Archive for the ‘MGTOW’ Category

Team Womyn, I’m talking to you.

I’m talking to your great-grandmothers who rioted in the streets, smashed storefront windows and torched manor houses, for “Women’s Suffrage.”

I’m talking to your grandmothers who took over the factory jobs of the “home front,” in World War II,  so the men could join the military, and fight – and die – on the battlefront. (And who sent their “Dear John” letters when they took up with some 4-F draft-dodger in a zoot suit.)

I’m talking to your mothers, who protested and marched in the streets about “Equal Rights” and “Women’s Lib” – but drove out the Equal Rights Amendment because it might have reduced their historical “feminine privileges” in the interest of the self-defined, selfishly-defined “equality” that was just an excuse for greed, arrogance and contempt.

And I’m talking to you, the recipients of all the fruits of these actions – all the goodies and privileges and overbalanced “equality” that has been given you by the legislatures and the courts. You have the right to any job, anywhere, and the privilege to skip over tough entry-level jobs and go straight to administrative “boss” positions. You have the right to go anywhere and the privilege to have your own “ladies only” spaces free of men. You have the right to have your man turned out of the home he’s buying for you and your family, at the whim of an unproven accusation, and the privilege that Government will force him to keep paying the rent or the mortgage.

Yes, you’ve won it all – you’ve got it, and everything that comes with it!

But there’s something missing, isn’t there? With all that you’ve won, there’s something still missing.

You have won complete control of the workplace, between Affirmative Action and “Equal Pay For Equal Work” and your Sisterhood in all the Human Resources positions. You’re the first to be hired and the last to be fired, and you can get rid of the male competition just by alleging “sexual harassment.” You will be believed, even if your claim is bogus, just because you’re a woman.

You OWN the court system. Where a man might get ten to twenty, you’ll get parole and counseling. Britain’s legislators are even talking about closing the women’s prisons completely down. And Family Court? Solidly in your pocket.

You are the Favored Sex in the church.  Pastors write their sermons with you in mind. They uphold your sex as the paragon of good and of virtue, and if there’s something wrong in your relationships they’ll side with you in a heartbeat.

You own the college system. Nearly two-thirds of the student body in the American college system are women. Your professors, teachers and instructors are mostly women, too – those men who still remain in the profession are scared of your shadow.

It looks like you’ve got it all. But something is still missing … where are all the “good” men?

Where are the guys who were supposed to flirt with you, and court you, and build you up, and support you, and protect you, and … dare you say it … marry you, and take care of you for life (even after you divorce them)?

Where is the boyfriend, the “special guy,” the man who’s ready to meet you at the altar? Where are the candidates to happily-ever-after with you?

We’re elsewhere. We’re voting “Absent.” We’ve gone Galt. We’ve retreated into our Man-Caves and disappeared.

After the centuries and millenia within which we strove and worked and killed ourselves to make this world comfortable for you ladies – and during which we exerted ourselves in every fashion, every direction, every possible way to praise you and uplift you and put you on a pedestal for our worship (think Shakespeare’s sonnets, as a bare and primitive minimum!) – we are completely weary of the message you’ve been spouting for all these years: You regard us as defective, and you want no more to do with us. After listening to the rants and rhetoric of your spokeswomen, echoed and re-echoed in the Main Scream Media for the past fifty years, more and more of us are taking you at your word. We oppress you with our help, our presence, our “objectifying gaze?” A woman without a man is like a fish without a bicycle? It’s all our fault? Okay, we get it, we are removing ourselves from your presence.

How many of the guys you snubbed and spurned, the guys you dealt out of the rotation, actually have the decency and self-value that might have made them into faithful, hard-working, nurturing, instructive FATHERS???!!! You’ll never know, because you and the Courts denied them “fatherhood” from the git-go. You’ve managed to get the Guns Of Government to back up your claim – that “fathers are meaningless and worthless” and that “Women Are The Perfect Care-Givers, so long as the Bastard Man is forced to pay for our care-giving and pay extra for babysitters while we go out in search of Alpha Cock!”

It’s too late to ask, now, for our help and support.

You want to Have It All – meaning all the privileges, all the “rights,” but nothing even remotely resembling “responsibility.” Trouble is, that “responsibility” is inextricably, innately wed to the privileges and “rights” that you want to claim. They are represented by “everything that comes with it” – which is shorthand for “now you’ve got to do that hidden work, that men have always done in the background, to keep everything running!”

Well, now you’ve got it all – including the responsibility you wanted to evade, the children and teenagers you want someone else to bring into line, the “corporate career” that those 1960s “Mad Men”  would have gladly taken up on your behalf so you wouldn’t have to worry your “pretty little head” about it. You may find that statement “patronizing” – I meant it so. But in fact, it echoes the sentiments of that long-ago time, when men strove to spare their wives the problems, the upsets, the stress they were undergoing in the workaday world; they LOVED their wives and wanted nothing so much as to promote their happiness and leisure and all of that.

Now it’s your turn at bat. You’ve got all the benefits, all the “rights” and privileges and judicial protection and advantages, that our poor society had left to bestow. And you’re complaining, that these “rights” and “privileges” and “protection” and “advantages” aren’t worth a rat’s ass if you don’t have a male slavey out there to do the work you dislike.

Sorry, darlin’s. It’s up to you, now, to repair the “broken plumbing” of Society. Your “male slaveys” are abdicating, abandoning, their role as Society’s plumbers, re-wirers, repairmen and valets. You’ve told them – told US – shown us – dictated to us, again and again and again, your spurning and scorn for our efforts, our dedication, and our effective work to keep Society running. Enough. You can fix it better? Go ahead and fix it.

I wish you luck – you’ll need it!!

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One of the members of GoingYourOwnWay.com spotted the following rationale for MGTOW on the “voat.co” website. It was published by ‘vonclauswitz’ – I found it so well-reasoned that I decided it’s worth repeating, with the author’s permission, here on Beyond The Sunset.


Here’s what I think MGTOW means:

(1) The society in which I find myself (in my case, American) has prescribed roles into which I am pressured to conform.

I’m supposed to:

(1.a) organize my life so as to be useful to women. Specifically, I must have excess resources (which mostly means, make enough money) to not only support a family, but also to afford a very specific lifestyle (sometimes called, “keeping up with the Jones'”).

(1.b) approach and pursue women. This requires an investment of time, energy, and money to learn the skills of picking up women (because even for an attractive guy, this requires some practice and effort) and time, energy, and money to actually do it (dating isn’t free when you’re in this societal role – even if it’s free for other men).

(1.c) initiate relationships and propose marriage.

(1.d) organize my life around the marriage. This substantially means giving up pursuits that I enjoy (because stereotypical male pursuits are labeled immature and condescended to with terms like “man cave” and “midlife crisis”) and take up the company of and lifestyle chosen by my wife.

(1.e) bear a disproportionate responsibility for the success or failure of the marriage. There is a long list of things that husbands are expected to do for their wives under the auspices of being romantic or adventurous or just keeping her from being bored, but little if anything that is expected of wives (indeed, the very suggestion that she has responsibilities may be labeled oppressive).

(2) I have the ability to fulfill this role. It’s completely within my power as a man. I could do it as easily and as successfully as all the generations of men before me. But in the present society in which I find myself, I just don’t see that there are any real rewards for it. It appears to be all work with nothing in return.

(2.a) The supposed benefits of following this path are either not persuasive (not enough of a reward for the amount of work required), not true, or not rewards that I actually care about.

  • The promise of sex is not persuasive. Sex is available at a fixed and guaranteed cost outside of this path. But on this path, the cost of sex is greatly variable and not guaranteed.
  • I don’t believe that following this path will make me happy. Surveys that find married men are happier are only finding that successful marriages are happy. No shit. Lottery winners are richer, but that doesn’t mean that playing the lottery is a good idea.

(2.b) Society does not ask what men want, or what we would consider to be a fair trade for the work required of this role.There is no negotiation here. We are derided if we express dissatisfaction, and shamed if we refuse to play along.

(2.c) Many women see this role not as a social contract between men and women for which they should be thankful, but as a safety net or golden parachute.One possible answer to 2.b above is that many men would like sexual access to a woman when she is young (for discussion, let’s say mid 20’s). And in return for that, men would be happy to bear the substantial costs laid out above. But many women ask that the type of man willing to fill this role should wait until she is a decade or more older. This of course is her right, but it substantially reduces the benefit of this path without any reduction in its cost.It also makes it clear that we are plan B, and likely prevents any real bond between us.

(3) Worse, there are substantial risks for anyone who attempts to fulfill this role.

(3.a) Too many men are falsely accused of rape.

(3.b) The majority of marriages end in divorce. Divorce is painful and expensive. Many men pay exorbitant alimony.

(3.c) Family courts are hostile to fathers. Child support is out of proportion to the actual needs of the child, is often not applied to the child, and in some cases amounts to indentured servitude (as when a judge says, “your ability to pay is not relevant to your obligation to pay” – and sends a man to jail because his 3rd quarter sales numbers are down).

(3.d) There is no legal protection against paternity fraud.

(4) Fatherhood appears to be a thankless job. I don’t believe that I’ll have much if any authority over my children.

(5) I therefore choose to deviate from the prescribed role in various ways.Each man looks at the list of things that is expected of him, and makes his own decision about where he will leave the path and what alternative direction he will go. We are united only in this core idea: none of us will follow society’s path from start to finish. We are going our own way.


More and more of us men are viewing Society’s norm of “love and marriage” from the same perspective. We see too much wrong with marriage, nowadays, for it to be worth the risk. I don’t see this, necessarily, as the fault of the Modern Women themselves – nor, strictly, that of feminism, though feminism has been a driving influence. I see it more as the doing of the Legislatures, who planted the minefield by giving Cupcake more and more incentives and advantages to destroy a marriage and the poor chump she married, and of Family Court, which has an incredible track record of bending over backwards to give everything to Cupcake at the expense of said chump.

Society’s bias is to hold the woman innocent-as-an-infant, and to demonize her partner, for anything that goes wrong in their relationship. It’s his fault if she’s “unhappy.” It’s his fault if she’s cheating on him, if she blames him for her “boredom” in the marriage bed, if she accuses him of “abuse,” if she attacks him with a weapon and then tells the police “she was afraid.”

Whatever goes wrong, “it’s HIS fault.” And Society will penalize HIM.

The facts of this matter used to be pretty-well hidden, even in plain sight. They were the sort of “inconvenient truths” that a young man, full of the natural love-potions that Evolution has developed over the millenia, was unlikely to consider in the intoxicating presence of his inamorata. But more and more of us are deciding that Society’s path (as Vonclauswitz describes it) is not for them. Consider this: 70% of all US men, 20-34, have never been married.  (Graph from CNS News.com – it’s part of an article, “Bachelor Nation,” shaming the young men of the USA for their “perpetual adolescence” and branding them as having “failed” because they haven’t manned-up and married-up.)


There may be millions of girls, deserving of husbands, who will be doomed by this situation to lives of solitary despair, paper-shuffling in their HR cubes by day and taking solace in their cats and Black Box chardonnay by night. It’s a terrible shame, I’m sure; in fact, I’ve been terribly shamed, and repeatedly shamed, for not donning my White Knight armor and riding to the rescue of these poor lonely ladies. But even if I didn’t analyze the perils of living by Society’s program as rigorously as Vonclauswitz has, I arrived at the same decision long ago. Too bad, so sad, Cupcake, and please recycle the Black Box box.

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Poor Poor Victims

Thinking about Men’s Rights today …

Remember the Occupy Movement, from the summer of 2011? It started as a demonstration in a privately-owned park in New York City, with picketers and social-justice warriors pitching a “sleep-in” bivouac to protest the social inequity between Wall Street’s money-makers and “the 99%” struggling to make a living in the recession-bled economy. It went on to spawn more protests, more protesters’ campsites, more disagreement and faction-fighting in the Media, and (predictably) more hateful PR directed at “the 1%” who the protesters blamed for the whole situation.

They saw themselves as “victims” of Wall Street. But that wasn’t all … they sorted themselves out by their “victimhood,” when it came time for any discussions or pronouncements. I personally was fascinated to hear of their “progressive stack” discussion practice, sorting out who got a voice in discussions according to how “marginalized” they were, insisting that everyone “check their privilege” and demanding those of “privileged” groups – white, or male, or cis-gendered, or middle-class, or otherwise “born to privilege” – to “step back” and let the underprivileged others have their say.

In other words, let the “greater victims,” the “oppressed,” do the talking. Let them flaunt their “oppression,” display their scabs and their scars, and voice their victimhood and their demands – and the rest of you, the “privileged,” you just shut up. It spawns an underlying competition between different races, sexes, genders and classes, to prove who’s “more oppressed.” and deserves more of a voice.

The Oppression Olympics.

Now, I’m not denying that some people, some groups, get a rawer deal than others. I’ve seen it. I haven’t been “victimized” so much as others, but guess what? The markers used for “Check Your Privilege” don’t mean much when you’re a child of a poor-but-proud single mama, working hard to stay off welfare in the richest county of the United States. And the Oppression Olympics have become the States’ system for sorting out who needs more help, more benefits, more laws to favor them, more “empowerment.”

And that brings me back to Men’s Rights … and what might be the biggest obstacle faced by the Men’s Rights Movement: Men are poor ‘victims.’

Not “poor victims.” No, we are lousy as victims. We are so obviously at the Pinnacle of Privilege, that when men speak of their grievances – their very real grievances – they’re laughed off the stage.

Women, on the other hand, are “obvious victims.” They’ll show you. They’ll snow you with their evidence of “discrimination,” of “suppression,” of “second-class citizenship.” The Women’s Movement has been piling up this evidence for way more than a century, from Seneca Falls forward, and they have so well campaigned for a reversal of this “inequity” that now, the central purpose of the Laws and the Courts would seem to be the protection, the succoring, the empowering, and the benefit of those Poor Poor Victims, The Women Of Today.

And there just isn’t any room left for men at the table.

Men also tend to let go of their “victimhood,” given half a chance. Look at men who are the victims of divorce – and wouldn’t you say men are victimized by a system that routinely gives the complaining wife not only the benefit of the doubt, but the benefit of keeping the kids, the family home, and a sizable hunk of the man’s income, future earnings, and pension – with the threat of jail, of debtor’s prison, if he doesn’t keep up the payments? But the men struggle – they strive through – and the majority manage to carry the load as they get on with their lives. Their ex-wives? How many of them flaunt their “victimhood,” while they’re living on the ex-husband’s alimony and child-support payments? While they’re poisoning the minds of their children with hatred for the “Daddy” who loved them, tried to raise them well, and is still paying for their well-being?

The biggest issues of the Men’s Movement tend to crowd around divorce law and the practices of “Family Court.” Issues like shared parenting, and paternity fraud, and divorce fraud, and the ignored side of Domestic Violence (women’s violence toward their men, which is half of all domestic violence), are the raison d’être for the Movement.

But they fight in vain, because men are poor, poor “victims.”

Maybe men would do better without “being victims.” Maybe we’d do better by avoiding the problems of Family Court, paternity fraud, divorce fraud, and living with a potentially-violent partner.

Maybe the better solution is to Go Your Own Way. At any rate, I think so, and I practice what I preach.

Going Your Own Way – going Galt, taking part in the Marriage Strike – isn’t about fighting the Men’s Rights fight – or fighting against it; it’s about avoiding the issues altogether. That may not be “effective action” politically, but it is on a personal basis; and to misquote Ricky Nelson’s “Garden Party,” I can’t save everyone so I’ll have to save myself.

It’s a simple solution – don’t get married, don’t cohabitate, don’t procreate.

To quote YouTube vlogger Razor Blade Kandy:

I can’t fix the divorce problem within my culture. But I will never face divorce. I have removed divorce as a possibility by avoiding marriage; that’s MGTOW. I will not have my children taken away from me, nor will I be forced to pay child support, because I have no children; that’s MGTOW.

Yes, that’s what I advocate. That’s what I do.

I am NOT a victim.

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Community Organized Compassion and Kindness posted an illuminating article on “Empowering Women” a few weeks ago. It could have been subtitled “The Female Chameleon;” its theme is the way that women change their opinions, ideas and philosophy as readily as they change clothes. There’s nothing new in this observation; Giuseppe Verdi highlighted it in Rigoletto’s “La donna è mobile;” what struck me is the way the article laid responsibility for this on the men who enable it.

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From the start of this blog, I’ve been putting my attention on the “Men On Strike” phenomenon – the “Escape From The Village,” the marriage strike, the reluctance of men to put themselves into the mink-lined man-trap of “Just Cupcake And Me And Baby Makes Three (until Cupcake kicks me out)” Society. I wasn’t exactly a voice in the wilderness, more like another voice in the choir – and the ‘choir’ keeps getting bigger and louder, and more and more men are paying attention.

A few days ago, CNS News published an alarmist, wringing-their-hands article about the growing extent of this “Escape” mind-set. They’re pointing trembling, panic-shivering fingers at the “civilizational catastrophe” that 70 percent of men, age 20 – 34, are not married.

Viewing this from the perspective of Traditional Conservative Churchly-ism, this is quite horrifying. These “Peter Pan men” are accused of living “in a state of “perpetual adolescence” with ominous consequences for the nation’s future,” according to spokeswoman Janice Shaw Crouse (author of “Marriage Matters”) … who further asserts that these juvenile slackers “have failed to make a normal progression into adult roles of responsibility and self-sufficiency, roles generally associated with marriage and fatherhood…”

Yes, they’re leaving the marriage-go-round.


Has Janice Shaw Crouse considered why these “Peter Pan boys” are abandoning the “sacred” roles of “responsibility and self-sufficiency … associated with marriage and fatherhood”?

(Hear the hollow laughter!)

Crouse’s plaint is overwhelmingly concerned with the “bleak prospects for millions of young women who dream about a wedding day that may never come.” She gives absolutely no attention to the concerns, the worries, the fears, of the young men who are supposed to “man up” and marry these women; though after she’s gotten the bit in her teeth and ran with her sob-story for several paragraphs, she deigns to mention that feminism might have played a part.

But then she characterizes that “part” by feeding right back into the “evil evil men” syndrome, and declaring that “after decades of feminism … young men are now the ones who set the parameters for intimate relationships, and those increasingly do not include a wedding ring.” (So saith CNS News.)

And the rest of the article continues with the same man-shaming tone – that the problem with Society is that “Peter Pan boys don’t Man UP,” get married, and take their proper place on the Plantation. I’ve linked to the article above, and you’re welcome to explore it for yourself.

Excuse me, Sister Janice of the Order of Our Lady of Infinite Responsibility, but I have another explanation for the Lost Boys’ reluctance to join in the bonds of Holy Slavery, er, Matrimony.

Society used to take marriage seriously, and it was all about the marriage, not the Wedding.

Marriage was, indeed, a transition from “boy” (and “girl”) to adulthood. The partners in the wedding CONTRACT – and yes, even with the Separation of Church and State, it was a contract under civil law – agreed to conjoin their identities and combine their resources, “to have and to hold from this day forward, for better for worse, for richer for poorer, in sickness and in health, to love and to cherish, till death us do part, according to God’s holy ordinance …” (From the 1928 “Book Of Common Prayer” of the Episcopal (Anglican) Church – the vows my mother took when she married my father.) And the singer from the church choir would have sung “I Promise Thee” while the new Mister Newlywed slipped the gold ring onto the finger of his Blushing Bride. And they might have been intimidated by the breadth and solemnity of their vows – but well they should have been; marriage was supposed to be ‘forever.’

It isn’t that way any more – or, at least, not necessarily.


Nowadays, the Church has far less say about the state of Holy Matrimony that is supposed to follow from the Bridezilla Wedding and the Awesome Honeymoon. Once the Bride and groom (use, or lack, of capitalization intentional) sign the State’s wedding contract, they are subject to State law – which is to say, to the standards and requirements and prejudices and sexist bigotry of the State Family Courts. And guess what? Those Family Courts, certainly not in the USA, are not part of the judicial system established by the Constitution of the United States. They are increasingly revealed as a law unto themselves – with White Knight judges who will discard any prior arrangement, prenuptual agreement, or police-rendered evidence, to make sure that “Ms. I’m-Not-Haaaaaappy” is coddled and cared-for in the Divorce Decree.

It sure-as-hell wasn’t that way when my mother divorced her husband in 1953. I’ve got the divorce decree in my fire-proof strong-box. The modern Cupcake gets everything – the house, the kids, child support, debt relief, et cetera, ad nauseam.

Why is it a surprise that the Modern Millenial Man sees this for the one-sided, man-shaming, man-blaming, man-plundering deal that it is – and refuses to take part in it?

If the TradCons would like to have even a Hail Mary prayer of fixing this, they’d better put their lobbying dollars into de-fanging our Family Court system. I am not holding my breath.

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I went to visit my Dear Auntie this afternoon, and to take her out to lunch, to a restaurant she enjoyed when she still had sense enough to enjoy it. I parked in the garage below her ‘assisted-living’ residence, carded myself into the access stairwell, punched the code to gain access to the first floor and the stairwells, and punched another code to gain access to her floor in Memory Care. Then I went down to her room, gently but firmly directed one of her neighbors (a man who didn’t seem to have any idea of much of anything) to sit down where he wouldn’t be in Dear Auntie’s way, and knocked on the door to her room.

“I’m so glad to see you. Where’s the other Ricky?” she asked.

I’m damned if I know, Dear Auntie.

There have been a goodly number of people in my life who have acted as if to persuade me to fetch out, to deliver, ‘the other Ricky.’  They have ranged from people who sought out a more assertive, more macho Ricky, to those who sought out a more accommodating, more supplicating, more pussy-begging Ricky, to those who simply sought out a Ricky who would cast himself loose from his mother’s apron-strings. Then there was my mother, who rejected the very idea of a Ricky who might have his own desires, independent of her needs and wants and wishes.

It is fifteen days short of the tenth anniversary of my mother’s death; pretty close to the tenth anniversary of the day her last best friend, Pat, and Pat’s husband Jake, went to lunch with us on the last day my mother was able to do so. Pretty close to the day we went out for a ride, and she asked to see our airplane the Snowbird, and I pulled up close to its propeller and she patted it goodbye.

I am hurting, to hear my Mom’s sister ask ‘where is the other Ricky.’ It hurts when I wonder, who on Earth or beyond it could indeed be ‘the other Ricky?’ Her brother? Her son? Her imaginary playmate, in the cloudy impenetrable maze of her own dementia?

We went to lunch at the restaurant she’d loved best in the last months of her sanity. Becky, our friend among the waitresses there, found us a table adjoining her area, and she brought her own supper to that table after she ended her own shift. She was oh-so-kindly to my Dear Auntie, while she ate her dinner and Dear Auntie fumbled around with the ice-cream that I’d brought her after she finished her proper meal.

I don’t know how long I’ll be able to be Dear Auntie’s ‘other Ricky’. I do hope that I will be able to progress from that, to a reality and a space where it won’t matter who I am … and, as Jimmy Buffett sang it in One Particular Harbor, “when I see the day when my hair’s full gray, and I finally disappear.”

There ain’t room for two of me in Dear Auntie’s life, or in any life I can envision for myself after Dear Auntie shuffles off this mortal coil and Goes West.

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“We’re at a warped point in history in which the feminist state has so deeply involved itself in relationships it has broken the contract between men and women.” (The Wisdom in Not Arguing With A Woman – The Spearhead, 11 May 2012)

This “contract” is not a creation of lawyers and written law. It undercuts anything written in Blackstone, any verdict signed by the Supreme Court. One could argue that its foundations are older than modern man, because it is based on the behavior that animals who live in a pack must follow if the pack is – and they are – to survive.

Homo sapiens is not a “pack animal”, you argue? We are more sophisticated than that, more advanced, with a more-complex society than the lowly “pack animal” of my comparison? I’m not talking of the Gothic-cathedral creation above the ground, I’m talking of the foundations, below the ground, out of sight, long-buried and forgotten as long as the structure will continue to stand. But can we move this structure off its hidden foundations and still keep it intact? It appears to me that we’ve tried – and we’ve failed; the attempts of our present society to move, morph, shape-shift and change the social contract have left it broken, unable to stand as it is today.

Let’s take a look at those “pack animals.” Wolves are most familiar to European and North American cognizance. The wolf pack in the wild consists of a breeding pair, the alphas, who dominate the “lesser” members of the pack – generally their “adolescent” children – and the pack works together to keep the current litter of pups well-fed and strong. (1) Situations are different when you throw a bunch of captive wolves together in a cage; their battles of dominance are the tool they use to sort things out between them, in forced company. The “captive pack” may be more comparable to the cheesy crowd in your local singles meet-market, mightn’t it?

Notice, though, the absolute biological imperative: Bring up a litter, or rather litter-after-litter, of healthy, strong pups. The same is the reproductive imperative of any mammal, any animal, any creature – to survive as a species, they have to procreate. In the case of bisexual species (just about any critter more complex than the bdelloid rotifers), they have to mate – the egg-layer must choose a sperm-sprayer to fertilize those eggs. The male must establish his value as a good sire for the female’s young; whether by display (like the peacock), by “interesting stuff” (like the bowerbird), by actual combat (like rutting deer), or – in a species as socially-complex as Homo sapiens – by “game.”

And more importantly, by what anthropologists and philosophers call “the social contract.”

Human society is incredibly broader, deeper, and more complex than the social behaviors of any other animal on Earth. This has been so since grass huts, stone tools, and tribal groups of multiple nuclear families, bound together by spoken language, common needs cooperatively met, and social hierarchy. The tribal groups that survived, got along by going along, by tradition passed down the generations, by the inculcation of internal controls on individual behavior. “In the old days, there were no fights about hunting grounds or fishing territories. There was no law then … everybody did what was right.” (2) As tribes coalesced into larger societies, into hierarchies, into city-states and nations, the customs of the people in these groups adapted and evolved to keep society running smoothly; and the customs regarding mating and family life were arguably the most important of all. Customs like marriage, sexual fidelity between husband and wife, and raising the kids to live the same way, were more fundamental and powerful than mere laws could be. The “cake of custom,” as Walter Bagehot called it (3), underlies the Law and makes it enforceable.

And it is that “cake of custom” that has been broken. The contract of custom, between man and woman, between husband and wife, between father and mother, has been torn to shreds. All that is left is the Law, and it has come down crushingly on the rights of the father, the husband, the man; and in favor of the rights and privileges of the mother, the wife, the woman.

This starts in elementary school, where the lessons are geared for the girls by their mostly-female teachers. Even the rough-and-tumble games the boys used to play, to let off steam, are taken away as “too dangerous” – and too many fidgety boys are labeled “ADHD” and drugged with Ritalin to make them passive in class.

It goes on to the workplace, where a web of Federal laws and acts and regulations promise “equal hiring, equal opportunity, equal pay for equal work,” etc., etc. In practice, though, this ends up with women hired preferentially, treated preferentially, coddled so that the organization can’t be accused of “discrimination.”

In the social environment? More of the same. Nothing has overtly changed the game where “he chases her until she catches him.” But the Law has replaced common sense and common modesty, and men have little recourse and less protection if a woman decides to re-label a casual one-night stand as “date rape.” Even if she dresses and comports herself like a sex-crime looking for the spot marked “X”. 2011, after all, was the Year of the Slutwalk.

Worst of all is “love and marriage” – from the Bridezilla opener to the rancorous divorce. Marriage is the most broken “social contract” of all, with more than half of all marriages ending in divorce. Typically the divorce settlement is ruinous to the man, because the entire Divorce Industry (and it is an industry) is geared for the woman’s sake.

There appears to be a common thread in these changes, in this shattering of the cake of custom and the social contract:

Women First.

To the women, Society awards privilege, preference, and the prizes. The men’s portion is the responsibility, the work, and the blame. Plus the fact of being expendable, in the eyes of the Law, the eyes of Society, the eyes of Women.

We men soldier on, most of us, because we do take responsibility for our loved ones, for our families, for our Society.  But more and more of us are recognizing the raw deal we are getting. More and more of us are realizing we are being used for our resources, our hard work, our earning power; and more and more of us are saying “No more!”

(1) “Alpha Status, Dominance, and Division of Labor in Wolf Packs,” L. David Mech, 2000.

(2) The Religions of Man, Huston Smith, 1958

(3) Physics and Politics, Walter Bagehot, 1872.


The state of play for men: Domestic Violence (A Voice for Men, 11 July 2012) – “Domestic Violence” is mistakenly believed by Society to be a one-way street, one of violent men and self-defending victim women. Andy Man lays out the statistics and studies that show how false this belief really is.

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I ran across that phrase – “man, as utility device” –  while I was following the comments to an article on The Spearhead – Decoding The Behavior Of American Women. Codebuster, the author of the comment, had this to say:

Even more insidious than hypergamy in the sense of women choosing better is hypogamy in the sense of women choosing less. Let’s face it… women do often seem to go out of their way to choose bottom-feeders. But in the end, both hypergamy and hypogamy are ultimately related to the same one thing… man as utility device. When a woman chooses an idiot with neither looks nor brains, she is ultimately only choosing him because he is more predictable, less likely to stray and less likely to threaten her delusions of moral of superiority.

Men, we are told, select the women they will pursue solely on the basis of their lust. Do I prefer blondes, brunettes or redheads? Do I prefer a pretty “girlish” face, or a sexy “womanly” face? Do I prefer big, ripe, womanly tits, or do I prefer small, girlish boobies that are less likely to sag when my love-object grows older? Do I prefer slim, shapely legs, or do I prefer a ripe, sexy ass?  Expressing any of these preferences would be held as evidence that I am “objectifying” women, seeing women only as sex objects, judging them only by their physical assets. There’s a special word for that, “lookism.”

And yet, somehow, it’s “not sexist” when a woman dresses to show off her curves, in a silky blouse unbuttoned to show off her cleavage and a short skirt to show off her legs, with paint and powder to enhance her looks and perfume to enhance the bait  … and goes to the office dressed like that. Showing off her goodies in the workplace is “empowering.” Admiring the view, though, is “sexual harassment,” unless you are one of the favored few that she wants to attract.

What makes you one of the favored few? Her perception of your utility. If she doesn’t see you as valuable and useful, and usable, you’re a sexist creep for even letting your eyes stray her way.

In the feminist view, You Are The Enemy. Your Y-chromosome is viewed as a genetic flaw, one that contaminates your bodily structure as well as your mental and emotional characteristics. Your size and strength are constant threats; your penis is seen as nothing more (or less) than a tool of oppression; your sexual interest is dangerous, and your sexual response is tantamount to rape. Never mind that you are in control of yourself, by means of your intellect: Women can’t feel the power of the male mind; at best they label it another “difference” to be hated, or feared, or scorned and dismissed.

But if your strength, your intellect, your imagination and your power can be turned to a woman’s favor, you can make her life much easier and much more secure. If you can be tamed, you will become a valuable … utility device.

I was an “utility device” for my mother. She was 38 when I was born, fresh from divorce, without a “putative father” for my sake. By the time I grew to adulthood, she was nearly sixty – and I was ready to pay my way and hers, as I did for the following twenty-eight years, especially while the nubile “girls” of my generation were marching in the streets with placards that denounced any trace of male behavior as “The Evil Of Masculinity and the Patriarchy.”

By the time there were women who recognized some value in me, I was “beyond the pale” because I acknowledged that “Mom NEEDS me.” And Mom’s well-being and happiness were more important to me than that of the “potential girlfriends” out there. Stockholm Syndrome? Maybe. But I took good care of my Mom, clear to the end, and that leaves me able to regard myself in the mirror with a certain amount of self-respect.

Sexist? Follow the hot-link.

The women of my adulthood, of the Seventies and Eighties, were insistent upon getting everything for themselves. They did not want to marry the CEO, they wanted to be the CEO – and they insisted on it, heedless of the fact that they had no idea what a CEO did, or what made a good CEO valuable to an organization, or anything of the sort. They might as well have demanded to be bowerbirds; a function that might have worked better for them, as they seemingly had their attention on “presentation” far, far more than on “nutrition” or “the menu.” Women could insist on all the “prettyfication,” if that’s acceptable as a word, of the structure and engineering and heavy-lifting that had been performed by men since the origins of genus Homo. Women insisted that this “prettyfication” was far, far, far more important than the man-devised, man-built, man-maintained structure that it decorates.

A man is a “utility device” that fulfills Women’s – or a woman’s – needs or wishes or desires. He may fulfill her survival needs, by providing food and shelter for her and her children. He may fulfill her status wishes, by working himself to death for the sake of her House Beautiful, her fine clothes and fine car and fine jewelry. He may fulfill her desire for excitement, by being the big rough tough thug that she “has managed to tame.”

Anything men build, make, or do, in this women-first model, is regarded (or disregarded) as “mere utility.” And therefore it is that men – that Man – is regarded, or disregarded, as “merely the utility-device.”

I, among others, am aware of this disregard.

What if I choose not to obsessively offer this “utility” to others?

What happens to “your society,” ladies, if I retreat from it; if I decline to provide for you, by the sweat of my brow and the blood of my self-sacrifice? What happens when you have fewer, and fewer, and yet-fewer “self-sacrificing” White Knights, and those knights find fewer and fewer victims to deliver to your blood-soaked altars? What happens when Men decline to continue in that role of “utility devices”?

I will not claim to be speaking for other men when I say this. But I claim my own utility, and the fruits of it, as my own, alone, and I will not offer them to any woman who is not bound to me by blood and necessity. (There is my aged aunt, but I’ve provided for her by moving her into an Assisted Living facility where they’ll take care of her, and feed her, and protect her, and keep her from wandering away. She is in such witless condition that she must be kept from wandering away.)

One of these days … I am going to have my last “blood obligation” sloughed off of me, by Dear Auntie’s death. By then I hope to have sold my own house, used a moiety of its equity to buy an ocean-worthy boat, and prepared myself to get out of Dodge. When Dear Auntie goes west, I hope to be prepared to sail South … and, eventually, Beyond The Sunset.

Ladies, you can go forth and fulfill your own needs.


No to the stick, no to the carrot (A Voice for Men, 19 May 2012) – John The Other points out, very pointedly, the more and more evident path that men are taking in the “sex-object vs. utility-object” conflict: Just Say No.

Clues on Marriage and Sex During Roman Empire (The Spearhead, 20 May 2012) – A long quote from Tacitus, describing marriage and chastity among the German peoples in the Roman era, shows by contrast how the Romans treated marriage … and frankly, our modern society looks very much like Rome in decay.

The Fall of the Female Gatekeeper (In Mala Fide, 15 May 2012) – The female is the gatekeeper who determines the future of the human race – she’s the one who chooses the father of her children. With this power comes great responsibility. Are the women of today handling this power responsibly?

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Somebody on MGTOW Forums posted a link to the Gateway Women website, which is dedicated to single, childless women who are “coming to terms with a life without children.” He posted the link with a “LOL” notation, but as I followed the link I didn’t see much reason to laugh at it.

Whyzzat, you ask? I’m a red-blooded American Men’s Rights Extremist, am I not? And the first thing that faced me is this article, “Surviving the childless weekend blues,” that’s enough to give me my daily dose of schadenfreude? Why am I not laughing?

Because I’m living it too, in my way. I’m on the other side of the same street, Solo Street, and she is going her own way, no less than I am. The circum-stances are different; my experience is different, as my “way” is different; but our destination is the same.

How different is it for a woman to be alone? How is her experience different from mine? I can only hypothesize, or engage in projection – pasting my own feelings, or my beliefs about her feelings, into my mental-image picture of her. How did she get to this place, this state … from a past like mine, or from one very different?

Jody Day, the founder of Gateway Women, describes herself as “a writer and communications consultant; she holds a certificate in integrative counselling and is a trainee integrative psychotherapist. She spent 15 years hoping for a baby and is a Godmother and Aunt many times over but not a Mother. Now happily post-fertile….” I haven’t read anything about her childhood, or about her marriage and subsequent divorce (mentioned once in passing, in the first article I read on her site); all I know so far is that she’s a professional woman, in her late forties, and she’s not as sorry-for-herself now as she used to be.

And she makes no bones about that “sorry-for-herself” …

Right now, there’s a whole generation of women 35+ who aren’t in the right relationship and can’t afford to have a baby ‘by themselves’ (even if they could face it). Professional, educated, intelligent, capable, loving, emotionally-intelligent hard-working women. Women who’d be fantastic mothers. But it’s not looking like it’s going to happen. Where the hell are they supposed to take their bewilderment, their grief, their rage at how things have worked out? They’ve followed the script our culture set out: worked hard at school, gone to university, built a career, tried to build relationships with men based on mutual respect and decency. And where has it got them?

I see myself as standing pretty damn close to where it has got them. We’re both of us still on Solo Street. I worked hard at my profession, too; I learned from life and I’m still learning; I love my family, what’s left of it, and I would like to believe at least that I would have been, if not a “fantastic father,” a pretty-damn good one. And if I had gotten selected for marriage, back when I was young enough that there’d have been a point to it, I would have worked to be a good husband.

But I, like Jody and her “Gateway Women,” am also “child-free, by circumstance.” What sets us apart, aside from “the expectations of Society,” is that she’s concave where I’m convex. What chafes her worse is that femaleness is built for motherhood, and she didn’t.

Who am I to laugh at her discomfort? I failed at fatherhood, because I didn’t.

This is not to say that I “feel sorry for her,” or that I feel schadenfreude about her situation, or that I figure somehow that “life has thrown her a bum pitch,” or that “she’s wrong for it,” or “she’s been wronged” – or much of any roiling and inappropriate misemotion. What I do feel is compassion … because I’m single and “child-free” myself.

“Of course, it’s different for a man.” It is? I don’t know; I know how it is for me, but I don’t know how it is for you. Or her. I’m only able to experience my own experience; isn’t it really the same for you?

What’s the difference between a “Gateway Woman” and a “Man Going His Own Way”? Is there a substantive difference, other than sex? Which I believe is substantive enough.


The Cost Of Delaying Marriage“, on MGTOW Forums, is the thread where I found the link to Gateway Women. It also had a link-back to an article on “Boundless Webzine” …

The Cost Of Delaying Marriage, excerpted from Danielle Crittenden’s book What Our Mothers Didn’t Tell Us: Why Happiness Eludes the Modern Woman. Now, admittedly, “Boundless Webzine” is a website of Focus On The Family, a Christian organization devoted to getting people to marry up and raise families – and my MGTOW stance would seem to go straight up against that goal. (Ask yourself, though, why must it?)

A game not worth the candle (A Voice for Men, 24 Apr 2012) is a frank exposition of the misandry, the sexual politics, the “entitled and empowered” attitude and mentality that more and more men recognize (and find hateful) among the Modern Woman of Today.

VAWA and the war on men (A Voice for Men, 22 Apr 2012) – AVfM went from the personal (above) to the political with this article.

Good Sex, Bad Sex (The Spearhead, 2 May 2012) – The “sexual repression” from before the Sixties gave way to the “sexual expression” of the Seventies and Eighties – but now, W.F. Price argues, “we still face a great – perhaps even greater – amount of control where sex is concerned, and a lot more people are locked up for sex crimes than in the bad old days of ‘oppression.’ ” And guess what? It’s almost all blamed on men ….

Raising Breivik (In Mala Fide, 30 Apr 2012) – “Finndistan” describes a street-scene in London, wherein a young mother demonstrated to her child how “political correctness” and “multi-cultural acceptance” are more important to her than her own child’s safety … Is this what we’re coming to?


I’ve been going through a rather “dry time” on Beyond The Sunset, for the past few weeks. There have been several factors in this; one is a certain and increasing level of acedia, of losing touch with the fire that ran through my earlier rants. The other is a growing level of apathy about whether-or-not my voice is actually adding anything worthwhile to the chorus of Men’s Rights.  And, of course, it’s sailing season …

Had a surprise at the Annapolis Spring Sailboat Show, last weekend; an acquaintance from the Seven Seas Cruising Association told me that she follows Beyond The Sunset. I was pleased, yes, but also vaguely alarmed …!

(That last item is why I’ve added the SSCA to my blogroll. If you sail, or you’re interested in sailing away some day, you owe it to yourself to check ’em out.)

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The Weather Channel girl
With her perfect weather curl
Is talking cold, cold, cold …

You can’t get out of bed,
You can’t remember what she said –
You’re feeling old, old, old …!

Jimmy Buffett, “Holiday”

I went looking all over YouTube, in hopes of finding a video of Jimmy Buffett playing that song live with the steel-drums intro, as it’s recorded on his Meet Me In Margaritaville CD. I thought it would be the most appropriate way to break the news gently, as if the news really mattered.

For the next two weeks I’m going to take an official and declared holiday.

I’ve brought Bossa Nova, the trailer-boat, back from her parking spot at Maryland Marina to the side-street in front of my townhouse. I’m loading up the clothes, food, and other items that I figure I’ll need for a two-week trip down to Florida. I’m going to set up the “wireless tether” on my Android phone, so it can link to my laptop, and I may try to do an article or two while I’m on the road, but I plan to be busy enough that I won’t be able to keep any promises.

Bossa Nova, my funny-shaped travel trailer.

This is a good trip for me to make with Bossa Nova, as she can serve as a funny-shaped travel trailer on the way down and back. In point of fact, there are a couple of road trips I’d like to make with Bossa Nova this spring and summer – a fact I’ve used to justify keeping her for at least a couple more months. After this jaunt, though, she’s going to her new home at the marina where I keep Halcyon; it will be cheaper and more convenient to keep her there, and soon I’ll be listing her with the yacht-broker who sold me Halcyon last year.

Meanwhile, though – after the months of getting Dear Auntie settled in “Shady Pines,” of clearing out and cleaning up her old house, of getting it on the market and getting it sold – plus the incidental work I did on Halcyon, and the work I’m starting on my own abode – I think I damn-well deserve a holiday.

So take a holiday …
You need a holiday …
Grab a pack and hit the trail,
Hoist your sail and wind up in some moonlight bay!


Food for thought – a few good posts, not all of ’em new:

You Are Not A Princess! (A Shrink For Men, 15 Dec 2009) – Dr. Tara Palmatier lists twenty-five points for men and women to consider. A common thread – respect, don’t just expect.

Despite All the Risks – Why Young Men Still Get Married (The Spearhead, 26 Mar 2012) – “…with feminist divorce and child support laws, buying the cow costs so much the cow could end up owning YOU.”

How feminists define gender traits (A Voice For Men, 23 Mar 12) points at the most succinct statement of the feminist creed – “woman good, man bad” – and opens it out with a simple chart to reveal what sorts of behavior are labeled as “innate” and what sorts are “learned.” The author follows it up with Alleged “gender-based” treatment (AVfM, 25 Mar 2012) … and how much deeper will we go, down the rabbit hole?

MISOGYNY – Designated Victims and the Poisoned Benefits (GendErratic, 21 Mar 2012) elucidates the origin and structure of “victim culture” from a simple postulate – “Typhon’s Law : Men are seen as agents and women as patients.”

Daddy’s little princess (The Sanctuary, 25 Mar 2012) goes with Failure to launch and the Mama’s boy (16 Mar) – both targeting “the sins of the parents” that seem to be driving our culture to dysfunction, one child at a time. (I admire Spacetraveller for the way she is building on related themes!)

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There is a saying familiar to women everywhere, and this one isn’t even (all that) misandric:

“The difference between men and little boys is the price of their toys.”

I represent that remark … so much so that if some little-old-lady type made a needlepoint sampler of it to needle me, I’d frame it in the place of honor in the main salon of my boat. I can count my own expensive toys on the fingers of – oh, and my toes, too – say, can I borrow a couple of extra hands for that count? No, I’m just joking; just barely joking.

There’s my “economy” car that Mitsubishi tarted up as a rag-top roadster. (It gets 30 mpg, same as a contemporary Galant.) There was the Snowbird, a Piper Tri-Pacer airplane that carried my Mom and myself on many a hundred-dollar hamburger ride. There’s the scuba gear – tanks, fins, regulators, buoyancy-compensator pack, and custom-fitted wetsuit; at least I didn’t go “technical,” as that amount of scuba-gear would pile up price-tags of three to five times as much as what I’ve got now.

And there’s a succession of boats, culminating now with my Bristol 29.9, “Halcyon.” Which is, itself, a more expensive toy than the rest, because it needs toys of its own. But I like to style Halcyon as “more than a toy,” because it becomes my summer cottage on the shore of the Bay … the wet side of the shore, which is even more fun.

What do I mean, “Halcyon needs toys of its own?” Well, the boat itself isn’t enough by itself. You need to equip it in order to sail it, and the way you equip it is based on the kind of sailing you’re going to do. For instance, I needed new sails this year; I wanted more ventilation, which meant opening portlights; I needed safety gear, such as my marine band walkie-talkie and a GPS satellite-navigation receiver (both of which I already had). I needed a better anchor, after the original “hook” dragged time and again in my favorite overnight anchorage. And there were a bunch of “little incidentals” that add up, over time; like the twenty yards of Sunbrella upholstery material that I got for $4.50 a yard at the Annapolis Seagoing Flea Market.  (Part of that is already the new slipcovers in Halcyon’s main salon.)

The other day, I received the “next big thing” for Halcyon: a solar-panel setup for electrical power, while I’m sailing or at anchor … or off the boat, while she’s at the dock in the marina. I’m going to put them on the “hatch garage” atop the cabin, so I held out for special rugged solar panels that won’t be hurt if I step on them. And, since I have to remove the hatch garage to install them, I also bought a new “mainsheet traveler,” or mainsail control track, which will replace the old (and, to my mind, inadequate) traveler that Bristol Yachts Inc installed on that hatch-garage when they built the boat in 1979.

There are a whole lot of things that I’d like to add, aboard Halcyon. But my “un-met friend” Fatty Goodlander – the writer who is the reason I subscribe to Cruising World Magazine – once published a “natural law” whose sensibility and rightness I cannot deny:

If it doesn’t make your boat safer or stronger, don’t buy it.

I try to follow that. I try real hard.

New sails fit in both the “safer” and “stronger” categories, as does the jiffy-reefing setup I added last September. The “mainsheet traveler” goes to “stronger;” the solar panel system, I can log as “safer” because it makes sure I can run my electronics and still start the engine tomorrow morning – or next week. The new windows? That’s a stretch; but better ventilation at anchor or at the dock may tip the balance for “safer,” and the stainless-steel and tempered-glass construction (compared to the old, cracked, crazed Plexiglas deadlights in their corroded aluminum frames) may possibly qualify, at least minimally, for “stronger.” Never mind; I’ve spent the money and it’s gone, I’m pleased as punch with the results, and I’m looking forward to that first warm summer night where the breeze through those portlights will comfort me.

There are some even-stranger “additions” that my hamster spins wildly to ratiocinate as “safer/stronger.” Like the five bottles of Cru 82 vodka that I bought and drank, this winter, so that I could use the stainless-steel bottles for stove-alcohol storage … each 750-ml “empty” will fill one Origo stove cartridge properly without over-filling, and five are enough to store a gallon of stove fuel. (Denatured alcohol is pricey – but for the price of a new propane stove, plus propane bottles and a safe way to store them, I can buy a hell of a lot of stove-alcohol.) And the Cape Horn steering system I described in Steering The Singlehanded Yacht will keep Halcyon straight on course whether I’m on the Bay – or out in the middle of the Atlantic Ocean.  When I buy and install it.

I have to keep a balance about these “expensive toys.”

But my solo, single, MGTOW life means that Halcyon doesn’t have to compete with a flesh-and-blood girlfriend, or fiancée, or wife, or Mother Of My Children. I refer to Halcyon as “my fiberglass mistress” for fun, and because a wife would call her that – just as it’s traditional for a pilot’s wife to call his airplane “his aluminum mistress.” That’s because women set themselves into deadly-serious competition with anything that their men enjoy, or desire, or play with – animate or inanimate.

For those of you men who have girlfriends, or fiancées, or wives, or Mothers Of Your Children – I invite you, with some asperity, to add up the money you spend on your Significant Other (from courting, to maintaining, to placating and paying-off) and determine that proportion of your net income that her “maintenance” represents. I don’t doubt that you spend a greater fraction of your bottom line on “paying her off” than I spend on Halcyon.  And, though Halcyon does indeed “talk back” to me, it does so silently … and it doesn’t continue to incriminate me for past mistakes, world without end, when I learn to handle her better!

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