Wednesday, February 29, 2012

Heart of Darkness. Part I

A digression.

It's well known the JFK was a man who honoured his wedding vows in their breach. He was a notorious philanderer and the the passage of time seems to have exposed the majority of his lovers. Very few people, with the exception of hard core Democrats, think of him as the saintly knight of Camelot, and therefore Mimi Alford's biography, where she recounts her sexual liaisons with him, seems not to have changed people's opinion of him too much.

I quite surprised that none of the man-o-sphere has taken much interest in her story. With the exception of Sibling of Daedelus, who really isn't part of the manosphere, Ms Alford's story has flown under the radar, which is a shame, since the the book is a powerful exposition of the power of hypergamy, animal instinct and the dangers of "five minutes of alpha".

Were I American, I would be a Republican with all the anti-Democrat sentiments that it would engender. But I am a realist, and though the Kennedy administration was rotten to the core it possessed style in spades.  In front of me is a copy of Life's "In Camelot", and even now the administration possess a degree of glamour that with the passage of time has grown. Compared with the frumpiness of subsequent administrations, the Kennedy's were "Hot". I think people need to remember this when they read her biography. As a young nineteen year old virgin, unexpectedly summoned to work in the White House as an intern, Ms Alford (then Ms Beardsley) was keenly aware of the glamorous universe she was about to enter.  The center of that universe was JFK.

Ms Alford, has recounted her first experience with JFK on his wife's bed. What's interesting about the story is two things. Firstly, just how little effort JFK took in "seducing" her. He simply walked her to the bedroom under the pretext of a "house tour", walked her over to the bed, and started having sex with her; so powerful was his socio-sexual status. The entire "seduction" must have taken only seconds. People may think that it was his presidential status that conferred this power, but its hard to imagine Richard Nixon or Jimmy Carter getting away with the same.

Secondly, in her description of the event, she describes an almost involuntary magnetic attraction and sense of powerlessness as he starts to have sex with her. The feminist harpies of the media have tried to reframe the event as a rape, but Ms Alford has been adamant that JFK would have stopped if she said no: The thing is that she didn't want to say no. Media depictions of the event tend to portray Ms Alford in a passive light during the incident, but in her book she's not so passive:
Then he reached up between my legs and started to pull off my underwear. I couldn't believe what was happening. But more: I could not believe what I did next. I finished unbuttoning my shirt dress and let if fall off my shoulders. [Ed] He pulled down his pants and then he was above me.
He paused briefly when he felt some physical resistance.
"Haven't you done this before?" he asked.
"No," I said.
"Are you okay?" he asked.
"Yes," I said, and he resumed, but more gently.
"Are you okay?" he kept saying.
I nodded, propped up on my elbows.
Once things got going she was an active participant with the power to say no at any time. She was actively unbuttoning her shirt dress. Remember this was a nineteen year old virgin from a WASP'y family on the "Social Register" with a good upbringing; not some trailer trash. The whole story serves to illustrate the fact that a woman's sexual response to a suitable mate is unconscious; she goes into sexual autopilot. Such is the power of alpha.

The talk shows have apparently been full of stodgy wives who have reported that she should have said no the President, and I agree, but there for the grace of God go I. I imagine if I were nineteen, alone in a bedroom with Keira Knightley or Megan Fox and they started unzipping my trousers, I would have a very hard time saying no.  She was taken by surprise, her defences were down; it just happened.  I really can't blame her at all for what transpired and her failure of moral virtue. I think Kennedy was a bastard for doing what he did, especially when he found out she was a virgin. But he was so narcissistic that he didn't care, not that Ms Alford minded, it seemed to thrill her that the most powerful man in the world desired her. It intoxicated her.

No, where I find moral fault in Ms Alford is in what transpired later. After the shock of what had happened had worn off Ms Alford was not sure what to do. Her answer came some days later when she received a phone call inviting her  back for a swim with the president (i.e meaning sex). She correctly identified this a juncture in her life. She had a choice.  Had she refused she would have returned to a life of normalcy, missing out being part of "Camelot" with all its associated glamour, something she did not want to do. She wanted to be part of the "in crowd" and the price of that was spreading her legs. It was a price she was prepared to pay. By all accounts, with few exceptions she had a satisfying sexual time with the President. A time she does not appear to regret.

Being this is Lent, and I'm Catholic, I can't but see the similarities with the tempting of Christ by the Devil on the mount and Ms Alford's own temptation. Some men are tempted by power, some by money and others by the pleasures of the flesh; she was tempted by the Camelot glamour and of being the object of the presidents desire. On deeper reflection is a an appeal to her pride and it was a temptation she failed. For as the Master said, "What does it profit a man if he gains the world but loses his soul?"  In taking the path that she did, a part of her soul died and the consequences were to be felt for the years to come. I still don't think she realises how dead she is.

Wednesday, February 22, 2012

Observations on American Women.

During my trip the U.S., a person who frequently came to mind was Roosh V.  I often found his observations of America and the American sexes similar to my own.

I'd planned to do these series of posts whilst on the trip but  I'd often wonder  how to convey to Americans the difference between them and the rest of the world without appearing to be either snarky or ill informed.  I came to the conclusion that most people would impute bad motive to me and so my advice to Americans is for them to travel, something that Roosh V advocates.  Nothing beats first hand experience.

Still, I'd thought I make a couple of comments the men and women of America as they appeared to me.

Firstly, a bit about my standards. I evaluate women on two parameters, both physical beauty and that essence which we call femininity. In order for me to find a woman attractive she must possess both features. Sure, if your standard is "bangability" then your standard is different to mine and its a standard that America can cater to. On the other hand, if your standard is feminine beauty then you've got a real problem in the U.S. It case of Pamela Anderson vs Audrey Hepburn: America has lots of Pamela Andersons.

When making generalisations about a culture, what a man is concerned about is the both median and standard deviation of the societal parameter in question.  Aspergy types tend to forget this and tend to emphasise  exceptions in an attempt to disprove the rule. Still generalisations are to sociological observations what the median is to statistical measures; a valid measure. Exceptions do not render them invalid. To me at least America has a reasonable amount of "bangable" women but very few feminine ones. Compared to Europe, where a man can honestly get whiplash from some amazingly beautiful and graceful women, American women were, well....... meh. American women are comparable to Australian ones in physical beauty but are less feminine.  To quote my wife, there is a "butchiness" about them that you don't see anywhere else I have traveled.  Even in that bastion of prolification, England, there large pockets where a man could find both femininity if not beauty,  in the U.S. femininity was rare. ( Note, do not confuse feminine beauty with moral virtue). The problem was least evident in the South, but compared to global standards, U.S women are in a class of their own. Even German women appeared more feminine.  It's not that the American women weren't well mannered, it just that they weren't "girly".

I've often thought the Roissy's criticism of the over-forty-year-old's was a bit harsh, but after coming back from the U.S. I think his opinions justified. In Las Vegas, for example, nearly every stylish woman I observed who appeared over forty, was both thin and spoke with a foreign accent.  Most of the older local women looked tired and seemed to have given up on trying to be attractive. Strangely enough though, quite a few of the older women (over 60's) I met, particularly in the South, still managed to maintain a significant degree of grace and femininity. It would appear that the failure of femininity in the U.S. seems to have begun in the generation that come of age in the mid 70's.

There were some notable exceptions however.  Whilst most coloured women were just like the rest there was a small but significant portion of them who were surprisingly feminine, elegant and graceful. The best dressed black women blew the white women away in both grace and style.

Thursday, February 09, 2012

Of Swine and Pigmen.

Whilst in New York my family and I decided to make a visit to the financial district.  We passed Trinity Church on the way to Wall St and some remnants of the Occupy Wall St crowd were there.  They were fenced in a very small area calling out to passers by. They were the usual nose-studded rent-a-Socialist types who looked like they need a wash. They seemed pleasant and friendly enough, still a visceral contempt stirred inside me. Not because I had any problem with them protesting against the corruption and idiocy of Wall St but because their solution was  even more idiotic and corrupting. Should these guys ever get into power, I thought, my family and I would be considered the near equal to the pigmen as objects of their rage.

Socialists, like lawyers are the natural enemy of the medical profession.

We moved on and spent the morning exploring the financial district. The architecture of the district was quite spectacular though I was surprised at just how small the district actually was; somehow I always imagined the centre of the financial world to be physically bigger. Still, the joy in appreciating architecture is in the details. As I wandered around the district I walked past a street sign, on it was written Maiden Lane.

I remembered that Maiden Lane was the name of the holding company that the Fed set up to receive toxic assets after the collapse of Lehman Bros.  Though I was not looking for it, the thought of Maiden Lane triggered an association with the Fed  which in turn led me to the conclusion that it must be close by.  I pulled my guidebook out of my bag and soon realised that all I had to do was walk about a hundred meters and I’d be there.

I have an interest in Architecture and recognised the Fed building immediately, but before I could say anything to my family, my son pointed it out as a building that looked like Gringotts, the bank in the Harry Potter novels. To the casual passerby there was little to indicate that here was one of the temples of global finance, if not the epicentre. There was very little in the way of signage on it  except for a small plaque, but observant onlookers would have noticed that there were something peculiar about this particular building. Unlike other buildings in the immediate vicinity, two policemen appeared to be on permanent guard duty and there were more than the usual number of CCV cameras (discretely positioned) monitoring it.  Here at the temple of Bernanke, I thought of GBFM and his secretive tapings; except here the tapings weren’t so secretive.

It was an imposing building that did not want to be noticed, still, in the spirit of GBFM, I wanted to get my photograph on it’s steps.  The two policemen eyed me as I approached them. They were OK with me getting a photo on the steps and then ignored me. I wanted a record of being at the Lion’s den.

There was a slight incline uphill as we walked away from the building and approaching us from a downhill direction were three men in the early twenties. They were walking three abreast occupying  the whole of the sidewalk and it was apparent from their appearance that they expected people to get out of their way: they were not moving for anyone. It’s not that these people were thugs; they were worse. They were immaculately dressed and their overall bearing gave them the appearance of being “financial types”. From the expression on their faces they conveyed the impression of uninterrupted and effortless success, of supreme arrogance, self-assuredness and power. They were pigmen.

They wore an expression that I’d seen before. On surgeons who’ve never lost a patient, on men who’ve broken hearts but never had their hearts broken, on the fabulously gifted who’ve never known loss or hardship. Men who knew incredible success and no loss: they were invincible.

My wife could see that we were going to collide with them and she stepped off the sidewalk onto the road. However the expression in their faces stirred both a simultaneous sense of revulsion and instinctive defiance in me; I was not going to yield.

As they rapidly approached I braced myself for impact; they giving no hint that they would move. A the last possible moment, seeing that I wasn’t moving, they attempted to make an opening, with the pigman to right of me trying to get between me and the wall. However, it was too late and our shoulders collided. It was quite a heavy blow, which affected him more than me. I turned around expecting to be abused by them and steeled myself for their onslaught but they continued their march downhill, not even turning back. It was all over in an instant, as if nothing had happened.

It was an event of no significance and yet if felt like it was. The sky was grey, the mood somber and the Fed sinister.

Still, somehow it felt like an omen.

Thursday, February 02, 2012

The Class Divide.

Another one of the impressions that America left me with was with regard to the class divide. Compared to Australia, I certainly felt that there was a far more overt stratification in society. The effect was most marked to me in both Los Angeles and Charleston. Now, I don't have a particular problem with societal stratification (provided that people can live decently) but one of the things that struck me about America was that there appeared to be a subtle caste like structure in place, with the workers being the inferior class of human beings. I want to emphasise that it was a subtle phenomenon.

To give you an example of what I mean; in many places when I struck up a conversation with some sales member or supermarket cashier, they initially seemed taken aback that I wanted to speak with them in a normal social way. The impression that I got was that they were somewhat unsure as to why a customer would want to speak to them on a social level.  I found many of these people to delightfully warm, helpful and quite conversational. However, I could not help but form an impression that many of them did not get spoken to unless someone wanted something from them.

Don't get me wrong, this sort of stuff happens in Australia as well. For one of my summer jobs I worked as a cleaner in the local mall and noticed that people treated me differently whilst I was in uniform and when I wasn't. The thing is, the effect seemed more pronounced in the U.S.

The other thing that I noticed was that people who appeared to be wealthy wanted to be recognised as being "apart" from the rest. Once again, I've noticed this phenomenon in other parts of the world and at home, but it appeared to be far more overt in the U.S. (The other place where I noticed similar behaviour was in Eastern Europe, where the wives of the biznis men behaved in a similar fashion) Apparently wealthy women would barge in front of you, not acknowledge your existence and bark orders to the sales staff and I can tell the difference between prole rude and snob rude. These were snob rude.

Overall I got the impression that in the U.S. there seemed to a subtle  "successful caste" and "prole caste" and that the successful caste wanted to emphasise the difference.  Now in Australia,  as commentator Horst noted, we do have an entrenched culture of "tall poppy syndrome" with the effect that the rich or successful are far less likely to assert any superiority. As a popular local beer commercial emphasised, "Australians sit in the front seat of the taxi" apparently both an allusion to our society's egalitarianism and by implication the un-Australianess of doing so otherwise.  Like all popular myths, it is just that. But I have to admit the class divide seems much smaller over here.

This egalitarianism has both negative and positive effects. On one hand, it does tend to enforce a cultural equality, on the other, it suppresses any form of excellence. (Which is usually appreciated and rewarded outside of Australia). America, on the other hand, seems to have a culture which accepts and rewards success almost to a degree that Australia doesn't. On one hand, it seems to attract the best and brightest to your country, both for their benefit and for the benefit of America. On the other hand, it does seem to create a bigger class divide.