Third-wave feminism: exhibit #5 – Translating Amy Horton (Again)

In all sincerity, I can’t be bothered to care about all the unfuckable incels and acrimonious MRAs who detest Amy Horton; this woman is a gold mine of seething, scarcely veiled mendacity desperate for my services as an honest translator! She’s sassy, single AF and fit to be rendered (again):

It’s Practically Impossible To Find A Man Who Wants To Commit To Me; But Doesn’t Want I Don’t Want Kids

I’ve finally figured out one of the huge issues in my dating life: I’m seeking the kind of man who unfortunately exists only in a small and very specific category. Here’s why I can’t seem to find what I’m looking for.

I’ve finally figured out one of the huge issues in my dating life: I’m seeking the kind of man who fortunately exists only in a lonely and very wretched category. Here’s why I can’t seem to find what I’m looking for.

A lot of men are afraid of commitment.

I’ve never understood what the big deal is, but OK. There’s honestly no good reason I can think of for a man to hate the idea of a relationship unless he’s an a-hole. By not wanting to commit, he’s basically saying he’s waiting for something better to come along. There’s no way I’m settling for that kind of guy.

Men won’t commit to me.

I’ve never understood what the big deal is because I’m as self-aware as an amoeba, but OK. There’s honestly no good reason I can think of for a man to hate the idea of a relationship with me unless he wants to be happy, healthy, productive and valued. By not wanting to commit, he’s basically saying he’s waiting for someone better to come along. There’s no way that kind of guy is settling for me, no matter how bitterly inverse my delusions are.

The grass is always greener to them.

For the guys who don’t want to settle down, they can’t understand why they should commit. What does it matter? They don’t want to have a family so they don’t have to stick to only one woman. They want to be free to roam as they please, the feelings of other human beings be damned.

The grass is always greener when I’m around.

For the guys who don’t want to settle down, they can’t understand why they should commit because they abide by the social standards that feminists like me have imposed. What does it matter? Much like at least as many noncommittal women on the dating market, they don’t want to have a family so they don’t have to stick (it) to only one partner. They want to be free to roam as they please, the feelings of other human beings be damned. Only women should be permitted to insensibly wanton.

If they are into commitment, it’s because they want to settle down and start a family.

This is my huge problem. I’m attracted to men who aren’t afraid to show their feelings and be in a monogamous relationship with one woman. I’m attracted to emotional maturity. Unfortunately, I find that especially as I get older, the men who operate this way also want children. I definitely don’t.

If they are into commitment, it’s because they want to settle down and start a family like any healthy man who follows his biological imperatives.

This is my huge problem. I’m attracted to men who aren’t afraid to show their feelings and be in a monogamous relationship with one woman. I’m attracted to the kind of emotional maturity that I’ve never once thought to adopt. Fortunately, I find that especially as I get older, the men who operate this way also want children. I definitely don’t, because I’m too old and maladjusted for maternity, and I expect everyone else to shoulder all the burdens that maturity connotes.

There’s hardly any middle ground.

I’m in the middle but I have a very difficult time finding a man who feels the same. It’s black and white with them. Their main concern is sex, so why would they decide to sleep with only one woman for the rest of time if not obligated? The only way they seem to want to do that is if they want marriage and a family, and even then they often can’t stick to it.

I hate sexual normalcy.

I’m an inveterate slut who wants to finally settle down with a subservient man, but I have a very difficult time finding a man who will submit to this position. They refuse to conform to my double standards. Their main concern is sex, reproduction and a fulfilling, familial life, so why would they decide to sleep with an aging, unattractive, infecund floozy for the rest of their lives if not obligated? The only way they seem to want to do that is if they want marriage to a quality woman and a family, and even then the pussies among them often can’t stop her from wrecking their marriages and traumatizing their kids.

Finding a guy who’s cool with long-term monogamy and no kids is like finding a unicorn.

It seriously is. I’m in my thirties so the whole settling-down-and-starting-a-family thing is way more of an issue when I date now. I’ve never wanted children and I’m not going to change my mind. I find that most men I meet now feel the opposite.

Finding a guy who’s cool with childless, interminable monogamy with a harpy is like finding a unicorn.

It seriously is. Even though I resemble a quadragenarian meth addict, I’m in my thirties, so the whole settling-down-and-starting-a-family thing is way more of an issue when I date now. I’ve never wanted children and I’m not going to change my mind. I find that most men I meet now feel the opposite because they aren’t as degenerate or destined for existential misery.

Some men just don’t want to commit to me.

I’m a strong woman. I know what I deserve and I won’t settle for less. I meet a good number of guys who can’t handle this. Obviously if they can’t hang, I don’t want them anyway, but it’s getting very frustrating and discouraging. Where are the grown men? I can’t seem to find any. It doesn’t matter if they’re younger, older, single, divorced, whatever. They run away.

Men just don’t want to commit to me.

I’m an insufferable woman. I extravagantly overestimate what I deserve, and I won’t settle for less. I meet a good number of guys who won’t tolerate this. Obviously if they reject me, I pretend that I don’t want them anyway to sustain my fragile ego, but it’s getting very frustrating and discouraging because I refuse to assess myself objectively, and lower my standards accordingly. Where are the deluded men who’ll countenance me? I can’t seem to find any. It doesn’t matter if they’re younger, older, single, divorced, whatever. They retreat, like my hairline.

The rest are only interested in wifing me up.

If they want to commit to me, it’s because they see a tough, smart woman who is capable of starting and raising a family with them. The big problem there is obviously that I have no intention of ever doing so. My biggest pet peeve is a man who is attracted to me and then tries to convince me that I will change my mind about kids because that’s what he wants. Nope!

Nobody is interested in wifing me up.

Nobody wants to commit to me because they need a tough, smart woman who is capable of starting and raising a family with them. The big problem there is obviously that I have no intention of ever becoming one. My biggest fantasy is a man who is attracted to me and then tries to convince me that I will change my mind about kids because that’s what he wants. Nope!

Men don’t want to accept that I know what I want.

It’s incredibly insulting. I hate that I live in a world where a large majority of guys think they can mansplain to me about what I really want for my own damn life. Give me a break. You don’t know me and you certainly can’t tell me how I feel. You aren’t going to change my mind about kids, period.

Men accept that I know what I want; then they leave.

It’s incredibly insulting. I hate that I live in a world where a large majority of guys want children, and think they can convince me to procreate like a normal person. Give me a break. You don’t know me and you certainly can’t dissuade me from my forthcoming spinsterhood. You aren’t going to change my mind about kids, period.

If I finally do meet a guy who feels the same, he ends up running away.

I don’t get excited often but when I do, I get very excited. I can’t help it. It’s so rare that I meet a guy who I have a lot in common with and share chemistry with as well. I want it to work out so badly and unfortunately, it never does. It turns out that the guys I pick aren’t emotionally mature enough to date me. Great.

If I finally do meet a guy who feels the same, he ends up running away.

I get excited often because I’m an emotionally unstable nutbar. I can’t help it. It’s so rare that I meet a guy who I have a lot in common with and share chemistry with as well. I want it to work out so badly and unfortunately, it never does. It turns out that the guys I pick aren’t desperate enough to date me. Great.

It’s very frustrating to need something this specific.

It’s tough because on top of all the other specific things I want, I’m effectively eliminating the majority of the male population right off the bat. I have a small pool to draw from and then I also have to find someone I actually like and share interests with who is cool with committing to me.

It’s very frustrating to need something this aberrant.

It’s tough because on top of all the other unrealistic things I want and will never obtain, I’m effectively eliminating the majority of the male population right off the bat. I have an infinitesimal, shrinking pool to draw from, and then I also have to find someone I actually like and share interests with who would actually settle for me.

I hate it when guys try to date me even if we don’t want the same things.

This is obnoxious. Their intentions usually aren’t bad, but I need a guy who’s realistic. It’s a huge sign of emotional immaturity if a man commits to me in the hopes that I’ll change my mind about something to which I’m clearly strongly opposed. Don’t lead me on and let me develop feelings. If someone doesn’t want what I want he should leave me alone.

I hate it when my fantasies are this discordant from reality.

This is obnoxious. My dreams are really gratifying, but I need a guy who’s blind and servile. It’s a huge sign of oneiric illusion if a man commits to me in the hopes that I’ll change my mind about something to which I’m clearly strongly opposed. Don’t lead me on and let me develop feelings before I wake up. If someone doesn’t want what I want, he should leave me alone, as he would anyhow.

I just want to meet my person already but he’s so tough to find.

Maybe I should create a dating site specifically for people who want long-term relationships but don’t want children, I don’t know. What’s it going to take to find the right guy? It’s not like I have time to go out trolling for dudes 24/7. I’m a busy woman. What if I never meet anyone? I’ll survive, but it’s undeniable that my specific needs make everything about my dating life more difficult.

I just want to meet my person already but he’s probably nonexistent.

Maybe I should create a message board specifically for lushes who want long-term relationships but don’t want children; I don’t know. What’s it going to take to find the right guy? It’s not like I have time to improve myself or scrutinize happy, successful women. I’m an alcoholic. What if I never meet anyone? I’ll survive, but it’s undeniable that my outlandish desiderata make everything about my dating life more difficult.

Egregious ideas: KMMK

A punk band acronymously denominated KMMK (Kellie Martin’s Muddy Kunt) performs weekly for hundreds of fervently adoring, shirtless fans. A B&W printout measuring 7’x7′ of Kellie Martin’s face (see below) is suspended on a metal frame during each set’s first fifteen minutes, then savagely socked, shredded, and thrown to the audience by the band’s frontman at the climax of their hit single, Punchr Fukn Fasin.

Effigy of KMMK
This is one among a variety of black-and-white effigies punched and dilaniated during every performance by KMMK. (I actually have no problem with Kellie Martin; if you can contrive a better phrase for KMMK, let me know.)

Shreds of each show’s printout retained by members of the audience who didn’t flee while doused with excrement egested by the band between sets will be signed by them in exchange for fellatio afterward.

Millennial in the Field

Perhaps the most mortifying character among the largely inane dramatis personae of Ridley Scott’s Prometheus was this bewhiskered, cephalically and facially tattooed geologist, who’d the edgy choler of an embittered teenager in the mid-’90s, navigational ineptitude of a toddler separated from its parent at a shopping mall, and a fauxhawk.

He’s still as discomfiting as flatulation at a public function, but less unrealistic than he was a decade ago because entomologist Brendan Morris exists, and he’s christened a Nicaraguan treehopper after Lady Gaga.

Quoth the overfed entomophile:

If there is going to be a Lady Gaga bug, it’s going to be a treehopper, because they have these crazy horns and a wacky fashion sense about them

Flamboyance wasn’t phenomenal before 1960 1975 1994 2005.

I love outrageous forms and colours. It blows my mind that a group that is roughly 40 million years old has so much diversity of form — diversity, I would argue, that we don’t see in any other family of insects.

Why? Wouldn’t one expect more diversity from a family of such enduring lineage?

‘The frontoclypeus, which is like the face, was shaped totally different.

A legitimate, literate scientist versed in his field’s lexicon might observe that this insect’s frontoclypeus is homologous to a face, and shaped differently.

I’ll assume that his co-author Christopher H. Dietrich authored their article concerning this species, the abstract of which conforms to their field’s clinical (if inelegant) jargon.

Which is the more characteristically Millennial trait: effusion or incompetence?

Response by Neocities to inquiry concerning thedonald.neocities.org

Date: Sun, 22 Mar 2020 01:33:35 +0000
From: Neocities Contact 
To: XXXXXXX@robertbuchanan.info
Subject: Re: [Neocities Contact]: thedonald.neocities.org

We didn't ban them. That's all I can tell you (we don't reveal site info as a policy).

On Fri, Mar 20, 2020 at 8:21 PM  wrote:

> current username: rbuchanan
>
> What happened to thedonald.neocities.org?
>

That satisfies my limited curiosity for this subject…

Third-wave feminism: exhibit #4 – Translating Amy Horton

For several years, I’ve catalogued inane and insufferable slang in the Douche-English Dictionary, but I never rendered extenuative to forthcoming text…until now!!

I’m Scared That I No Longer Have The Ability To Be Emotionally Available Attractive to Worthwhile Men

I’ve been single for a long time, so it’s easy to avoid emotional vulnerability. Now I’m not sure I can even go there anymore-it’s much easier to go about my life without peeling away the layers. If I’m open, that means I can be hurt, and I’m really trying to avoid that.

I’ve been single and sexually dissolute for years, so I’m hardened against any capacity for emotional vulnerability. Now I’m not sure I can even establish a sane relationship-it’s much easier to go about my life without improving myself. If I’m rational and committed, that means I can be hurt, and I’m really trying to avoid the labor that personal progress entails.

I have too many heart scars.

At some point, I feel like I have to say enough is enough. I need a pause from all the heartache and confusion. It’s been a long break and I’m not ready to end it. Maybe it’ll stretch on indefinitely, I don’t know. All I know is I have accumulated plenty of heartache already.

I have too much emotional baggage.

At some point, I feel like I have to feign exhaustion with relational turmoil while maintaining a profligate lifestyle. I need a psychotherapist. It’s been a long string of sleazy men and I’m not ready to withdraw from the dating market. Maybe it’ll stretch on indefinitely, I don’t know. All I know is I have accumulated plenty of personality disorders and venereal diseases already.

I always get burned, so why bother?

I’m trying to make better choices about love but I still get hurt every time I put myself out there. It makes me cynical and jaded about even trying. I don’t feel like there’s any point-my life is perfectly happy and pleasant without romance.

I’m always discarded by sportive men; what am I doing?

I’m trying to understand why I only select men who sexually exploit, then drop me, but I still get hurt whenever I wanton. It makes me cynical and jaded about being an oblivious slut. I don’t feel like there’s any point-my life is perfectly miserable because I don’t understand the concept of romance.

I’m tired of the drama.

No matter what, dating and relationships bring complication into my life. I find that when I’m single, I have more energy and less stress and misery. Until I meet someone who won’t bring unnecessary chaos and conflict, I’m not willing or able to open up my heart.

I’m tired of drama that doesn’t benefit me.

No matter what, dating and fugitive relationships to which I’m accustomed bring complication into my life. I find that when I’m single, I have more energy to squander on frivolous authorship and mediocre sex. Until I seek out someone who isn’t merely philandering, I’m not willing or able to exercise any discernment when browsing Tinder.

I don’t trust men at all anymore.

I’ve definitely had a few wonderful experiences but unfortunately, the bad always seem to outweigh the good. I don’t trust guys because they’re reckless with my heart most of the time. They don’t value or appreciate me enough.

I don’t trust men at all anymore because I don’t understand them or myself.

I’ve definitely had a few wonderful experiences among the scores I’ve received, but unfortunately, the bad always seem to outweigh the good. I don’t trust guys because the callous cads who I favor exclusively are entirely inconsiderate of a hussy’s feelings. They don’t value or appreciate me enough because they know I’m too loose to respect or retain.

I feel safer keeping guys in the friend zone.

I finally have a good group of male friends and I truly appreciate them. They allow me to get close to them and understand them better without any of the pressure or tension that goes along with dating. There are no emotional stakes and I like that.

I feel safer keeping guys in the friend zone.

I finally have a good group of gay, ugly and fawning male friends and I truly appreciate how exhaustively I can exploit them. They allow me to work them like a punch press and understand who I wouldn’t bed if my life depended on it without any of the pressure or tension that goes along with dating. There are no emotional stakes because their sexual market value is even lower than mine, and I like that.

I’ve created too many walls.

My walls have only grown stronger and taller with time. I think that I understand my hang-ups and fears better now but that doesn’t mean I’m over them. It’s simply too risky to let them down and let yet another undeserving man into my deepest darkest recesses.

I’ve avoided commitment for as long as I’ve been alive.

My inability to commit has only grown stronger and weirder with time. I think that I understand my hang-ups and fears better now but that doesn’t mean I accept them. It’s simply too terrifying to permit a man with some modicum of integrity into the imagined depths of my shallow psyche.

I attempt vulnerability and literally can’t make it happen.

Something deep within me stops me from going there and I’m not sure how to get rid of that blockage. I used to at least be able to access my emotional depths if I really wanted to do so. Now that feels virtually impossible.

I can’t explore a vulnerability that was extinguished decades ago by my promiscuity.

Years of empty copulation and acokoinonia have rendered me sexually insensible and I’m not sure how to resolve that emotional deficiency. I used to at least imagine that I was profound and sensitive if I really wanted to do so. Now that feels virtually impossible.

I don’t even know how to let go at this point.

My desire to protect myself from harm has taken over. Ironically, I’ve learned to face my fears in every other area of my life. It’s only love and dating where I seize up and defend my feelings from any possibility of hurt.

I don’t even know how act like a human being.

My desire to protect myself from harm has taken over. Ironically, I’ve learned to evade my fears in every other area of my life. It’s only love and dating where I seize up and deride anyone who expects me to comport myself with tact and accountability.

I have way too much anxiety when it comes to love.

It’s the one area where I haven’t been able to attack my fears and get over them. I’m still too afraid of getting my heart broken because I’m very sensitive and I know how it ruins me every single time. I’m not willing to experience that again.

I have way too much anxiety when it comes to common sense.

It’s one of several areas where I haven’t been able to introspect and rationally assess my self-destructive behavior. I’m still too afraid of getting my heart broken because I’m very solipsistic and I know how my ossified, dysfunctional propensities ruin my unrealistic expectations every single time. I’m not willing to consider my own faults or horrendous taste in men.

I literally cannot bring myself to go there.

It ain’t happening. I preach openness and emotional vulnerability to other people but I’m a huge hypocrite. I want to be able to do it and I simply can’t. It’s a problem and I need to do some serious work if I’m ever going to open up again.

I cannot explore or express emotions that I don’t feel.

It ain’t happening. I preach openness and emotional vulnerability to other people but I’m a huge hypocrite. I want to be able to do it and I simply can’t. It’s a problem and I need to actually shoulder some responsibility and improve my M.O. if I’m ever going to feel anything.

I have an easier life when I feel emotionally safe.

I have an amazing life and, honestly, if not having deep emotional intimacy with a man is the only drawback, that’s not so awful. I never fight with anyone and I never cry. Yes, I want love, but I’m willing to compromise to keep my sanity.

I’d like to believe that I have an easier life without substantive expectations or objectives.

I have an abysmal life as the author of columns that showcase my pathologies and, honestly, if not having deep emotional intimacy with a man is the only drawback, that’s godawful. I never fight with anyone because I live in solitude, and I only cry when I contemplate that desolation. Yes, I want love, but I’m willing to settle for eventual spinsterhood because I don’t know how to pursue any recourse.

I think I’m a nicer person when I’m protecting myself.

Someday I hope I can be raw and dark and dirty with a partner and have them accept me as I am. Honestly, though, I think that when I am keeping myself safe, I tend to be a better human. I don’t lash out or react out of fear and anxiety.

I think I’m a nice person.

Someday I hope I can be raw and dark and dirty with a subservient partner and have them accept me as I am. Honestly, though, I think that when I am keeping myself safe, I tend to be less embarrassing. I don’t lash out or react out of fear and anxiety.

I am starting to believe that emotional intimacy is overrated.

I used to think that it was everything I wanted but I’m realizing that I have a lot more going on. I’m working on developing my sense of self, my career, and the way I relate to everyone around me. It feels pretty good.

I am desperate to believe that emotional intimacy is overrated.

I still think that it’s everything I need, but I’m realizing that I either can’t attain it or can’t be bothered to prosecute the self-improvement it would necessitate. I’m working on developing my egocentrism, risible career, and the way I constantly compare my life to those of everyone around me. It feels wretched.

I like the idea of deep love but I’ve never had it.

I’ve been in a lot of relationships, but not one of them was right even if I thought it was at the time. I didn’t know how to truly love deeply and neither did any of my exes. I couldn’t attract real emotional intimacy because I didn’t know what it was.

I like an artificial conception of deep love but I’ve never had it.

I’ve been in a few legitimate relationships and over a hundred one-night stands, but I opted for the latter over the former because they were fun and undemanding. I didn’t know how to truly love deeply and I need to believe that my exes didn’t either. I’ve never attracted real emotional intimacy because I don’t know what it is.

I don’t think I’ll ever meet the right man for me.

Yes, this sounds horribly depressing, but I don’t know if I believe he’s out there. I’ve been wrong so many times that I don’t trust my judgment and I’m tired of trying to be emotionally open with guys who leave me stranded high and dry. Maybe I have to accept that I’m on my own.

I don’t think I’ll ever meet the right man for me.

Yes, this sounds horribly depressing, but I don’t know if I believe he’s out there. I’ve been wrong so many times that I don’t trust my judgment and I’m tired of trying to be emotionally open with guys who leave me stranded high and dry. Maybe I have to accept that my judgment is dreadful, my expectations are absurd and my perceived SMV is grossly overinflated.

I could translate this slattern’s column regularly!

Known for basketball skill

These opening paragraphs from Wikipedia’s characteristic article on Gianna Bryant were snapped before one of the subliterate pederasts who govern such indispensable content notices that it reads like a report penned by a dunce in second grade:

Between the moment that Kobe Bryant faked his death to the very second this post was published, thirty revisions to that article have been implemented, and that’s the present result. Never mind its hilarious solecisms and punctuational abuses; she’s known for basketball skill (also, her father’s a celebrity).

Without Wikipedia, I would’ve never read that immortal quote:

Bryant played basketball, with commentators reported that she was highly skilled, even though she was only a child.

Update: That mess was mercifully deleted and its link redirected to Kobe Bryant’s article hours later.

Where Be JBB & Dr. D?

Hmmmm…

Date: Fri, 27 Dec 2019 13:13:23 -0600
From: Robert Buchanan <**********@robertbuchanan.info>
To: **********@takimag.com
Subject: JBB and Dr. D
Message-ID: <20191227191323.GA3052@Hooper>
MIME-Version: 1.0
Content-Type: text/plain; charset=us-ascii
Content-Disposition: inline
User-Agent: Mutt/1.5.23 (2014-03-12)

To the editors,

Why have Joe Bob Briggs and Theo Dalrymple been excised from Takimag's masthead? Dr. Daniels is is still contributing hebdomadal articles.

Alas…

Date: Fri, 27 Dec 2019 14:52:42 -0500
From: Mail Delivery System 
To: **********@robertbuchanan.info
Subject: Mail delivery failed: returning message to sender

[-- Attachment #1 --]
[-- Type: text/plain, Encoding: 7bit, Size: 0.3K --]

This message was created automatically by mail delivery software.

A message that you sent could not be delivered to one or more of its recipients. This is a permanent error. The following address(es) failed:

  **********@takimag.com
    all hosts for 'takimag.com' have been failing for a long time (and retry time not reached)

[-- Attachment #2 --]
[-- Type: message/delivery-status, Encoding: 7bit, Size: 0.1K --]

Reporting-MTA: dns; d609c.dimedns.com

Action: failed
Final-Recipient: rfc822;**********@takimag.com
Status: 5.0.0

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Date: Fri, 27 Dec 2019 13:13:23 -0600
From: Robert Buchanan <**********@robertbuchanan.info>
To: **********@takimag.com
Subject: JBB and Dr. D
User-Agent: Mutt/1.5.23 (2014-03-12)

To the editors,

Why have Joe Bob Briggs and Theo Dalrymple been excised from Takimag's masthead? Dr. Daniels is is still contributing hebdomadal articles.

Thence, I attempted to implicitly pay for this information via my paltry, annual donation via PayPal:

However…

Date: Mon, 30 Dec 2019 09:03:35 +0000
From: Mandolyna Theodoracopulos <**********@takimag.com>
To: **********@gmail.com
Subject: Donation
X-Mailer: Apple Mail (2.3445.104.11)

Thank you for donating to Taki’s Magazine.
We appreciate your support.



Mandolyna Theodoracopulos
Editor-in-Chief

Nuts! Yet not a week later, the masthead was updated:

Whew! This publication’s least popular contributor happens to be my preferent.

Regrettably, Joe Bob (whose last article was published well over a month ago) may have quietly terminated his column at Takimag.

Star Wars: Nexus of Failure

A recent exchange in Gab:

Naturally, Rivers didn’t respond: why gainsay a solid argument that nobody read? After all, his entire modus operandi is to attract attention (and subsequent subscriptions) by paraphrasing what his readers already know with scant if any elaboration. Much of his initial contention is correct (though the notion that Star Wars was exclusively intended for or enjoyed by white males is pure poppycock), but its querulence and his response once again substantiate that the naysayers of Disney Wars have done nothing to significantly oppose it or the noxious trends it represents.

My calculated distance from most sects of the dissident right was measured equivalent to that from mainstream conservatives, and for the same reasons: most of them are either conformable, culturally nescient incompetents who achieve nothing of worth, or controlled opposition bought with our elites’ pocket change. Whether the general public discountenances them offensive or otherwise unacceptable is as pissant as any other consensus. In the Anglosphere, lumpen, psychotic and volatile leftist coalitions are sustained at exorbitant expense and exhaustive effort by those same elites simply to maintain a corrupt status quo. That fissiparous, squabblingly internecine rightists are scarcely more united than those dupes bodes ill for the future of their nations.

Nobody possessing an I.Q. exceeding room temperature expected features in this franchise helmed by Abrams (an uninspired, perpetually propagandistic fortunate son) or Johnson (a twee mediocrity) to be at all good. Any sensible theatergoer who suffered their first ten minutes of Jar Jar Binks twenty years ago realized then that Return of the Jedi was the last episode of this series that was worth watching. Lucas ruined Wars years before Abrams, Johnson and Kathleen Kennedy’s coven of cat ladies conjointly debased it and cost Disney untold fortunes. (That a movie concerning the early exploits of Han Solo would be misdirected by godforsaken Ron Howard, then rightly flop would’ve been unimaginable to those of us who adored Lucas’s world in our formative years!)

Conceit is the only reason why critics of any political persuasion pay money to view Disney’s latest vitiation of what was once the greatest phenomenon of popular culture. They arrive early to their local theater to sit through this dreck, then produce scathing textual or video critiques to feed their egos. I haven’t seen one of these pictures, and certainly wouldn’t condescend to pay for them. Rivers’ declamation was easily presaged by The Force Awakens, wherein Solo was dispatched and the unappealing leads were cast to represent a propagandistic dyad embodied by so many televised news anchors. If anything, rightists who pay money to view this trash should be ashamed of themselves — if not for viewing pictures in which most of the original heroes are senselessly slain or stultified, then for patronizing a rapacious and obdurate corporation that coerces its terminated employees to train their inept foreign replacements.

Lucas, Kasdan, Kershner, and their collaborators wanted boys and young men to dream of adventure, spiritual fulfillment and a righteous republicanism; Bob Iger and his minions only seek to crush those dreams and indoctrinate their most impressionable patrons with fecklessly recycled concepts, pedestrian craftsmanship, bloated productions, thematic insipidity and a hopeless poverty of invention. However, those who bemoan this for years with periodic jeremiads have for hits and hubris chosen to overlook what’s obvious. If you want Luke, Leia, Han, Chewie, the droids, Lando, et al. — you can have them any time! Whoever hasn’t the trilogy’s original theatrical cuts on VHS or DVD can obtain video files, or DVD or Blu-ray images of Harmy’s Despecialized Edition. Scores of novels based on the films have been penned and published since 1976, and many of these — Alan Dean Foster’s adaptation of A New Hope and his original Splinter of the Mind’s Eye, a trilogy of Han Solo Adventures, and Timothy Zahn’s Heir to the Empire/Thrawn trilogy — are as enjoyable as any popularly marketed pop novels. That so many fans submit to Disney’s morbidly revolting perversion of this property rather than disregard such drivel to concentrate on its far more engaging, imaginative expanded universe (or any number of other properties) only confirms that the fretful defeatist, ever more prominent and clamant among boomers, Xers and millennials, would rather whine than act constructively.

Further, sweeping anti-Semitism in this instance can’t survive even cursory examination. Nobody can reasonably contest that Iger, Abrams, Shearmur and the rest share a common, destructive sociopolitical agenda, and that it’s partially meditated to quell an unhinged collective neurosis. Nevertheless, this notion that “Jews destroyed Star Wars” is as singularly risible as enduring, since most of the “creatives” in this endeavor are gentiles, and this series wouldn’t have attained its greatness without Jews. How do these people neglect how Irvin Kershner, selected by Lucas to direct The Empire Strikes Back on the strength of Eyes of Laura Mars, produced the rare exceeding sequel with a slick yet deliberate emulation of Lucas’s idiom? How do they disregard the histrionic contributions of Harrison Ford, Frank Oz and especially Carrie Fisher, all of whom are partially Ashkenazic? Finally, Zahn’s aforementioned novels demonstrate a comprehensive grasp of Lucas’s spiritual and political themes with a complexity that the filmmaker failed to similarly dilate in his prequels. As usual, we can only conclude that the institutional problem inheres not in “Jews,” but in “those Jews.”

Progressives cant fatuously of “white male fragility,” exhibited not in the strain but tone of widespread reprehension against Disney’s maliciously substandard products, and the overtly recreant, peevish or tearful comportment of public figures such as Jordan Peterson, Kevin Smith, Christopher Cantwell, Michael Moore, Matt Forney and many others. (Over 1K predominantly white disputants wept pettishly at Ian Miles Cheong for this objective criticism of Peterson’s ludicrously lachrymose behavior regarding mean tweets during an interview.) Be it bigotry, illiberality, thuggishness, calumny or intemperance, progressives regularly indulge in every vice or frailty that they impute to others. Nobody is as petulantly “fragile” as progressives, who can’t cope with even the insinuation of dissent from their dogmas, bleat over fantasies such as “hate speech” and contemporary “fascism” or “white supremacy,” and demand “safe spaces” hermetically free from counterargument and heterodoxy. If white, right-wing males are emotionally fragile (and they often are), then a fortiori are progressives doubly so.

In the course of the past 130+ years, hundreds of thousands of features and shorts have been produced. At least 50,000 of French, American, Japanese, British, Korean, Italian, German, Russian, Iranian, Austrian, etc. provenance are worth watching. Perhaps 8,000 of them are masterworks. For whoever’s read, heard and seen their fill of Star Wars, as many as 200 successfully marketed alternatives in the genres of science fiction, fantasy and space opera are readily available, and many more obscure, akin works are waiting to be rediscovered. With this overplus of options available via books, videocassettes, optical discs and streaming services, one can be certain that nobody needs Star Wars so much as Disney needs them to perpetuate their abuse of oligarchical power.

Those addicted to their geeky furor would be wisely counseled to stop whining, withdraw from what’s left of mainstream popular culture, and seek fictions that reflect, affirm and enlarge on their values, culture and society.