Monthly Archives: October, 2015

Russian Tragedy

Yes, believe it or not, I’m writing about something other than SJW howler monkeys today.  I know… I’m as shocked as you are.

A horrible tragedy befell a Russian aircraft today. This is absolutely horrible, and despite any feelings I may have for the current Russian leadership, I feel for the families of the 224 people aboard who died today.

Russian state media reported that many of the 217 passengers were Russians returning from vacation. The passengers were reported to include 17 children. There were seven crew members.

The plane had departed the Red Sea resort of Sharm el-Sheikh, near the southern tip of the Sinai, on a flight to St. Petersburg, Russia. The plane vanished from radar 23 minutes into the flight, at 6:20 a.m. local time.

Where's the vodka? Go get 'em, Vova!

Where’s the vodka? Go get ’em, Vova!

There have been rumors that Islamic terrorists took credit for the crash, although my initial thought – until more is determined – is that the pig humping scum are merely taking the opportunity to take credit for this tragedy.

(I will also admit there’s a small part of me wonders how long it will take the Russians to characterize this as an act of western provocation and somehow blame us, but that feeling is much overshadowed by compassion and honest sympathy for those who have lost loved ones in this disaster.)

The weather was clear, according to preliminary reports, and the pilot had reported technical difficulties before the plane disappeared.

I can guarantee you one thing, though: if IS or any other frothing fundamentalist Islamic cult is shown to have had any involvement in this tragedy, I will sit back and watch as Putin decimates anyone or anything having to do with the culprit.

And I will cheer him on. Bring on the vodka and popcorn!


Uber Douche Wants New Type of Hero

Why is it that every time I want to stop writing on the lunacy of the SJWs, some lunatic forces me back into the half-baked cage of SJW psychosis?

Perhaps it’s because that sewer is an inexhaustible circle jerk of cultural Marxist jackoffery that will never run out of deviants. Or maybe I have friends who love to see my head explode at the stoopid.

Take this pearl-clutching schizo Damien Walter who writes about all things weird. He’s supposedly a writer of speculative fiction or something. He’s got one book on Amazon that I can find, with five reviews – 40 percent of them shitty. He’s also a favorite chew toy of one of my favorite authors – the International Lord of Hate himself Larry Correia – who accurately assessed a while back that somewhere in Britain a village is missing its idiot.

In other words, you know that whatever this uber douche vomits will likely be borderline retarded and somewhat ponderous. And guess what! He doesn’t disappoint – if by “disappoint” we mean dash our expectations that something incredibly stupid will come out of that stagnating, gelatinous mass of goo the Guardian newspaper thinks is a brain. It is, in fact, that stupid.

Walter spends the first couple of paragraphs in his latest screed in a wistful rumination about Conan the Barbarian’s pecs… or was it Arnold Schwarzenegger’s pecs? Regardless… you know he’s going to attempt to transform Conan into an irrelevant relic of white, male patriarchy, because he begins the essay with a nostalgic disclaimer about his latent desire to rape and pillage. He really LUUUUURVES Conan, but…

…the macho white male is only the fantasy ideal for a minority. As Lisa Cron argues in her excellent Wired For Story, the power of story reaches far further than mere entertainment. Our brain thinks in stories, but when stories don’t reflect our lived experience and our sense of identity, our brain will often reject them.

So there’s this thing. It’s called imagination. When a story is well written, the imagination lights up with ideas, with desires, with joy, with experiences that come alive from the reading! As Meg Rosoff observed – and was excoriated for – good literature expands your mind. It doesn’t have the “job” of being a mirror. But Damien Walter, as all good little howler monkey troops must, toes the SJW party line.

Now, I will admit, I haven’t read Ms. Cron’s book, but here’s a partial description from Amazon.

The vast majority of writing advice focuses on “writing well” as if it were the same as telling a great story. This is exactly where many aspiring writers fail–they strive for beautiful metaphors, authentic dialogue, and interesting characters, losing sight of the one thing that every engaging story must do: ignite the brain’s hardwired desire to learn what happens next. When writers tap into the evolutionary purpose of story and electrify our curiosity, it triggers a delicious dopamine rush that tells us to pay attention. Without it, even the most perfect prose won’t hold anyone’s interest.
     Backed by recent breakthroughs in neuroscience as well as examples from novels, screenplays, and short stories, Wired for Story offers a revolutionary look at story as the brain experiences it. Each chapter zeroes in on an aspect of the brain, its corresponding revelation about story, and the way to apply it to your storytelling right now.

I’ve also read a few reviews on the Internet and some quotes from the book itself. It sounds interesting, and it’s apparently based on heavy research in neuroscience and psychology. What I’m not seeing is confirmation of Damien’s claim that “when stories don’t reflect our lived experience and our sense of identity, our brain will often reject them.”

Cron seems to be discussing storytelling from an evolutionary perspective. “Recent breakthroughs in neuroscience reveal that our brain is hardwired to respond to story; the pleasure we derive from a tale well told is nature’s way of seducing us into paying attention to it.”

Tale. Well. Told.

Not a mirror. Not message fiction. Tale well gold.

Do we want to see more trans-women secretaries as the ones taking down the bad guys?

Do we want to see more trans-women secretaries… sorry… executive assistants taking down the bad guys?

Damien, of course, twists this concept into tossing the old muscle-bound hero stereotypes in favor of less traditional heroes, such as… well… you guessed it – minorities, women, bureaucrats, homosexuals, transgendered individuals, logistics officers, and others that aren’t generally portrayed as heroic. Because muscly, violent men are out, and dull, tax auditor-types are in (and it would be great if they were women and gay too!)

Hercules is out. Here comes Pajama Boy!

Forget Superman. Let’s see more HR specialists.

Red Sonja the tax auditor.


No thanks.

Damien apparently compensates for his lack of testicular fortitude and barely hidden, slithering envy of strong, masculine archetypes by projecting his inability to relate to fun, masculine heroes onto others.

Seth Dickinson is one of a growing movement of fantasy authors re-engineering older stories for readers who don’t see themselves reflected in Conan, Frodo Baggins or Luke Skywalker. The Traitor Baru Cormorant begins with one of fantasy’s most famous tropes, the hero’s tribe are conquered by an oppressive empire, and he must take revenge. Or, as in the case of Ms Cormorant, she. And how will Baru Cormorant bring down the empire that murdered one of her two fathers? By learning to swing a sword? No! But by becoming a civil servant.

Translation: I’m bland and unimaginative, and I can’t relate to burly, powerful heroes. Solution? Make heroes bland and unimaginative, and invent fun things for them to do, like… you know… keep inventory, run budget meetings, coordinate on EEO policies, and all that. And if she fails at this task, the world as she knows it will end! I also note the worship of worthless bureaucracy that seems to be present in many progtard circles is oozing into what these tools consider literature.

There’s a clear logic to the conceit at the heart of Dickinson’s novel. Lone barbarians, however ripped, don’t defeat armies. But politicians and bureaucrats can wield the power to topple empires.

Except politicians and bureaucrats aren’t fun storytelling; they mostly sit around, tap their computer keys, and bloviate a lot. And while scheming is interesting, it’s the execution, the action, the actual toppling of empires that keeps us reading. Remember that good storytelling thing Lisa Cron talks about?

Baru Cormorant is a woman, from a conquered people, who discovers she is attracted to other women, trapped in an empire that kills her kind.

I’m shocked. Damien loves the abused lesbian victim.

Her only chance to survive is to learn the Masquerade of lies and deception that power the empire, and beat it at its own game. Dickinson’s novel arguably pursues the same strategy as its protagonist, imitating the genre it seeks to subvert, and perhaps one day, topple.

You know… learning to subvert the enemy is fine, but what are you going to do with it? That’s where that storytelling comes in. Learning is fine. Filling out logistics forms incorrectly, not so much.

I also love how Damien immediately projects his own desire to topple what he apparently can’t match in intellectual, and I’d be willing to bet, physical prowess, onto Seth Dickinson. Apparently writing a novel about a lesbian bureaucrat taking on the system = wanting to destroy other types of heroes. It’s either/or in Damien’s world. Seth Dickinson’s heroine apparently cannot coexist with the strong, masculine hero types out there! There’s only room in this world for one or the other. It’s so typical of the SJW mentality: if it doesn’t agree with you, destroy it!

Additionally, as you will see shortly, Damien’s reference to Cron’s ideas on storytelling is a ruse meant to provide his idiotic claims with a glossy veneer of legitimacy. He doesn’t give a flying rat’s fuck about quality and storytelling, and he admits it.

Dickinson’s re-engineering of the heroic fantasy genre is not entirely successful. The Traitor Baru Cormorant has neither the heart stirring adventure of a heroic fantasy, or the political depth of a Wolf Hall. But in a field where too many writers simply retell the same old stories, Dickinson’s originality and ambition are to be applauded, even when he doesn’t quite manage to meet the narrative engineering challenges he has set in himself.

Here you have it, boys and girls. There’s no heart. There’s no stirring adventure. There’s no political depth. But see… Dickinson is original, because he wrote a book about a lesbian in a world where gays are apparently killed (’cause that’s never been done before; see: Iran, Saudi Arabia, Yemen, Sudan, etc.), so that makes it all good.

Walter then heaps drooling praise on authors such as Michael Moorcock, Kate Elliott, and NK Jemisin for being oh-so-progressive, as if progress is somehow limited to writing disadvantaged minorities one has unearthed from the proglodyte-approved the Victim-of-the-Month club.

The fantasy genre has always contained a progressive streak. From Angela Carter and Michael Moorcock to China Mieville and Kate Elliot, writers have re-engineered older narratives for audiences who don’t share the traditional values of Howard or Tolkien. But as the values of our society shift, those writers are creating the new mainstream of the genre. NK Jemisin’s Hundred Thousand Kingdoms, Ken Liu’s The Grace of Kings and Ilana C Myer’s Last Song Before Night, among many others, joy in re-engineering the traditional fantasy narrative to create new kinds of story.

Notice once again, there’s nothing here about good storytelling, which he spent some time telling us was oh-so-critical by citing Lisa Cron. The only thing that matters is the renunciation of traditional values and characters. Not the story.

The story is what sells the book. The story is what keeps our brain hanging on, according to the same author whose writing he twists to support his ridiculous theories. The story is what matters. It keeps us readers turning the pages. It keeps our imaginations engaged, our emotions burning, and our loyalties to the author whose work gives us such joy! It certainly doesn’t matter to us, the readers, whether the author has checked a gay/trans/black/purple/queer box on some imbecilic conformist checklist.

But to Damien… Oh no! HIS story can’t be allowed to stand!

“See, this is the thing about history. His story. That’s all it is. The Old Man’s version of events, which basically the rest of us are supposed to accept as the undisputed truth. Well, call me cynical, but I’ve never been one to take things on trust, and I happen to know that history is nothing but spin and metaphor, which is what all yarns are made up of, when you strip them down to the underlay. And what makes a hit or a myth, of course, is how that story is told, and by whom.”

Cynical? No, this festering yambag is not cynical. He’s filled with that trademark progtard arrogant self-loathing that he projects onto innocent authors, who don’t conform to his version of those deserving of literary success, of those worthy enough to be read with heart and soul! Because in his freakish vision of literature, the hero is not strong, exciting, attractive, or entertaining. It’s a cranky cockroach, sitting behind a computer, filling out forms, and creating bureaucratic hurdles for those who want to actually do something, sullenly plotting the destruction of those it sniffily thinks have dominated long enough – Walters’ own little euphemism for the evil, patriarchal literary world he seeks to destroy and infest with puny, tedious pseudo heroes, whose mediocrity is the “virtue” he seeks to promote.

Perhaps that’s why this sniveling dick weasel can’t seem to write a novel without financial support from the government.

Supergirl: Badly-written, Badly-acted Dreck

I wanted to like the CBS series “Supergirl” so much! I really did. I am kind of a dork, so I will watch “Arrow,” “the Flash,” and all the comic book movies. So when I saw previews of this new series, I actually cleared my Monday night to give the show a chance. I expected a heroine – albeit a very young one – one that has a lot to learn about her powers and her mission in life – one that is still trying to find herself – but still a heroine.

supergirlWhat I got was a mealy-mouthed, badly-acted, awkward, badly-written trainwreck that was more concerned with the “feminist” message than it was with an actual story. I was bored about 20 minutes into the show. The acting was so horrible, I wanted to stab myself in the jugular with a spork!

Melissa Benoist, who was whiny and irritating in Glee, was whiny and irritating as the title character in this show. “If we call her Supergirl,” she pouts to her overbearing shrew of a boss after the latter names the new superhero, “something less than what she is, doesn’t that make us guilty of being anti-feminist?”


Mehcad Brooks as Jimmy Olsen… oh, excuse me, James Olsen – the love interest. Yeah, no. He’s way too hot, masculine, and sexy for the innocent young girl that Supergirl is supposed to be! I’m not a purist, so to me, he doesn’t have to be a complete and utter dork, but he looks more like her older uncle and mentor, rather than a romance. And even though the show tried to create this spark between them, he’s just too sexy for her! No!

Calista Flockhart as the media mogul boss is just a screeching harpy. You seriously want to smack her in the face. Why is it that the most financially successful female on the show, the only one who has ostensibly broken through the glass ceiling in her chosen career field, is a raging uber bitch? Is the implication that the only way you can be a career success as a woman is if you treat people like something slimy on the bottom of your shoe?

Quite the message to send girls aspiring for career success!

The sister… What a whining, sniveling mess! Oh, she didn’t want Kara to find her super self, because she was jealous, despite her intellectual prowess, but now she knows better! Since when are superior intellect and mental acuity inferior to physical strength? And why the hell would a scientist and a kickass government agent feel all deficient? And let’s not even talk about the bad acting! SO. MUCH. FAIL.

The reactions to “Supergirl” are interesting. The Washington Post loves it. It “leans into its feminism,” the Post drools. You know who wrote that review? Their pop-culture blogger.

That bastion of cultural Marxist thought (if you can call the brain droppings it emits that) Vox claims that the show is the “start of something great.”

Is it the awkward, fretting Kara, allowing her boss to stomp all over her, while whimpering about being “anti-feminist?”

Is it the jealous sister, who despite her supposedly superior intellect, is so insecure, that she actually works to prevent her younger sibling from realizing her hero potential until the end of the episode?

Is it the dictatorial Miranda Priestley wannabe Cat Grant, who just comes across as a barely competent, but oh-so-egotistical and despotic (and irritating)?

Or is it the contrived dialogue that makes one think that it was specifically written to push the feministy message? “On my planet, females bow before males,” says the villain, to which Supergirl replies, “This is not your planet.” Wow. Original! I literally talked along with her reply as she said it.

The Hollywood Reporter is drooling with adoration as well, because the character apparently comes “weighted with significance.” Someone kill me. PLEASE!!

Know what many viewers are saying on IMDB? (The atrocious grammar and spelling are theirs, not mine!)

…STEREOTYPES!! so many stereotypes that have been going on since EVERY TV SHOW EVER! Even Smallville delivered better content then this. You’d think they would move on to new things. It just makes you cringe, you know? It’s possible you might like this show… if you don’t ask questions and just pretend everything makes sense, or if you think the actress is cute, but don’t go looking for a “good” TV show. Just try to get past the pilot if you can! But with so many “fails” in one episode, it’s too disappointing to carry on.


The lead actress CAN”T act, she was terrible in Glee and even worse in this. The show is just one long crap-fest. She does looks at the camera and make a dumb face for everything, everyone is one dimensional and they have so much makeup on them you could hold a candle to their face and it would melt. Gross!


Calista Flockhart as the “Boss” is incredibly horrible. She pouts her way through every scene — so horribly BAD you want to run screaming from the room. Flockhart is not strong enough as an Actor to pull off this role. She lacks the personal gravitas to be a convincing Leader. I would send her immediately off to the Phantom Zone.

Melissa Benoist lacks the charisma to play a Super Hero. Her scenes with Jeremy Jordan are totally lacking in any chemistry.


Meh. I was hoping for more kick ass entertainment. We get Amy McBeal recast as a ball busting b$tch. Jimmy Olsen is mixed African. Supergirl is a knock kneed girl that gets excited and can’t make up her mind. Supergirl fights like an, um, girl. She gives up her identity to some smuck in the office that wants to, um, date her. In the fight with the mutant from outer space with a nuclear axe she almost gets killed. I was hoping he would slip his hand up her short little skirt and give her a little goose. I ended up flipping between this and DWTS.

How can they improve this. Get better writing. More spandex (or less). I’m not into the whole feminista thing, but maybe that is the audience they are looking for. At least they waited for the game to be over before showing it.


after watching all i can say is that this show has done nothing but disappointed me. the characters were so ‘unreliable’. the story and the dialogues of the characters of the episode were as if an immature high school teenager has written them. acting was ‘eh’, so unconvincing. if this is how the rest of the show is going to be then i don’t think i would want to see it. there was no spark, no ‘kick’ in it that make people gluing themselves to the screen. the costumes and weapons look more like that from power rangers i.e., childish and laughable.


This show is HORRIBLE. Bad writing, unappealing characters, and CGI that looks like it was done in film school.

Calista Flockhart’s character makes my skin crawl. Yes, yes, she’s a female Donald Trump, but she’s also uninspired and a complete cliché. The Devil Wears Prada anyone?

Melissa Benoist is Super-cute, but that doesn’t make her Supergirl either. Though I cannot blame that on her, as the writing was terrible. They tried to smash so much into one episode that any chance at a meaningful story was lost in the mad rush to get all of the info out the door.

Get it yet?

The critics, SJWs, and other self-anointed cognoscenti once again don’t give a crap about the acting, the plot, the execution, or anything else that makes entertainment… well… entertaining.

Sound familiar?

No, they want the feminist message, and they don’t care that it comes wrapped in used toilet paper.

It’s Not Racism When They Do It

I shouldn’t be amazed at the continued racism, prejudice, and utter appalling lies perpetuated by the SJW crowd. After all I’ve written about them enough on this blog. Every time I finish an essay, I promise myself to ignore these nits hereafter. I don’t want to give them any additional publicity or clicks.

But invariably, every time I read another repugnant screed by one of these howler monkeys or their screeching harpy handlers, I’m once again motivated to eviscerate them (in a purely figurative sense, for those whining offendapotomi who will invariably shriek that I’m somehow threatening physical violence) and their destructive efforts to marginalize those who don’t quite fall in line with their agenda.

Enter this… “writer.” I put “writer” in quotes, because this… person’s offensive diatribe is actually painfully irrational, illogical, and downright false. It’s an attempt to smear a group of people whom she does not know, does not care to know, and apparently barely considers human, judging by her lack of regard for this mythical adversary she and other SJW scum have erected for themselves.

The first paragraph of this dumpster fire of a piece immediately dives into the cesspool of “Let’s blame the evil whitey for objectifying women.”

In the movie Back to the Future, Michael J. Fox’s dad, George McFly, is the archetypal original nerd — an awkward, bookish white guy who has no natural game with the ladies, the George of 1955 reads sci-fi comic book magazines that spin space fantasies to accompany our nation’s Cold War policies. By 1966, these space fantasies could be glimpsed in full swing in the new television show Star Trek. While the original series ran for just three years, it spawned a multi-generational franchise of movies and TV shows. In hindsight, those early episodes seem undeniably cheesy, but at the time they were far more serious – not only about the starship Enterprise’s mission “to boldly go where no man has gone before,” but also about the importance of Captain Kirk meeting hot alien babes on all of the strange planets they found.

See? Star Trek was all about white Kirk humping alien babes! This shows a basic lack of comprehension for the show and an attempt to excoriate something she obviously has never had any interest in other than as a well-pummeled punching bag for her ideological hatred of the white patriarchy.

It wasn’t about breaking racial barriers in the era of the Civil Rights movement, depicting males, females, and aliens cooperating and forming lasting bonds to achieve the same goal!  The first interracial kiss on television… the numerous interracial – and even interspecies – relationships… the portrayal of a future in which people really are judged by the content of their character, where tolerance and diversity aren’t just terms with which to beat your ideological opponents over the head… nah… This ideological spawn of Mao and Stalin can only focus its myopic vision on Kirk’s libido.


Because you see… apparently somehow Star Trek is responsible for sexual harassment.

No, she doesn’t specifically say it, but by tying a current sexual harassment scandal that resulted in the resignation of renowned astronomer Geoff Marcy to Marcy’s lifelong dream of researching other worlds as a voracious reader of science fiction…

Well, you see where this is going.

Geoffrey William Marcy, future award-winning astronomer and UC Berkeley professor, was only twelve years old when Star Trek premiered. A couple of years later, Marcy discovered astronomy. According to a 2001 profile in the LA Times, he would often sit on his rooftop in southern California and gaze through a telescope. “He was 14 and he was obsessed…by the age-old questions that animated the science fiction he devoured… Were there other Earths teeming with life? Marcy was certain there were.” A few weeks ago, Marcy was being discussed as a potential Nobel Prize honoree. Then BuzzFeed leaked the story that Marcy had been found guilty of sexual harassment.

Talk about a ham-handed, puerile attempt to tie Kirk’s straying cock to science fiction to the current scandal! Could this creature get any more ponderous?

Star Trek, Kirk Man Whore —> Marcy watches Star Trek, Kirk Man Whore —> Marcy is interested in other worlds that science fiction has been exploring —> sexual harassment.

Um... What?

Um… What?

Now, let’s say this up front. For the record, sexual harassment and unwelcome sexual contact is beyond repugnant. Marcy’s acts as described in this Buzzfeed article are disgusting. No one in their right mind shoves their hand to a female colleague’s crotch and grabs on! What kind of professor in his right mind gets inappropriately touchy with students? And worse yet, if these incidents were well known and systematically ignored, there’s a systemic problem with UC Berkeley and the astronomy field writ large! No one – male or female – should be forced to leave the field they love because someone sexually assaulted them without repercussions! No one!

I once knew of a guy who was autistic, but really good at what he did at a particular agency. However, after he leaned over and began eating the hair of the woman sitting in front of him on a shuttle bus, he was eventually let go. Didn’t matter how good he was at his job. He. Ate. Her. Hair. Granted, he didn’t really have much control over his behavior, according to the account I got, but you know what? He was gone anyway.

Marcy, apparently sexually harassed numerous students, and his pawing was an open secret on campus. He then proceeded to excuse his behavior as somehow accidental. “It is difficult to express how painful it is for me to realize that I was a source of distress for any of my women colleagues, however unintentional,” he said.


I don’t care how socially awkward you are. Your hand doesn’t “unintentionally” grab someone’s crotch or wander inside someone’s shirt. No excuse. None!

Hope that’s clear.

But condemning the behavior of the university and the professor wasn’t good enough for the “writer” of the dreck I cited above. No, she just had to take the opportunity to smear the SJWs’ favorite punching bag, the Sad Puppies, with that tainted brush, because Sad Puppies = anyone the SJWs hate.

The mental acrobatics and irrational contortions that she obviously had to go through to reach this conclusion are making my eyes cross! You see, the Sad Puppies, in the addled shit show of a mind of this particular imbecile, want to bring back the good ole days of science fiction, which are replete with misogyny, degradation of women, and the SJW morons’ favorite boogieman: the domination of old white men.

So, they exploited a “loophole” in the award nomination process, she claims.

What. A. Dumb. Twat.

There was no loophole. Zero. A bunch of fans used the normal nomination process to nominate works they liked – without the usual deference to political agendas, social messaging, or any of the other crap the SJW and their howler monkey supporters worship. They merely nominated the works they liked without regard to politics or social justice agendas.

The Sad Puppies are upset, she claims, because it is “no longer safe to automatically assume the average sci-fi fan — or protagonist — is a straight white guy.” Of course, none of the Sad Puppies I know said any such thing. What this purveyor of sniffly Marxist crap is quoting, as if it can somehow be attributed to the Sad Puppies, is an article by the pasty, white, frothing “culture editor” of the notoriously leftist Vox, who erroneously claimed that somehow Sad Puppies wanted to return science fiction not only to its space opera roots, but “to celebrate works by politically conservative authors, whose views may sit outside the mainstream of the current community.”

Well, instead of actually researching facts, the howling SJW rodent simply doubles down on the stupid.

Let’s set aside the fact that the Sad Puppies campaign and eventual slate was made up of deserving authors who would “not otherwise find themselves on the Hugo ballot without some extra oomph received from beyond the rarefied, insular halls of 21st century Worldcon ‘fandom.'” Note, there’s nothing said about color, race, sexual identity, gender, political affiliation, or anything else the Puppy Kickers deem to be more important than actual quality writing. As a matter of fact, knowing a number of the authors on that slate as I do, I’d be hard pressed to pigeonhole them into any kind of political ideology. Some are a-political. Many support not only gays serving openly and proudly in the military, but also getting married. Some are, in fact, conservative, and even though I’ve had my disagreements with them over the years, they were always respectful and never bitter.

This sniveling, lying twat is all about the bitter. “According to one Sad Puppy author, ‘A few decades ago, if you saw a…space ship on a book cover…or a barbarian swinging an axe, you were going to get a rousing fantasy epic with broad-chested heroes who slay monsters, and run off with beautiful women.’ (Female consent to this running-off was not mentioned.) Nowadays, the novel beneath that same cover might involve a critique of sexism, or colonization, or even feature a queer or transgender hero,” she claims.

Well, she’s either illiterate, or a liar. I’d bet the latter. The full quote from my friend Brad Torgersen is here, and if she had actually bothered to read what he wrote, she would realize that the complaint is not about the existence of gay or transgender heroes, as she disingenuously claims, but rather the substitution of social justice issues for fun and adventure. It’s about the fact that good story telling has taken a backseat to the social justice message, and while looking at the cover, the reader expects a space adventure, they’re invariably “treated” to smug lectures on the evils of capitalism or racial prejudice.

But let’s forget her lack of reading comprehension for a moment and look at the juxtaposition of the Sad Puppies issue with the Geoff Marcy resignation.


I guarantee you that not a single author on the Sad Puppies 2015 slate or a Sad Puppies fan and supporter would defend Marcy’s alleged actions! I guarantee you that every single one of them would condemn the sexual harassment. Not a single one would try to excuse the inexcusable!

And yet, here she is, humping the narrative like a terrier long overdue for a neutering.

It’s not that the Sad Puppies slate lacked diversity. Not even close. And the upcoming year’s Sad Puppies campaign is run by three women, whom I’m sure this pedantic sow will find a way to abuse, castigate, and excoriate. It won’t take her long to jump on that bandwagon and throw fellow women authors (ones who are much more interesting, successful, and revered in their field than she is in hers) under the social justice bus, because they dare to be different, independent, and bright without whining about how they’ve been slighted by dick-bearing misogynists, I’m sure.

It’s not that the Sad Puppies want to bar talented, deserving women from being published or read. It’s that they want to bring back interesting, exciting stories and focus on the actual writing, instead of the social agenda contained in it.

It’s not that Sad Puppies authors write only about white male heroes. As Mike Williamson reminds us, his first novel “Freehold,” featured a “female lead, bunches of mixed race characters, and a positive portrayal of a sex worker who was a bisexual Asian/Hispanic.” Mike has written black, mixed race, Asian, gay, straight, and transgender characters. He’s “written atheists, Muslims, fundamentalist Christians, people with medical and physiological handicaps, Pagans, and others I don’t keep track of, because I think of people as individuals, not stereotypes.”

But you know who is constantly humping gender and race stereotypes? The author of this monumentally duplicitous and unfair screed and the commenters who are licking her ass and praising her mental acrobatics.

Thanks this essay is awesome. I’m not a writer but a scientist and a lifelong voracious scifi/fantasy reader, and the Sad Puppies/Marcy/Hunt debacles make me want to scream. I somehow never connected the two (sexist scientists and sexist scifi) together so explicitly.

You know why? Because there was no connection there, you nitwit. There never was! Not until this lying sow somehow twisted a fan movement into a sexism fantasy.

Thank you, this perfectly illustrates why I could never get into the classic sci-fi like Heinlen. I tried and tried but cool tech just isn’t enough for me.

You probably couldn’t get into it, because you don’t have the mental capacity to understand it. Hell, you can’t even spell Heinlein’s name correctly!

Oh my god, I can’t even read male scifi writers, it’s always such boring, boring sexist drivel. I stopped reading male scifi writers recently though and I actually like the genre again!

Based on your writing, you might as well have stopped at “I can’t read.”

But to agree, I did a think last year where I only read female SF/F writers for like six months, and it honestly was one of my best reading decisions ever.

But that’s not sexist or anything. Hell, K. Tempest Bradford RAGE QUIT reading works by white, male authors, but she’s not racist or sexist either.

Women and other minorities in SFF are doing such cool shit right now, there’s no reason to read anyone else …

No, of course not! Why read for quality? Just choose your authors based on race. But that’s not racist.

It’s not racist when they do it!


SJWs: The Howler Monkeys of the Developed World

Last week I talked about a young adult author named Meg Rosoff, who, because she didn’t confirm to the RITETHINK of the screeching social justice warriors about how much YA literature is out there to engage marginalized youth, experienced an Internet shrew dog pile of shrieking harpies who not only slung dirt in her direction, but also proceeded to accuse her of privilege and bias, while discounting her views because she’s white! I’ll leave the irony to just sit there a while. They posted their hatred and all over the Internet and attempted to impact her livelihood by encouraging readers to shun her books – all because she dared have an opinion that we don’t need agendas in books.

Rosoff isn’t the first author bullied by social justice warriors, and she certainly won’t be the last. Remember my friend and author Brad Torgersen being accused of using his African-American wife and biracial daughter as “shields” for his alleged “racism?”

Remember the Internet assault on science fiction great Neil Gaiman for daring to not toe the line on trigger warnings?

And I won’t even get into the vile attacks on Larry Correia and Sarah A. Hoyt, with the latter being called everything from stupid to a white, Mormon male.

And it’s not just the Internet bullying. It’s the rudeness and attacks on those who don’t walk the SJW walk. Remember Tor editor Patrick Nielsen Hayden unprofessionally screaming at one of Tor’s authors, because he happened to be angry with her husband? Remember Tor employee Irene Gallo calling the Sad Puppies extreme right-wing to neo-nazis? Remember the “no award” at WorldCon this year – a block vote by SJWs to keep the “undesirables” away from the Hugo awards?

It’s unfortunate that there seem to be more and more women bullying others on the Internet. I noted with no small amount of sadness that the majority of the attacks on Rosoff came from women. I wonder if this is an attempt to compensate for decades of inequalities – both perceived and real – by flexing their figurative muscles against those they allege to be the “oppressors” and getting even.

I also have noticed that the men who support these types of SJW agendas tend to be petty, less than masculine, screechy, and self-flagellating. Remember, science fiction author John Scalzi is living his life on the lowest difficulty setting as a while male. But hey, he’s appropriately guilty about it, so he’s not just accepted in the militant SJW circles, but revered for attacking others who don’t conform to his perception of being a white male in the developed world.

Remember the pedantic, sniffy, pedo-apologist Phildo Sandifer? He’s another one who humps the white privilege carcass like a dog that desperately needs to be neutered.

Phil once engaged me on Facebook in a gun control discussion, and as soon as he realized his usual gun-grabber rhetoric wasn’t going to fly with me, he proceeded to claim he was terrified that people like me actually owned guns, and that I am one of the reasons he wants gun control. That makes me giggle. I’m female. I’m relatively strong for a female; I’m an Army veteran, after all. But physically, I’m no match for a fairly strong guy. I know this. I accept this. I carry, because it’s my right, and because as a female, I understand I’m no match for many thugs. Phil had no problem admitting that he was scared of little ole me, because in the absence of any common sense regarding guns, he reverted to advertising how weak and cowardly he was!

Arthur Chu, whom I mentioned above as the fetid sack of rancid crap that attacked Brad Torgersen, is another one of these screeching pseudo male cowards. His odious history of attacking everyone who doesn’t agree with him is well-known and documented.

These pseudo-males remind me of howler monkeys. They can’t compete in the arena of physical prowess, so they compensate with loud, obnoxious screeching.

In his 1871 book on evolutionary theory called “The Descent of Man, and Selection in Relation to Sex”, Charles Darwin posited that sexual selection was determined in two main ways: through combat, or through display. For those animals who win mates by means of mating displays, those characteristics that are more likely to win a mate come at a cost to the animal. For instance, the peacock’s tail feathers hinders its mobility. In other words, there’s a trade-off.

For male howler monkeys, that trade-off is an unusual one. The larger their vocal organs, a new study has found, the smaller their testes and the lower their sperm count. The research has been published in the journal Current Biology.

“We have strong evidence that howler monkey species that invest in larger vocal organs produce less sperm,” said lead author Jacob Dunn of the University of Cambridge.

The resemblance is stunning. The SJW howlers are generally effeminate and loud. They attack ideological opponents and are sometimes rewarded by SJW females shrieking harpies with attention or affection. They don’t have the intellectual strength, self assurance, or the testicular fortitude to approach and have relationships with real women, so they choose to screech, howl, and holler in order to attract the kind of woman who appreciates the ability to compensate for weakness with bullying, cowardly attacks – mostly from the safety of a keyboard.

"Male" SJWs and perpetual offendapotomi in their natural habitat.

“Male” SJWs and perpetual offendapotomi in their natural habitat.

They have no problem with bullying others, because a) it’s safe to do so as a keyboard commando, and b) the females who claim to be perpetually offended appreciate the attacks for the illusion of “strength” they provide. It’s not that these “men” are strong protectors of their perspective mates. It’s more like they’re obsequious seekers of their affections, and the Internet provides a perfect megaphone for them to flex their cyber vocal chords in a sad attempt to gain female attention.

And it’s not that these alleged “feminists” seek out actual strong men as mates; hell, from what I’ve seen they actually prefer the pseudo-males they can bully into defending their sometimes outrageous positions! They just like having these spineless pimples around, because then they don’t have to put any real effort into a relationship with a strong, independent, intelligent man, who wants an intellectual match – a rational, emotionally strong woman.

They can just have the howler monkey with the shriveled testes, who will bow to their will, and pretend.


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