Saturday, January 30, 2016

SJWism Has Arrived at Road and Track

SJW Entryism has arrived at Road and Track magazine. Usually that means there has been change of ownership when things suddenly get this blatant. I know they picked up a few people from Jalopnik recently. Doubtless in a tragically futile attempt to drive up the clicks.

I did a quick check of Jack Baruth. Mid-40s. Beard and long hair. Former BMXer who turned writer when he got too old for that. Articles are pretty typical for Road and Track. Except for one leading indicator titled, How Climate Change Will Affect the Way We Buy Sports Cars.

Anyway Jack is convinced that various road ragers are mistaking him for a woman and when he gets in the dudebro’s faces they immediately back off in the face of an immanent beat down from a Social Justice Warrior. How do I know he’s an SJW? He has a protected Twitter account. SJWs always guard their twitter accounts.

I’m going to make a huge assumption here and assume he’s mostly telling the truth about these completely unverifiable stories.


The fifty-something man in the aging Lexus SUV was red-faced from screaming as he pulled up next to my motorcycle and lowered his passenger window. I caught fragments of every nasty word I'd ever heard my Catholic-school classmates whisper to each other during recess. Then he slowed the torrent of abuse long enough to enunciate the next sentence clearly: "Bitch, I am going to get out of this car and beat you until you can't stand up."


We never get to find out this man’s race. I wonder why that is?


"Alright," I said, removing my flower-covered Arai "Oriental" helmet with its mirrored visor and shaking out my hair, "let's get this started. I have to be at work in ten minutes." His mouth froze, and he floored the accelerator, nearly striking a pedestrian as he squealed around the corner. Apparently the guy thought I was a woman. I'd like to tell you that I was surprised, but I wasn't—because this, or something like this, has happened to me nearly a dozen times in the past few years. Allow me to to explain.


No one assumes that it’s a woman riding a bike. Most likely the man was going on the not unreasonable assumption that you were gay, Jack. Any indication that you weren’t probably did come as shock to him.

Around my 33rd birthday and after reading Robert Bly's outstanding book, Iron John, for the third or fourth time, I decided to end my decades-long habit, acquired in my teenage years as a BMX racer, of using a quarter-inch clipper on my hair once a month. For a while I kept it above my collar, but in 2012, when I got a job where they didn't expect me to "look corporate," I let it grow without restraint. It's now down past my shoulders in true Allman Brothers, or at least Foo Fighters, fashion.


Oh fuck me! Robert Bly! Okay that explains a lot about this guy.

For those blessed few amongst you who don’t know who Bly is. Robert Bly is the spiritual grandfather of the MGTOWs. In the 1990 when the problems of modern manhood were finally so obvious that no one except the insane McDworkinites could deny them any longer. Robert Bly published Iron John.

I’ll give Bly credit, he got a lot of it right. He was getting close to the Red Pill but at the last second, he force fed himself the Blue. Ultimately Iron John is an abject failure because of Bly’s inability to accept the root cause of the problem. Feminism. The identity of being a spiritual lefty trumps everything with Bly MGTOWs. They are male feminist
activists.  Hilariously tragic I know.


Strictly speaking, this shouldn't be enough to let anybody mistake me for a woman. I'm six-foot-two, 240 pounds, and have a full beard. Even if you walk up behind me, I'm pretty broad-shouldered, and I stand up straight, which is something `none of the taller women I've ever dated can bring themselves to do. But there are two things that apparently confuse people. First is my motorcycle helmet. It has flowers and koi fish and the "Great Wave" graphic on it. I think it's neat, and so does my YZF-riding girlfriend, who wears a plain silver Arai herself. The second thing is that I have a couple of cars—an Accord coupe and a Boxster S—that tend to be preferred by women.

And men who...wave

As a consequence, over the past few years, I've been involved in several incidents where male drivers decided to threaten me or shout abuse at me right up to the moment that they realized that they were dealing with someone who, from the front, resembles the Geico caveman more than any lady on this planet.

The usual scenario goes something like this: I do something to upset another driver, like squeezing in front of them on the freeway (in my car) or lane-splitting past them in traffic (on my motorcycle). They can only see the back of my head, so they assume that some woman has gotten the better of them somehow. This leads to them breaking the laws of traffic, sanity, and sometimes even physics to get up next to me, blaring their horn and shouting. I then either look over at them (in my car) or remove my helmet (on my bike). At that point, they immediately stop what they were doing and either drive off or commence to looking straight ahead like nothing's happened.


Dude the same thing happens to me. And I shave my head. You. Are. Not. A. Special. Little. Snowflake. At fortyfive you should know that.
...

Two days ago, I performed an otherwise ordinary "zipper" merge onto a crowded freeway in front of a Prius C that was trying to stay directly behind the car in front of him in his lane. I might have forced the issue a bit, but I was making a legal move, no doubt about it. He started flashing his lights and honking. Then he swerved onto the shoulder and pulled up next to me, waving his fist. I looked at him. He hit his brakes and came to a halt on the shoulder before pulling back into the lane twenty cars or so back.


You scared a guy in a Prius? Wow! Really? No shit man? A Prius driver? Those are some bad muthafuckers! I’d have been super terrified!!!



It took me a while to figure out what was going on. I'm not a particularly scary-looking dude, and aside from a bit of martial-arts sparring across various disciplines in years gone by, I'm not anything close to a brawler or a would-be tough guy. In fact, my decision to grow my hair out was a direct consequence of a decision I made to try being a friendlier and less confrontational person in my late 30s and early 40s. That, and I wanted to make my friends who were going bald just a bit jealous.


The “bit of martial arts” thing is also pretty standard for a Bly follower.  As a group they know they are lacking in traditional masculine strengths, so the first thing they do is give themselves a manhood ceremony.  Usually involving some kind of dumbass drum circle in the woods.  Then they impose some manner of martial discipline upon themselves.   

Guys in their mid forties remember Kung Fu as being a much better show then it actually was. The spiritually romantic hero, Kwai Chang Caine has an eternal appeal for these types. The righteous wanderer who goes to and fro upon the Earth and walking up and down upon it, battling evil and wrongthink with his feet. He also invariably plays acoustic guitar...badly.

This archetype has no appeal with Millennials at all.  Any of them who watch the show find the fight scenes unbelievably slow and boring because they are. 

"He (David Carradine) eventually learned how to perform martial arts, but never managed to make it look like they'd hurt. The only thing slower than a David Carradine karate chop was the editing process for one of his fight scenes. If you didn't use eight camera cuts and a perfectly wigged stuntman for every attack, his battles looked like Tom Petty politely trading business cards with someone. It took David Carradine longer than a minute to throw a kick and, in what would be his undoing, longer than one masturbation session to get his neck out of a belt. It got to the point where the editors of Kung Fu seemed to be using the slow motion effect just to make fun of him"

 
So it doesn't make any sense that people would want to fight me until they see my face. It isn't like I'm Danny Trejo. I'm told I have very friendly blue eyes and dimples. It was my six-year-old son, of all people, who clued me into the problem. "Dad, not to make fun of you," he said, clearly intending to make fun of me, "but you look like a girl. A really big girl...



What every man wants to hear to from his son.
(Edited for lack of interest. It's just more tales of him facing down men of no ethnic persuasion whatsoever.)

Although I note at this point that not one of these stories ends with him throwing down on the Dudebros-of-no-ethnic-persuasion-whatsoever or the guys in Prius'. He just menaces them and they always back down.



When I tell these stories to my friends and fellow motorcyclists, they always say, "Dude, just go get a helmet that isn't so, you know, girly." But I like my helmet, regardless of what other people think. And I also like my long hair, and my Honda coupe. I'm not going to change any of these things just to avoid the occasional run-in with some misogynistic douchebag. In fact, I'd like to think that every one of these incidents offers the other person involved a chance to change their behavior in the future, and to treat female motorists with respect and consideration. 


Ah, we see the magic M(isogynistic) word. Bly followers are the original White Knights.

They have won the war dumbass. Just because they are promising to castrate you last doesn’t mean you won’t be singing soprano in the choir.


A few weeks ago, I was an auto auction and I saw a Yamaha R1 on the block that had been painted bright pink. I sent a photo to my girlfriend, and she laughed in response (her YZR is blue and silver), but I considered buying it for myself. Why not? If I rode it around for a few years, I'm sure I'd have countless opportunities to surprise cowards who think it's OK to harass female drivers just because they're women. Pathetic.


Jack you are in your mid-forties. I realize that playing surprise bully is awfully fun for guys like you. However, you aren’t as good as once were and no amount of “I’d better warn you I have training,” will help once you finally run into the guy that isn’t frightened of you just because you are big.

In short Entryim at Road and Track has been achieved.  Expect much more lecturing like this in the future.  Road and Track will shortly enter the SJW left leaning death spiral after that.

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