The Silence Of The Zoomers

“Darling, you have to understand, in Britain in the ’60s, you could be a sex symbol and still have bad teeth. It didn’t matter.” – Austin Powers, International Man of Mystery

Disney® acquired Austin Powers™ and is going to make him a Star Wars© character. Obi Have. (All memes today are “as-found”.

Today I read that Facebook® denied that trans-women are women. They announced that Facebook™ would allow pictures of naked breasts for trans-women but not for actual-women. So, once again, life has proven to be transphobic, just like J.K. Rowling, who has been hard hit by her “there’s a name for ‘birthing people’ – it’s women” comment. Sources indicate that instead of having $1.1 billion dollars, she has slightly less than $1.1 billion dollars.

I’m sure she’s crying. There was even a video of a trans-rights activist rebinding Harry Potter books to remove Rowling’s name, thus proving that these “trans books” were exactly the same, just with a different cover.

Ouch!

While this is a societal issue, for many reasons, that’s not the purpose of today’s post, just a symptom of a society that has been turned on its head by technology. In the past, probably 95% or more of “trans” people would have ignored the nonsense and lived their lives. Some exceedingly small fraction would have pursued sex-change operations.

Frodo became a vegan, because he heard meat is Mordor.

Now, in 2023, there’s a community for everyone online. Feel sexually attracted to toasters? Or floor tile? I’m sure there’s a group somewhere that will validate that degenerate attraction. In 1975, if a kid got horny looking at linoleum, they’d generally ignore it until it naturally went away because, OF COURSE THEY WOULD.

Now? They have zillions of followers on InstaFace© or SnapGram™ showing lewd pictures of naked 1980s vintage vinyl floor tiles. In one sense, the Internet has concentrated and supported that nonsense.

If it stopped there, it would probably be okay.

It hasn’t.

How I would change video games if I was still 12.

When I was a kid (under 18) finding a Playboy™ magazine was rare. I found one next to the band room once, and, um, liberated it when I was 12. I was like a dog who had chased that Panzerkampfwagen VI and having caught it, wondered what I would do when I finally caught a Tiger by the tail. (See what I did there??)

Yeah, I had a Playboy™, and there were pictures of hot women, but I was like an underwear gnome:

  1. Get a hot chick,
  2. ????
  3. Fun!

I had no idea what Step 2. was. I just knew that looking at those girls made me feel funny. I was innocent.

Compare that to today. If I had been a 12-year-old in 2023, I would have had access to, essentially, every way that Step 2. could possibly be accomplished, including with midgets (no, in this context I’m not going to use “little people”), mobs, and MILFS.

Yeah, I’ve used it before, but it fits.

And I would have found a way to get there. There is absolutely no firewall that would prevent a smart 12-year-old from accessing all of the variations of what Step 2. means. The only solution would have been to cut the entire family off from the Internet.

I am lucky to have not been there. I’m certainly happy that I wasn’t a kid today.

When I was young, the market was different. Women might have wanted to have sex, but had to pretend like they didn’t. No woman I dated wanted to view themselves as the kind of girl who wanted to have sex. Why?

Duh.

They wanted love, and girls who had sex with lots of boys were tramps. Young men wanted sex, young women wanted love and commitment. Women were the gatekeepers of sex, constrained by being called tramps and being looked down upon. Men were the gatekeepers of love, and were constrained by the modesty of women.

In the society that existed, there was a strong pull toward monogamy. Divorce rates jumped with the pill, and that was not a positive for society. Additionally, as abortion was normalized and rationalized, tramps could tramp and not pay any sort of social price for killing their baby.

This was a bad situation, but salvageable. Probably.

Men and women a different. Eggs are expensive, sperm is cheap. If there’s a war and 99% of men are killed, that 1% of men can impregnate the 100% of women that are left. Women are, though, tied to their children. Men can cut and run. They can leave the woman and child penniless, without support, and they might starve or die.

Except the laws changed. Men can’t cut and run because of child support. And if the woman can’t or won’t name the man, the government will pony up for both of them. Incentives matter, and that moves the tramp-o-meter pretty far to the tramp and/or gold digger side.

I’m sure it was because of a deep and abiding love.

Again, even that might have been salvageable.

But then we added in Tinder®. That made Step 2. all too easy for women, and gave them access in their prime to a wide variety of men. As noted above, women will engage in Step 2. like Hunter Biden on crack unless constrained. Now, they can be validated in ways that were previously impossible.

Men want sex, women are the gatekeepers. At the peak of sexual attractiveness, women can get their pick of dudes in 2023. A woman 5 can get a 10 guy, for a night. Why? Women, being tied by biology, want to have the kids of dudes that are upward on the scale. An 8 woman wants to have the kid of a 10 guy. A 10 guy? Unconstrained my morality, he wants to have sex with all the women. It’s 2am and the bar is closing?

A 5 will do.

Thus our 5 woman on Tinder™ who gets a “date” where she is one-night-standed by a 10 now believes she is entitled to a 10. Prior to Tinder®, people met in church or work or through friends. Now? It’s a match for the evening, where every woman is a 10 for a night.

So, who has the power here?

But it’s a lie.

Chads won’t settle down with Betty 5. If they settle down, it will be with an 8 or 9 or 10.

Then, Betty 5 gets to be 30. Chads won’t even acknowledge her.

This mismatch means that dudes who are 8s, 9s, or 10s get all women when the women are in their prime, but the women then get rejected when they pass their prime.

The consequences are that a majority of women in their best years for having kids spend their time drinking mimosas, making PowerPoints® for $39,000 a year, and meeting with Chad for “dates”.

The women hit 30? 35? 40?

I’m sure she’s happy.

They are ready to settle down. And all the men who have been abandoned along the way are their targets. But, deep in their hearts, they still are looking for more.

To be clear, Tom Brady got dumped.

Is there any way this leads to a functional, stable society?

No.

Zoomers in their 20s are checking out. They can’t get dates, so they don’t care. They have no incentive to improve, hit the job, be aggressive, and try to climb the ladder. It’s easier to hang home, do the least amount possible, smoke some weed, and play Call of Duty®. At least in Call of Duty© they have a challenge. At least there, they can be someone.

Women in their 30s wonder where all the good men are. The answer is simple, they’ve abandoned them in their rush for Step 2. gratification with Chad and become widows to men who never thought any more of them than as disposable play toys. Then they are told to “man up” and wife up tramps who will forever pine for the one night they spent with Chad.

Yup, dumped it all. And from what I’ve seen? Still single and collecting cats.

When looking at the Millennial and Zoomer generation men, understand their situation. They’ve been placed in a desert, but all they see is water. So, they gave up. A combination of Tinder®, laws, and lack of religion led them here.

When looking at the Millennial and Zoomer generation women, understand their situation. They’ve been lied to that they are special and that they can have it all: Chad, the mansion, and mimosas while making PowerPoints© for $350,000 a year. Sex and the City? It’s the big lie. Women change themselves to become an ersatz version of men, just like the “women” who can now post breast pictures on Facebook®.

This cannot last.

So, it won’t.

On Friday, I generally try to remoralize you, dear reader. If you’re reading this, you’re part of the solution. I don’t think I have many Millennial and Zoomer readers. That’s fine.

You (and I mean You!) need to help them. Encourage them. Bring them along. Encourage young women to be chaste. Encourage young men to improve themselves, to be the best that they can be.

This situation cannot stand. It leads to collapse.

And then, once again, men will become men, and women will need them.

And families will flourish.

This will happen because it has to happen, so do not feel dread, do not be discouraged, because we will win. And the ideas of virtue will never perish.

Ever.

So get to it. Help a kid today. And remember who can always help them.

A Little Friday Memefest

“Not random at all, maybe. Like there’s some pattern here?” – Silence of the Lambs

Thank you for attending my TED talk.

Tonight I got in really, really late.  As such, I normally have some notes and plans.  Not tonight, since I’ve been very busy.  However, what I do have is a collection of dank memes from all around the Internet.  Okay, that’s a lie.  Most are from /pol/.  But they are still pretty good.  I’ve collected them into several sections.

  • This is pretty short, but illuminating.  I would have originally thought that Canada would have been more stable than the United States, being more homogeneous and under less pressure.  Nah.  They’re going off the rails on the crazy train faster than Hunter Biden, full of crack, at Burning Man.
  • Leftist Logic. This is a series of items that define Leftism in ways that they would probably hate.  So, please share with a Leftist to help in their re-education process.  It’s easier than the camps or the wall.
  • The biggest hacking attacks Wilder, Wealthy and Wise®™© has ever seen has been from some of my COVID articles.  Cool!  The narrative is falling apart, and here are some memes that deal directly with that crumbling narrative.
  • Just that.  Random, yet hilarious to me. YMMV.

Canada:

This is how I imagine a medical consultation goes in Canada.  I’d tell someone to “kill himself” but I don’t want to get arrested in Canada for practicing medicine without a license.

The Canadians are sorta British, right?

Imagine how comfy their kids must feel when they tuck them in.

This is my shocked face.

Leftist Logic:

Carbon is so bad it made the Sun warmer.

Donna Brazile has the memory of a goldfish.

Mayo?  The 457th gender.

I identify as someone who has a full head of hair.  Dang.  Maybe I sould sue the mirror?

We had to kill the baby to save it.

Joe’s garage is more secure than Trump’s Secret Service patrolled personal office.  Right?

The Resistance.  Thankfully they have most major corporations, the Joint Chiefs, the universities, and most government bodies on their side.  Wait, who are they resisting?

I think Pugsley lost these.

Thank Heaven!  At least we won’t have any pesky actual women in sports.

Hmmm, one of these things is not like the other.

I think this is the Netflix® version.  Oh, wait, that’s not how this works . . .

I’m sure this will help us win wars.

Finally, the end goal of feminism has been realized!

Have they thought this through?

Did you think the goal of transhumanism was actually to make most people better?

Uhhhhhh

COVID:

I guess I’m not supposed to talk about this.  Thankfully we have the CDC:

Certainly, there are no uncomfortable facts showing up about the ‘Rona?

But one thing is certain.  No refunds.

Random:

I don’t have comments, these speak for themselves:

And a good song ends on the note that started it . . .

Christmas Is A Puzzle?

“Now I have a machine gun.  Ho ho ho.” – Die Hard

And AOC couldn’t return it, because Kellogg’s® wouldn’t take it unless she found the cereal number.

I think, for a kid, the optimum age of Christmas is around 12 or 13.  That’s an amazingly powerful age:  the body is beginning to change into an adult, but hasn’t yet.  The full burn of testosterone (or estrogen) hasn’t yet kicked in.  In my case I was smart enough to know that there was a joke, and dimly aware that I wasn’t yet in on it.

Books were magical at that time, and for the same reason.  I could be reading away on a book from decades earlier, and be thrilled by new plots (to me) and new ideas (to me) as I sat in the school bus on the way to and from Wilder Mountain.  I still recall reading about Conan the Buccaneer fighting and leading men into battle for Crom, women, and glory.

Conan’s favorite cereal was Cimmerian Toast Crunch.

Christmas though, was magical.  It was a time when parents conspired to . . . make you happy.  To give you a gift that made your day.  While I never thought my parents were evil, exactly, they were never free with the cash.  Generally, if I wanted something (outside of food and clothing) that wasn’t a book, I had to work for it and earn it.

I’m glad for that lesson, which in itself was a gift.  Nothing is more empowering than the idea that you get what you earn.  Victims are at the mercy of life.  People who focus on earning tend to feel that each day of life is a gift and an opportunity, and not a present left by Santa.

Speaking of Santa, by 12 I was long past him.  Over a December dinner not long before Christmas, I announced at the table that Santa wasn’t real.  I was in kindergarten.  I don’t recall how I figured it out, but I do recall being very proud of the fact that I knew.

Santa’s workers aren’t required to have Obamacare.  Technically they’re elf-employed.

However, my brother, (also named John Wilder because my parents were horribly uncreative), was in seventh grade.  His response to my dinnertime revelation was to kick me in the shin.  Why?  First, he wasn’t particularly fond of me at that point.  Second, he knew that when I told Ma and Pa Wilder that there was no Santa, that the presents in the stockings would become a trickle.

He was wrong.

As we got older Christmas didn’t get worse, it got better.  I recall one Christmas when it peaked.  It was the best Christmas ever, and I was 12.  Honestly, I can only recall one gift I got – a Star Wars® jigsaw puzzle, back in the time back before Star Wars™ sucked.  I still recall the calmness of that Christmas afternoon – the Sun shining down on the pure white snow outside – a bright, cool day, no warmer than about 25°F (two megaliters).

Mark Hamill found that role Luke-rative. 

My brother and my Dad took Great-Grandma Wilder (age:  about a million) home.  When they got home, in a weird coincidence, everyone met at the same part of the room at the same time.  And?

The one and only spontaneous group hug I’ve ever been in.

Outside of the puzzle, I don’t really recall what present I got or what present I gave anyone.  Maybe there was a Nerf® football.  But it was all nice and perfect, from the day, the weather, the food, and the quiet.  This was a time before every movie was available at every moment in time, a time before cell phones, and a time when if you didn’t know something, it had to be important enough to walk over to the encyclopedia to look it up.  Everyone was happy, and it was the greatest amount of peace that I ever felt as a kid at Christmas.  Of course, the best present I ever got was still the BB gun (LINK).

Why can’t any tyrannosaurus rex catch a football?  They’re all dead.

Sometime after 13, my imagination was so big that it was impossible to surprise me.  It’s not that Christmas was disappointing, it’s just that my innocence was over.  As an adult, I found the same answer: the perfect age to have kids at Christmas was also 12 or 13.

Pugsley is our youngest, and he’s well past 13.  On Sunday, Christmas will be mellow.  I got The Mrs. the same gift I’ve gotten her for the last 10 years (a very, very nice bottle of scotch).  She’d be just as happy if she didn’t get anything, but I do know she likes it.  I’m thinking the element of surprise is gone.

Pugsley and The Boy?  Well, they just might be reading this, so I’ll not spoil anything.  I may not have a lot of surprises, but I think we’ll get a smile or two on Christmas morning.  Me?  I’d be just as happy putting together a jigsaw puzzle on a bright winter afternoon.

I guess getting older was a Sidious error.

But the sunlight of those days is long past, and my world has moved on.  And that’s as it should be.  Christmas will itself be the gift.  And an opportunity.  So I’ll treat it as such.

To all of you reading this:  Merry Christmas.  May it be filled with joy, love, and peace.