We can now apparently add sexual inadequacy and a tiny penis to the causes of disagreement with a leftist. Racism, of course, is to be taken for granted. Below, a nice sketch from DeviantArt.
I've been encountering this theme with some frequency on Facebook and other web sites. Some lefties become so obsessed with the size of my dick that they can't talk about anything else.
Feminists online have been obsessed with this issue for years. My loathing for feminism is, of course, proof that I "hate women," a hatred which must have been borne in my fury over the size of my member.
Racism pimps joined in with the penis fantasies some time ago.
"You wouldn't be talking that way if you were face to face with a black person!" lefties like to say. "You'd be too afraid. Your problem is just that you've got a tiny dick."
Telling the lefties that I'm not going to show them my dick doesn't do a bit of good. I'm not the kind of guy to take a dick selfie and put it up on the web. I'm not sure that that's really proof anyway. How would I prove that the dick in question is mine?
Lefties have always enjoyed imagining that their ideology is proof that they are free spirits with wide ranging and hot sex lives. I've lived in Woodstock long enough to know that that is mostly bullshit. Lefties get divorced, experience failure in relationship and change partners frequently. No doubt about that.
Drama and failure give an illusion of spicing up one's sex life. The toll from that sort of life adds up over the years. By one's 30s or 40s, a constant parade of partners ceases to seem glamorous. It's simply dreary failure.
I guess this "tiny dick" thing is an elaboration upon the "angry old white man" bit. My backward political thinking, so this theory goes, originates in my fury over my obsolescence and minuscule dick. Eat shit and die, old white guy!
I've always been happy with the size of my dick. Perhaps I'm fooling myself, but I can't recall spending any time fretting over this issue.
And, no, I won't show the damned thing to you either. You'll just have to take my word for it. The damned thing is YUGE!
Van Gogh's Bedroom at Arles had always been one of my favorite paintings. I had a print hanging of it hanging on my wall for a long time. I think it's still up in my attic. This is my quickie felt tip pen version, done free hand.
I might do this again, this time with a straight edge. I might even take some measurements.
I'm trying to get back in the flow after a month of struggling with my health.
After babysitting three grandkids under the age of 3 all day, I head home for dinner and take a nap that tends to last until 10 p.m. or midnight. When I wake up, I surf the web to take in the Cubs' news and all those ever important political opinion sites. I might get in an argument or two. Then, I try to change gears, play music and sketch. Some nights I succeed. Others, I don't.
What is it about bullshitting about opinions, particularly political opinions, that is so addicting? Opinion bullshitting is probably the major use of the internet. Comments sections of weblogs are filled with people arguing all night with an urgency that is preposterous.
Of course, there are a few weblogs and websites that are important presenters of opinion, like Steve Sailer's blog, probably the most influential on the web. Although Sailer has not endorsed Donald Trump for president, Sailer's explosive (and witty) deconstruction of political correctness may be the most significant factor in Trump's rise. The fact that Sailer now draws in excess of 200 comments per post is a demonstration of the demand for heretical commentary. Most people are followers who wait for somebody else to take the hit for saying that it is obvious that the emperor is naked.
The rest of us are just weighing in with our two cents, getting pissed off because other people don't agree with us, and filling our time with... what?
When I am gone from this vale of tears, what will be the most important thing about me that will remain on this earth? Obviously, my progeny. My children and grandchildren will be my most important legacies. My artwork seems altogether likely to be forgotten. My political opinions, already of little consequence, will disappear into the electronic ether.
I chose the graphic above because it's funny. No, my opinion isn't important to the website, blog or newspaper that tries to attract my comments. What's important is that my click to these sites can be counted by advertisers paying for web page views.
So, what is this endless bickering on the web about? What else would we do on the internet other than argue about politics? Why do we seem to believe that the first measure of compatibility with other people is political opinion agreement?
I only have a few answers.
Back during the dot-com era, I worked for a number of very ambition start-ups. By ambitious, I mean that these companies planned to produce compelling, interesting and, often, educational original content on CDs and on the web. These start-ups all went bankrupt, often after blowing through $100 million in venture capital. Why? The cost of creating that original content could not possibly be recaptured in sales. Teams of engineers, programmers and content creatures consumed money at an astonishing rate.
Political opinion, on the other hand, is dirt cheap... maybe even free. It can be produced in unlimited quantity daily with very little effort. And, people seem to have an unlimited willingness to consume the product. The emotional furor produced by disagreement is a powerful drug that keeps people engaged.
What else would you do besides fight about politics on the web? MIT has a great online education site. Despite my good intentions, I have yet to take a course.
I got caught up in the presidential election hoopla yesterday. By the end of the day, my nerves were jangling from a dozen online spats with various characters. Couldn't help myself. The collapse of the Stop Trump movement delighted me and I stuck a needle in a few of those arrogant Cruz supporters.
I am, literally, trying to retrain my body and mind to avoid devoting my days to internet controversy. Still have my lapses.
Yesterday was a mix of good and bad. I made it to the gym for yoga and weight lifting and I fit in a 10 mile bicycle ride through the mountains. But, I fizzled out in the evening and didn't attend to playing music and sketching.
Politics no longer has much to do with my life. As I've often said, politics is the fight over who gets what, and that is no longer an issue in my life. I'm retired and what I've got is all I'm likely to get. So, why get sucked into political controversy? (Answer: It's a bad habit.)
I have three books in the queue awaiting my attention, two by Henry Miller, and another an audiobook about Sulieman the Magnificent.
I'm about to begin training for old fart softball. Got the batting tee and net set up in the back yard. A rebound net for practicing throwing and catching, too. Once I get the Harley in for spring maintenance, I'll stick my gear in the saddle bags and head out to the sandlots in search of a partner who wants to play catch.
The main focus of my life now is taking care of and teaching my grandkids. Had half the day off from babysitting yesterday, which is why I had time to dither online. Today, I'll return to a full day of Mr. Mom chores. The twins will be a year old in a few weeks. They're standing on their own and jabbering. Soon, they'll be walking and talking.
I am writing new songs. Recording? I have the oddest problem. Still have to run my wood pellet stove in the evenings. The temperature drops down into the 40s overnight up here in the mountains. And the stove fan runs constantly, introducing background noise that would bleed through in anything I record in my house. Once I can make it through the night without the wood stove, I'll start recording the new stuff.
Internet controversy is addictive and incredibly boring. That stuff seemed so exciting 15 years ago when chat rooms, weblogs and political sites appeared en masse on the web. It all became formulaic and predictable so quickly! Even the insults seem canned and pre-programmed now. Zillions of comments and bitter arguments vaporize and disappear into nothingness daily.
I'm but a poor sinner. Today, I'll try to do better and I'll skip the pointless controversy.
I'm trying. Really, I am. But the creative stuff is just not happening to the extent that I want it to. Taking care of the grandkids sometimes seems to be about all I can do. Below, a fairly good pic of how I'm feeling tonight. (It's 1:15 a.m.)
Followed the link for this pic to a band website. Head banger rock.
Not even motivated by pussy in my old age. Women want status. I don't want to struggle to prove to any woman that I have any level of status to offer. Trying to live on what you've got, and not striving for more to impress the relatives or somebody... few women are into that. Don't even want to try to impress a woman any more.
Here's a little sketch I did to try to shake things free:
That granular background is a Photoshop filter, Mosaic Tile, that I like. I've been applying it to many of my sketches once I scan them.
Here's the same sketch with the colors inverted in Photoshop:
Creates an odd sort of African fabric design, doesn't it? What happens if you cut out 1/4 of the design, say the top right quadrant, and use that quarter to create a symmetrical drawing?
Photoshop is the greatest program ever!
The hipster guy in the pic at the top intrigued me. I thought I'd give it a try to see what I could do to imitate the style.
The dead of night is my creative time. The world is completely asleep out here in the Catskills.
Also seems to be a time for contemplating my mortality. I feel keenly how my time is running out. Odd memories from the past pop up. People I haven't seen in decades. Events that might have played out differently if only...
I think I'll pull out my classical repertoire, then hunker down for some yoga. Maybe that will pull my head out of my ass.