Stacy McCain’s post “Is Sexual Desire Dehumanizing?” is a good illustration of how feminists are rehashing things dead white men argued about thousands of years ago. Sexual objectification? The way feminists use the term, it’s a joke. After all, they’re usually okay with sluts objectifying players and using them rather than appreciating them as human beings – and then they get all upset when the players and the porn consumers reciprocate!
“Objectification” – as in treating human beings as means rather than ends – is indeed immoral. But desiring an attractive member of the opposite sex (which is what these crazy feminists object to in particular) is somehow Super Bad, possibly because feminists never grow out of the “boys are icky and have cooties” stage of preadolescence.
Humans have biology. We are material beings, with animal instincts and needs, and those include sexual urges. These things are not bad. Indeed, it would be a mistake to say that the “spiritual” nature of mankind is any better than our physical nature, because evil lurks in our hearts just as it does in our appetites. This is the error of our times, in which pornography is condemned, but emotions validate adultery. Naked sexual desire – stereotyped as masculine by feminists who will cheer on Slut Walks – is condemned, while a “spiritual” sexual desire (one that is political in nature for radfems, who claim that women are not actually heterosexual, despite all evidence to the contrary) for female homosexuality is somehow “good.”
It’s just Gnosticism in lesbian drag.
So, I finally finished the book that comes before Lines of Departure, and I have to say that Terms of Enlistment is at least an order of magnitude superior to LoD. So in a way, I’m glad to have read the poorer volume first! If I’d read them in order, I imagine that I would have been very disappointed with the second novel.
And if I’m recalling correctly, there’s a whole bit in the middle between LoD and ToE that’s not in either, and apparently not in the short stories set in this universe going by their descriptions. That would be the key part in which the main character goes from being a positive can-do guy, to a cynical downer who dwells way too much on Deep Philosophical Questions like “does humanity deserve to be wiped out for overpopulating the planet?” There definitely should have been at least a novella in between there!
Terms of Enlistment is a far more positive book than its sequel, spending most of its time detailing how Andrew does in Basic Training, his first few combat missions, and how he makes his way into space at last. It’s definitely worth a read, but I would recommend skipping Lines of Departure for a month unless you like depressing sci-fi books, disappointing sequels, and having to wait for the next book of a trilogy.
I think the series would do well as the plot of a Hollywood movie, actually. Summer blockbuster sci-fi type story; nothing too deep or thought-provoking, a lot of cliche doom and gloom. Entertaining explosions, that sort of thing!
Also, the sun rose this morning.
Seen on Facebook: 10 Words Every Girl Should Learn, essentially an extended whining session about how Some People Are Jerks!!! and statistically women get interrupted more often.
Feminist wants women to be treated like
high-status males goddesses. Yawn.
Here’s the thing: men treat men differently than men treat women. Women treat women differently than women treat men. This is due to BIOLOGY, not just socialization. Not only that, but sex-based differences in socialization posed no handicap to the rise of civilization on earth.
Ergo? Differences in the way people treat each other are not some kind of social problem. If people are being jerks, then they’re being jerks. Studying self-selecting groups like the patients of male and female doctors to prove something about sexism? Those are not equivalent groups! You’d have to follow the patients to see the true levels of “sexism” – because the patients who want to have more input in their health care may prefer a cooperative woman, and the patients who want to sit down, shut up, and do what they’re told may prefer a brusque man.
There are a lot of narcissistic jerks in society, and if feminists want to be taken seriously, maybe they should do comparisons of low-status men and the way that women interact with them rather than their endless penis-envy studies of high-status men. Because you know what? If a man builds a business, it is his right to have a “masculine” culture of communication in that business. And if a woman builds a business, she can have a feminine culture of communication. And the employees can choose which environment they prefer, rather than demanding that the business change to suit them!
Just like patients choose what kind of doctor they prefer: one that will be brusque and commanding, or one who will be more approachable and cooperative.
I always admired the SuperWomen – those women who seemed to be constantly in motion, Accomplishing Things! all day long.
When your health isn’t the greatest, that’s not something you can always do. I learned – after moving house – that my primary responsibility is to make sure I reserved enough energy for Sexy Times™ at the end of the day, because moving boxes around, unpacking, and yard work are not the primary job of a wife. Sex and food are primary duties, so I have to make sure to bump those things to the top of the priority trees, no matter what the Voice of Misplaced Priorities is going on about. (Caveat: emergencies are different – they bump themselves to the top of the priority list, or they wouldn’t be emergencies!)
So now that I seem to have finally gotten a handle on my health, through probiotics, vitamin supplements, and drinking more water (I’m still working on that one) I find myself with an absolutely stunning amount of energy. I can only praise God for His blessing, and hope to steward this new-found strength wisely!
Mostly it’s going to long-delayed home improvement projects – I finally joined Pinterest, and perhaps I’m “doing Pinterest wrong” but I find it much less addictive than TVTropes. (I’m trying to only pin things I plan to actually do. And none of those million delicious-looking desserts, either – I have a lot of weight to lose that I’m hopefully not going to be shedding through gut-sickness this time!) I have painting and cabinet-door-making to do, and a kitchen reorganization in progress as I’ve added storage options. I’m hoping to find something good for pantry organization, because the deep shelves are a jumbled mess!
Meanwhile, the first sprouts of lettuce and peas are coming up in the garden, nasturtiums are sprouting inside, and additional seed packets are waiting to be sown next month. The local chickadee pair successfully guilt-tripped me into refilling the bird feeder by coming by while it was empty, and I’ve put up a birdhouse on our fence though it’s probably a bit too late to convince them to use it this year! I’ve sown a shade flower mix in the shady garden bed, and transplanted my Virginia bluebells (just peeking up) and bleeding heart into it. The chives aren’t dead after all – they’re coming back up – though the rosemary plant seems to have died. I’m pretty good at killing rosemary; someday I’ll find a good spot for it! My Siberian squill is just beginning to bloom and the daffodils are maybe halfway to blooming in the front yard – while the rabbits nibble down the cheap tulips I planted a few years ago. They never rebloom, a situation I chalk up to Wal-Mart quality and being regularly eaten by the local wildlife. This fall I’m going to see if I can’t get some snowbell and crocus bulbs – and more daffodils – for the front bed.
And suddenly, there were two. Two grandparents left, out of the eight we started with, between J and I. His mother’s mother passed away early last week, and we got back from attending the funeral (twelve hours’ drive, one way) yesterday.
The passing of matriarchs in our clans brings into stark relief the futility of the world’s measures of value for women: superficial beauty, career. None of that mattered, in the end of these women’s lives – their beauty had faded, and their “careers” were the kind of work that feminists distain. But the humble work that they did do was secondary to their calling as wives, mothers, and grandmothers.
And it was on the account of losing mother, grandmother, that there were three dozen people from places as far flung as Washington (state), Washington (D.C.) and Montreal, gathered on short notice to pay honor to a woman whose life and death exemplified her faith and brought glory to God. She ran her race well.
Posted in Religion
Whenever you think of how non-ideal your own parents are, just be glad you aren’t a fish, because their parenting is even worse: they eat their kids!
Now, cichlids are not even one of the worst fish parents. The females actually carry the eggs around in their mouths for weeks until the fry get too big to fit. However, after that, baby fish equals tasty snack! So when the first round of breeding started in December (they’re on brood 3 now, I think) I caught one of the holding females and stripped the fry into a little hang-on-tank breeder box to raise myself. The other broods got to try their Survival of the Fittest instincts in the main tank – and one did indeed survive! That little guy is about as big as the biggest of the fry in the holding tank, so I figured I would see what would happen when I released the biggest fry into the tank as well.
I don’t think I fed the adults enough right beforehand – the little guy swam around in a daze (what is this new place??) and nearly got himself eaten by his own dad! However, he got away and dived straight into some rock crevices, and huddled in there. Meanwhile little Survivor darts here and there and hardly gets chased at all – guess he’s got “street smarts” and the adult fish know it’s not worth expending the energy to try to catch him!
Posted in Aquaria
King Arthur Flour has some really excellent recipes – particularly this one, for Chocolate Pecan Pie. I’m of Yankee stock, so the Southern recipe that seems to involve excessively copious amounts of congealed sugar syrup under a layer of nuts doesn’t much appeal to me. This version is more like a fudge-chocolate chip cookie pie, with pecans. I started out making it with semisweet chips, but this time I used about 1/3 bittersweet instead, and it’s very good with the darker chocolate! It’s very rich, so serve it with whipped cream or ice cream.
Now I need to go back to running around in circles trying to figure out how to prioritize the pile of chores by what needs to be done just to keep the whole Rube Goldberg machine of a household running smoothly, and prepping for the time-sensitive Spring Cleaning jobs that will start next week!