More Snowflakery

Hard on the heels of the Grimm’s Fairy Tales atrocity comes this blast of fetid air from the zeitgeist :

The youngest generation’s greater willingness to embrace nontraditional gender norms has opened up a new market within the beauty industry: men’s makeup.
One-third of young men said they would consider wearing makeup, according to Morning Consult polling, while 23 percent of all men said the same. Founders of men’s cosmetic brands credit the increased interest among young men not only to a wider acceptance of the idea that gender is fluid but also to the pressure to be picture perfect at any moment, thanks to social media.

In August 2018, Chanel debuted a line of men’s makeup, called Boy de Chanel, that includes a foundation and an eyebrow pencil.

Okay, you all may snigger at this, but even I am not immune to the siren call of male cosmetics:  a little dab of Hoppe’s No. 9 behind the ears does wonders for the self-esteem.

I even carry a small bottle in my gun bag purse for the occasional touch-up.  (And all you Kroil and CLP devotees can get knotted.  If Hoppe’s was good enough for my Dad, and his  dad, it’s damn well good enough for me.)

Triggering Update

Here’s one which should make all grown-up people spit their breakfast gin into the Rice Krispies:

With the fragile millennial generation seemingly getting weaker by the day, a university in Scotland has fond it necessary to issue “trigger warnings” for college students asked to read Grimm’s fairy tales for class.

Now that said, I should point out that many of Grimm’s fairy tales — in their un-bowdlerized form, that is — are genuinely terrifying:  if one is five years old.

I remember being quite frightened by some of the darker fairy tales myself, but that, of course, is the entire point of the things:  they’re cautionary tales for children.  Just take Hansel & Gretel as an example:  don’t wander away from the house unaccompanied, or bad things will happen to you.  (I bet that young Miss Bambridge’s parents regret never having read that  story to their daughter during her childhood.)

But that supposed adults — university students, no less — who can vote, drive and buy alcohol (sometimes all at the same time) should require precautionary warnings before reading Grimm’s Fairy Tales ?  Just think:  some day these little weenies may be running countries and corporations.

Thankfully, by that time I should be dead.

Snowflake Report

Good grief, why bother to go if clapping is going to intimidate you?

Snowflake students at Oxford University are the latest to demand that clapping should be banned because applause noise can trigger anxiety and want ‘jazz hands’ to be used instead.
The idea for a British sign language alternative for clapping involving the waving of hands was put forward at the student union’s first meeting of the year on Tuesday.
Sabbatical Officers Roisin McCallion, Vice President for Welfare and Equal Opportunity and Ebie Edwards Cole, Chair for Oxford SU Disabilities Campaign, successfully passed the motion to mandate the encouragement of silent clapping.

My suggestion is that for “clapping”, substitute “slapping”, but no doubt some fainting fairy is going to have a problem with that too.  And if the noise of clapping triggers that much anxiety in them, I wonder how they’d react to gunshots.

And note the caption for a couple of the pics:

Sabbatical Officers Roisin McCallion (left), Vice President for Welfare and Equal Opportunity and Ebie Edwards Cole (right), Chair for Oxford SU Disabilities Campaign, successfully passed the motion to mandate the encouragement of silent clapping

Yep, that’s what education is all about.  “Sabbatical Officer and VP Welfare and Equal Opportunity”, my aching ass.

And to think that one of my greatest dreams once was to attend Oxford.

Isn’t That Special?

“Never marry outside your class.”

As a conservative man, one of the old customs I’ve always respected is that nobility / royalty always kept a closed shop when it came to marriage.  If a royal princess came of marriageable age, some other royal prince would be found — mostly in Europe — to be her husband, and ditto for the future Earl Whatsit to find himself a brood mare wife among the dozens of well-bred girls available either locally, or else abroad.

Yes I know, such customs have led to inbred morons and black sheep in the various families, but over time, the benefit of said unions have outweighed the potential disadvantages.  Both parties know the rules of the game, and behave accordingly.

There have been some notable exceptions to this rule, of course, most notably in the case of Prince William’s wife, the former commoner Kate Middleton (now the Duchess of Cambridge) who will one day became Queen Catherine of Great Britain.  As a commoner-turned royal, she has been an outstanding success and is a tribute to Britain’s Royal Family.

Credit: Euan Cherry/WENN.com ORG XMIT: wenn29585715

The same cannot be said for the other prince (William’s brother Harry) who not only married someone way below his class, but a foreigner to boot, who not only has no background in the vagaries of Britain’s class system (not always a Bad Thing, mind you) but also seems determined to inflict her New Age / New Woman bullshit on the long-suffering Windsors.  Hence:

Once he was a beer-drinking bachelor with a penchant for fast food, who was most likely to be found at the heart of the party.
But then our action man prince met a free-spirited Californian actress living by the ethos that most things can be ‘cured with either yoga, the beach or a few avocados’, as she wrote on her now-defunct blog The Tig.
And the rest, as they say, is history.
Ever since Prince Harry met Meghan Markle something has changed. Last week they were spotted leaving a Notting Hill wellness shop which offers ‘energy healing’ and meditation with ‘singing bowls’.
Then it was revealed they had stayed at Heckfield Place hotel in Hampshire for three nights. It boasts an organic ethos, a yoga studio and a spa offering ‘all-natural treatments’, and holds mind-expanding talks on subjects such as ‘How the world thinks’.

And it gets better:

The Duchess of Sussex has delivered an astonishing snub to the Queen’s highly-regarded doctors, insisting she doesn’t want ‘the men in suits’ to oversee the birth of her first child.
The Mail on Sunday can reveal that, in a significant break with Royal tradition, 37-year-old Meghan has appointed her own delivery team, led by an unnamed female doctor.
Royal Household gynaecologists Alan Farthing and Guy Thorpe-Beeston – who is a specialist in high-risk births – attended at the arrival of all three of the Duke and Duchess of Cambridge’s children. They are among the best in the world but neither has been given the leading role in Meghan’s care.

FFS.  The only was this could get any worse would be if the “unnamed female doctor” turns out to be that chick from Gray’s Anatomy.

Look:  Britain has had a long and storied tradition of eccentric royals, most of whom were kept out of view of the public (unless they were actual monarchs, in which case they were kept more or less in check by Parliament).  And over time, their effect on the Royal Family has been either minimal or else forgotten.

Nowadays, of course, there is no privacy for Royal Loons, and the tabloid press (no longer restrained by lèse-majesté  laws of old, more’s the pity) seize on every little eccentricity and bray it out loud to the world.

In the grand scheme of things, of course, none of this matters — especially to us Murkins, who look on these goings-on with, at best, bemused indifference — and in centuries to come, the Pussification Of Prince Harry will be (perhaps) just a footnote in someone’s book about royal foolishness.

But for those like me who are interested in things like tradition and long-established customs (especially when they’ve been proven to work), this dim-witted modernist broad has done more damage to the Royal Family than Hitler’s bombs.

AP Photo/Evan Agostini

“Dear Dr. Kim”

Dear Dr. Kim:
I’m having trouble figuring out what it is to be a man in today’s world, what with all the talk about “oppressive patriarchy”, “toxic masculinity” and so on.  I’ve tried reading a few self-help books, but none of them seemed to help much — in fact, the suggestions they make seem to be designed to make me… well, less of a man and more like a woman.  Do you have any ideas? — Browbeaten, London

Dear Beaten:
Let’s just start by addressing a few core principles.

First:  men don’t buy books to improve themselves;  they buy books to improve their stuff.  So manuals about fixing  small-block Chevy engines, cleaning a Colt 1911 pistol, photography techniques or improving one’s golf swing — all these are about the only acceptable “self-help” books one should find in a man’s bookcase (right next to the novels of Ernest Hemingway, Wilbur Smith and John Masters, as well as to history books written by John Keegan, Paul Johnson and Victor Davis Hanson).

Second:  most “self-help” books of the kind you speak are written by women bent on “improving” men or else by their camp followers, girlymen psychologists and so on, all with the same objective (as you seem to have discovered):  making you behave more like a woman.  They (and their writers) are to be avoided at all costs.  The only modern-day exception to the above is the brilliant Jordan Peterson, whose “12 Rules For Life” are probably all you’ll ever need on the topic of yourself.

Third:  most self-help books you’ll read will dispense bullshit nostrums like, “Don’t get angry” or “Maintain a pleasant attitude.”  Let me tell you right now:  there’s nothing at all wrong with rage, provided that you don’t take that rage out on anyone who didn’t cause it.  Many great inventions came about because a man said, “Oh, for fuck’s  sake!” and after destroying his laboratory, felt better and then kept on trying.  Omaha Beach was not taken by GIs who maintained a “pleasant attitude”, but by a bunch of pissed-off men who were sick of being used for target practice by Nazis.  (And if you think that today’s feminized society is not using you and other men for target practice, you’re fooling yourself.)

Finally, let’s look at the heart of the problem.  Unless you are a serial killer or -rapist, or someone who works in HR, or someone who votes Democrat (some overlap), there probably isn’t much wrong with you.  I suspect from the whining tone of your voice that you’re one of the Millennial generation, and therefore probably didn’t have a full-time father when you were growing up.

That’s not your fault, of course, but it means that you’ll have to rely on the support of other men — what we used to call “good friends” in my day, and not “my crew” or “bros” — and it’s an old adage that much wisdom can be found in the counsel of friends.  (Also a lot of bullshit, but at least their advice will be based upon knowing something about you, as opposed to self-help writers who don’t.)  Just be aware that the advice you receive from this source will likely be short at best, or even monosyllabic.  “Dude, you need to quit after six shots of tequila”, or “That chick is fucking up your life”, or “Have another beer.”  I know, that all sounds like crap advice, but it’s no worse than the bullshit you’ll read after dropping twelve bucks on something called “How To Be A Better Man In Today’s World”.

All that said, you can take heart in this proven fact:  you are not alone.  After venting my own rage in an invective-drenched rant called The Pussification Of The Western Male, I was astonished by the number (literally thousands) of men who wrote to me and said, “I thought I was the only guy who thought like that.”  (Hundreds of others, whom I can only suspect were academics and similar such girlymen, were not  pleased by what I’d written, but even they were outnumbered by the women who wrote to me and, figuratively speaking, wanted to bear my children.)  Millions of men feel the same way that you do:  puzzled, bewildered, irritated, enraged and so on.  Seek them out, and find comfort in their company.

I know that by dispensing any advice on this topic I run the risk of sounding like someone who’s written a self-help book — I haven’t — but of course you may feel free to ignore anything I’ve said above.  Unless it enraged you, in which case… you’re welcome.

More Royal Pussification

Oh FFS:

Meghan has banned Prince Harry from drinking tea and coffee, a royal insider has claimed.
The reformed party animal had already reportedly given up alcohol out of sympathy for pregnant Meghan, but now he’s drinking mineral water instead of caffeine, the Sunday Express reports.
The Duke of Sussex’s new health kick meant he looked fitter and bright-eyed at Sandringham for Christmas – and it hasn’t gone unnoticed by the royal family.
A source told the Express: ‘Considering he’s been a pretty brutal drinker since he was a young teenager, it’s quite an achievement.’
The Duchess of Sussex, 37, has also introduced Harry to yoga and has encouraged him to exercise more, showing him an alternative way to live claims the source.

Prince Harry The Pussywhipped.  If the Royal Ginger has any gumption left at all, this is not going to end well.  You heard it here first.