Goodbye Cunnilingus

Not every sexual act in the universe is required for happiness. I’m beginning to understand why oral sex may be prohibited by some religions. Personally, I don’t care, Dear Reader, what you do or don’t do.

However, I am getting mightily tired of the mangina advice to other men that cunnilingus is required for a happy heterosexual relationship or that it is somehow more wholesome than fellatio. It isn’t. It’s about personal choice. Your preferences may be different from mine and your hard limits may be different from mine. It’s none of my business, really. Speaking of which, this post may be Too Much Information for some readers. I have no idea how you happened to accidentally wander here. You may regret it.

I’ve read a bit about circumcision including that dreadful procedure known as female circumcision. There are degrees of barbarism in the practice, and sometimes the reasons for “circumcision lite” are actually valid such as to minimize disease risk (hello HPV!) or even deliberately change sexual response from one form to another, which, if I wanted to reach, is kind of like piercing a baby’s ears; because after all the earlobes are erogenous zones. In any case, I’ve been convinced that the practice is not necessarily any less valid than male circumcision even if I’m not about to fully argue my position there either. Rather, I tend to stick to the position of non-interference in cultures and customs that we do not understand and even those we do. There’s nothing like outside meddling to have far-reaching unintended consequences. Don’t believe me? Try buying raw milk in rural Venezuela. It’s heartbreaking but it’s nearly all salted within an inch of its life and otherwise unpalatable. Thank heavens for the global obsession (and lowering standards) over hypertension in that at least sweet milk and cream is available upon request, sometimes, if one were to make special arrangements beforehand and feign hypertension.

I don’t believe that the state should own children, nor the parents, nor the church. I rather believe that the community should “own” children with a community being a fictional construct from fairy tales etc., consisting of a small group of persons who live in the same locale and who do not admit newcomers into that locale without some sort of vetting. These neighbors would by definition have like minds. Such persons would have the power and the firepower to both elect and remove representatives from government and clergy. Aren’t I the romantic? Perhaps they might all decide that both women and children are community property! Oh horrors. How awful to be so taken care of and protected. How wonderful to live in the modern age instead where we’re all dirt. Sigh.

Anyhow, back to cunnilingus. There may be very good reasons to prohibit the practice.

It works like this.

The job of a religion is to perpetuate itself and the society which adopts it. Otherwise, it won’t exist!

Here’s the problem with cunnilingus: When men are not producing enough testosterone in order to satisfy women with cock alone and women are not producing enough testosterone to have subtantial clitoral/graffenburg/U-spot apparatuses that can be stimulated by a cock alone, nor enough progesterone for an orgasmically-functioning uterus, it might mean that neither party is ideally biologically suited to replicate their genes, food choices, lifestyle, or family tree. But we might not know this conclusively for several generations upon which it is too late and there goes the neighborhood. Left to their own devices, such persons might create a society of wimpy puny-dick men and mutant entitlement-princess females. We don’t know, but, this could happen! Why take a chance?

Prior to modern medicine, a woman such as the one described above might just as easily die in childbirth or her progeny unable to survive. If one part of her is not sufficiently developed, perhaps her hips are also not sufficiently developed, or the nutrition she gives to her fetus is substandard.

Therefore, those who engage in cunnilingus might actually be biologically defective. If they are biologically defective, they might also be psychologically defective and thereby might ought to be discouraged from reproducing. Since no one can truly discourage anyone from reproducing except by impoverishing them out of sexual desire, the demonization of persons who engage in cunnilingus might, in the long haul, discourage those genetic lines from thriving or at least fail to inspire children to grow up and imitate them.

Just because a man is an artist at cunnilingus and impotent or nearly so, does not mean that such a man is “a lesbian trapped in a man’s body.”

Rather, it might mean that he just doesn’t quite cut the mustard as a man and has otherwise swallowed all the garbage diet advice of today, starved himself of nutrients in favor of a vegetarian or near-vegetarian diet, or otherwise shamed himself (and elevated his cortisol at the expense of his testosterone) out of virility or at least enough oomph to satisfy a woman with his cock alone.

Moreover, such a man might actually attract women who are not particularly into cock but who appreciate his talented mouth (and wallet) to a point that they actually disdain cock. Such a man might even attract a lesbian as a wife, marry her, and sufficiently arouse himself (and sweet-talk her) such as to be able to impregnate her and produce children as the product of two substandard parents, and then go on to alienate the police department of a major international city (not to name any names).

Then the two hormonally abnormal persons would be creating progeny that are bound to show some defects down the line thereby endangering the viability of the religion, eventually, even if it takes multiple generations for the effect to manifest.

Not being particularly religious myself, although I understand the rationality, since I don’t usually even like cunnilingus, and I would just assume not associate with men who are unable to resist being so estrogenized and pussy-whipped at the same time that such a man effectively chokes off his own testosterone, such that his tongue is the best he’s got, I’m willing to forgo the practice altogether. Goodbye cunnilingus.

Now it so happens that I have known a few men who do not fit into the above categories who have everything they need between their legs and ears to satisfy me and yet have also chosen to become masters at cunnilingus, in addition to their cocksmanship. Those men are rare. I hereby choose to deprive such men of the taste of me too. Here’s why:

Such rare men are a treasure and deserve to be protected from even the possibility of transmission of HPV which could lead to various horrible cancers. Although I am negative for HPV, I don’t want to set a bad example. If I need more than just cock from such a man, there’s such a thing as toys and fingers (preferably his fingers) or the seat of a revving Harley Davidson, for example. Or a low gravelly voice! Oh I love those. Yes it’s true. I can be talked into an orgasm.

The first time I had really great cunnilingus (after a string of instances of really bad cunnilingus) it happened to have been an outlaw biker and it wasn’t some sort of choice that I could have declined if I had wanted. I mean, it wasn’t rape but, it was sort of a “no turning back” situation that I could have extricated myself from at the onset but once things were in motion all will to remove myself from the situation was gone. Nowadays, I realize that entitlement princesses have decided that “this is rape.” It isn’t. That’s just garbage. I believe the proper term is “ravishment.” It is one of my cherished memories. Frankly, that’s the only way I can possibly enjoy cunnilingus which is by someone who is so good and so confident that he’ll force it on me. However, no more. I cannot bear to endanger such a treasure of a man by encouraging such a risky practice today and no way would a latex dam make it “better.” Goodbye cunnilingus.

A diet of veggies and shame, with not enough cholesterol, muscle, and swearing (and dare I say, tobacco), has made an awful lot of Western men unable to passably fuck with the tool they were born with. However, most of these men are too old to be a beautiful “woman”, no matter how much money they throw at their thick-skinned jowly selves. A smart MtF transsexual starts young—very young. Even so, there’s no guarantee that such a “woman” will find himself a “lesbian” willing to swallow the gag, so to speak. Meanwhile, there aren’t all that many manly men left in the world who prefer a manufactured woman over a biological one. So good luck but count me out. Thanks.

As for women who desire to either dominate me, impress their menfolk, or otherwise have come up with a reason to offer to eat me out, I say, “pass.” I’ve had it pretty good from such women from time to time but on balance it was never worth it in that there’s always a catch somewhere down the line for me. Obviously, a religion out to perpetuate itself would be anti-homosexuality. I am beginning to understand why.

I say this even though I have in fact been on the receiving end of the first orgasm of two women right in my kisser. I’m not particularly repentant except to say, eventually, this good deed did not go unpunished. Women are weird and frankly not worth it to me. I am so glad that I am not a heterosexual man and thereby obligated to put up with the female nut jobs of today.

Now we move on to fellatio. My own love for the practice sadly informs my understanding of why it may be prohibited, and not for the reasons they say.

If a woman is not genetically and nutritionally sound enough to arouse and please a man with her presence and vagina alone, perhaps something is “wrong” with either of them. Perhaps, such as in my case back when I was a vegetarian, she doesn’t have the tissue integrity to sustain a relationship with a prime cocksman, night after night, and thereby makes up for it with her oral skills. Perhaps, like me, she has Marfan’s Syndrome (an indication of incest in the family tree) and is thereby graced with the bone structure that makes her practically designed for deep throating and receiving emotional and vicarious pleasure herself that way. Meanwhile, she may possess flaws in her hips, uterine tissue, and bone structure that might make birthing a child vaginally risky for both mother and child in the same way as the prior scenario.

Since however I personally enjoy giving fellatio, deep throating, and face-fucking and there’s no possibility of my getting pregnant, I shall continue to do so. This shall go on at least until a new religious mob burns me at the stake as a warning to children or as at least a disincentive to making me a role model for impressionable youngsters.

As for all you cunnilingus-lovers and fellatio-haters out there, if this piece actually inhibits your life in any way then perhaps you’re suffering from micro-encephalitis. I don’t mind saying that I would enjoy watching you engage in head-fucking provided you can find a willing orifice to accommodate you.

Fill-In-The Blank Pride

Pride is one of those problematic things. It can often blind one to balance and reality. In my view, one of the blinders is class.

Of course we have the Black Pride and Gay Pride movements. I understand how marching together provides some sort of sense of unity. However, just how much do gangbangers have to do with executives? Street punks and DINKs?

Of course the same applies to Feminists, Jews, Arabs, Hindus, Asians, and Whites, along with members of all nationalities, language groups, religions, etc. Do the folks at the top really care about the folks at the bottom and vice versa? Of course, there are those who do care—in both directions; however, those aren’t normally the type to wholly embrace pride. Cooperation is practically the opposite of pride.

I wholly support freedom of association and freedom from association. Sometimes it is important to regroup and reacquaint oneself with one’s particular demographic group. Your age, race, marital status, country of origin, address, level of education, level of income, nutritional status, genes, and IQ all play a part in who you choose to align with when times are tough. Whereas someone may be so courageous as to reach across the divide to embrace or at least cooperate with a different demographic; this requires wisdom as well as courage or it may well backfire.

Ambassadors and diplomats are interesting people. They have learned how to cross-over and work with different demographics and interests. The same could be said about bartenders, teachers, and medical practitioners, for example, or at least the good ones. I believe that somewhere in these various professions there must be a place for me for I don’t actually have a tribe. I don’t fit into any of the boxes. I realize that might sound arrogant, but it isn’t. It is a lament. I am very tired of paying the price for appearing to be what I am not on numerous levels. At the same time I also appreciate my chameleon qualities as they have saved my life more than once.

I wonder if my life would be better if I dyed my hair a different color, for instance. However, I have changed my hair twice on the direction of men and in both cases nobody was pleased with the results. Since my appeal to men is very important to me, I don’t believe I can be persuaded by another to change it for the third time.

When times are tough, and there is competition for resources, no amount of “education” will promote cross-cultural cooperation unless there is a clear material, spiritual, or intellectual interest, for example. Forcing cross-culturalism which usually amounts to capitulation also tends to have an agenda. Doing so during an international recession seems to me to be particularly cruel and Orwellian. It would almost seem as if we are all gladiators and their prey, fighting for the entertainment of a particularly cruel audience.

I wouldn’t dream of forcing cross-culturalism. It usually backfires, and pandering may even be worse than capitulation. However, in my personal belief, Feminism as an ideology is so toxic that men of diverse demographics who are able to see its irrationality, revisionist history, and economic motives at least have that issue in common. However, men and women who have been wholly duped are generally too much trouble to attempt to educate on the issues, which doesn’t mean it isn’t worth trying.

People who foment divisiveness however have their own agendas.

Various Feminist movements follow the same formula as every other aggrieved group with Fat Pride and Slut Walks being divisions thereof. Why should Heterosexual White Guys be left out of Pride? Probably because to most people such a thing means war and war is supposed to be bad while babies are supposed to be good. What about severely damaged, marginalized, and injured white guys? Those are or were the major constituents of the U.S. Army. Perhaps their increasing numbers indicate that we are about to have another war.

I also believe that pride is a sign of immaturity, which we are all allowed to have a little of. Babies are also immature, of course, as is the fetishization of babies to the exclusion of mathematics, demographics, and economics. Of course, women in their sexual prime are particularly fetishized such that it is practically illegal to criticize them. Whereas the fetishization of strong, capable, independent men is a privately if not politically powerful force. As more and more women speak out against feminism, this movement is slowly coming out of the closet. We are indeed a marginalized, terrorized, and scapegoated group with no particular unity amongst ourselves.

The undercurrent of these various pride movements is anger at “the other”. At some point, if one feels “oppressed,” then I suppose some anger is in order. However, be aware of demagogues who capitalize on and thereby perpetuate that animosity.

When it comes to heterosexual women preaching misandry however and representing themselves as the spokeswomen of all women I take exception. I think that chivalry complicates the whole notion of “equality,” in that women for the most part require some sort of extra protection and men would appear to be as ideally suited to be protectors and women appear to be ideally suited to be baby makers. However, just being well-suited isn’t a mandate particularly when certain loud women can be so scornful of men and there are already record numbers of people on this planet.

That said, I suppose a war, plague, bomb, or atrocity is necessary once in a while to thin the population. But I don’t believe that baby-makers are the best suited for those sorts of decisions, and I suppose that would include most non-baby-making women as well as non-protective men. In general, I don’t like putting victims in the roles of avengers albeit I suppose there are exceptions. However, since it is nearly impossible to rate victims nowadays according to level of victim-hood (because the term is not objective and neither is testimony, persuasiveness, or tears), I find myself to be suspicious of most victims even though I are one. Curiously, however, I believe the testimony of many men who have confided in me personally as well as the public testimony of others. Men, it would seem, are between a rock and a hard place. I truly wish you guys would look beyond your demographic and class differences in order to protect my aggrieved interest group if not yourselves.

Houses of Worship

In today’s world, there aren’t any frontiers. The entire globe has been well-charted, mapped, sonically-explored, and Google-Earthed. Therefore, I have strong doubts that any church/temple/house of worship that doesn’t meet the approval of our masters has been allowed to stand. “Approval” comes in various ways because sometimes the biggest nut-case cults are allowed to flourish if considered politically-expedient or a convenient magnet in which to draw disruptive elements thereby neutralizing them.

To have dominion over the unconscious and irrational mind of one’s subjects pretty well ensures continuation of our sorry global dystopia. However, denying the existence of the uncharted dimensions of our minds or the universe itself is also an officially-recognized money-pit in which to deposit and withdraw politically-expedient elements.

I believe that it is fortunate that human beings don’t know and can’t know everything about everything for a variety of reasons. It is what gives me enough hope to go about my day.

In moving every two to three years among other disruptions throughout my childhood, I’ve attended nine different school systems growing up for a total of 11 schools (not counting trade schools, individual classes, and higher education). I have also attended far too many churches, temples, and other houses of worship than I can count—both as a child (my parents each attended different churches each time we moved with some shuffling at the onset) and in traveling Europe, Asia, and The Americas. I’ve also experienced various exotic spiritual venues to include numerous elaborately appointed shrines, chapels, dungeons, and cigar lounges along with other unusual places nearby and abroad of “natural” or “supernatural” origin.

I still haven’t found “my religion” so I make up my own as I go along, borrowing liberally from a variety of sources.

I find proselytizers including Atheist Missionaries (LOL) predictable and ineffective albeit many are “good-intentioned”. I count many religious people and Atheists among my friends but there is a line that when crossed causes a quick correction. Meanwhile, yes, I would love to attend your religious or intellectual gathering trusting you not to drug and kidnap me. I can assure you that would be a waste of your resources that you would live to regret. I’ve already been brainwashed and inducted, thank you, and yet here I am.

One of the gaps in my religious experiences is Orthodox Christianity. I’ve been advised by one of the followers of this blog that the Orthodox Easter is a good time to experience it and there’s a sizable population here in Los Angeles. I may do just that.

I’m also very drawn to Hinduism, Buddhism, and Taoism; however am opposed to vegetarianism. I love Eastern art as much as The Dutch Masters. I enjoy The Norton Simon Museum nearby even if I don’t approve of the company by that name. I can appreciate that the most revered artists have wealthy patrons with the source of that wealth often questionable. That last sentence should be considered “sour grapes”. I can be had cheaply!

I think spirituality is very important however and also confess that if various key elements were in place I could be persuaded to “convert” to some religion or another even if my conversion is purely pro forma. However, that conversion is unlikely to be doctrine-related or invoked by means of rhetoric.

I spent a month in Europe alone—the only time I’ve been there alone—to meet up with my now ex-husband for three more weeks in Germany (just prior to which he evidently hired an impersonator of me, but that’s another story). One of my stops was La Rochelle, France, considered the “home” of The Three Musketeers and the “Huguenots,” to which my maternal grandmother traced her ancestry. I found their severe, windowless church to be oppressive and prison-like. Although I tend to be drawn to very old architecture and ruins (such as in Rome) the Huguenot church is one place I couldn’t even bear to tarry within for more than a minute. However the city itself is phenomenally inviting and I recommend it for its marina alone.

Here’s a part of La Rochelle that most people never see:

Caprizchka demonstrates the French way to dry one’s hands.

(Video is not one of my more accomplished art forms.)

However, in retrospect I think I would have preferred to have remained in Cádiz, Spain, which has elements more to my liking including the men. By departing I was relieving myself of their temptation being determined to adhere to my marriage vows despite my anguish and despair at the time (the reason for my trip is too complicated and painful to fully describe).

I believe that the WASP dominance of the U.S. is largely responsible for the “backlash” of both Feminism and celebrity-worship. Albeit, Judaism clearly also plays a major part. Are they rivals or collaborators? I believe that the answer to that question depends on class and is multidimensional. Both of these religions formed the greater part of my upbringing with my family being completely WASP with the majority of my socialization Jewish, Black, Irish, or Italian (in that order). Although, I do not necessarily hold the individual adherents (or victims?) of WASP-ism or Judaism responsible for some of the less desirable effects of that upbringing, I am probably immune from the doctrine or its backlash. That last would also apply to Islam. Doctrine or guilt-tripping tends to glide right off of my well-oiled feathers, if I prefer not to be assaulted by it. I’m likely to turn the tables.

One of my favorite churches (albeit it is more like a museum) is the Notre-Dame de Reims which combines both traditional and modern elements after being essentially rebuilt after being bombed. It is Joan of Arc’s place of triumph (the crowning of Charles VII) and resting place. The replacement stained-glass windows were done by Chagall, a Jew. Like pretty much every Catholic Church in Europe, it was erected on top of Roman ruins. I like its fierce melding of traditional, modern, and secular elements, or perhaps that’s just the champagne talking. I suspect, however, a sinister element at play here somehow related to Quedlinburg, Germany—artificial rivalries on top of secret alliances which is a condition I effectively personify.

I find the history of the Catholic Church to be fascinating including its antecedents in ancient Greece which some believe is the root of the rift between Protestants and Catholics. I am grateful to various Disqus users for enlightening me on the subject.

As for the key elements of a religion that could successfully convert me? They are as follows:

1. Freedom to practice my various forms of art and to appreciate art from other sources.

2. Food, drink, and smoke that I like with freedom to partake of and prepare from other traditions thereof (or to invent my own) albeit I also appreciate a limited time of fasting or cleansing and am otherwise capable of self-control, trying new things, and going with the flow.

3. Sex that I like which is primarily of a psychological/spiritual element but to include certain physical acts of the traditional and esoteric varieties, not necessarily limited to those acts therein, and with freedom to pleasure myself albeit I can also appreciate a time of limited celibacy or restriction, following hard-limits, incapacity, etc.

4. Freedom to be alone as well as to associate with others.

I hope that this list will not attract to me missionaries who shall offer me all of the above but then for purposes of my spiritual enlightenment and conversion shall deprive me of all of them. I don’t believe that any further humiliation not toward my liking would offer me further redemption. Personally, I would prefer to simply undergo a ritual test of my allegiance rather than yet another epic period of suffering. If suffering is good for the soul, then, I got soul, Baby.

I believe that God has guided me through each one of the traps that I have escaped because otherwise I ought not to be alive. Curiously, I have not yet been entirely relieved of my ability to speak my mind.

Disqus Went a Little Weird on Me

If you are one of my Disqus followers or are otherwise familiar with my Disqus profile you might have noticed that I sort of disappeared and then came back.

This blog is not intended to be a troubleshooting forum for Disqus. Rather, I just wanted to say that “it’s not you…it’s me”. I did something weird with Disqus and it responded by essentially killing me and then resuscitating me. Why? I have no idea.

I still like all the people whom I follow and welcome all my followers.

Everything is sort of back to normal. Cheers!

Edited for grammar just because.

Where Are The Tomboys?

Tomboy: A young girl who likes to play with the boys as a peer rather than as a “princess”.

What are little girls made of?
Sugar and spice,
And everything nice,
That’s what little girls are made of*.

* Tomboys excepted.

I like to go to Venice Beach, California to watch the skateboarders at the skateboard park. The skateboard park is a large cement bowl with various ramps and slopes here and there. I also like to watch the roller skaters nearby. I admire athletic feats of grace.

Although I was a formidable weight lifter throughout my twenties and thirties, I’m not particularly athletically coordinated. A vision defect rendered me more of a nerd than a tomboy. However, weight lifting suited me just fine. I still have a bit of a “physique” even if various life-changing events have curtailed the practice for now. I am slow and clumsy at things that smaller girls do with grace but I can open jars, carry my own luggage, and wrestle a full-sized billy goat, for example.

My sister was a tomboy and was good at all the sorts of things that I like to watch other people do. Nowadays however she confines her athletic feats to whatever avatars do in video games. Then as now, she’s one of the boys.

When we were kids, my father assembled a set of custom “monkey bars” for purposes of his own athletic development. Fortunately for us girls, he also made it fairly kid-friendly. Although we moved every two to three years, he would break it down and reassemble it at each new home until we didn’t have enough of a backyard for it. The presence of the gym conferred instant neighborhood popularity on my sister. It was large enough that it would gather a crowd just for the assembly and pretty soon kids were asking their parents if they could come to our backyard and play.

Whereas I would slowly plod up the climbing section or swing on the tire, my sister would avail herself of all the features. She would work her way across the horizontal ladder using her hands to propel her with her body swinging like a monkey below. There were also dual bars for the same purpose in which two kids at a time could leg wrestle for an afternoon championship. A skyline ride was one of the quick ways down with or without an inflatable pool at the bottom to land in. There were also poles to slide down or climb up.

I would watch her and the boys and she was one of them. Perhaps the boys were a wee bit kinder to her than to each other but otherwise there was no difference. With her short pixie haircut her femaleness was hardly even apparent.

Rarely, neighborhood girls would come by but would generally get bored with my activities or be intimidated by my sister’s. Once in a while another tomboy would appear. Fortunately, when we were little kids, there was a sandbox for little girls to play in. Mostly, however, they sat around in clusters and talked or watched the other kids. I did plenty of watching myself however had little in common with most kids and therefore would usually just play by myself.

I do not recall a single instance where boys discouraged girls from any of the activities. Quite the opposite, actually. “Come on!” was an encouragement. This was the early ’60’s.

At the Venice Beach skateboard park today there are rarely any girls. It would seem to me that there are fewer tomboys in evidence anywhere now than there were way back then. I wonder why that is? I can guess.

The other day a friend of mine accompanied me to Venice Beach. She’s a feminist but otherwise a nice, intelligent, passionate, warm-hearted person who is very sensual, and heterosexual. We share a lot of beliefs when it comes to sexuality and sexual experimentation having both taken huge bites out of The Sexual Revolution. She harbors the Feminism delusion like so many other delusions of today but I like her and am hopeful that she’ll have her “moment of clarity” some day and perhaps I will be there to support her through it.

She knows that I am an anti-feminist and we sometimes have heated verbal exchanges. She becomes quite emotional and irrational during these exchanges, spitting out memorized rhetoric and pseudo-statistics vehemently. Soon however, she’ll stop abruptly for purposes of “preserving our friendship.” Therefore, I am uncertain whether I am making any headway at all with her.

At other times, she bemoans the lack of men our age who are both “masculine” and “literate”. Oddly, we share similar tastes in men. However, I am partnered and she is single which ought to say something. (I share.)

By coincidence, that morning, I explained to her a term she hadn’t heard before, namely, “Gender Feminist.”

A Gender Feminist is someone who believes that gender is a social construct and that our gender is essentially “a blank slate” until society and environment influence it. My friend listened carefully then announced that she wasn’t a Gender Feminist. I was relieved.

“Why aren’t there any girls?” she asked as we watched the skateboarders. She knew that she was treading on dangerous territory but perhaps this was a “teaching moment” for me because obviously we could both see that there were no girls skateboarding that afternoon.

“Because testosterone confers more risk tolerance,” I answered. “Some girls have higher testosterone and risk tolerance, but none today.”

She started to become agitated. I don’t remember exactly what she said but it was essentially some version of the notion that “girls are discouraged.”

I said:

“If a girl were to come I’m sure the boys would be gracious to her and probably more helpful to her than they would be to a boy they didn’t know.”

She was angry and somehow segued into the issue of sexual exploitation of girls. I’m still not sure how that came up except that perhaps all the rhetoric in her head came crashing together and erupted.

I stayed calm but stood my ground on that issue as well. I know a few things about the sex trades given that in my unusual life I find that I often have more in common with female sex workers than women of other stripes and have also known more than my share of male sex workers as well. Both demographics would include various sorts of “agents” as well as “providers”. I don’t think it’s a coincidence that I’ve met so many of them but rather a consequence of my life of travel and risk-seeking behavior (I probably have higher testosterone than most women). In any case, I’ve been educated on the dynamics and the feminist delusions of “sex trafficking”.

To counter my friend’s argument, I brought up some of the instances of corruption in the “Rescue” industry and explained that perhaps only a minority of prostitutes want to be “rescued” in that it is merely changing one sort of slavery for another. Moreover, poor people the world over have fewer choices in that choices come with prosperity not indoctrination by privileged women who have no ability to relate to what a poor woman (or man) has to deal with.

Predictably, my friend launched into her view of the general treatment of women and girls in The Third World. Here is my position on the subject:

Fluidity of sex roles is only possible in a prosperous society with the degree of prosperity determining that fluidity. A culture under siege will have more rigid sex roles for purpose of preserving the culture because women are designated population producers and men are designated population protectors. Men are called upon to sacrifice themselves for the sake of the women and children who are kept sequestered at home for their safety. This system is for survival purposes. This is a product of Maslow’s Hierarchy of Needs in that unless basic security and prosperity is in place no amount of “education” will persuade individuals to risk their survival. It is like a state of war where any introduced ideology is liable to compound poverty and insecurity and moreover reduce the population. Any options beyond baby-making for a woman in such a society put her and her theoretical children at risk. Meanwhile, the lifespan of women exceeds that of men in every society and poor women don’t actually appreciate the impoverishment of their fathers, husbands, brothers, and sons by way of doubling the pool of available workers for all jobs and thereby lowering the value of labor.

My friend stopped the conversation, “for the sake of our friendship.”

I wonder if she realizes now just how much Gender Feminism has influenced her thinking. Probably not.

For the record, I believe that the reason there seem to be fewer tomboys today is largely due to Feminism. Specifically, feminist mothers mistakenly believe that their girls will be bullied if they play like boys, thereby transmitting their anxiety to them. Moreover, princess and celebrity culture is so strong it is practically unavoidable, compelling girls and young women to seek status over risk which is disruptive to the way that most boys play and otherwise making the girls less welcome. Fear of “The Patriarchy” and misogyny is an inhibiting rather than empowering factor for girls. I also suspect that the estrogenization of our world today (diet, plastics, etc.) affects girls as much as boys just differently. For example, it may contribute to avoidance of risk as well as obesity. The obsession with “safety” might channel more girls into “safe” athletics of a more regulated bent with Title IX one more way to keep athletically-minded girls with each other rather than with boys at unsupervised events. Perhaps there are other reasons why there seem to be fewer tomboys in evidence than when I was a child. Care to take a gander?

The Legend of Ghost White

[Reprinted from my other blog in honor of this: ]

Once upon a time there was a beautiful queen. She was the fairest in all the land! She knew this because her trusty mirror told her so. He was a good mirror.

Everything was peachy. The mirror was obedient, the king was obedient, and all the king’s servants were obedient to this queen. Must have been because she was so beautiful!

The King had even sent away his own daughter to another castle so that the queen would never have to compete with her. There, in the other castle, his daughter was kept cloistered and innocent in the hopes that she wouldn’t turn out like her own mother. Foremost in her upbringing was to keep her indoors so that nothing in the natural world would impose itself on her chaste innocence.

His daughter was therefore as pale as a ghost, and so they called her, “Ghost White”.

Her mother, on the other hand, executed shortly after she was born, was a wise and sexual creature. There was some question as to whether Ghost White was even the good king’s daughter!

To put rumors to rest, the king took a new queen, who, astonishingly, failed to bear him heirs! This was a bit of a problem in terms of succession concerns.

The new queen did, however, have a brother, who was quite a handsome fellow. He came to visit his sister one day.

“Say, that step-daughter of yours is growing up. When are you going to have a son or something?”

“That will be the day. The king has a prostate the size of a grapefruit.”

“Wouldn’t it be great if I could be his heir?”

“Patience, brother. Patience.”

Well, Ghost White did indeed grow up, and what a pretty white thing she was. In fact, she was so pretty that one day, unwisely, the queen’s mirror spilled the beans.

As you might guess, seven years of bad luck were soon on their way.

Meanwhile, the queen ordered her knave to go have the young Ghost White…uh…er… “taken care of”.

The knave went to fetch Ghost White but with one look at her, he knew what he had to do. She was the spitting image of her mother, that slut. Oh what a wonderful slut she was. The knave was not about to either a) slay his own daughter nor b) tell her who he was, and so he c) brought her to his woodsman buddy and told her to take her “far far away”. The woodsman agreed.

With the king’s sole heir out of the way, the queen made her move. She got herself all dressed up and went to visit the king in his quarters.

“Oh Dahling! Don’t you think it would be a good idea for you to adopt my brother as your heir?” she cooed.

“I’ll give it some thought,” he replied.

Meanwhile, the woodsman thought it would be a darned good idea to get poor little Ghost White a bit of an education. So, he taught her a few things. He taught her about the woods, the animals in it, how to hunt, skin and prepare game, and, of course, fellatio, doggie style, lady-on-top, and good old missionary.

The woods were pretty thick and dark though so Ghost White was still pretty pasty looking, but lovely nonetheless. She seemed to thrive in her new life but changes were afoot.

“Listen, Ghost,” began the woodsman. “I think we had better find you a more permanent situation.”

“But I’m happy here!” cried Ghost White.

“I’m sorry, Ghost, but I’m really sort of a loner. Besides, you’re getting hornier every day. I’ve got a great idea. You’ll be happier. I promise,” he said.

“But I love you!” cried Ghost White.

“I’m sorry, Ghost, but, that doesn’t amount to a hill of beans.”

The next day, the woodsman brought her to her new home. It was the home of seven little working men.

They were Horny, Creepy, Sleazy, Backdoor, Wicked, Licker, and Tripod.

The woodsman was right! Ghost White was very very happy. In addition to all of her other new skills, she learned cooking, cleaning, washing, laundering, triple-penetration, BDSM, and safewords!

Meanwhile, back at the castle, the queen had a new proposal for the king:

“How about this? How about we have your heir marry my brother, and then you adopt him as your heir to the throne? Would that work for you?”

Rumor had it that Ghost White was still alive and so the queen thought she might as well make lemonade out of this news.

“Hmmm,” said the king. “Yeah. That could work. But only if Ghost wants him. I want her to be happy.”

There was just one problem. Ghost White was nowhere to be found.

The knave didn’t know. The woodsman had already left the county. But there was someone who knew.

The owner of the local mining company was wondering why productivity was so low. The men were smiling and laughing all the time instead of putting their nose to the grindstone. This wouldn’t do. Finally, one of the stupider employees spilled the beans:

“It’s that Ghost White, gal,” he explained. “She’s fucking their brains out.”

“Who?” asked the owner. “Wait,” he said. “I know who she is.”

The next day, he arrived at the palace.

“I want to see the queen,” he said. “It’s personal.”

“Someone is here to see you,” said the lady-in-waiting to the queen. “He says it’s personal.”

“I’ll be right down,” said the queen.

Upon seeing the mining company owner, the queen blanched. Quickly, she recomposed herself, and dismissed all the attending members of the court.

“Dad,” she began, addressing the mining company owner. “You weren’t ever supposed to come here.”

“This is important,” he said. “I know where Ghost White is.”

“Why didn’t you say so? Where is she?”

“She’s living with some of my employees. Seven little guys. Here. I’ll draw you a map. You’d better take care of this thing yourself, if you know what I mean.”

“Right oh,” said the queen.

So, the queen made up a lovely poisoned apple, dressed herself up like an old witch, and set off through the woods with her brother on horseback. While her brother waited in the wings, the queen dismounted, holding the apple out in front of her as she approached the house of the seven little guys.

It didn’t take much persuading to get Ghost White to take a big bite of the apple, orally fixated as she was. Plop. Out she went like a lamp. The queen, meanwhile, scurried away.

When the seven little guys arrived home from work, they saw poor Ghost White sprawled on the ground. Her pulse was so low, they couldn’t even feel it. They thought she was dead! They laid her on a slab, in state, and covered her with flowers. She was such a good little slut and quite the cook too! It was a very sad day.

Just then, the queen’s brother, dressed to the nines, emerged from his hiding place on horseback. What a dashing figure!

Without a word, he dismounted, unzipped, and mounted poor comatose Ghost White. Meanwhile, the queen was videotaping the whole thing from the woods.

Somewhere along the way, Ghost White awoke, wondering what that feeling was between her legs. Oh. It was a tiny little penis!

Before, she had fully recovered her senses, the queen’s brother had her on the back of his horse, and was spiriting her away.

Naturally, the king was promptly informed of the event, and shown the video.

“Well, she doesn’t look particularly excited, but, not unwilling either. I guess that’s what happens when you keep a girl cooped up and innocent all her life. Very good. I’ll officiate at the wedding and adopt your brother as my heir, and so when I keel over, he’ll be the king. Good job!”

And so they all lived happily ever after!



Copyright 2014 Caprizchka

How to Become an Expert in Sexual Assault

Inspired by the Washington Post:

Emily Renda, a 2014 U-Va. graduate who survived a rape during her freshman year and now works for the university as a sexual violence specialist, has told The Post that she met Jackie in the fall of 2013.


Jackie said in interviews last week that she wants to use her ordeal to help focus more resources on survivors to augment existing prevention efforts. She also said she wants to pursue a career in social work, helping others recover from sexual assaults.

To be a victim of sexual assault would appear to be the major source of credentials of the modern rape counselor. Depending on the pay and perks of such a career, I submit that it is possible that a young woman might even decide to deliberately put herself in harm’s way, to incite “rape”, or to invent an “experience” from whole cloth such as what Jackie did.

Does this mean that such a counselor does or does not have a concept of a “healthy” sexual relationship? I don’t have enough information to make that judgment. However, if the ideologies which inform the definition of “healthy”, that is, Feminism, Statism, and Progressivism, are themselves not healthy (and that is my opinion that they are not), then does anyone ever really recover from such an event with such counseling?

Is the whole point of such counseling to become reliant on group-think for one’s own most intimate decisions such as what would appear to be advocated by this initiative (and Renda’s)? The Green Dot.

Now suppose for a moment, what happens when a genuine victim turns to these characters (“counselors” such as Renda, Jackie, et al) while suffering from the trauma of a sexual assault? Will this new victim be coached to see his or her experience through the lens of the same ideologies which pay the salary of the counselor? Probably. Will this assist the victim in recovering and going on to have a fulfilling life? Unlikely. What is more likely in my view is to adopt what appears to me to be a cult-mentality which ensures adherence and loyalty to that cult in the absence of the ability to self-direct.

Here’s a radical thought. What if the best way for a victim to recover from trauma—sexual assault or otherwise—is highly individual? What if persons who actually care about that person might be better equipped than an agenda-ridden stranger? What if a professional who has actually undergone some discipline and training not exclusively under ideological constraints might also be of assistance?

One of the proven therapies for PTSD is known as “exposure therapy.” What if the best way for some sexual assault victims to recover from their trauma is to have sex?

I’m speaking with some authority here, that is, as a survivor of incest and sexual torture in childhood, a gangrape and kidnapping in my youth (I was again kidnapped later in life by my husband and not in a fun way), and anal rape by a person who I had trusted, I suppose it might come as a surprise to some that I thoroughly enjoy sex with men—not all men, of course. Does that make me a qualified counselor of a sexual assault victim? Not in the view of many since I do not adhere to any of the modern accepted ideologies nor do I follow a generally-accepted “religion” nor even Atheism. What’s more, I can hardly recommend my life as one worthy of emulation other than my exceptional romantic relationship of today, which although worthy of study in my view (and in the view of many of the readers of my book), is currently undergoing the stress of terminal cancer. It would seem to me that in the event that Axel does not survive (and I refuse to take the word of experts in this regard), somehow our relationship deserves to be recorded by an objective third party. Lacking such a person, perhaps I ought to be the one to do it. Meanwhile, although I am not a role model, I do have a few things to say about sexual trauma and sexual health. Am I as qualified or more qualified than career victims to be such an expert? Let the reader decide.

I was gangraped and kidnapped at age 13 by an unknown number of adult male participants (I was drugged) as set up by the adult man who had the dubious distinction of being my first sexual intercourse partner one year prior. At the time that I was detained and raped, I had run away from home and therefore my “missing” status was already effectively accounted for and therefore no one knew that I had been detailed against my will for approximately 48 hours by the participants of an all-male “divorce party”. It was because of all these factors and my sheer embarrassment that I never came forward to either report the incident nor have I ever received professional counseling for it.

The incident started on a Friday night, but late on Sunday night a new man on the scene decided to rescue me. No one objected when this mountain of a man demanded my clothes, ordered me to dress, and then practically carried me out of there. He then took me to an all night Jack-in-the-Box drive-in and fed me. I was starving.

After I had cleaned up at his place and put on a set of his oversized clothes, I decided to seduce him. I felt that it was the right thing to do. I have never regretted doing so even though I never saw this stranger again (which of course was also the right thing to do given that he could have been arrested for statutory rape or harboring a runaway minor—whatever charges that might entail). I will never forget him. His name was Terry. I would love to thank him for what he did for me including the coupe de grace which was pleasurable and healing.

One of the distinctions between this particular sex act and the involuntary ones I had endured albeit drugged on alcohol and PCP (“Angel Dust”) at the time, was that I was on top and therefore was wholly in control of the action and my response. I had fortunately not been injured during the rapes probably because my muscles were fully relaxed and I did not involuntarily clench, orgasm, or otherwise promote friction. However, with Terry, I orgasmed long and hard (and so did he).

I believe that as a result of my quick-witted actions that my recovery from my ordeal was accelerated. As a result, I am not repelled by men nor do I assume that a woman is necessarily the right choice for me in terms of any sort of counseling or advice. Rather, throughout my life, the best comfort, counseling, and advice ever given to me has been by individual men with whom I had no blood relationship. For someone else, a family member might be the best source of comfort, counseling, and advice, but not for me.

Somehow I doubt that a member of a White House task force such as Emily Renda is better qualified than the individual men who helped me throughout my life. As evidence, I submit that I am neither a lesbian or feminist and find my self relatively free of the common neuroses of the modern Western woman.

Libido as a Masculinity Criterion

I couldn’t possibly count the number of times I’ve heard it stated authoritatively that men have a higher libido than women. Repetition must make it true. However, I believe that comparing male libido to female libido is apples and oranges (or bananas and peaches?).

There is no question that men, by and large, have lower standards for sexual opportunities and furthermore have a higher requirement for variety. To witness this masculine principle in action all one has to do is observe the mating behavior of homosexual males. It must also be stated that obviously every man has a “minimum attractiveness” metric when evaluating a possible sexual partner. It is possible that women’s standards in this area are lower or rather, “minimum wealth capacity,” “sense of humor,” and “willingness to please,” tend to matter more to women overall than appearance. Of course there are exceptions.

I’ve also heard, exhaustively, that a woman’s libido tends to be higher in middle age than puberty. I suspect that the reasons for this phenomenon are sociological rather than biological.

When I read these sorts of “factoids”, I wonder whether I am in fact a woman. Perhaps, I am a high-testosterone woman—I’ve never been tested but believe this to be true. However, more importantly, I suspect that these factoids are not true but rather widely-held myths based on the behavior of boys and girls upon puberty—a behavior that does not persist throughout adulthood.

My personal sexual peak in terms of desire and sheer physical ability occurred when I was a minor and has been at a steady downward slide since. While it was obvious that my libido during adolescence was higher than my female peers I suspect that is a matter of having a different social framework than the lot of them. My childhood differs from most girls in that I was relatively unparented other than unwanted attention from my father, moving every two to three years to radically different demographic areas, and therefore the influence of my peers and my family on my personality was less than that of books, popular culture, and then adult men. Having read Xaviera Hollander’s memorable series of books (The Happy Hooker, Best Part of a Man, Xaviera Goes Wild, etc.) while I was still technically a virgin (my childhood sexual abuse did not involve penetration), I determined that my key to happiness was to become a “sexpert.” And so I did.

This does not mean that I don’t have high sexual desire today only that it is nothing like it was when I was a teen when it was overriding to the point of compulsion. While sex is still very important to me, I have developed specific standards that preclude promiscuity, swinging, and hook-ups. Rather, I require enough familiarity to have detailed conversations before even considering the possibility. Otherwise it is just not worth it to me. While for some “bad sex” is better than no sex, that rule doesn’t apply to me. I can consistently achieve orgasm by myself with the aid of a rich catalog of fantastic memories, and therefore see no reason to interact sexually with another body unless the risk is outweighed by the potential for pleasure.

Although, this downward slide in my sexual adventurousness has been going on for decades accompanied by increasingly narrow standards as to who I am interested in having sex with, I have not yet been confronted by a man who a) meets my standards; b) has higher sexual desire than I do…ever. Not ever! That doesn’t mean that such a man doesn’t exist only that he is probably already as busy as he can manage. I believe this because the supply of sexually active men in my age group obviously is well beneath the demand. However, even in my youth, I never met such an animal while admittedly the pool of men in their sexual peak in my experience is tiny. The mean age of male in the first decade of my post-puberty sexual experience was 27. In that age group, while I was in my teens, I never met a man with more sexual desire than what I had. Should I return to that age group, I would perhaps be pleasantly surprised; however, since I’m not turned on by the idea of a younger man, it is a moot issue. I gave it a couple of tries in my 30’s but those attempts were merely the end of a couple of lovely friendships because the sex was decidedly sub par. I’ll never say, “never,” but am not optimistic.

I have never been in a relationship with a man who nudged me while I pretended to be asleep or have a headache such as to repel his sexual advances. In fact, I have an “open door” policy in terms of permissible times to approach me when I am in a relationship with the exclusion of illegal encounters that might possibly result in either arrest or offending the citizenry. I am never “not in the mood” unless I have a gastrointestinal illness or some other physical infirmity (like the time I got stitches in the vagina for instance) or am just unusually sore after a particularly vigorous encounter. Even so, fellatio is nearly always on the table. In fact, if I’m physically out of commission for some reason, that’s a perfect time for fellatio because that’s a guarantee that I’ll “go for the gold,” so to speak, rather than tease with the intention of steering him toward intercourse should such a thing be permissible in my relationship. It isn’t always.

So, do my standards require good looks? No. Great wealth? No. Superior intelligence? It helps but no. Good health? Ideally but given that I am a nutritionist, a health condition that I believe that I can cure is not necessarily a deal breaker.

I suspect that the issue is Dominance. I require Dominance in a man otherwise I am just not interested. I believe that part of Dominance is to dominate one’s own libido. In other words, such a man is in control of himself in his own interest rather than say losing his mind over pussy. I find Dominance to be a trait that accompanies maturity and authority and thereby tends to exist in a man who is older than I am. I prefer men older than I am because otherwise, in my relationships, “sibling rivalry” tends to dominate, and I’d rather admire and submit than compete with a man. Naturally age tends to reduce libido as well.

I also have another theory. I believe that some men’s own sense of masculinity requires that he have a higher libido than his woman. For such a man, a woman who doesn’t fit his inner narrative will never be considered for a relationship. I think that one of the ways that men bond is by complaining about the low libido of their women, whether this is true or false. Of course, when a married man is trying to seduce another women, he’ll tell her, “My wife doesn’t understand me!” That statement might not be true. She might be a nymphomaniac but since her husband craves variety his interest in her has flagged. That would indicate to me that men’s libido is not unconditional and as such is not so overpowering as to be actually higher than women’s libido.

Furthermore, the generally-accepted high value of sexual inexperience in a woman dictates that a woman with high experience has less value to general society, which would also be a threat to an individual man’s self-worth within that society. In other words, I have generally-accepted low social value and have always had low social value even though I’m attractive, healthy, intelligent, possess social graces, and was once highly professionally successful. That low social value is not entirely due to my high libido, but that’s a big reason. Of course, when I was young, I learned how to fake social acceptability but fakery is no way to start a relationship. In fact, I turned down a marriage proposal because it was clear to me that I would have to keep up “the act” in all our social milieus or risk embarrassing my future husband. I didn’t think that would be worth it. I don’t regret that decision, even though he and I are still friendly. The problem of me not being true to myself when around his very large circle of friends would likely have exploded down the line. It would either have made me less attractive to my husband or caused me to have a personal crisis. It would not have been sustainable.

It isn’t that I’m not trustworthy. In fact, I have entertained monogamy numerous times (13 years was the longest, when I was married). I have never cheated in a monogamous relationship. Honor has a higher value to me than sex and I prefer men with similar values. I don’t consider masturbating alone to be “cheating”. In fact, the more desire I have for my partner, the more likely I am to be masturbating because his presence stimulates me.

I have been in numerous open relationships (albeit not usually entirely successfully) as well as monogamous ones and in all cases, my libido was higher than his albeit I tend to take less advantage of an open relationship than my partner. Let that sink in that a man with a lower libido than I have is nevertheless equipped to take on secondary partners. In other words, such a man requires variety to maintain his libido whereas I do not. However, in an open relationship, my ego compels me to get some strokes once in a while rather than demurely waiting at home while my partner gallivants about. This has resulted in the dissolution of more than one “open” relationship when it became apparent that what was good for the gander was not so good for the goose. In other words, my partner would discover that he was either possessive or insecure when tested and this resulted in our relationship ending in all cases but my current open relationship. I have always been open to a monogamous relationship because I do not require variety in order to maintain my libido. However, I am not open to a one-sided open relationship or the sense that I am not getting out what I am putting in. Funny that it would seem that a one-sided open relationship is what most men desire as it tends to be what wealthy men seek. I suppose if the perks were worth it, some wives wouldn’t complain. However, I would find such a situation intolerable for love or money.

I prefer to be in a relationship rather than to be single and want to give it the best chance of succeeding—whether as monogamous or open. The only sort of relationship I haven’t tried is “poly” but that’s because I’m not much of a joiner or follower of groups that tend to be female-dominated (that includes many so-called Male Dominant/Female Submissive groups where the women are obviously in control of all social aspects of the group). I’ll never say “never” but rather find it unlikely that such a thing would work for me, unless, perhaps, it was me and two men. The fact that I am today unapologetically heterosexual eliminates the possibility of a female/female/male triad except as a one-night thing as a gift to a man who wanted that sort of thing. As for a poly living arrangement with two men, that’s long been a fantasy of mine albeit I don’t hold out much hope of ever realizing it (other than short-term, which I have realized several times in my faraway youth, but eventually the dynamic would fall apart).

Perhaps the reason why I have never been in a relationship with a man with a higher libido than I have is that there are relatively few men in this world who are dominant over their own libido, value honor over sex, and don’t consider a woman like me to be “low value”. Of those few men, it would appear that either none of them have a higher libido than I do or I just haven’t met one yet.

I asked my Dominant about this phenomenon and he said this:

“In my circles, women always have the higher sex drive.”

I believe this statement to be true. I also believe that persons in his circle and mine are not studied by the authorities who maintain that men have a higher libido than women. In other words, there’s an entire subculture of individuals who don’t fit the narrative. They consist of men who do not find sexually experienced women to be of low value and thereby do not maintain the fiction that their own libido is higher than their women. In short, they are resistant to social conditioning.

Nowadays, however, if it is not on television or studied by “the experts,” it can’t possibly be true. There cannot possibly be legions of women who will beg for it when encountering a dominant man who values honor over sex. They cannot exist except in fantasy land. Because otherwise it would have to be conceded that the majority of men are without honor.

However, I’m sad to say that I believe that to be true. Similarly, the majority of women are without honor. I would even venture to say that fewer women have honor than men and that men with honor usually reserve that honor for other men. In other words, most men have rightly decided that women are without honor and therefore there is no reason to be honorable with them.

That must be another legacy of Feminism/Gynocentrism.

What if the notion that men have higher libidos than women is a fallacy? What if it is nothing but an artifact of the “Cinderella” narrative which says that it is possible for an attractive young woman to marry a man who is above her in class? While I concede that it is indeed possible, I find that to be the exception rather the rule in relationships of my experience. Furthermore, I suspect that more than one relationship that resembles Cinderella and her Prince Charming is staged, that is, she actually out-earns or out-classes her husband, appearances to the contrary. However, the appearance of being in such a relationship is so important to the parties involved that some couples will go to extreme lengths to maintain it.

What if huge sectors of popular culture depend on the notion that sometimes men are such slaves to their high libidos that they will willingly marry outside of class with a “Cinderella” (and their friends, family, and accountant won’t talk them out of it)?

Considering the resilience of the various beauty and fashion industries, even during a worldwide recession, I would say that the “Cinderella” narrative is alive and well. If all it takes for the future economic security of a young woman is to appear beautiful, fashionable, and high status, then obviously that fiction is good for business.

Similarly, our society does not require an excess of Dominant men or leaders. Therefore the beta men are told that they necessarily have high libidos as a way of sabotaging the competition. So long as the majority of men are pussy-whipped, there is no threat to the status quo.