How the Google Guy Got It Exactly Right

A myriad of distinguished professors and social scientists have already confirmed what James Damore wrote in his Google memo: men and women are measurably different.

The Google guy behind the infamous gender memo, James Damore, is a troglodyte. An embarrassing, knuckle-dragging, flat-earther who is under the silly illusion that men and women have inherent differences. Google properly fired him for just being stupid. At least that’s the fashionable story.

But the truth is that it was Damore who got it right.

Read how strongly the best emerging science backs him here.

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What is a Christian? Insight From an Unlikely Source

The famous atheist philosopher, Bertrand Russell, had the following to say in the opening of his book, Why I am Not a Christian. It is actually a good and challenging word His Church today.

“I think that you must have a certain amount of definite belief before you have the right to call yourself a Christian. The word does not have quite such a full-blooded meaning now as it had in the days of St. Augustine and St. Thomas Aquinas. In those days, if a man said that he was a Christian it was known what he meant. You accepted a whole collection of creeds which were set out with great precision, and every single syllable of those creeds you believed with the whole strength of your convictions. Nowadays it is not quite like that.”

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Non-Binary T-Shirts Come in Only Two Genders

Perfectly good irony seems to be lost on these folks

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Rosie the Riveter: Not the Feminist Icon You Think She Is

She’s become one of the world’s most well-known icons.

The rolled up sleeves of her heavy denim work shirt. Her slender arm flexed, fist clenched in an unmistakable “don’t mess with me” pose. Her factory employee button alongside her finely manicured nails. Her hair bundled up in her trademark bandanna, crowning her very pretty and meticulously made up face. She’s at once hard, strong, beautiful and unmistakably feminine.

But she’s not who you think she is. Not at all. And the New Yorker’s historically incorrect use of the poster and misappropriation of the woman herself is an insult to women’s history.  Let me tell you her story.

She was created in 1942 by artist J. Howard Miller who produced her under contract for Westinghouse. It was one of a series of posters, each used as motivational tools for Westinghouse employees to boost team spirit, factory productivity, and safety and also avoid strikes. The directions to shop managers to “Post Feb. 15 to Feb. 28” appear in its bottom left corner. Thus it was seen for only two weeks, exclusively by Westinghouse employees of its Midwest operations. It was unknown to the public until the mid-1980s.

She is not actually Rosie the Riveter. Westinghouse didn’t rivet anything. The Rosie that people knew and loved at the time was Norman Rockwell’s “Rosie the Riveter.” (Note her halo, her curious “man arms” and the title of the book she is crushing beneath her foot.) She was even feted in this snappy and popular tune.

The “We” in “We Can Do It!” is not a collective, feminist “we.” “We” was the corporation’s male and female employees. The “It” was meeting the order quotas for each factory, each day. Her flexed arm and clenched fist? It was certainly not a revolutionary symbol of strength and feminist empowerment. It was part of Westinghouse’s daily corporate cheer to stoke morale. Westinghouse Magazine (September 1942) featured a picture of such a rally with the explanation, “With ‘Let’s Show Them’ as their slogan and a clenched fist as their symbol,” the team readies for their duties.

Rosie has been grossly misappropriated. She was no feminist, to be sure!

She was only so in that she expected full and equal pay for a full day’s work. But she was first and foremost a dedicated patriot, standing in while her husbands and boyfriends were on the Front. Her desire was to earn a living for her family and help her men come home safe and soon. Nobody, even the most traditionalist of her day, thought she was transcending or redefining femininity by doing this sort of labor.

Yes, she was happy for the work, the education and independence it provided. She changed the working world for her daughters and granddaughters, to be sure. But the only message she was interested in sending was to the Axis powers. Her only stand was for victory. She was indeed strong, capable, and dedicated and did not shrink from the difficult challenge. The millions of women who became Rosies were true national treasures, and the Great War likely could not have been won without them. Her British sisters did the same, as did her mother and grandmother in WWI.

Just as Elizabeth Cady Stanton and Susan B. Anthony would be scandalized to find themselves assumed into a movement that is antithetical to their strongly held convictions about the life of the unborn and virtue of motherhood, Rosie would be as well. A scholarly article in the journal Rhetoric and Public Affairs addresses the many myths and misconceptions that have grown up around the “We Can Do It!” poster in recent decades. The authors designate its pop-culture evolution a “feminist fable.”

Today’s understanding of the poster and its message are for the most part “mythic” …[W]hile the words in “We Can Do It!” may appear to emerge from a female source, the image’s beauty and elegance conceal the fact that it is a ventriloquist’s voice commissioned by Westinghouse, a voice whose purpose was evidently [corporately] masculine and perhaps even exploitive.

That poster was replaced on the factory floor by this one of the same series by the same artist, just the opposite of any feminist ideal. These scholars conclude the “poster has come to represent a past that never was.” Most of these patriotic and self-sacrificing Rosies would not care for the way they have been coopted by the more radical fringes of the feminist movement today, particularly the New Yorker’s historically dishonest use of her. This is who she was, here, here, here, and here.

She signed up for and succeeded in a great national cause. It’s incorrect to sign her up for something she was never about. She was not a revolutionary idealist, but a patriotic realist; head down, working hard for her family and country.

Rosie was a well-behaved woman who made history. Let her be what she was.

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Why Are So Many Lesbians Getting Pregnant?

It makes for an illogical syllogism.

          Premise A: Lesbians are sexually attracted to women only.

          Premise B: Women cannot impregnate women.

          Conclusion: Lesbians have higher pregnancy rates than non-lesbians.

It’s contrary to all reason, but it’s true. Lesbians have significantly higher pregnancy rates than their heterosexual peers. It’s also true for teen gay males. They are substantially more likely to impregnate their sexual partners than are heterosexual males.

                  Continue reading here

Posted in cultural analysis, culture, lesbian, lgbt, Loving My (LGBT) Neighbor, politics, Sexuality | Tagged , , , , | 3 Comments

The Time We Creamed a Guy in Auckland

Late last year I was invited to New Zealand for six weeks to work on a writing project for my friends at Focus on the Family NZ.

The last few days we filmed a presentation of the completed curriculum before a group of Kiwi teens at a downtown Auckland church. I ordered an Uber to deliver me to the shoot. The driver, an Indian gentleman, was pleasantly friendly and an enjoyable conversationalist.

His car was a nice Prius and NZ drivers are situated on the “other” side of the car. I was sitting in the rear seat, sitting close and diagonal to my driver. As we got in the middle of the bustling downtown, we started to make a left hand turn. What happened next happened in an absolute flash, but in slow motion.

As we began our turn, a blur appeared in my left peripheral vision. Then a helmeted head exploded through the front passenger window, right in front of my face. That whole window shattered into a hurricane of glass, assaulting my driver. As quick as that blur slammed into the side of the car and the head blasted through the window, it was gone from view, rocketing back and downward.

The driver stopped the car on a dime post-impact. I was in shock and the drive was rightfully freaking out. We hit a bike messenger. He was flying one second. Then he wasn’t. In this slow-motion instant, I remember wondering if I wanted to look back and check on the bike messenger or not see a horrid sight I might not ever get out of my head.

In that split second, before I could even turn my head, the bike messenger was up and his head shoved back in the window. Rather than the sound of shattering glass and impact, he was sharing his choice and colorful thoughts about my driver’s navigational ability with great conviction. I patted my friend on the shoulder and told him it was alright. It was just a accident and the victim appeared more than fine. Actually, more lively than he had probably been in some time.

Uberman turned around and said to me quite firmly, “Get out, get out! Go. You go!” Not angry, but definite. Feeling he had enough on this hands, I gathered my things, exited the car and started to walk away. I had two thoughts.

What did it look like, someone just getting out of a car involved in a substantial accident and walking away. Second, where was I relative to where I needed to be? Again, I figured my dilemma was nothing compared to my driver’s. So I headed to the curb and saw my destination a half a block down. The film crew met me in the parking lot and asked how I was. Still shaking, I told them the story, pointing to the mangled bike in the street and the driver and cyclist engaged.

Creamed a bike messenger my first time in New Zealand. I won’t forget that. I’ve thought of the outcome of the two men many times since. Oh, and I gave the driver a very positive Uber review and didn’t mention the incident. I wanted him to have a great feeling of  grace and relief when he checked his review for that fare.

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Mr. UNTUCKit. An American Hero

From the moment you see him on screen, you know he’s a man of purpose. His eyes are set, locked on the horizon. A visionary. Others easily step aside for him on the street, not out of fear, but respect. He’s going somewhere and you would happily follow him there.

He comes bearing great news. He alone has recognized a problem that has long plagued him and millions of other men. He was the only wise enough to realize it was a problem. Finding the solution would be no simple task, but doing so became his life’s passion. He is not shy about using the word – passion – in his commercial with something approaching the fierce urgency of now. The problem?

You’ll want to sit down for this.

Our man couldn’t find a shirt that looked good untucked.

Men, we all know what he’s talking about. When I first saw Mr. UNTUCKit’s commercial, my heart felt strangely warmed. I was no longer alone, drowning in my own sense of shame. Sure, I knew I’d been walking around in public with a shirt that was never, ever intended to be untucked. But untuck it I did. I just didn’t know any better. My need to untuck was greater than my own need of self-worth. I didn’t care if people pointed and laughed or looked away in disgust. I didn’t care if people met the eyes of my children with those tender “you poor child” glances. Like so many others, I had lost myself utterly in that no-man’s land between comfort and respectability. But all that’s changed now with Mr. UNTUCKit’s 30-second message of hope.

He refused to succumb, to live one more day looking like a dang fool. He rose up. He fought back. He blazed a trail for all other men. He said “it’s easier said than done” but he did what seemed impossible: design a shirt that was intended to be untucked. Constantine, Columbus, Lindbergh, Churchill, Edison and Gates all felt a little smaller, a little less at this great turn. He alone had the man stuff to take it on and do so with absolute confidence and calm. He was born to it.

There’s no news yet of a Nobel Prize or Presidential Medal of Honor but you know their coming. His vision and persistence has been handily rewarded with hordes of men blinking their way out of fashion darkness and into one of his five expensively designed, hip retail shops in our nation’s premier apparel centers. Others visit his smart website featuring bearded male models that do not exist in nature. His only flaw is lacking a business model like a certain shoe company: order a incredibly priced item and a poor child on the other side of the world receives the exact same product for free. Now young men in undeveloped countries can walk with with their heads held high. A human dignity twofer.

Somebody has promised to make America great again. I say we’ve never been better. Thank you Mr. UNTUCKit. Every man, and the woman who loves him, is forever in your debt.

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