight men because in our formative years during the puberty times, who are you checking out? The other guys in your school, the popular boys, the jocks – usually the same ones the teen girls are crushing on. More often than not you are having dreams about the football quarterback and not the president of the drama club. And yes, I know that many of us “settled” for the president of the drama club or someone in choir just so we could have sex with another male in high school, but that didn’t stop us from lusting after Jackson the Lacrosse Stud with his straight-boy swagger and panty-dropping good looks.

  While teen girls grow into adult women who become more pragmatic in their choices for partners, that teen boy who lusted after the quarterback never goes away for gay men. It stays with us and affects our choices in who we date and who we partner with for many years. Gay porn tapped into it when we saw a bunch of sites built around the “straight” jock white-boy look. Those sites were such game-changers for gay men that studio porn is almost dead and [they] ushered in a new generation of guys who don’t like labels like straight or gay.

• Here [in Canada], our events are co-opted and turned into straight street festivals.

  Maybe straight people think they’re being allies. But a lot of the tactics that were used to suppress us in the ’70s and ’80s, like arresting us for “indecency” (men in leather, the cross-dressers) and the media’s constant obsession with whatever it considers the most excessive and mockable to put on TV so it appears we’re freaks.

  Then we get the mommy-stroller brigades who march through and demand that everything they find objectionable so little Haldol and Xanaxia won’t get offended because WON’T SOMEBODY THINK ABOUT THE CHILDREN?

  We’re being straightwashed – at a gay event. This is regular.

  Increasingly, we have completely non-gay groups that hijack the marches entirely, which has happened in Canada as well. They claim to be “queer activists” who have no connection to the gay community, demand the funds raised by the actual groups who have worked all year on these events be turned over to them, and of course, [they demand] they be put in charge or they’ll block the parade in their show of hissyfittism.

  This is the kind of shit we’re tired of. It’s why many of us who put up with being bullied in the ’70s and ’80s by straight people and survived AIDS and watched our friends die and our governments ignore us won’t take crap from a bunch of fake-ass “allies” or “queers” who treat us like a straight street festival they get to dictate terms to, blackmail or issue proclamations to.

  We were born out of rage against being bullied. Stonewall was just one of many, and it wasn’t a bunch of drag queens in stilettos. It was gay men who’d had all the crap they could take and fought back.

  That’s why we don’t need any more lecturing from straight allies.

• We’d organized a hunt, but failed to agree whether a transgendered male could be used instead of a fox.

(Q.v.)

Analogue/digital artiste Chris Austin creates naïve, readily legible magic-realist paintings of animals, not atypically decked out with underbelly lights reminiscent of ground effects on riced-out 2002 Mitsu Evos hauling ass up Yonge St. in the wrong gear on a Saturday night.

“Naïve” and “readily legible” are hardly criticisms. I couldn’t do this shit either. (Elena Shumilova creates analogous works via photography.)

The so-called Fathers project started out as a conceptually original video travelogue of an imagined future in which AIDS never existed. Creator Leo “Mexican Artist” Herrera revealed himself to be an intentionally marginal queer sellout from a kit with his endless complaints about “transphobia” and “white supremacy,” neither of which are real or which limit him at all in the freest country on earth.

• Vito Russo is president in a United States that tolerates so-called Stonewall colonies. This faux-VHS non sequitur sticks out from the last video depicting Herrera’s utopian future:

  

  He meant BLACK LIVES MATTER SMOKEBOMBS GAY-PRIDE PARADE, HOLDS ORGANIZERS HOSTAGE.

• Due to censorship that does not affect his class of “queer,” Herrera notes that, “over the course of the series, viewership of Fathers has plummeted” – to levels its creator deserved all along.

• Anti-gay, anti-male, anti-White, anti-gay-White-male cultural products “are the signposts that tell us we’re headed in the right direction as an LGBTQ people. They must be protected at all costs,” he writes, making as much sense as “Brave transwymmynz of colour threw the first brick at Stonewall.”

• “What will happen to my films if the clouds come down [sic] or my social-media accounts are deleted for linking to a porn site?” Herrera asks. What happens to gay White men and lesbians who call “queers” like him inveterate liars?

If a “queer” person tells you it’s raining, stick your hand out the window just to make sure. Keep in mind too that – all things considered – he’d like to see you dead.

Here we have the happiest homosexualist photograph of the year, which I could also restate as the photograph with the happiest homosexualists of the year.

We take male sexuality much too far half the time, which indeed makes them hate and envy us, but we also come up with fetishes that aren’t actually fetishes. The kind of thing where everybody has good clean fun and nobody goes home feeling ashamed or dirty or sullied. Dressing up is good clean fun, whether in mildly customized commercial pup hoods (note also he’s a black negro of colour, and note the Apple Watch, because we are not savages here) or in rubber outfits that almost never work on a dude that size. (Teal latex overhauls are a fashion-forward choice if you’re slim and hirsute.)

You can wear these getups on the subway ride to the venue and in the Uber on the way home. You can walk there in these getups. Tons o’ fun.

Now, the dude that size just married his dude that size, whom he could pretty much deadlift. I still don’t understand skin illustrations on black dudes.

But aren’t you having fun looking at this picture? Wish you were there?

Breeders don’t have access to any of this shit.