SubscribeStar Saturday: Floozies

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Ah, women.  Can’t live with them, can’t live without them.

Literally—without women, the human race would cease to exist.  That many of them are shirking their God-given gift to do so—and a disturbing chunk of those want the Molochian freedom to slaughter their own children—does not bode well for the future of humanity, at least not in the West.

Modern women have bought into a narrative that the path to true fulfilment lies in eschewing marriage and motherhood in favor of a career in graphic design.  Rather than tending to their man and their children, they’ve been duped into thinking it is somehow better to keep some strange man’s calendar, or to dedicate their most (re)productive years to maintaining the social media accounts for some megacorporation.

Of course, men—who perhaps shortsightedly permitted such rights to be extended to the fairer sex—bear all the blame for when things go awry.  There are “no good men” left, meaning something equivalent to “there are no men earning six-figure salaries who are willing to wife me up after spending my twenties riding the carousel of one-night stands and non-committal flings.”  Some men take advantage of this sexually-liberated situation to bed unsuspecting floozies, but many of those same women believe they’re “living their best life” by engaging in multiple sexual liaisons with strange, predatory men.

But expecting women to recognize their folly and to restore themselves and our culture is unreasonable.  As Jack Nicholson’s character said in 1997’s As Good as It Gets, when asked how he writes women so well:  “I think of a man, and I take away reason and accountability.”

In that same film, however, the same character tells former babe Helen Hunt “You make me want to be a better man.”  Do modern day floozies still inspire that drive to improve, to build, to conquer?  Forget Helen Hunt; are there are any Helens of Troy out there?

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Son of Sonnet: The Ballad of Forgotten Dreams

Son of Sonnet—now going by his given name, Michael Gettinger—is back with a mildly post-apocalyptic poem.

The premise is intriguing; Son tells me the request was for “a poem about being a feminist in a world where you’re the only female human left. Every other human is a male.”  That sounds like the premise of a 1970s sci-fi flick!

Naturally, it’s not a great existence, but the feminist seems to realize the error of her ways.  These lines were particularly poignant:  “I learned a lesson through romance/That man may build for woman’s sake.”  How very true—I’ve accomplished a great deal in my life simply because I wanted to impress women.  I think that’s probably true for most men.

With that, here is Michael Gettinger/Son of Sonnet’s “The Ballad of Forgotten Dreams”:

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My Latest Earworm: “Johnny Get Angry”

I love many kinds of music, but I’m primarily a rocker—I like swaggering, almost comically masculine hard rock.  I want to bang my head, shake my fists, and rock out to thundering power chords and hypnotic bass lines.  When I listen to rock, I feel like a panther taking flight on the wings of a phoenix.

But I also have a softness—a weakness, really—for late Fifties/early Sixties doo-wop and rock ‘n’ roll.  Sometimes—perhaps, embarrassingly often—that love extends to female torch singers (I promise, I’m an allegedly heterosexual man).

Lately, I’ve had the 1962 tune “Johnny Get Angry” stuck in my head—constantly.  Songwriters Hal David and Sherman Edwards wrote this bit of bubblegum pop for Joanie Sommers, and it was a modest hit for the songstress.

That 1962 version is pretty catchy, and the instrumentation is interesting—especially the kazoo chorus when the key changes from D major to E major—but the version that really got me into this song is from the 1990 film Nightbreed, specifically the Clive Barker-approved director’s cut.  Other versions of the film apparently were missing the song—performed by actress Anne Bobby in the role of heroine/love interest Lori Winston—which is a travesty, as it’s really key to highlighting the struggle inherent in Lori and Boone’s relationship in the flick.

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Lazy Sunday CLII: Romance

Tomorrow is Valentine’s Day!  As such, I thought I’d take a look back at some of the more romantic posts of yesteryear (and yesterweek) to commemorate this season of love:

  • The Joy of Romantic Music III: Hector Berlioz’s ‘Symphonie Fantastique’” – Hector Berlioz is my Romantic Era composer spirit animal, although I’m way more restrained them him.  He was so lovesick over the Shakespearean actress Harriett Smithson, he wrote an entire symphony for and about her.  In his Symphonie Fantastique, the main character is so lovesick over his beloved, he takes an overdose of opium in attempt to commit suicide.  Instead, he enters a fevered, drugged dream, in which his beloved is portrayed as a fixed musical idea.  When Harriett Smithson heard the symphony, she finally heard out Berlioz’s marriage proposals, and the two were wed—quite unhappily—for a few years before it all came crashing down.
  • Alone” – In retrospect, I think this post was a bit of whining on my own part, and throwing myself a pity party.  That said, my diagnosis of the current ills and travails of the modern dating scene are quite accurate.  It’s probably better being alone.
  • TBT: Phone it in Friday VI: Valentine’s Day” (and “Phone it in Friday VI: Valentine’s Day“) – A grab-bag of Valentine’s Day miscellany.  My brother thought I’d accidentally posted a Friday post on a Thursday.  Nope—I purposefully reblogged a Friday post on a TBT.

Happy Sunday—and Valentine’s Day!

—TPP

Other Lazy Sunday Installments:

Alone

It’s February, the Month of Love.  As such, it’s a good time to talk about relationships and such.

There was some speculation in the comments of this blog a few weeks ago about my relationship status.  Alys and Audre were discussing whether or not they should buy garish (they didn’t use that word, but I can only assume) hats for hypothetical nuptials.

Well, as these things do for a sensitive poet-warrior like yours portly, it all came crashing down—not with a bang (giggity), but a whimper.

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Monday Morning Movie Review: Jakob’s Wife (2021)

I am a great lover of vampire movies and stories, and am always interested to see how filmmakers and storytellers approach the well-worn vampire mythology.  Every vampire story must take time to establish the “rules” of that particular vampiric universe, so the (sub?)genre lends itself to world-building.  Some vampires can survive in sunlight, though uncomfortably; others can endure limited exposure; still others burst instantly into flames.  Some vampires fear the sign of the Cross; others laugh at it mockingly; still others fear the faith in what the symbol represents, but the symbol is rendered powerless without that faith.

Vampire stories also offer the opportunity to explore interesting themes.  Immortality is a common one:  what happens when you have forever to live on Earth?  Anne Rice’s novel Interview with the Vampire (1976) explores that idea in great detail, specifically the ennui and nihilism that come with earthly eternal “life.”  The initial thrill of vampiric power and endless nights of bloody reverie gradually turn to centuries of self-indulgent, murderous moping, as the vampire passively watches the world he loved transform around him into something unrecognizable.

This month, Shudder released a new exclusive, Jakob’s Wife (2021), a feminist-inflected vampire story starring 80s scream queen Barbara Crampton.  While the feminist themes were a bit heavy-handed at points, the film handled the subject matter with a surprising degree of nuance.  Suffice it to say that, like tell-tale two-pronged mark of the vampire’s bite, this film has stuck with me.

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Interview with photog

Longtime readers know that photog of Orion’s Cold Fire is a blogger buddy of mine.  He recently proposed we “interview” one another via e-mail—a project we both hope more folks will engage in soon.  We asked each other five questions and responded.  You’ll be able to read my responses at his blog this morning, too.

Here are photog’s responses to my questions, reproduced without editing, other than for style and for adding links to the books he referenced:

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TBT: The Joy of Autumn

It is—to use a Southern expression—hotter than blue blazes here in South Carolina, as it always is in early September.  Lately, the extreme heat and humidity have made any outdoor activities unbearable, at least for yours portly.  The air is thick and muggy.

But there is some relief in sight.  We’ve had some rainy days here and there that have given brief—fleetingly brief!—tastes of autumn.

Autumn is, by far, my favorite season.  After the brutal oppression of summer, autumn is a welcome relief.  Autumn in South Carolina is brief, but lovely—the days are warm, the nights crisp.  The season makes it stately arrival fashionably late, usually late in October or early in November (though Halloween always manages to be hot; just once I want an Indiana Halloween!).

The cooler weather brings with it better smells:  pumpkins and spices replace the persistent smell of cut grass and sweat.  Food tastes better in autumn, too.  There’s a reason candy apples are an autumnal fair food:  that thick, sugary, caramel coating wouldn’t last in the humidity of summer.  There’s also the pies:  pecan and pumpkin, of course, but also sweet potato.

Oh, and there’s college football.  The SEC hasn’t (yet) betrayed fans like the West Coast conferences.

So, here’s hoping autumn returns sooner rather than later to South Carolina this year.  With that hope—and prayer—in mind, whip out the pumpkin spice and enjoy November 2019’s “The Joy of Autumn“:

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SubscribeStar Saturday: Diversity is Our Strength!

Today’s post is a SubscribeStar Saturday exclusive.  To read the full post, subscribe to my SubscribeStar page for $1 a month or more.  For a full rundown of everything your subscription gets, click here.

A couple of days before the start of the school year, my school underwent a round of indoctrination professional development:  the dreaded diversity, equity, and inclusion training ($5 subs got a sneak peek of my handwritten notes earlier this week, which I uploaded as a digitized PDF).  As these things go, it wasn’t terrible, but there was plenty of social justice buzz words, and a subtle, implied anti-white bias to it.  Really, it was an anti-Truth and objectivity bias.

This Saturday, permit me to be your guide through the harrowing world of corporate-style diversity training in the Year of Our Wokeness Two-Thousand and Twenty C.E. (because “A.D.” is discriminatory against non-Christians, even though the B.C.E./C.E. dating system is still based on the Birth of Jesus Christ!).

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