“Dear Dr. Kim”

“Dear Dr. Kim,
“For some reason, or maybe because I’m an old lady in my late sixties, fashion designers and haute couture houses no longer want to ‘dress’ me for media events like movie premieres and other red-carpet affairs.  I think I still look quite nice (see attached pics). What should I do?”

— James Bond’s Former Bedmate

Dear Bedmate,

I wouldn’t worry about it.  Frankly, you look better at 70 than 99% of today’s younger tattooed prostitutes who try to pass themselves off as “models” or “actresses”;  and among the older ones like Hanoi Jane Fonda and Titsy Mirren, you look better still.
My suggestion is that you go somewhere like Top Shop or some little boutique in Chelsea, and pick your own red-carpet outfit from among their wares.  (Don’t worry if the things don’t look so good;  after all, Helena Bonham Carter has been dressing like a bag lady for years, and the glitterati all think she’s “charming” and “eccentric”, when you and I both know she’s simply as crazy as a sackful of wet cats and probably has a naked body which, very unlike yours, looks like a plastic bag of warm rice pudding.)
Then you can just laugh when hundreds of women storm the place where you bought your outfit, all hoping that if they buy and wear the same thing they’ll look as good as you did at the red-carpet shindig.  (They won’t, don’t worry.)  Then, when Vivienne Westwood or Paul McCartney’s daughter come crawling back to you to wear their latest foul offerings, tell them you prefer the Top Shop / little boutique’s lines over their overpriced dreck, and they can all fuck off.
Frankly, me sexy old darling, long after everyone has forgotten who all these pretentious little fag designers and stupid lesbo poseurs ever were, you and your movie roles will still be causing pup tents to spring up in men’s beds all over the Western world — and isn’t that a better thing, really?

— Dr. Kim

Attached pics:

(at age 60)
(at age 67)
(taken last year, 2018)
(and me in my youth… sigh)

Frying Pan, Meet Gas Ring

I will never forget reading some thread online where an Austinite was moaning about all the Californians moving to Austin for the tech jobs — and complaining that they were too conservative for Austin.

I hate to break it to y’all, but if you leave California because you’re surrounded by liberals and have lost your “political voice”, and then move to Austin TX (!!!), that isn’t moving at all.  You’ve just exchanged the world’s best climate for an oven, you’re still going to be surrounded by liberal assholes, and your political voice will be drowned out again, this time by liberal Texas twang.  As Mark Pulliam discovered.

So Pulliam is leaving Austin and Texas, and moving to Tennessee.  Given his poor decision-making history, he’s probably heading for Nashville.

Might as well just move to Greenwich Village and have done with it.

Not Much Wrong

Apparently, a list of things a wife should follow has caused all sorts of trouble on FecesBook, with womyns going all crazy and outraged etc etc etc.

Speaking personally, I can’t find much wrong with it.  The advice is old-fashioned, to be sure, but I suspect that if you asked any man what he felt about the reverse  of the advice — e.g., how do you feel when your wife screams at you (#1) or belittles you in public (#2)?  And yes, I know that a lot of the advice could apply equally to men.  That’s not the topic under discussion, here.


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What Price History?

From Reader Ranger:

When to restore an old gun versus keeping it with honest wear? For example:  I have several old firearms.

1.) Old heavily worn SMLE, lots of interesting carving on the furniture, but the barrel might as well be a smooth bore. If i remove anymore rust, then fire the rifle I’ll start seeing daylight thought the side of the barrel. Originally I bought this for a song to convert to a modern De Lisle through one of those kits Rhineland Arms sells, by the time I got around to buying the kit (also putting the money together) Rhineland Arms stopped selling the conversion kit.

2.) A between-the-wars commercial 1911A1, which I picked up for a song. It looks like the previous owner had taken a belt sander to it. The rampant Colt is half gone and the serial number is barely visible. Before I dare fire it, I would replace the barrel, grips (broken), and replace all the springs, at a minimum. Of course since I like to shoot, I probably would get a gunsmith to lower and flare the ejection port, fit modern sights, and put some finish on the exterior. This would probably remove the faded Colt, etc. In other words, I’d probably spend the equivalent of buying a new Springfield 1911A1 to turn old steel into new. At the same time, I would be destroying another little piece of history.

The SMLE is easy:  turn it into a “mantlepiece gun” — put it up on the wall somewhere as a decoration, and give the old war weapon a dignified retirement.  There’s no point in “fixing” it, because the history is too important — why lose that piece of history when you could take the same money and get a new gun for about the same price?

As for the 1911,  I say the opposite:  go for it, and fix it up;  turn it into a shooter.  Frankly, from the sound of it, the gun has been all but destroyed, and as such it has little real intrinsic value, especially as it wasn’t a service piece.  By all means replace all the innards (don’t forget the firing pin) and get it running.  Oh, and you may want to talk to a gunsmith about the serial number:  for some reason, the fuzz don’t take too kindly to an anonymous gun, and it may be necessary to redo the stamping (along with a certified notification for future use).  Also check for frame cracks, because from all accounts the poor old thing has been horribly abused.

It’s an interesting conundrum, isn’t it?  And thanks for the letter.

Sound Advice

Kurt Schlichter tells us to be self-reliant (or, as he calls it, “rooftop Koreans”) during times when the SHTF, and lo, he speaketh da troof.

I suspect that the majority of my Readers have long since decided on that course of action — and if they haven’t, they’re either disarmed Brits (cricket bats are not much use on rooftops) or else Murkin denizens of liberal enclaves where they’ve been told to “leave it to the police” — and pretty much have  to do that because their local gummint has made the Koreans’ AR-15s illegal.

For discussion in Comments today:  assuming that possession of eeeeevil-looking AR / AK rifles is verboten  in your locale, what would be your alternative “rooftop” gun?  State gun type and chambering, please, with reasons.

“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.