Tonecluster knows what it means to be a liberal.

I can only give him one consolation: it has ever been thus, my friend. It just seems worse at the moment because of what we're going through as a nation.

Oh, and by the way, I generally use the terms "moonbat" or "reactionary" to describe the fake liberals. In case you find that helpful.

ADMIT IT: You've always wanted to know this.

Ahhh, now this is refreshing.

My best guy buddy was attempting to help a very neurotic woman a year or so ago. It was hard for him, and hard for me to watch. On one level I respected the fact that he was befriending this person. On the other, I felt he couldn't really help her, and was getting dragged down into the undertow of her life, her need to have crises and drama. We'll call her Toni.

One thing that happened: she took a dislike to her landlord, and decided to move out of the boat she was renting from him as living quarters. My friend--we'll call him Vlad--tried to be supportive until he found out that she felt certain the landlord was going to keep the security deposit. So, just to spite him, she was going to take the stove out of the galley of the boat. She stole a few other things, such as a tiny microwave, that she had no real use for. Vlad was aghast, and continually tried to get it through to Toni that even if the landlord was likely to keep her deposit, he would be certain to keep the money if she stole from him.

The girl took these small appliances--all perfectly useless to her--and then had to find storage for them. To this day, I think they are at her stepsister's house.

Months later she said to my friend "you were wrong. The landlord did keep the deposit."

Losing patience finally, my friend bellowed at her,"of course he kept the deposit! You stole things from him! How could he not keep the deposit?"

"Wow," I responded when I'd heard the full story. "The beautiful thing about this is that we all do things that contain some sort of self-fulfilling prophecy. It's just that it's easier to see it in her situation. We're a lot slicker about it than she is, but we also are putting ourselves in positions that will underscore our existing assumptions."

If we could all just stop doing that--break the cycle somehow, not sabotage ourselves into replaying our childhood traumas--we could get extraordinary things done. Simply extraordinary things.

Answer that old question: what would you dare to try if you knew you could not fail? A lot more, I suspect, than you're doing now. Try to realize your dreams; life is short.

Not only do I get to guest-blog on Dean's blog, but I have access to his categories!

Tonight and tomorrow it'll be Attila's World (and Kevin's). How we see it.

It's 2:20 Pacific Standard Time as I write this, and the magic, evil hour of 3:00 is approaching. When I was a teenager with an obscure sleeping order 3:00 a.m. was the "tipping point." If I was still awake then, I'd often stay up all night because I figured there wasn't any point in trying. I'd just make tea and open another book.

In middle age it's different: I never turn down a chance for a few hours' worth of sleep. And I don't open very many books because I've been trying for a few decades to interface with the Real World. (With mixed success, I might add.)

That was before the internet gave us a sort of gray area, a place that's partly literary and partly real. A person can binge all night on other people's words--or her own--and wake up to find that real, flesh-and-blood humans have responded to her postings and comments. It's intoxicating and scary: this is more potent than any drug.

And it leads to situtations wherein little Attila angels and devils perch on one's shoulders like creatures out of a 60s children's cartoon. Good Attila says, "take your midnight Ambien and go to sleep soon. Clean the house tomorrow."

Bad Attila says, "make yourself a cup of tea. You'll be up late; you might as well enjoy it."

Ah, but it isn't late yet. It's not even 3:00.

Lately I've been slaying the devils and the angels, since they are both the voices of compulsion. They are both liars. Do not get me wrong: I believe in Real Good and Real Evil. But little overgrown Superegos and Ids are not that; try not to get confused.

Details later. After I get a little sleep.

Living in Seattle, I did not attend the abortion rights march in DC. In fact, I've never attended a march. The abortion debate is so vitriolic and hateful that I really do not want to be a part of the mob mentality that seems to permeate such a divisive topic. To read the blogsphere, it seems both sides of the issue were pretty nasty to each other.

I was born after the feminism movement got its groove on; culturally and intellectually, I will admit it has NO resonance for me whatsoever. I've looked over feminist sites and writings, and have not really found myself in them. In fact, they sound as dogmatic and cold as some of the anti-women or racist texts I’ve read.

But one thing I do know about feminism: back in the day, they were open to all women- unless you were a lesbian. When I heard that, from women who experienced being shunned by other feminists, I was rather stunned. Nowadays it’s a bit different.

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Hey this is neat: the Internet Encyclopedia of Philosophy.

I tend toward evolutionary ethics, myself. Although the criticisms of the school are pretty spot on, all schools of philosophy (including all branches of theology) have equally punishing criticisms in my view.

Do you know why I loathe these people so much?

Because they distract from the very legitimate and valuable work done by these good people and these good people.

I periodically mention this as a reminder not just to Dean's World readers, but to other webloggers: when you criticize the bad guys, don't forget to mention who the good guys really are.

Sometimes you hear a line from a movie, and it sticks in your brain forever, and sometimes even shapes your life.

I'm not really a big fan of westerns. But, in The Magnificent Seven, Charles Bronson has an exchange with some children that, as a father, I think of often.

If you haven't seen the movie, well, the story is simple enough. A group of dirt-poor villagers in a remote part of Mexico are regularly brutalized, stolen from, and starved by a group of outlaws, gangsters who regularly rape and pillage small communities like theirs. The villagers have little money, few weapons, and are outnumbered. So they gather what they can, and hire a motley crew of gunfighters to help them fend off the outlaws. They wind up assembling seven of them (hence the title).

The seven gunfighters get to know the villagers, the women and children, and are admired by all for their bravery. In one quiet scene, away from the others, Bronson, in the role of Bernardo O'Reilly, is making preparations for the coming fight, and talking to some of the kids. Then the following exchange takes place:

Village Boy: We're ashamed to live here. Our fathers are cowards.

O'Reilly: Don't you ever say that again about your fathers, because they are not cowards. You think I am brave because I carry a gun?

Well, your fathers are much braver. Because they carry responsibility: for you, your brothers, your sisters, and your mothers. And this responsibility is like a big rock that weighs a ton. It bends and it twists them until finally it buries them under the ground. And there's nobody says they have to do this. They do it because they love you, and because they want to.

I have never had this kind of courage. Running a farm, working like a mule every day with no guarantee anything will ever come of it: this is bravery.

I think of that line often.

One day I'll probably write an extended essay on why that line is so important to me. But then, that might just be gilding the lilly.

I really am.

He's a good guy, and could talk common sense to his party. The more I see of Kerry, the harder a time I have liking him.

I make fun of Edwards now and then. But I do like him, and wish him luck.

Seriously.

A couple of years ago a friend and I had occasion to journey down to Alabama for the wedding of my friend’s youngest brother. The wedding itself went just fine, but an unexpected guest named Hurricane Georges roared in from out of town and threw the post-wedding plans in to disarray. Ordered to evacuate by the Governor we high-tailed it to Jacksonville Florida where my friend had family.

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You know what I like best about living in the early 21st century? That it's becoming possible, more and more often, to have sane discussions about women and men again. The shrieking "feminist" harpies are steadily losing their power to intimidate. They're still around, mind you, but they're steadily shrinking in influence. It sure wasn't like that when I was growing up in the 1980s.

Anyway, back in August, I published a fun conversation with Venomous Kate that made a couple of resentful "feminists" (who later got even more vicious with me) go ballistic, but which most women who read it told me they found both funny and insightful.

I still stand by every word I said in that conversation. Thus I was fascinated when Jerome du Bois (proprietor of the art-blog The Tears of Things) pointed me out to this article in Salon: Backstabbers, by Laura Miller. Which I found myself nodding all the way through.

As I've pointed out when I've written about female bullying before, I think one of the more unhealthy things that the so-called "feminists" brought to our culture is what I think of as "the kneejerk cringe." We aren't supposed to think of men and women as fundamentally different, and even if we do, we are supposed to put it all down to how supposedly oppressed females are. It's a sort of instant-obeisance we're expected to pay any time we question "feminist" dogma.

Well, I don't believe women in this country have ever (that's right, I said ever) been more oppressed than men. That alone is enough to get me treated like a pariah in some circles, but I'm increasingly fine with that. That's how female bullies work anyway: ostracizing, demeaning, and badmouthing someone who dares to question them. But if I have an opinion you don't agree with, and you treat me like garbage instead of asking me why I came to my conclusions? Good. That tells me that you're just a closed-minded, kneejerk reactionary, and that I shouldn't bother wasting my time with you.

What's more interesting to me is to discuss these things with open-minded and decent people. Because I do believe women are fundamentally different from men in many key areas, that this is rooted in biology, and cannot be eliminated. What can be done, however, is to channel it in creative and positive directions. In order to channel it creatively and positively, however, you have to first acknowledge that it's there. Which is why I find articles like Cathy Young's so fascinating. It's nice to see self-described "feminists" questioning their own dogma and openly examining issues like this for once, rather than hiding their heads in the sand or blaming "the patriarchy."

While we're on the subject of "feminists" challenging their own dogma, I'd be remiss in not pointing out this amazing article on domestic violence in the Boston Globe that the redoubtable Kathy Kinsley (proprietor of On The Third Hand) recently pointed out to me. Which dovetails quite remarkably with all the rest of this. You really should read it. It's already caused me to put this book on my wish list.

When it comes to relations between the sexes, it makes me feel good to contemplate that my son will (probably) grow up in a far more tolerant world than the one I grew up in. Now if only I could say that with the same confidence about race issues.

I'm getting tired of the whole subject, which was just a bit of a lark for me, but my Metrosexual friend Andrew has more to say on the whole "what it means to be a man" theme for those of you who still give a rat's petard.

The ultimate sign of an intellectual loser is making fun of, and steroetyping, people who used to see things your way but changed their minds.

Call it the Esmay rule of political change: when you're vicious, mean, arrogant, and condescending toward those who leave the fold, rather than hurt and bewildered and seeking to understand, you're on the losing side of history.

Discuss.

I hate this. There's a drama going on in my head. Someone annoyed me recently. A lot. So I have these long conversations in my head in which I lay out just why I am so darned worked up. That pretty much releases my anger and then I have long conversations in my head in which I try to deal rationally with the situation. Then I remember why I was annoyed and it's back to the internal rants. I try to let it go and that leads to long arguments with myself about the wisdom and the difficulty of such a move.

I used to deal with this problem by speaking with the other person but some people wisely refuse to engage in the drama in my head. So I'm resigned to waiting it out and hoping the drama in my head goes away of its own accord. I hate this.

There's something wrong with me. For I love the fog.

I mean, I really love it.

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Shell has some advice for men. Andrea isn't so hot on it. Jim S. thinks it's stupid.

I think they're all right. The issue with these things is how often you do 'em, and how. Doing all of them obsessively all the time would be inhumanly weird. But they aren't bad tips as a general rule.

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Firebrand Diana Moon has a perspective on feminism that's going to offend some people.

At some point, I'll write a response to her, but I'll probably wait until she finishes her missive. In the meantime, give it a read. She knows where the bodies are buried.

I will also note this, however:

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I work the graveyard shift. When my son's in school I typically sleep during the day, but when he's home, as he was yesterday, I typically go to bed in the early evening. Every night, before I go to bed, I give him a big hug and let him know I'll see him tomorrow.

Last night he had his friend DJ over. DJ's one of Jake's best friends. Sadly, his dad is in prison. He was sitting with Jake playing video games when I walked in and said, "Okay, give me a hug!" to Jake. I noticed as Jake got up that DJ turned and looked up at me with a smile and opened his arms, then realized I wasn't talking to him and turned back to his video game.

So after I hugged Jake, I said, "Hey DJ, you want a hug too?" He practically bolted up. I gave him a big one and said, "You're a good kid, Deej." He said thanks and went back to his video game.

I figure no kid ever gets too many hugs. As long as you ask first. And a kid like that probably never gets anywhere near enough.

I think I'll offer him one every time he comes over from now on.

So Cal Lawyer and Mrs. So Cal Lawyer are having their first child soon (so I am guest blogging there too.) What every new parent needs, besides a diaper wipe warmer, is perspective. So here it is. First, my worst moment as a new parent:

I had twins. They were born 9 weeks early and suffered from sleep apnea. So they both came home with breathing monitors. When I fed them in the middle of the night, I unplugged them and then they had to be returned to their cribs and plugged back in. No sleeping and cuddling in mommy's bed.

One night, sleep-deprived from caring for two babies on different schedules, I dozed off during feeding. I woke up terribly upset that I had forgotten to put the baby I was feeding back to bed. I gathered up the child I thought was Amanda and wandered sleepily down the hall to the room with the zoo wallpaper and matching cribs.

I got to Amanda's crib and leaned over to put her in. To my surprise, Amanda was already sleeping peacefully, hooked up properly. I was a little surprised that I had confused them but I moved over to Madeleine's crib, only to discover Madeleine also sleeping happily. I looked back at Amanda's crib and then to the baby in my arms.

There was no baby in my arms. In my sleep-deprived state, I had actually begun to hallucinate.

To balance out that image of stressed-out parenthood, I offer you this marvelous post from Bill Hobbs. That's what makes those sleep-deprived nights worthwhile.

A couple of years ago, I picked up a gig in which I get to be a judge about 5 or 6 times a year. One of the most annoying things when I am judging is when the lawyers start fighting. Actually, it is the most annoying thing.

I'm trying to decide who is entitled to relief based on something that happened between the parties, often a long time ago. When I get a motion for more discovery or to exclude witnesses, I'm looking at one thing -- is this going to help me decide what happened between those parties that long time ago.

I couldn't care less who already asked the other side for x and what the response is or who's fault it is that settlement discussions broke down. None of that gets me where I need to be. I can literally feel my eyes glaze over and my shoulders tense up. Nobody cares.

The same is true of blog wars. Most of the readers don't care. Plus bad things happen that may or may not be related to the blog war. (No way am I taking a position on that question.) Nothing good has ever come of it.

Plus you get upset. Upset is bad. You may think you have righteous anger, which is good, but you're upset. Upset is bad.

I credit this one insight from the series with quite possibly saving my marriage during its more rocky periods in the beginning. In retrospect, it's also an insight that would have helped in half the rocky times I've had with most of the females in my life. Including my mother, my sister, and 2/3rds of my female friends. Since females have often made up the majority of my friends, that's not insignificant:

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Unless you've been living in a cave, you've probably heard that pretty much everyone in New York, Ohio, Michigan, and parts of Canada were without power the last 24+ hours. That included the Esmay abode: we've been completely unable to get online since about 3:00 pm on Thursday.

Given how heated things have gotten on some issues recently, maybe that's for the best. Plunging your head into contentious social issues is like sticking your head in a blender sometimes, ain't it?

Hey, seriously: I got an olive branch right here for anyone who wants one.

I will say this though: we live about 10 yards from the border of Inkster, Michigan, which erupted into riots within a few hours of the power going out. Excuse my French, but it was pretty fucking scary for bit there. We were sitting on our front porch and heard gunshots and almost-endless police sirens for a few hours there.

Which made it time to teach my son a particularly important lesson.

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Have you guys noticed how wonderful most (most) of the men's comments were?

Thanks to a reader, I recently came across this incredibly wonderful web site: The Marriage Movement.

Wow. These folks even have their own weblog: the Family Scholars Blog. Which just blows me away.

As man who's been through a divorce, and as a child of divorced parents, I understand why people are defensive about this subject. But I urge you to read the materials here, and think about them.

Marriage. What is it? Even though I'm not religious, to me it's a sacred thing. I hate when people treat it casually, and I think government has a role in encouraging people to adhere to it. I suppose some will think that makes me very conservative, but it's honestly how I feel.

I hereby officially apologize to Meryl and to Judith. Apparently my intended-as-gentle barbs and meant-to-be-thought-provoking historical perspective were interpreted as far more of an attack than I ever intended.

Blessings upon you both. Pax.

* Update * I got a comment recently from a third party, suggesting I had absolutely no historical references for anything I said. Actually I have a great deal, some of which I already linked, and more available for anyone who asks. Unfortunately, no one's bothered to ask. I find that disappointing. It tells me that ideology--and bashing people who challenge it--is more important to some people. Disappointing.

So. Last Friday I asked women to tell us what they liked about men. I found the overwhelming majority of the comments from women to be very positive, and highly enjoyable to read. Also, be sure to check the trackbacks.

Now I open up the discussion for the other set. Men, tell us what you like about women. Serious answers only are allowed. No bashing, no snarkiness, no bullshit. The question is simple: what do you like about women?

Yes, gay men may answer.

I'm already formulating my response, but I'm looking forward to hearing other men's responses. Note: I strongly discourage females from responding to this thread. A couple of men responded to the women's thread, which I wasn't entirely happy about, but it was kept to a minimum. I expect female responses to this to be similarly restrained--I want to hear men's voices.

I grew up in an abusive household. I'll spare you the details.

Five and a half years ago, I became a father. Today, I had a conversation I'd been dreading for some time, but one which I always knew I would have to have.

Jake is going to be 6 in October. He has a number of playmates from the neighborhood, including a 9 year old girl who's a little bigger than him named Ashleigh. Ashleigh is a fairly poorly-disciplined girl. In fact, I have to admit it, she's kind of a brat. She enjoys provoking conflict, sometimes steals her playmates' toys, and enjoys starting fights. She is also notorious for ignoring the adults around her.

Today, she pissed off Jake enough that he hit her. And I finally had to have this conversation with him:

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I obviously hit a hot button with that "Question for Women" thread. Over 30 comments and 10 trackbacks, all on a Friday night, which is normally a time of very low traffic around here. I know a few of you were uncomfortable with generalizing, but it's pretty clear to me that most women do think men are psychologically different, and find much to enjoy in that difference. I must say that I have found that heartening, because I'll let you femmes in on a little secret: much of the time, we men think you really don't like us much.

Then, I got into a fascinating discussion with Venomous Kate who is, despite her nom-de-plume, actually one fo the sweetest, kindest, and most generous people I've ever run across online. She's also smart as a whip.

We started talking about the "What Women Like About Men" question, and then swerved into a conversation about women. Here's a lightly-edited transcript:

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"It is impossible for a man to love his wife wholeheartedly without loving all women somewhat. I suppose that the converse must be true of women."

---From The Notebooks of Lazarus Long

That's the headline on Yahoo News:

"Arabs Shocked by TV Images of Saddam's Sons"

The lead paragraph:

Arabs said "it was un-Islamic to exhibit corpses, however much the brothers were loathed."

(Sigh. It's always something, ain't it?)

Pardon me, but I am now going to rant.

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While I think that the political compass quiz is too limited in too many areas, a lot of people like it. Every time I take it I get a different answer because too many of the questions are too vague for me. However, they do have a wonderful historical quiz that will challenge your preconceptions. That one I liked quite a bit.

When two males of the species are fond of each other, they insult and mock each other. The more rude and offensive their insults are, the closer their friendship is likely to be.

When two females of the species insult each other, they're pretty close to maiming if not killing.

Anyone who thinks I'm kidding is not very observant.

First Bill O'Reilly. Now Matt Drudge.

I remember briefly meeting Matt Drudge at an AOL conference while I was doing some work for them.

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IB Bill has an interesting take on writing as a form of idolatry. To which I can only respond: ouch!

Richard Bennett is exactly right on the tax question. And once again, people who don't like what he has to say will label it "conservative" or "right wing" instead of actually asking themselves if there's any truth to it.

Because, after all, it was tax cuts that led to our economic woes today, right? Not that any theory of economics would support such a theory. But the important thing is that rich people got a 5% tax break. Even though they haven't actually gotten it yet, and won't for several more years.

When your only tool is a hammer, everything starts to look like a nail. In the same vein, when envy and resentment are your only political tools...

In the field of alternate human sexual practices, one that I've been watching slip under people's RADAR from some time, is that subgroup known as "Zoophiles." They call themselves "Zoos" (as in, "I'm a Zoo!"). Zoos like having sex with animals. Some have fixations on specific animals, like horses, dogs, or dolphins. Others prefer sexual experimentation with many different animals. Sometimes to the exclusion of humans, sometimes not.

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John Rosenberg has an amusing letter from a reader. At least, I found it amusing, so it goes without saying that if you don't, there's something strange about you.

Although I hate to break it to John: the rule about not ending sentences with a preposition is one up with which I will not put. But then, I am a well-known heathen in most matters near and dear to the heart of grammarians. (John should read The Language Instinct. So should the rest of you.)

I was reading young Courtney's description of her hazing experience, in reference to the story of the horrid hazing that made national news. I was rather interested by her comments. I was certainly not offended by them, but it gave me some insights into a different worldview from what I grew up with.

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In the comments to an article on oppression and Islam, fellow blogger Robert Speirs said, "Please don't lump Stalin and Mao in with real secularists such as the followers of objectivism." And another blogger, Sam from Estonia, said that, "...an 'atheocracy' is pretty much tabula rasa as it comes to ideologies, whereas theocracies have a pretty bad track record of repression in the name of the Almighty."

I responded in the comments, but I want to say more here. Because both of them are off-base, in my view.

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Apparently, the left-leaning black community, as well as much of academia, believes that it is funny to call Condoleeza Rice a bitch-whore-slut ("skeeza").

Not that this is anything new. Any uppity black person who refuses to toe the lefty line is frequently subject to these kinds of high-tech lynchings. They can be done any time, anywhere, by just about anyone--and no one has the least bit of fear of being called to task for it. Indeed, other than a few conservatives, very few people ever bother to say anything at all.

This is another Trent Lott moment if you ask me. The Left has blown many such moments before. Will they blow this one too?

I guess we'll see.

(Via Instapundit.)

I'm in a philosophical mood this morning. So I was really struck by this Daniel C. Dennett article on a hideous virus. It seems particularly worth reading at the moment.

Dovetails nicely with that C.S. Lewis quote below, doesn't it?

When everything is a matter of opinion, nothing means anything.

(Via my funk-soul brutha.)

I haven't heard the Darryl Worley "Have You Forgotten" song. So I may be wrong. I know some of you are going to disagree with me. I even admit to being something of a hypocrite, because I think that bashing people for unapologetic patriotism is an ugly thing. But I never want to hear it.

Why? Michele fairly well explains it for me. And, although the Beastie Boys' Paul's Boutique is a phenomenal album, I want even less to do with their new "It's for the OIIIIILLLLLL!!!!" idiocy.

Basically, Michele says it for me. Then again, she likes that syrupy "Sister Christian" soft-rock ballad from the 1980s, so there's something obviously twisted about her.

Thoughts of a woman who is not particularly interested in being a martyr. I must say I found that quite refreshing.

My guess is that this "we're oppressed victims of the patriarchy because we can't have it all" mentality has only a decade or two left before it peters out completely. At least, here in the U.S. What do you think?

(Via the Destroyer of Ideas.)

Chris Muir manages to be something Garry Trudeau was a long, long time ago: clever, funny, and in tune with the times. And, oh yeah: relevant.

Read the latest from Chris Muir here, and bookmark him. He's worth it.

The PETA jerks (that's the nicest word I can come up with) have a vile new advertising campaign, comparing meat growing to Nazi concentration camps. I truly despise these people, and one of the main reasons is because of the damage they've done to a cause that I have always supported.

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I took a hilarious quiz:

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Over on CG Hill's site, I found this interesting rant from a critic of weblogs, and the silly people, such as myself, who maintain them:

[T]hey rant about things that upset them, they swoon over girls/boys they like, they expose their deepest fears and herald their most miraculous events with bold tags and large colored fonts. They evangelize for their favorite computer manufacturers, they list URLs they find interesting, they philosophize on mundane linguistic topics and editorialize on current political issues to, apparently, everyone. Therein lies the catch, of course, for their "audience" is probably, at best, only a couple of pairs of eyeballs and the countless hours they spend at the keyboard typing out their inner thoughts are likely wasted on a couple of readers, whom they will probably never actually meet.

When I was younger, this would have upset me. I would have angrily tried to respond point-by-point. But...

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They're on to me. (Snitched from Florence King's Spiritual Sister.)

CG Hill over at Dustbury has a piquant rant about McCarthyism that you may have missed. Never let it be said that nothing worthwhile ever appears on Usenet.

In a related vein, The Bleat is particularly good today. Even if his Senator is apparently a "they." (Oh James, you cut me to the quick!)

I grew up in the 1970s and 1980s, when one certain brand of feminist thought was at its zenith. There are lots of good things about feminism as a general concept, don't get me wrong. But certain folks who thought they owned the word got to define what was and wasn't sexist. And in the process, they palmed off some misogynist, sexist notions on us all.

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