Yet Another Shooting, and Yet we Miss the Mark:

Male poetry reading 2019 lowres

Illustration: «Group of men reading poetry, 2019», Moiret allegiere

My original intent during my writing session this morning and afternoon was doing a short – or long and rambling, as these things tend to become – piece on hobbies. That is – the importance of hobbies and how they correspond to male health and emotional well-being.

Waking up far too early after yet another night of restless sleep due to severe pain coursing through my entire body combined with this foggy head-space that always follow whenever my symptoms flare up like mad hissing snakes, however, I find the prospect of doing a piece on that terribly difficult. Not so much because of my scatter-brained state of being at the moment, but because there are more pressing matters to attend to. Which just so happen to be both more difficult to write about as well as more pressing. Which is funny, in a slightly sardonic way, I suppose. As the assumption must be that the hobby-thing which I thought of writing about is far easier to tackle with this failing and ailing body and psyche of mine than is the topic I chose. Who can fathom the mind of a bearded bard? No-one. Not even the bearded bard himself.

In order to explain; this topic is more pressing – more pressing at my subconscious – a sensation of strange pressure at the base of my skull – nerves pinched and writhing in agony and soulful despair – something that needs some form of immediate release. Because things I mull over and think about tend to manifest themselves in weird and peculiar ways in my muscles, tendons, bones and joints. Some strange materialisation of the psyche. Psychosomatic illness; pain and death and despair, mind and body working in perfect asymmetrical harmony. Or disharmony.

Did I not know any better, I would say that this culture of ours is making me ill. It is far more complex than that, of course. But it sure as hell ain’t helping.

It was not a good morning to wake up too, nor was it a good world to wake up too.

Usually, I don’t write on relatively recent events. There is a sense of urgency in doing so which does not pair well with my own tendency for long, slow and deliberate thought on a topic – any topic. This is not to say that I consider myself to be stupid.

In all honesty, I do not and I am not.

In order to be even more self-deprecating: I am probably smarter than you believe that I am, yet not as smart as I myself believe that I am. Make of that what you will. I find poking fun at myself makes life more bearable. Something which would translate well to society at large, seeing how everyone and their mums take themselves way to fucking serious, which brings the point to a boil: we have no more room for humour as release or as a point of healing. Because everything is offensive to someone, and no-one can laugh at themselves any more, or at anything else for that matter. Because someone will take offence. Leaving one avenue for self-expression and healing completely closed for everyone.

I tend to prefer looking at – or attempting to look at – the big picture, the grander topics, the greater ideas and so forth and so on, not singular events, happenings or articles. With a few exceptions, for sure.

In order to combat my own insecurities, whichever they may be, I want to be sure that I can defend both morally and factually whatever statements I make. Hence, the long, slow and deliberate thinking I do. Chalk that up to neurosis, if you so wish. I will admit my various insecurities to be plentiful, albeit in a steady decline since I finally began working through them and move onwards with this steady shuffle of mine towards healing.

Which includes self-deprecating humour which somehow people tend to take more seriously than they should. I find that the more serious a topic, the more release is found the moment someone cracks a joke. And an illness causing constant, widespread and chronic pain as well as fatigue is really god-damned serious. Which makes it perfectly reasonable to find release through humour instead of being bogged down with frustration, resentment and anger.

Granted – when this is posted, the topic at hand will no longer be considered recent events in the split-second memories our mass media and social media have brought down upon us. It might as well have been last years news. Or last decade.

…Whatever.

But, Moiret, why this long tangent on humour and release and healing and other metaphysical conundrums of the human soul and condition?

Well, now, my friends, come closer to the fire and I will tell you why: Men, by and large, are the ones telling “offensive” jokes at subjects that are supposedly not to be joked about. And women, by and large, are the ones being offended by these jokes. This goes yet again to show that men and the way men attempt to heal and lighten or brighten the day or the mood are not understood. Instead of attempting to understand humour and the reason for morbid humour, it is painted as men not having empathy and not showing proper behaviour in light of a tragedy. Shame, again, is the point. This removes yet another avenue for men to heal, as we can no longer crack jokes for fear of shame and ridicule from the whamens. Causing build-up of internal pressure that finds no release, for all our ways of release are deemed verboten and in bad taste. Despite being quite the opposite, were only these troglodytes able to understand humour, the reason for humour and the one simple fact that I was told once by someone who worked in a late-stage terminal disease ward; that being that there were nowhere and no-one he had ever been or ever met who had such a grim and morbid sense of humour as those who were months or weeks away from death. It eases and it releases. Humour is far more, and goes far deeper, than merely laughter for the sake of laughter.

This lack of humour, or that is to say: the offence taken at all manner of humour and – by extension – the masculine path to healing brings me to that which is pressing on my subconscious mind; the recent mass-shootings in the USA. If that is not made obvious by now. That is to say – not so much the recent shootings. They are severe tragedies, as are all things of this nature. I, for one, don’t give a flying fuck about what politics brought this into being on part of the shooters.

I don’t care whichever ideology or unnecessary, old-fashioned and outdated side on the left/right political axis they claimed allegiance to. I think it would be safe to say that people who commit such terrible crimes are damaged beyond repair no matter which self-splitting and soul-leeching ideology they subscribe to. It is not necessarily the recent shootings that bother me, as it is that these types of shootings happen at all. Seems to be so commonplace now. Though, this might just be because news travel faster now, and are more sensationalised than ever they were before.

The sensationalism following in the wake of these absolute tragedies always drag with it in its current the usual political pundits and leeches trying to score quick and easy partisan political points on the corpses of those that died before they are even cold. They bathe in the blood of the victims and they feast on their flesh like the vicious cannibals that they are.

And here I am.

Writing on it myself.

I don’t know whether this makes me a hypocrite of the highest order or not. Probably, it does. What I will say in my defence in regards to this is simple: I have no interest in pointing fingers at any political party or any politician. Our western societies are divided enough as it is. And the rank stupidity exhibited on both sides of the great political divide is enough to make me vomit bloody chunks of cancerous sickness.

What sickens me most is of course the usual mass media purveyors of fake news and dubious reporting. This may be bias on my part. I suspect, however, that it has more to do with their reach as compared to those that are not of the mass media persuasion than any bias on my part. Though, I have no problem with admitting that the bias is there.

The so-called reporting I have seen on these tragedies have not been journalism as much as it has been opinion-pieces pointing fingers here, there and everywhere.

…Well, not here, there and everywhere in regards to the mass media pundits. They spew their usual trite and predictable trash, blaming toxic masculinity, blaming men, blaming white men in particular, blaming Donald Trump, blaming the fluent and gaseous, ever-changing, never-static and poorly defined “far right” – their enemy of choice; the Emmanuel Goldstein of their world and their warped and wretched minds that seems to have barely survived a failed coat-hanger abortion.

There is little use, to my eyes, in pointing fingers at this one thing over here as opposed to this other thing over here to try and explain these horrible happenings in the simplest way possible.

Because the partisan political ploy and play on display is far too simple and far too easy, far too emblematic of the great chasm that suddenly appeared in the midst of our societies – that is, the entirety of western civilization. Though this split – this far too obvious and far too ideological split – seem to be greater and more dangerous in North America, it is something that has spread, and continues to spread, all over the west.

These are dangerous times we live in. Not only in regards to violence, but in regards to unthinking stupidity, in regards to immediate knee-jerk reactions from everywhere and everyone. It is one thing for some random person on the vast cesspit of social media to spew some uninformed garbage in regards to things of this nature. It is quite another for so-called journalists who are supposed to hold some manner of journalistic integrity to do the same. This goes for politicians as well. Using tragedies such as these – standing on the corpses of the victims in a blatant attempt to harvest votes and boost ones own popularity – ought to be career suicide. Yet, they keep doing it. And people keep celebrating it. Never once seeing beyond their own ideological idealization of the whatever or the whichever, and never once understanding – or attempting to understand – a broader picture than “men are prone to violence because they are men”. Neglecting the fact that the pain of men is taboo (shameless plug: check out Tom Golden of menaregood.com and his books on male healing for more on this), and that the path men tend to take towards healing is not understood as anything but the wrong path for not being the same path that women tend to take, leaving little cultural acceptance for both the pain of men and the ways men tend to heal.

And I sit here now. Attempting to write on it. Tom Russell filling the room with melancholy tunes from the fantastic “Blood and Candle Smoke” album. Trying to sort out my own thoughts on the matter, as this impacted me far more than I believed that it would when the first reports started trickling in.

It is Wednesday, the seventh of August at the time of writing. This will – most likely – be published a week from now, when all the gun smoke has cleared up and the corpses gone cold. The memory will still linger in some corners of the web, and the sense we attempt to make of tragedies of this nature will be no closer to any semblance of sense. Because it is, in one word, senseless.

My sneaking suspicion – prediction, if you will – is that it will be mostly forgotten, replaced by some new outrage or sensationalised tragedy. The happenings, that is. The rhetoric from all who chose to use it as some quick political weapon will not be forgotten, nor will it be subdued.

Please note that I do not consider possibly fruit-bearing discussions on the possible causes and solutions of and to things of this nature to be quick political potshots.

There is a difference, I think, in pointing fingers of blame hastily at whatever or whomever is in stark opposition to ones own political beliefs and in attempting to find a root cause.

That is to say: there is a difference in stating as absolute fact that this is caused by some defect in men as a group, and in saying that there is something wrong with how our societies treat men that cause them to lash out in a manner such as this – what might that be?

For example.

For there is absolutely no reason in denying or refusing to admit that it is mainly men – and mainly young men at that – who commit such vile acts. That would not be factual. Nor would it be helpful to any cause I wish to champion. Or at the very least spread awareness about.

There is, however, reason to deny the statements made that there is something wrong with men as a whole that cause this. For the very simple reason that men are not defective – being a man is not some biological or cultural defect. There is nothing wrong with masculinity as masculinity is. And there is nothing wrong with men as men are.

There is also reason to deny that it is mainly white men doing this. Because that is not factual either.

But my main gripe, my focus is not on ethnicity, not on matters of race or skin colour or creed or race relations or what-have-you. That is reserved for those who claim to abhor racism, yet do little but encourage hatred and division along lines of skin-pigmentation. And so I am careful when mentioning these factors, as I know very little about them. In particular in regards to North America.

I don’t think there are any easy explanations or simple solutions to these problems. Tragedies such as these will happen and they will keep happening. This is just a sad fact of life – people snap. People reach their breaking point, and they snap. This is something we will never get rid off. I believe, however, that we – as a society – would be able to reduce the amount of such tragedies in a not insignificant way. With solutions that are not simple. Yet would, I hope, be helpful and bear fruit were they to be implemented.

And I have, actually, a few propositions. I admit – willingly – that this is speculation on my part. It seems very obvious to me, though.

I would also like to state that these are based on thoughts, beliefs and values that permeate the structure of my philosophy and my life, and as such are not something that popped up in my mind as immediate responses to these tragedies. This is important for me to mention, as I spent the previous 1600 or so words attacking knee-jerk reactions and quick-and-easy political potshots to these tragedies. I am fully convinced that these propositions of mine would make for better societies overall, not only in regards to extremes such as these.

These are of course not my thoughts and opinions alone; I have a lot to thank the voices, thoughts and work of the likes of Tom Golden, Paul Elam, Janice Fiamengo, the Honey Badger Brigade, Warren Farrel, Erin Pizzey, as well as a multitude of other voices that dare defy the cultural norm and narrative of this day and age. Credit needs to be given where credit is due, and I have a lot to credit these incredible people and their incredible work for.

What sticks out the most to me is that our societies have to acknowledge and understand that the empathy-gap exist. That is: that men are met with far less empathy and understanding than women are, which I think goes a long way in explaining why young men blow up in such a spectacular manner.

These young men are – more often than not – men who have met nothing but hostility and a lack of understanding in this ripped-apart world of ours. From home-life to school to work. They are, as is my understanding, deeply damaged, neglected and ignored men. And damaged people damage people. Or they damage themselves. Or they do both – going out in a blaze of fucking glory and bloodshed, taking as many people with them as they fall as they can.

I would think it bloody obvious that people who snap like this are not well. Mentally healthy people don’t do things like this.

After a tragedy such as this, there is – rightfully – little compassion shown the perpetrators. In my way of thinking, however, showing compassion, empathy and understanding for their troubles before they reached the breaking point would go a long way in defusing the bomb, as it were.

It would behove us, then, as a civilization to not celebrate a cultural zeitgeist that do nothing but paint men and masculinity as inherently defective, that do nothing but place the burden of blame for everything wrong in our ramshackle societies on the shoulders of young men, that do nothing but tell them when they attempt to heal that their way of healing and coping and dealing is wrong. It does not do anyone well having to live with the sword of Damocles hanging over them; to live with the claim that the original sin of masculinity dangles there on a piece of flimsy string, ready to force them to break and snap and kill, maim and mutilate and rape.

When men – be that individual men, or the broader men’s rights movement – speak on issues affecting them as individuals, or men as a group, our societies would do well to listen instead of demonize and smear, instead of shutting down conferences and writing article after article filled with lies about the wickedness of this loosely knit movement.

It is often stated that men need to be more in tune with their emotions – that men need to speak about their emotions more. This presupposes firstly that there are people willing to listen, which is seldom the case. Secondly, it presupposes that men and women deal with their emotions in the same way. Which we do not. It also presumes that men do not understand their own emotions. Which we bloody well do.

There are differences in how men and women deal with difficult emotions, and men are drawn more towards action or solitude than are women.

This can not be stated enough.

Assuming, given this, that men would be cured if only they spoke about their emotions as women do are built around the presupposition that the feminine way is the correct way, and that the masculine way is the wrong way. Once again stating – in so many words – that boys and men are, really, only defective girls and women. Men have an incredible ability to be together in silence – doing something together, yet enjoying silence and merely being in the presence of a good and trusted friend. Men face their enemies and stand shoulder to shoulder with their friends, as the saying goes. The way our civilization has managed to dismantle and destroy any male-only spaces (yet keeping female-only spaces) has removed this one very simple act of healing through action or through silence.

Just the knowledge that this friend with whom one is doing whatever – even if it is just building something together, fixing something, fishing, whatever – is one to be trusted, one who has ones back, goes a long way in making a man feel safe and secure in the knowledge that he is understood.

And when demanding that women be let into what was formerly male-only spaces, thusly removing – under the preposterous pretence of gender discrimination – male only spaces, this male bonding and subsequent healing disappear. Giving rise to ever more broken men who truly have no path to tread in a society in which they are told that all that they do are wrong.

We inhabit societies which have created an entire generation of disillusioned and disenfranchised young men for whom traditional societal expectations have not changed in the least.

This despite the claim that gender-norms have been torn down for all. This claim is simply not true.

It can be as simple as men still being expected to not only make the first move in regards to a date, but also be expected to pay for a date. Or it can be as difficult as men still being expected to sacrifice themselves and their lives to save other people. This is something mainly men do. Just as it is mainly men perpetrating mass shootings. Yet these sacrifices made by men are never mentioned, never celebrated as the grand virtue of masculinity that it is. And make no mistake – I believe that this is a biological trait in men. Re-enforced by culture, for sure, yet encoded in our biological make-up and as such nothing that will ever be done completely away with.

Whenever men do anything bad, it is put up everywhere as men doing something bad. The dominating words then being men and bad, creating a clear link between these two words. This happens despite the good actions of men far outweighing the bad actions of men.

I would think it about time that our cultures began celebrating not only women but also men. There is absolutely no justifiable reason behind labelling it equal treatment when one sex is placed on a pedestal, built up and aided at the detriment, bullying and shaming of the other sex. Equal treatment would mean actually that – equal treatment. Either both sexes get built up, or neither do. Either both sexes still have traditional expectations enforced by culture, or neither do.

To be clear: I see absolutely nothing wrong in celebrating the contributions or importance of women for society as a whole. What is wrong is the lack of celebration of the contributions and importance of men for society as a whole. It is this constant buzz, this constant wretched you go girl nonsense no matter how small and insignificant a contribution any woman may have made.

I remember an article celebrating a female electrician for the simple fact that she was a female and an electrician. Women, then, are to be celebrated merely for doing their job. And yet, men, who are the ones by and large doing all the dangerous work, all the backbreaking labour, who sacrifice and sacrifice all the time, are not celebrated. They are demonized by the very same forces that celebrate a woman for nothing but doing a job that men do all the time.

Young men and boys live in a confusing culture. For it claims one thing – the eradication of gender-norms and traditions – whilst showing, quite clearly, that the traditional expectations are still there where they are concerned. And then the men are blamed and shamed for these traditional expectations as though they are at fault for them being there. Even when it is women – by and large – that expect men to pay for dates, to make the first move, to initiate the whole she-bang.

Claiming that both sexes are treated equal, whilst doing nothing in regards to treating the sexes equally does not make for anything but confusion. This double-standard is clear as the dawn where violence and rape and sexual assault and so forth and so on are concerned as well.

Women and men are the same and can do the same thing is the message delivered all the god-damned time.

This message makes an exception where violence, sexual assault and rape are concerned, however. For that is still the domain of men and men only. To such an extent that men who have suffered violence, rape, sexual assault and so forth at the hands of a woman are not believed, are met with ridicule and laughter and hollow mockery, and are victim-blamed into silence. Only for these same forces to then complain that men don’t talk about their emotions. And then, when this is brought up, the blame is yet again laid at the feet of men. For is it not the ideology of masculinity that has made it impossible for men to speak openly about things of this nature? That is the claim. Despite the fact that feminism does nothing but ruin the spaces where men speak about things like this, and then bitch and moan and shut down the voices of men who dare speak on things of this nature. Catch-22 and the circular logic of feminism as well as the societies surrounding us.

…For this is obviously driven by the culture we inhabit. And the culture we inhabit have listened nothing to men’s advocates where this is concerned. Quite the opposite. Yet, the blame falls on men whenever these topics are brought up, which is odd considering that it is feminist lobbying that brought these double-standards into dubious and neglectful policy in the first place. We just conveniently chose to forget that fact, I suppose.

The point being – men need to be listened to when we speak, the problems of boys and men are not that they are boys and men. It is that we live within a society which do nothing but smear and scorn and shun and ridicule and blame men and masculinity for being nothing but men, for being nothing but masculine. As though the mere trait of masculinity, the mere existence of a man as a man is enough to bring doomsday upon his fractured head and torn shoulders, breaking from the weight of the world.

There is also the issue with fatherless homes to consider. Boys who grow up without fathers do not do well in life. Girls who grow up without fathers tend to do better, but still do worse than girls who grow up with fathers in the home. Fathers are important. I am not interested here and now in placing any blame at the mother or the father for the absence of the father. It is not as easy as placing blame here or there. Because the blame is seldom here nor there on a societal level. On an individual level, it most assuredly can be. That would be another ramble, another long-winded and depressive affair that surely need to be explored. But this is long enough, and going of on yet another tangent would not do anyone any service. My view-count is low enough as it is – ha ha.

Suffice it to say: fathers need to be in the lives of their children. Children need their fathers to be in their lives. Particularly young boys. For stable, good, loving masculine role-models are of immense importance to them.

And to girls.

This is not something new. This is not some wicked scheme of the patriarchy to downplay the role and importance of the mother. Or, for that matter, force women to be mothers. Whatever the hell that means. This is the pure and unfiltered truth. And our societies… their celebrations of single motherhood have got to stop. There needs to be a celebration of both parents, a re-implementation of the family unit, of understanding the importance of a whole and functional family. Not necessarily in any traditional sense, as I have come to understand it.

Just the simple fact that both parents need to be present for the good of the child, be that child a boy or a girl. Even if these statements will bring hate and fury, rage and ruin upon my insomniac head and crippled ass from scores of single mothers feeling slighted and attacked for me daring to state that fathers are just as necessary and important in the life of a child as are mothers. There is genuinely something deeply wrong with a culture that celebrates the absence of one parent, that only celebrate the achievements and acknowledges the importance of one parent. That neglects the importance of the masculine and over-amplifies to the point of tonal distortion the importance of the feminine. This has gone to such an extent that we now have people lobbying to change father’s day to “Special Persons Day”, because – they claim as the reason – some children don’t have fathers. Some children don’t have mothers either, but no-one is lobbying to remove mother’s day, for some strange reason. For, you know, single fathers do also exist. Even if it is rare. And this is rare because of the biased nature of family courts, which holds as the golden standard of parenting the mother, no matter who is the best parent in any individual relationship. Of course, despite feminist lobbying to not have 50/50 as the default custody, this is also blamed on the patriarchy and therefore by extension men. If this does not tell us something about how our cultures view fatherhood, nothing will. It does not matter how small or big the movement lobbying for the removal of father’s day is. It is bad enough that it not only exist, but are given media attention.

Despite what one would probably be led to believe, considering the overarching theme of my writings – I do not place the blame on this solely on feminism. Though I do consider feminism to play a major part in it, and though I consider feminism to be a global fraud and sham, a blight on this earth and a foul and horrible den of hypocrites, double-standard aficionados and control-freaks that will eventually cause the collapse of our civilizations by crafting and crafting again, this narrative, by spinning and spinning again, yarns that do nothing but exaggerate and amplify a manufactured and nonsensical gender-war that does nothing but create rifts and lack of co-operation and understanding where there should be co-operation and understanding between the sexes – there is far more at play in this than that of their forces and their forces alone.

We also have gynocentrism to contend with, we have the biological impulse in men to protect women, we have the – from what I understand – biological bias exhibited in women’s greater in-group preference as opposed to men’s greater out-group preference where the sexes are concerned. Meaning that both men and women will rather look out for the interests and well-beings of women as a group than men as a group. Then there are trad-cons and white knights and the blue pill and the whole buckaroo banzai, the whole fucking thing. There are more forces at play than feminism, and feminism exploits all these other forces, being little more than trad-cons in alluring disguise. It is, as are all things, more complex than it is not. And as much as I would like it to be as simple as pointing a finger of blame at feminism and nothing but that, it really ain’t. I have a bone or two to pick with feminism, for sure. And I tend to focus on it. This does not mean that I am not aware of the other forces at play, making the coinci-dance of society such a difficult fox-trot that I always end up stepping on my own nose when trying to learn the moves.

I must also make it perfectly clear that I do not absolve the young men who go on these shooting sprees of any guilt. The responsibility of their heinous actions fall flat on their shoulders, and so they must also suffer the consequences of these actions. It is a far greater problem than men = bad, is what I am getting at. Obvious to anyone but those who have decided that men = bad, I suppose.

In order to combat mass shootings – in order to do something to reduce the risks for these tragedies to happen – we need to show more understanding and compassion and empathy towards men and boys and what they go through. We need to understand – on a grand scale – that men and boys are not so privileged as we have been led to believe. We have got to stop bombarding boys and men with messages of their inherent wickedness. And we need to stop telling girls and women that they can do no wrong, whatever they do. For – as it stands – any action done by a woman is empowering in some way or other, even if that entails nothing but doing her fucking job. Either, we start celebrating and building up boys and men in the same way we do girls and women, or we celebrate and build up neither. As the world is now, boys and men get all the hatred, all the shaming, all the dark and despicable forces we would rather see hidden in the shadows. And girls and women get all the celebration, all the love and care and empathy and compassion we can find, no matter if this is deserved or not. This goes for gendered scholarships as well. Women outnumber men in higher education, and there is still this immense push to get women into higher education. Even when boys and men are dropping out completely.

We have got to understand that bombarding men constantly with messages of how horrible they are, how bad and vicious and evil they are, has a terrible effect on young men and boys.

Particularly when we see, time and again, women being praised and praised and then praised some more. Our societies – our cultures – show nothing but contempt for boys and for men, made possible by some strange and predetermined biological traits perhaps, yet amplified immensely by a culture that has decided that its one scapegoat, its one wrench in the mechanism, is men.

For our cultures are in the act of auto-cannibalism; are in the midst of self-destruction. They are melting down due, in no small way, to the insistence, the message, the constant reminder that boys and men are no longer necessary – that masculinity is archaic and toxic – that women and femininity are the only saving grace we have. Despite us needing both in co-operation to survive and to thrive, we have decided that we only need the one and that the other should be destroyed. And destroy it they will. Bit by bit and piece by piece, tearing it down from within individual men who are shown and are told over and over that – no matter what they do – they do only wrong. That they can do nothing right.

And all that they experience is a loss of love. A loss of love from the culture surrounding them, and a loss of love for themselves. And they have no purpose. And they have no place. And they have no help. And they gain neither empathy nor understanding for their plight, being told that they are privileged patriarchal oppressors. And there is no guiding hand, no guiding light, no masculine role-model whom they may emulate and aspire to become. And there is nothing but the constant droning, the constant gnawing, the constant tearing-down of the self and all that is, was and ever will be the self. And they reach the end of the rope and they snap.

And the rope becomes a hangman’s noose; tied about their necks. And seeing nothing but death and seeing nothing but destruction and seeing nothing but despair and neglect and hollow tunes and mockery of their misery, they stand upon the gallows and upon the trapdoor underneath their feet, destined to die and destined to take as many with them while they fall as they can.

And then – when the fall is over and done with, when the damage is dealt and the damage is done, when the neck is snapped and the body is dead – the internal injuries now externalized – the whole vicious circle begins anew. For now, his actions and his rampage and his massacre are shown as absolute evidence of the rhetoric that brought him to the breaking point in the first place. Building ever more of the same. Repeating and continuing the rhetoric; a perfect circle that perfectly feeds into itself and into our cultural narrative and the societal zeitgeist, solving nothing yet claiming to solve everything. Rinse and repeat. Ad infinitum.

   – Please like, share and subdcribe

   – Moiret Allegiere, 14.08.2019

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Lovely Ladies for Men’s Issues 2020 Calendar — Justice for Men & Boys

Elizabeth Hobson will be appearing in a 2020 calendar, the crowdfunder for which is here. Please donate what you can. The 2018 calendar attracted some mainstream media interest, such as here and here. A related video is here (5:46). The calendar was the brainchild of Vanessa Lussier (aka Modern Medusa on YouTube), her related website…

via Lovely Ladies for Men’s Issues 2020 Calendar — Justice for Men & Boys

Do not lose yourself in despair

Freehand fancies A3 lowres

Illustration: «Freehand Fancies», A3, 2019, Moiret Allegiere

 

Let me preface this ramble with a short announcement: I opened a shop through Redbubble. As one would expect, I aim to push this a bit over the coming weeks. Should you ever wish to wear my luscious assaults on fine art on your clothing, or hang it on your wall for all to marvel at your fantastically good taste, follow the link to the shop. More designs are coming soon. https://www.redbubble.com/people/Moiret/shop

 

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Do not lose yourself in despair, in childhood play-pretend suicides where dreams fell through luminous cracks in the floor and walls and roof; or in ancient remnants of past Halloween, hidden away beneath some dusty sheets of some old dusty bed, or in morbid drawn-out fights over the curtains like some old grumpy fart, shamed and shunned by some mystic’s frantic nightmare showing furious future-scapes.

Do not lose yourself in despair, forcing you to disassemble playful creative forces for some fuckwit genius’s genuine idea of how and what and where and when is true and proper art and true and proper artistic endeavours on the path to future galleries surrounded by piss in bottles and shit-stained sheets, laboured over by some pretentious douche-nozzle with more garble than sense and more gaggle than talent.

Do not lose yourself in despair, in an eternal opiate-haze between bottles brightly shining and shunned by the roaring hiss of angry needles, venomous and vile, offering sympathetic salvation from the numbing of your soul and sanity; lost in the salivating grasp of her diluted arms.

Do not lose yourself.

Do not lose yourself in despair, finding solace in cold comic-book style rampages, ravaging through concrete-jungles with a war-cry rising from your chest and throat, saviour, saint and messiah in new-found post-graduate violence, silenced by mutual decision on the path to post-conscription, ruined by the forces of the wailing horde and might of the waning, fluctuating night.

Do not lose yourself in despair, marching backwards through time in your minds eye, searching ever and always for that one path to take you back to the past. A past in whose embrace you felt as though you belonged or might have had a purpose or might have had a future, future turning to the present, the present being veiled and clouded by a mythological mist claiming you yourself to be the faulty wire of the great grey mass of worms that is society, now up in arms for imagined grievance, punctuated by miniscule problems shouted fanatically in your face and ears and eyes and festering on your throat and tongue.

Do not lose yourself in despair. Nor to demands for labour-intensity clouding judgement and clouding mind and matter both; to become a slave for someone else’s varied wishes for a future shared in separate encounters; a monotheistic burgeoning religion proclaiming you to be at fault for doing all that you are told to do, and yet never doing good enough, being good enough, being deemed good enough to win some respect and gratitude from the domineering cargo-cult whose vision is clouded by superstition, demanding divine intervention in your life.

Do not lose yourself in despair, to falter and to fail and then to fall from precognitive visions of the future based on knowledge from past experience that it won’t work, so why bother? In being told, time and again, that your matters matter not to those whose matters matter; whose material matters matter more than your emotional desires and needs for understanding, a raised middle-finger and a guffawing laughter in mockery and contempt is all the reply you should deliver to the maniac brigade; carriers of the perpetual pussy-pass, who dare demand you worship at their altar and at their beck and call jump in to sing their praise and aid in their fight for them and them alone.

Do not lose your Self.

Do not lose your Self in permanent solitary confinement; the isolation manufactured for convenience, to keep safe and sane and sacred that which should not be touched.

Self-worth denied by the wrath of the vampire-legion, whose main mission is to suck all the joy from life and remind you over and over of your lack of worth, to shame you incessantly, perpetually, constantly, for crimes of the soul and spirit, for crimes of your minds eye seen in their blinded minds eye, creating calls for constant self flagellation and mental castration for desires deemed brutish, primitive and flawed, demonic, primal, violent.

Self-worth stolen by old scarecrow time, time and again, pecking at your sense of self in classrooms over-run by ideology and knowledge filtered through a thin mesh of grievance-ritual, displacing history and laying the burden of its displacement on your shoulders, frail and fractured by the grinding of the tide and time and sands of time, flowing gibberish from mouths of offended this-or-that who decided you should be a scapegoat tied to the whipping-post in the town-square, a king of fools, the blind in the land of the one-eyed, the apocalypse made manifest in flesh.

What is the loss of one man for the betterment of all?

Nothing.

That is the risk they are willing to take: your life on the line for their self-aggrandizement, the pushing down and punishing of one for the betterment of those who are decided to be the all.

Do not lose your Self to the vibrational fancies of their will and wish; the demands for superstitious beliefs to better your standing based on the standards they have placed upon you; standards that can never be met or matched.

The goalposts are constantly moving. Appeasement is impossible; more rubbish will be manufactured. Prophetic visions of the future tell it to be so; the truth fantastic lying at the feet of those who have no truth but the never-ending barrage of hostility. Rage and wrath and ruin. Dancing to a tune that never ends, an eternal free-jazz improvisation over whose long-winded notes and tunes poetry is read in tongues by some fell beast who has no goal but to fight, to fracture, to fragment and to freak-out over an unseen line drawn in the asphalt and on the pavement before the gates of hell. The hounds of war are unleashed. First in silence, now with growls and barks and snarls. No more lurking in the shadows, poking here and there and everywhere with surgical precision from some whose positions are waved away as the position of a radical few.

No.

No.

No.

It is not a radical few. It is the rotten, beating heart of the new religion; the ideology completed. The destruction of all and one and one and all from new-found everything, anywhere, everywhere, a star-studded brilliance shining and shimmering in minds bent in on themselves to see only what they wish to see, hear only what they wish to hear, know only what they wish to know. The solipsist mania; narcissist drivel made purgatorial society; promiscuous puritanism, wishes to appease the Goddess divine, whose stature and statue all shall love and all shall fear and all shall despair but those who are clean enough and good enough; who have lost their self enough to become one with her shape and force and will and whim and majestic notions and views of self.

Do not allow yourself to be crushed beneath the weight of this new-found religion, this dominant ideology which must never be questioned. Demands for censorship of opposing views is the final strike of the hammer, judgement passed by a judge grimacing in delight, the final crushing blow from a Self demented and torn apart from lack of something they will never know: to be fulfilled.

To be fulfilled is to understand that life is neither good nor bad, but both. That most everything is grey; simultaneously black and white, a cycle of both to be challenged and conquered and survived, taking the good with the bad and the bad with the good, standing in the midst of the storm and marvelling at how beautiful the lightning looks.

To be fulfilled is to understand yourself, to see yourself as a being capable of both infinite compassion and infinite cruelty, but to decide on knowing, understanding and controlling the shadow and the light. The world and the life and the self will never be freed from evil, from big or from small issues.

We lack nuance.

We lack the ability to see that the Devil is in the details. We do not see the details on account of being distracted all the time from the forces claiming to fight the good fight for one and all, showing only the superficial qualities of their divine ideology, never acknowledging the devil in their midst whose sole purpose is to divide and to conquer; to crush underfoot all who dare point to the Devil and say that, hey, now, wait a minute: surely there is someone running around there with horns and a pitchfork, poking here and there and laughing viciously and maliciously.

These petulant demands of these overgrown children should not be listened to. They should be met with a barrage of laughter, loud and beautiful. A wall of backs turning away and leaving, not giving a fuck any-more and leaving them to die on the sick-bed they made for themselves.

Did they want a gender-war? Fuck that noise, fuck that nonsense, fuck that gibberish. I’ve got shit to do. The path of non-violent resistance do smell of daffodils and roses, man – and don’t forget that.

Strewn on the path towards self-worth is the knowledge that hope is not lost.

I thought, as the silly “day without women” took hold – the women there and then being so privileged – and so blind to their privilege – that they could take a day away from work to protest some imagined ills and grievance fuelled by the vampire legions of the doomed undead: imagine a day without men. If all men everywhere just up and left. What would happen, do you think?

Imagine men finding worth in their self. Not searching for worth in what they do, but in who they are, thinking: this mess ain’t worth it.

Through this overwhelming sense of despair, this sensation of dread and doom and gloom, we can see a light shining – ever so slightly – at the end of the road. Some fire on the hearth, smell of burning wood and good wine. Old wood to burn, old books to read, old friends to love and old wine to drink. A hope for rest at the end of the journey, at the end of the day when night comes crawling in and realization dawns that all is well that ends well. It will end well, the moment men find their worth and stop being the permanent work-horse, the busy body pushing that rock up the hill too see it tumble down again, to be repeated again and again.

The sooner we laugh, turn around and refuse to participate in this stupid little game any longer, the sooner our worth will be made evident.

Men’s lack of worth in society has been pushed as a truth for decades; men’s inherent lack of morality and decency through manipulation becoming established truth.

Well, then, you don’t know what you’ve got until it’s gone.

Now look and see what happens when you push and prod and poke, when you burn and scar and break something until it’s gone.

 – Please like, share and subscribe

 – Moiret Allegiere, 22.05.2019

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Feminist MP Layla Moran admits to being the latest female perpetrator of domestic violence in Parliament — hequal

In September 2016 we reported on how Labour’s Domestic violence spokesperson Sarah Champion MP had received a police caution as a result of her domestic violence against her husband. Astonishingly, Champion kept her job (she certainly has some hands-on experience in the field!) and was widely praised by her feminist colleagues for talking about her […]

via Feminist MP Layla Moran admits to being the latest female perpetrator of domestic violence in Parliament — hequal

Feminist-run domestic violence helplines guilty of anti-male sex discrimination for assuming male victims were perpetrators

hequal

An historic and much overdue ruling came out of Wales recently where the Equality and Human Rights Commission ruled the Safer Wales run Dyn Project should cease in discriminating against male victims of domestic violence. The «helpline» had previously screened male callers in order to determine whether they were perpetrators, thus refusing to believe them. No such screening of of female callers by similar taxpayer funded services took place, thus demonstrating undeniable sexism against men.

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Feminists are rightly ridiculed for their insistence that police, courts, juries and society as a whole should «believe the victim» and thus automatically assume guilt the moment anyone alleges abuse. However, arguably the one and only place where «believe the victim» could be appropriate is for a service such as a domestic violence helpline, where the impartially required from the police and justice system is not necessary.

The hypocrisy of feminists who throw their «believe…

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