Reflections On The Godfather

I recently watched The Godfather again for the first time in maybe a decade. Obviously my worldview has refined a lot since then. This review will assume the reader has seen the movie.

Remember the scene in Sicily where Michael courts the girl. At no time are they alone until the wedding night. This is traditionally the norm in Greece and among Arab Christians, and it’s still common among the very religious. Keep this concept in mind.

I feel like, murder aside, Vito Corleone is an excellent model of what it means to be a Christian man. We will see more of this later on.

Opening scene. Very first words of the movie.

I believe in America. America has made my fortune. And I raised my daughter in the American fashion. I gave her freedom, but — I taught her never to dishonor her family. She found a boyfriend; not an Italian. She went to the movies with him; she stayed out late. I didn’t protest.

This seems to be a common sentiment among immigrants. They come to America for the money and accidentally trade their souls. They think they are holding on to the traditions of their home country but don’t realize the dissonance. Within a generation or two their children are regular dumb Americans.

Keep in mind this movie is in the 40s before rock n roll had been invented. Before what we think of as “women’s liberation” and “the sexual revolution” of the 60s.

Two months ago, he took her for a drive, with another boyfriend. They made her drink whiskey. And then they tried to take advantage of her. She resisted. She kept her honor. So they beat her, like an animal.

These patriarchal standards of the Mediterranean don’t exist for no reason. They are like a fence that is very annoying. It’s in the way. But if you take it down, you may not know what it was holding back.

Don Corleone asks why the man, Bonasera, did not come to him before the police. Bonasera says that he wanted to avoid the bad reputation of men like Don Corleone. You know, like a good American.

Which is such an immigrant thing. They come here believing all the propaganda of the land of opportunity and the equality of the American justice system. I remember working at a gas station and tricking the Mexicans into buying lottery tickets, telling them that I know they are winning tickets.

So while Bonasera says that he values the Italian community, clearly he is willing to shed that identity to be an American. And his daughter took that to the next level. She wasn’t even dating Italians anymore.

For any of you looking for a “trad wife” by becoming an Orthodox Christian, Greek girls work the same way.

You will also notice in the films that whereas Vito Corleone has four children, his son Michael only has two plus an abortion and a divorce. The Corleone family also sold their souls for American values.

(I’ve never seen the third movie, but I assume it was as bad as the second.)

Our values as Americans are divorce and birth control. You can rant up and down about greed and the need to have real human relationships, and everyone will agree with you and think you are being counter-cultural. Preach a sermon where you say that divorce is another form of adultery, and the people will throw stones.

So eventually Michael Corleone marries an American girl, who later gets an abortion and a divorce, and while those were her choices, not his, he obviously contributed to her making those choices, because he’s a dumb American, not an Italian.

Bonasera himself has only one child.

Notice the names. Vito is a very foreign name. His kids are named American things — Sonny, Michael, Connie and Fred.

The wedding scene continues on. The crooner comes and sings. The girls go insane. Again, you see these images of the sexual revolution before what we think of as the sexual revolution.

Further on, Vito Corleone talks with the heroin dealer, Sollozzo “the Turk” (though I’m pretty sure the character is Italian, not Turkish). Sonny interrupts, and Vito cuts him off. Sonny immediately gets quiet.

Vito is the kind of man who inspires respect in people by nature. They trust his wisdom, so they have no hesitation about doing what he says. Men like that are rare these days. People try to gain respect through fear or flattery or by their status, but rarely does anyone gain respect by wisdom anymore.

He accuses Sonny of going soft from his side mistress (despite being married with children). The same seems to be true of Fredo. When Vito is shot in the market place, Fredo drops his gun.

Vito didn’t understand the transition from Italian to American. He didn’t understand that it’s not merely enough to talk to your kids about values and to model those values, because your kids won’t understand the difference either.

I find this really interesting, that despite the way he lived his life, none of his kids carried on his values. At best they all carried on a parody of his values. Michael tries to be a family man but doesn’t know what that means.

Wikipedia has tons of information on who runs the various mafia families across the country, which you would think would be a secret. I looked up the St Louis mafia. A mafia boss was the head of the St Louis construction union (LIUNA) and went to prison in the 90s. Why oh why does that not surprise me?

Then I remembered the cartoon F is for Family where a union boss was affiliated with the mafia, and I realized that all of this is probably common knowledge across the country except in the South. This film makes reference to Vito having a lot of control of unions.

One thing I’ve learned in the Midwest is that union people are thugs who will bully a small business just because they can’t afford their exorbitant rates. They have professional protestors who do nothing but stand outside a local restaurant all day, and Missouri people are stupid enough to give moral authority to them. The protesters are always smug baby boomers, they don’t have real jobs, and they think ruining a local restaurant is contributing to the better of society. This seems pretty mafia to me.

And Missouri voted down right-to-work on a plebiscite vote 2-1. You see billboards here telling you to not watch the NBC affiliate because they angered IBEW.

So, Michael kills Sollozzo and the police chief and flees to Sicily. He sees his future first wife taking care of children. He is “struck by a thunderbolt”. She is somewhat angry at this kind of stare and walks away, because she has modesty. She doesn’t invite attention. She keeps to herself and lets the men deal with these things.

Michael and his men unknowingly meet her father. The old man says, “The girls here are beautiful … but virtuous.” There’s pride in that statement. Women of the village don’t whore around like American women. They don’t listen to jazz and invite men into their hotel rooms like Kay does. They don’t sleep with married men like Sonny’s side girl does. Instead they understand the importance of family in the same way that Vito Corleone does.

Michael tells the man who he is and says, “There’s a lot of men who would pay a lot of money for that information.” He sells out his security and his family in New York for the chance at a beautiful woman. Again, he’s acting like an American. Sex above all else.

For whatever reason, the man allows Michael to court his daughter. This seems like a plot convenience.

Notice the contrast between this scene and the opening scene. “I raised my daughter in the American fashion.”

Life was so much simpler when you knew what was expected of you. You become an adult, you get a job so you can support a family, and then you start a family. It was all very simple. There was little choice involved, and so there was no choice agony.

Today we glorify choice as the greatest value one could have, and we stress when we go to a restaurant and can’t decide between the beef and the chicken. Picking a career or a spouse is paralyzing.

Next scene. It’s revealed that Vito’s daughter, Connie, has been beaten by her husband, Carlo. This is the American fashion. Sonny tracks him down, beats him and says he’ll kill him if it happens again.

Michael has a traditional Sicilian church wedding that his family never finds out about. Again, his unevenly developed family values.

Then we get his wedding night scene. So far there has been some sex in this movie. Namely, Sonny with his mistress standing up against a door during the wedding reception at the beginning. Which was all just casual fun. But it’s in this scene alone that we see “making love”. That is, a real relationship built on values and understanding and not on sex.

Next scene. Kay shows up at the Corleone compound. She’s still in love with Michael. No one knows he’s married.

Next scene. Connie finds out that Carlo is cheating on him. All these scenes with different concepts of love and family are pushed right next to each other. She breaks the dishes. He beats her with a belt.

That’s what happens when you marry “in the American fashion”. When your relationship is based on infatuation, you don’t know what to do when the infatuation cools down.

This scene is the opposite of Vito Corleone’s respect. Carlo doesn’t inspire respect. He’s a coward whom no one trusts. He gets angry easily. He views his wife as a means to an end instead of an end in herself, and so she is unable to respect him.

We see in the 40s, before “women’s liberation”, the traditional dynamics between men and women dissolving. It’s the American fashion. You don’t find this in third world countries. It’s a product of our American wealth.

Like Carlo, Sonny is quick to anger. But unlike Carlo, his anger is never without a reason, and he’s not a coward.

And with that anger, he rushes off to get revenge and is murdered at the toll booth. Which is also a plot contrivance that doesn’t make sense. They sort of explain this later that Carlo set them up, but that would involve perfect timing and planning. You can’t get twenty mobsters together in a toll booth in twenty minutes before Sonny rushes across town. And then they shoot him and totally miss each other. And the toll booth people are just okay with this.

But whatever, that’s not the point of the movie.

None of Vito’s kids are at all prepared to take over the business. None of them have Vito’s calmness. Sonny is rash, Fredo is cowardly and Michael is naive. All of them are controlled by sexual lust.

Sonny’s dead. Fredo is in Las Vegas, staying out of the way, because he can’t do anything right. The only hope for a dynasty is Michael. So Vito brings him back and spends the rest of the film trying to communicate to him what it means to be a man. But that’s not something that can be communicated through words. Michael never understands it. He didn’t struggle like Vito did. Michael was handed everything.

Michael reminds me of a lot of pastors’ kids. Even and especially the good ones who want to be a pastor too. I had a Baptist pastor who had a master’s degree in physics. His son was homeschooled, went to a Christian college, then went to seminary, and then got a job at a church. The closest thing to a secular experience he’s ever had was a college job at Chickfila. I don’t know how he will ever be able to relate to working people.

Vito senses something is wrong. He doesn’t run from bad news. He seeks out Tom Hagen and gently demands to know what’s going on. Vito is of course upset at the news, but he doesn’t get emotional. He keeps cool and immediately gives out orders.

I want no acts of vengeance. … This war stops now.

Something no one else except maybe Tom would have said. No one else was able to truly separate the business from the personal.

And then he hugs Tom. Always thinking about the people under him. That’s why they love him so much. Vito is a father to everyone, and they love him like a father. I think there’s kind of an image of God in this, that your “fear of God” comes out of a fear of disappointing your father.

There’s a lot of complaints that young people don’t respect our elders anymore, but I think that’s more of a reflection of the kind of people our elders are. Elders aren’t respected because they are old — they are respected because they have things to teach the young. Instead our elders give us bad advice and then laugh when our lives don’t turn out how theirs did.

Vito brings Sonny’s body to the morgue and tells the owner to clean him up.

I don’t want his mother to see him this way.

Vito takes the burdens of his family. There’s no “gender equality” here. Vito spares his wife from the pain of seeing her son with bullet holes.

Next scene. Sicily. Michael’s wife dies.

Meeting of the five families. Vito foregoes vengeance on Sonny but assures them there will be hell to pay if something happens to Michael. This is the Austin Method, done to perfection. Better than I ever do the Austin Method. What is the Austin Method? It’s to be blunt and honest and let fall what happens. The Austin Method is about radical integrity, and while people think I’m being an asshole, you would be amazed at the results I get through the Austin Method. Jesus regularly employed the Austin Method, and Donald Trump became the first political outsider to become president through it.

Vito says what it is and lays out the terms exactly as they are. And they know that, unlike his children, Vito would never lie or set up something on false premises, no matter what the reason.

Michael returns to America. No resolution with his father-in-law is shown. He marries Kay without any passion. This appears to be the cold rationalism of his father, but it’s not. It’s another imitation. He doesn’t love Kay. Or at least, he thinks of love only in the American sense. He doesn’t understand how Vito can love his wife while being dispassionate.

In the scene where he sees Kay again for the first time in several years, she is teaching school outside. This echoes the scene where he first sees his Sicilian wife, in which the girl was herding children. You can see the distance between the two scenes. The passion (in both the American sense and the Orthodox sense of the term) from the Sicilian scene is gone. With Kay he’s just matter-of-fact, in imitation of his father in the last scene, but without the inherent trustworthiness.

I’m pretty sure if I ever have a son, he will end up just like Michael.

Like Vito, he refuses to talk business to women. Except that he’s dishonest. He tells her that the family business will be “completely legitimate in five years”, which is obviously a lie. He also tells her that he loves her, which is also a lie. She knows he’s being dishonest, but she goes along with him anyway. She never got over him.

The wedding is never even shown.

Michael is moving to Las Vegas. He’s rootless. Leaving the family compound that his father built. If you’re familiar with the hero’s journey, this is sort of that, that the hero undergoes his change in exile, returns to his home, and then leaves if he cannot readjust.

All of Michael’s incompetence is highlighted like a beacon in the scene where he meets Moe Greene. This scene is done brilliantly. Just in general, I feel like the people who wrote this film (and the book) accidentally produced a masterpiece and didn’t mean to put this much depth in it.

Half an hour before the end of the movie, Vito gives some amazing advice. The casual way he does it so great. It really shows that this wisdom is just part of him. It flows from him naturally without him having to think about it.

I spent my life trying to not be careless. Women and children can be careless, but not men.

And you get the impression that the screenwriters thought he was being a sexist old man out of touch with “the American fashion” instead of this being a pearl of wisdom.

The final scene. Michael screams at Kay to not ask him about his business. See, the women never asked Vito about his business, because they trusted him. They didn’t need to worry about it. But no one trusts Michael. Women don’t want to have to worry about business, but men like Michael force them to.

Kay knows in her heart that Michael killed Carlo. She pries into his business to learn something she knows is true but wishes isn’t. She knew what she was getting into when she married him — he was honest about working for the mafia. And now when the reality of that manifests, she buckles and begs him to be something he’s not.

So he lies to her and says that he didn’t kill Carlo, which she believes. Women are expert lie detectors until it comes to the delusions they wish were true, and then they will fall for any scam.

So these are both terrible people — or at least, very foolish, very American people — who deserve everything that happens to them.

We’re a nation of Michaels and Kays.

Read More: Sexual Complementarianism As Platonic Ideals

Mad Science: Social Surrogacy

Which is when a woman chooses to have another one gestate her egg without any medical necessity.

It costs $150,000 to have a baby this way. “If social surrogacy was more affordable, more women would be doing it, absolutely. There’s an advantage to being pregnant, the bonding, I understand that, and from experience I can say that most women love to be pregnant. But a lot of women don’t want to be pregnant and lose a year of their careers.”

Yeah, and Donald Trump is going to make America great again so that we can all have enough money to pay a LEGAL immigrant from the third world carry our babies.

What really matters to women is wage slavery. Creating life ex nihilo and then nourishing the future of humanity is kind of an inconvenience. Women would rather have a career as an insurance representative than get pregnant.

[Dr.] Sahakian describes himself as a feminist.

Of course he does.

Feminism is not an ideology. There is no core of beliefs. There is no objective measure by which to determine what is feminist and what is misogynist.

Feminism is a weapon to de-stabilize society so that you can rob one group of people at the expense of others. Whatever they claim to believe is just convenience. The feminism of the 1960s is today’s Republican party. The feminism of the 1920s is today’s Nazis.

“Every day I see how prejudiced this society is, how male chauvinistic it is, how women are judged.”

In fairness, I am very judgmental towards women. I will give him a point.

This is more than the unfairness of men being able to have careers and babies at the same time, when it is so much more difficult for women.

Is that society or biology?

It’s not a social construct that women get pregnant for nine months and men have no physical affects.

I thought these people worship Evolution. Shouldn’t they be blaming Science for making women the life-creators?

“If you are a 62-year-old man and you come here with a 38-year‑old woman, no one asks why you’re having a kid at 62. If you come here as a 55-year-old woman trying to have a kid, they tell you you’re old, you’re a grandma, you’re crazy.

Yeah, because all men have to do is get hard. A trip to that store off the interstate can fix that. But women have this whole biological system thing that defines their whole existence so much that they count their months by it. This is just how Evolution created everything. Clearly Evolution did this because it’s in the best interest of the fittest of the species. Why should we question the wisdom of Evolution?

Also, old men shouldn’t have children. It’s definitely screwed up when you’re 80 years old at your kid’s graduation. Paul McCartney and Mick Jagger both have young children, who will basically be orphans raised by single mothers once their fathers die.

Really, I don’t think old people should have sex in general. Once you get to something like 30, maybe 35, just go gently into the good night. Sex is for teenagers. “When I was a child, I thought like a child, reasoned like a child, and acted like a child, but when I became a man, I put away childish things.”

I understand that it’s controversial, it’s borderline unethical for some people, but put yourself in the shoes of a 26-year-old model who is making her living by modelling swimsuits. Tell me something – is it that unethical, to say let’s not destroy this woman’s career?”

I feel so sorry for 26-year-old models who want to keep the party going forever. They have hundreds of thousands of dollars to blow on blow and every man in the world wanting to put a baby in them, and they’re all like, “Yeah, but I could keep going until I’m 29.”

One of these days, society will come to terms that you cannot both be a devoted parent and a have a full time career as a world-travelling model. That day will come when all the blacks and Aztecs finally murder the last white person.

Then, in 2006, Sahakian became responsible for the oldest woman in the world on record to give birth. Maria del Carmen Bousada, a retired sales assistant from Cadiz in Spain, had her twin boys the week before her 67th birthday. Bousada was diagnosed with cancer less than a year later, and died in 2009, leaving her toddler sons orphaned.

See, that’s not society saying it’s messed up for a social security dependee to be raising children. It’s Death itself saying so. The reason old people don’t have children is because they die so easily. Just one bad winter day is all it takes.

Here’s a picture of her looking all old and disgusting:

Maria del Carmen Bousada, who had twins at 66.

Oh but the doctor has an excuse for that too:

He feels no responsibility for her twins in Italy. “That’s why I wouldn’t treat a 67-year-old woman. She was a perfectly healthy 57-year‑old. She died from cancer, so she didn’t have a pre-existing condition. You can get cancer at 28.” He has since cut his upper age limit to 55, but still doesn’t ask his clients for conclusive proof of age.

Here’s an ethics question. What happens if the surrogate mother decides she wants to keep the baby? Is she legally obligated to hand him over?

The word “want” appeared 21 times in the article.

Creating A Vocabulary: Ancient Science And The Heart

More and more I’m starting to understand the wisdom of ancient science.

I believe in the four elements. Our bodies return to dust and are full of water — therefore we are made of earth and water. And we describe angry people as being fiery, and fire seems to be alive in a sense, so maybe we are also part fire.

You’ll notice that even in modern science these four elements correspond to the four states of matter — solids, liquids, gases and plasmata.

I’ve already written about how I believe in the four personalities, which are tied to these elements. (Interesting links to a series by herbologist Rebecca Altman which keep disappearing and which I will someday plagiarize here, here, here and here.)

Just looking around my room. My television set is made of plastic — which is derived from the earth — and uses electricity — which is a kind of fire. My guitar is made of wood, which is from the earth and was nourished by water and sun — which is a kind of fire. My glass is made from sand — earth — and refined by fire.


Astrology is retarded, though. Some people claim that it predicted their personality, but those things are written vaguely enough that they will fit most people. Just for kicks and giggles, I took one of those tests. It gave me a Sagitarrius, when actually I’m a Virgo. They connected this to the four personalities, so I looked that up. Virgos are melancholic personalities. My brother and I were both born in early September — I’m a strong choleric and he’s a strong sanguine.

So Astrology is for stupid people looking for truth in a world without God. No surprise there.

Then I looked up what a Virgo personality is specifically. I get that these are just pop websites for bored housewives, but it’s probably rooted in some kind of tradition if there actually is one. It at least correlates to the melancholic personality like Wikipedia said.

So a Virgo has attention to detail and a great memory and is a perfectionist, naturally humble, creative, loyal and patient. Wouldn’t most people describe themselves as that?

I’ve half-assed most things in my life. The only exception I can think of is my writing. I’m not usually described as being humble or patient. Loyalty is just a value, not a personality trait.

I picked the Gemini sign at random to see what its traits are. Would you describe yourself as versatile, smart, not-sensative-to-emotions, playful? Then you might be a Gemini! Maybe I’m a Gemini, and my birth certificate is wrong.

Except that all those describe the choleric personality, and the website says that this is an air (sanguine) personality.

If you want to know the kind of person who is into astrology, it’s the kind of person who would read or write this paragraph:

The hot tip for hot sex for Gemini is Sagittarius (indeed, there isn’t a sign alive that a red-hot Saggie can’t warm up, even chilly Gemmys). Gemmy and Saggie are like two naughty, daredevil, party-hard freaks who will dare each other on and on to greater height of sexual adventures… it’s exciting (but probably not long-lasting)!

Ten bucks says the writer thinks Christianity is outdated.


St John Damascene had some interesting thoughts on ancient science in his second book of An Exact Exposition of the Orthodox Faith, though it seems weirdly off-topic from everything else. The part about the seasons being different levels of heat and dryness was something I had never thought about. He talks a lot about winds; apparently they have names.

I’m not sure how much I believe in all that, but I kind of hate that it’s lost knowledge. Like, we look at the sky, and it’s just a random mess of dots. The same thing with plants. People used to see weeds and trees and know what medicine they were for — now we don’t know the difference between an oak and a hickory. Maybe there’s more to the winds than we realize. I’m not going to judge a topic I know nothing about, unless it’s astrology.


I don’t know what that means, but the part about winter being the melancholic cold-wet season of nighttime and north is probably something significant that I’ve never thought about. I have no clue what that has to do with the bull, the page, the body and “confusing”.


Most importantly, I don’t think the heart is an allegory. It’s often thought that any talk about the heart being connected to the soul is just poetic, as though this organ was chosen at random.

I’ve come to accept that there’s more to the heart than pumping blood. I mean this literally.

When you get angry, your blood pumps faster, and you lose your ability to think rationally. When you are in extreme sadness, particularly over love, you can feel the pain in your chest, especially where the heart is.

Something about the heart is connected to your emotions. The line between the spiritual and physical is thinner than we think. It can’t be an accident that the heart has been used poetically for so long.

Nor is this just a Western thing. A friend of the blog is of Eastern Indian descent. (Yes, I have colored friends — I’m just not racist enough to brag about them to prove I’m not racist.) I asked him if this imagery of the heart is also present in his culture. He writes,

To be honest, I really can’t say. I know in Malayalis movies they use language like “He broke my heart”. But I think this is because of westernization more than anything. Like I don’t think that movies 40 years ago would have that sort of language. But in terms the heart being associated with love, I think there is a connection. I know in Kerala Christianity there is, and I’m certain there is a connection in Hinduism. I don’t know about romantic love though.

I looked it up and there is a Sanskrit word for heart called “hṛd”. It can also refer to soul, spirit, and mind as well as the actual organ

I don’t know exactly why or how it works, but I’ve come to believe that the heart is the house of the soul. Why not? Everyone else seems to think so.


Blair’s Most Favorite Album

This hurts me to write. It feels like a betrayal. I had autistically formed a rigid list of my five favorite albums, which I rarely listen to anymore. But I can’t deny that it’s missing something. Looking back over, it didn’t even get an honorable mention. I think at the time it was only vaguely on my radar. A few months later I wrote a post about it. I considered kicking the Lynyrd Skynyrd compilation off the list, but that would be disingenuous, as the list is perfect and inviolable. Except for its one critical omission.

I hate kicking Pet Sounds to the curb, and Brian Wilson definitely is the American Mozart, and everything the Beatles did, the Beach did better. This is counter-intuitive, but they were my depression band in 2014.

But I have to give the win to Pinkerton by Weezer. It may not be better and certainly not greater than Pet Sounds, but it just … connects with me more. It’s more ever-green. And I haven’t already listened to it 300 times.

A friend told me one time that the reason I like Pet Sounds so much is because it’s about the difficulty in being a decent person in an indecent world. I think Pinkerton takes place a few years after that, when you realize you’re not a decent person either. Pet Sounds has hope — Pinkerton is about resignation.

Yesterday I went outside
With my momma’s mason jar
Caught a lovely Butterfly
When I woke up today
Looked in on my fairy pet
She had withered all away
No more sighing in her breast
I’m sorry for what I did
I did what my body told me to
I didn’t mean to do you harm
Everytime I pin down what I think I want
It slips away – the ghost slips away

Oh, and Weezer recently put out a song about the Beach Boys. So it’s like a circle or something.

So I don’t know what I’m going to do about my Five Favorites list. None of them I really listen to anymore, so maybe I should just scrap it.

Creating A Vocabulary: Defining Masculinity And Femininity

There’s a lot of talk about being a “real man”. Not much talk about being a “real woman”, and any attempt at that discussion brings a wall of hatred. But we’re going to do it anyway.

So what is the essence of masculinity and femininity? These, I believe, are character traits. Platonic ideals that one should strive for. And it’s what the other sex is most attracted to, so it’s something you should pursue. Androgyny should be considered a horrible sin. The Bible has no shortage of direct prescriptions for what men and women should be like. For example, Titus 2:

1 But as for you, speak the things which are proper for sound doctrine: 2 that the older men be sober, reverent, temperate, sound in faith, in love, in patience; 3 the older women likewise, that they be reverent in behavior, not slanderers, not given to much wine, teachers of good things— 4 that they admonish the young women to love their husbands, to love their children, 5 to be discreet, chaste, homemakers, good, obedient to their own husbands, that the word of God may not be blasphemed. 6 Likewise, exhort the young men to be sober-minded, 7 in all things showing yourself to be a pattern of good works; in doctrine showing integrity, reverence, incorruptibility, 8 sound speech that cannot be condemned, that one who is an opponent may be ashamed, having nothing evil to say of you. [NKJV]

Notice there is not one standard for all adults. The young men are taught one thing, and the young women are taught something else, which includes discretion and home-making (“home-watching” in the original Greek).

So clearly the Bible has different roles for men and women.

As for creating definitions, masculinity is about power and femininity is about beauty, in the broadest sense of those terms. These are not merely external traits but internal as well.

A “real man” is a man who is able to control things, whatever that may be like. All women adore a fascist, as Sylvia Plath said.

Women don’t have beliefs — only contexts. It is the men that St Paul says to have integrity and incorruptibility, not the women. The best advice about women I can give to young men is that they do not care at all how much you agree or disagree with them or what you believe — only that you believe something. They will adapt accordingly. It’s not women’s job to philosophize, and they will resent you for forcing them to.

A “real man” is someone that people trust to take control of the situation. He is someone who can go to a mess and say “I’ll take care of this” and the women and children will walk away as though it is already solved.

Any marriage where the man is less than 51% in control will fail. “Equal marriages” don’t exist — they are always where the woman dominates the man and the man lets her because he’s afraid of losing access to sex, which only makes her resent him more. Someone will wear the pants, and if the woman isn’t allowed to be the woman, she will resent her husband for making her be the man.

A “real woman” is beautiful. This includes that kind of grandmotherly charm that comforts and heals. The feminine is tied to the home, because it is at the home where the heart is. Thus St Paul says that women are to be chaste, obedient and domestic. It’s not that these are bad traits for men to be, but they are especially important for women.

Men are the head, and women are the heart. Men are the gas, and women are the brakes. Men are the creators, and women are the nurturers. This balance is absolutely necessary for society to function. These boundaries are not an accident of society.

Another good example is 1 Peter 3

3 Do not let your adornment be merely outward—arranging the hair, wearing gold, or putting on fine apparel— 4 rather let it be the hidden person of the heart, with the incorruptible beauty of a gentle and quiet spirit, which is very precious in the sight of God. […] 7 Husbands, likewise, dwell with them with understanding, giving honor to the wife, as to the weaker vessel, and as being heirs together of the grace of life, that your prayers may not be hindered. [NKJV]

If men and women were equal, then women wouldn’t be weaker. Clearly women are weaker because they are not supposed to seek power. They are supposed to nest and trust the men to wield the axe.

Notice also St Peter’s connection of beauty to the inner disposition. This isn’t the liberal “real beauty is on the inside” platitude — this is saying that women should aspire to be gentle and patient. Liberals are anything but gentle, quiet or patient.

The “hidden person” and “quiet spirit” are especially important for women when you consider how destructive their gossip is when unrestricted. Now we have men being thrown in jail on false rape accusations or denied access to their children through divorce courts, which is nothing more than society having no restraints on women talking. It’s not that women should never talk — just that they should be extra careful when they do so.


Yes, men should have discretion as well, but it is extra important for women because of their nature. Or at least, it’s a different kind of discretion. In the same way, all the virtues St Paul says for men also apply to women, but they are extra important for men due to our own weaknesses.

None of this is perfectly definable. I’m not writing a legal treatise. Just general patterns. This isn’t plug-and-exchange philosophy.

Once again, masculinity is about power and femininity is about beauty in the very broadest and most whole sense of power and beauty.

Any Christianity that does not teach these basic principals will fail. There will be no reversal of the divorce rate until Christians return to a Titus 2 model of men and women. Without a biblical model of the family, any talk about “family values” from the religious right will fall on deaf ears, and the gays will have free reign to molest our children.

I will not compromise on this point. This is the hill I will die on.

Read More: Sexual Complementarianism As Platonic Ideals

Creating A Vocabulary: Girl Porn

These films set up a ridiculous standard divorced from all reality. The ideal person of the opposite sex beyond what the Greek poets and Renaissance artists could imagine. You live vicariously through the film, and everything happens as you want it without having to work to better yourself. You get instant gratification just by popping it into the VCR. Of course you know that this isn’t realistic, but it rewires your brain in more ways than you are immediately conscious of, ruining every future relationship. After a few years you have destroyed your ability to ever have a meaningful relationship that is truly selfless ever again. And yet you crave more, seeking out more videos with even more impossible situations. You spend your entire day off on the couch watching these films, wishing upon a falling star that the scene on screen will happen to you someday.

Does this describe pornography or romantic comedies?

Everything that pornography does to men, Hallmark and Hollywood movies do to women. Colin Firth (or whoever is the current Brad Pitt) movies are girl porn. The difference is it is pornography of emotions instead of physicality.

And it’s just — and I don’t use this word lightly — creepy how women live vicariously through made-up people’s relationships. They cheer for something that will never happen, because it’s just a story. And it’s not an aspirational story about overcoming adversity — just a story about having warm feelings through sheer luck.

Churches rightly condemn pornography designed for men, but they are totally silent about — and occasionally even encouraging of — pornography for women.

Storytime: Yusef’s Virgins

The following is fanfiction based on the Koran and its concept of heaven. It’s my first fanfiction, and as the women below will soon learn, your first time is always painful. If you’re wondering why I almost never write short fiction, it’s because I’m terrible at it.

This story kind of borderlines on erotica. Again, it’s my first time. Be gentle.


Inaya was nervous. She stood around the other women in the antechamber, wondering who would be picked next. They could faintly hear Yusef pounding away in the next room. They all hoped they would be chosen but knew that he would not have time to get to all of them that night.

None of them had ever experienced a man before. Their whole lives had been spent in this antechamber over the last several hours. Perhaps there was some life before this, but they could not remember. They knew somehow that every night they have a kind of reset, that whatever happened the night before was undone, but they had no memory beyond that, and they did not know if they had ever been human on earth or were created just for this purpose.

But this was only a vague feeling, like how one knows he is tired without understanding why the body has the need for sleep. None of the virgins knew how they knew it — only that every night they stood in the anteroom waiting for Yusef to pick which of them he would gratify himself with.

Inaya wondered what her experience would be like. She imagined herself lying down. Would he be slow and loving with her, or would he be in a hurry? From the sounds of things, she thought probably the latter. As soon as she lay down, he would show his massive circumcised member erect as a minaret. She would close her eyes, and suddenly the pain would rush in. She couldn’t feel any pleasure, as her clitoris had been removed, but she would feel the pounding, the rhythmic pulsing as he had his way with her. She would suffer internal and external bleeding, and he would toss her into a corner to watch helplessly as he did the same to the next girl.

At that moment the door opened. Yusef came out wearing an open silk bathrobe. She couldn’t see well because of the crowd. She thought about what a penis must look like and only thought of a massive finger. Would it also have a fingernail, or was that the part that’s circumcised off?

Yusef pointed at one of the girls in the front. “You!” The woman dutifully went with him, and the door closed. The women stood there again in the darkness with only a single oil lamp to illumine them.

Inaya considered that she would be different. He would see her radiant beauty and decide to spend all night with her, gently kissing her and talking about his childhood. She would feel the warmth of his breath and the gruff of his beard. He would ask her questions, and tomorrow night he would choose her again. They would lie together in an embrace, man and woman united as one flesh. And for all eternity he would choose her over all the other women, and Allah’s great gift of the other 71 would be wasted. She would be all he needs. She would heal the pain inside him.

The door came open again. Inaya didn’t know how much time had passed, but it didn’t seem like long. Some of the girls seemed to take almost an hour, some only a few minutes. The woman came out. In the dim light Inaya could see that she was crying.

Yusef unceremoniously chose another woman, and together they went back into the chamber.

Light started streaming through the window.

She knew she was beautiful, but so was every other girl. What made her special?

Did she even want to be chosen? Intercourse was probably painful, but at least she would get Yusef’s attention. At least she would know what it’s like for another person to touch her.

Had she had intercourse before and just didn’t know it? She reached down and felt herself. She seemed to still be a virgin, but of course Allah reverses things each night. She had probably been chosen before, but was that because she was attractive in some sense or just because of Yusef’s curiosity? Did he ever get bored with them?

It seemed her whole life had been spent wondering, yet if she had been chosen at some point, and she almost certainly had, then much of her life had been spent reflecting on that experience. This, she assumed, is what the days were like. While the men feast, she must have sat alone thinking about the last night. Was it wonderfully blissful or deeply humiliating? Would she feel violated? Or would she reflect in shame at being passed over entirely, knowing that her curiosity would never be satiated? Or perhaps she would feel nothing at all, neither pain nor pleasure, because of her circumcision?

Her role as one of Yusef’s virgins defined her very existence, so naturally it was the only topic ever on her mind. What else was there possibly to think about?

Inaya walked over to the crying woman.

“What was it like?”

This caused the woman to only weep louder, and she turned to hide her face in the corner of the walls. Inaya decided not to press the issue. She would continue wondering.

The door opened again.


It looked as though Yusef was pointing at her.

“Me?”, she asked in disbelief.

“Yes, of course you! Don’t be so insolent. The banquet starts in an hour and I don’t have time.”

He grabbed her by the hair and brought her into the chamber. The door closed behind them.

She looked at the lush silks hanging everywhere. It was a beautiful room full of pinks and purples and oranges. She wanted to live here forever. She wanted to raise children in this room and cook for them and grow old to watch them have families of their own.

But she only got to look for a few seconds. Yusef threw her onto the bed.

Inaya looked up and held her breath. She decided not to watch and closed her eyes. But whatever happened in the next five minutes, at least she had been chosen. She would try her best to remember it the next night, but she knew she would fail.