"Congratulations on your estrogentrification,
mule boy
They didn’t stop kicking you in the balls,
it just doesn’t hurt anymore"
From Cough Syrup Soup
Note: This article is about estrogentrification and the corrosive effects it has had on Western culture and society. The American non-response to the Chinese spy balloon floating through American airspace is an interesting, obvious case-in-point of the cultural phenomenon I call "estrogentrification," but the balloon war itself (as obvious and amusing as the solution would be) is not the real reason for this article. "Baby Trump Balloon Offensive" just makes a better title than "Estrogentrification & The Baby Trump Balloon War." Which isn't bad, but which is kinduva mouthful. Maybe I'll change it after the views have peaked.
Thanks for reading...
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"In case you haven't noticed, we are now as feared and hated all over the world as the Nazis once were.
And with good reason.
In case you haven't noticed, our unelected leaders have dehumanized millions and millions of human beings simply because of their religion and race. We wound 'em and kill 'em and torture 'em and imprison 'em all we want.
Piece of cake."
Kurt Vonnegut
I coined the term "estrogentrification" in 2002. I thought I coined it in 2011, when I published the video below, but apparently I've been carrying the word around since at least 2002, when I wrote the poem "Cough Syrup Soup." The poem was inspired by the side effects of the questionable decision to drink a bottle of cough syrup in my buddy's apartment in Hollywood. The subject matter is what I would call a glib luxury item for people who, however unbelievably, might actually have 20 years to burn (nobody today), but I don't hate it. The poem isn't terrible, but as the title implies, Paradise Lost it ain't.
John Milton probably never drank a bottle of Robitussin, or absinthe, or even tincture of Chinese Fentanyl from the local Mexican street-apothecary, which is perhaps why he was able to finish his epic work in the first place, while I have had to make do with writing about bad decisions while living on somebody else's couch, but he also never coined the term "estrogentrification."
Of course, not being from an estrogentrified time, he never had to.
It's an early version of the thought, one which I not only don't regret, but which I could expound upon for untold thousands of hours at this point:
It's a thought which I could expound upon for untold thousands of hours, but probably won't. Because, frankly, I don't see the point. Western culture has been almost completely estrogentrified, and talking to it is like talking to a wall that has rigged itself with explosives to decolonize itself from the oppressive trappings of personal excellence. The massive increase in MGTOW monks, people who understand the fundamental importance of MRA issues in a free and equal society, and red-pilled chicks who've sworn off militant feminismo like the intellectual and spiritual Fentanyl habit it is, all of that is great, but it doesn't actually undo the damage that has been done to society at large, by decades of estrogentrification.
"Just how knee-deep are you in blue goop?"
From Cough Syrup Soup
Which is perhaps why I don't believe in communities, scenes, or groups. I strongly believe in individuals, and like all reasonable people, have gotten along with almost everyone I've ever met on a one-on-one, face-to-face basis. And I do believe there is a LOT of hope for any single individual, however knee-deep they may be in a sea of angry clowns.
Groups, however, have squandered my faith, and I will not waste my fidelity on them any further. If the collective wants me to invest my faith-backed securities on something other than a series of aloof, dismissive insults, which are the only dividends it has ever deigned to pay me, then perhaps it has no hope, and has primed itself for an imminent collapse.
Of course it has. Anyone who can't see it, is part of it. To talk about it out loud for the very first time, at this point, is to be redundant.
So why am I writing this? And what does it have to do with the Baby Trump Balloon Offensive that the Pentagon is planning in retaliation for the Chinese incursion into U.S. balloonspace? (Photo leaked by sources within the Pentagon War Room, which is decorated in primary colors and which is full of building blocks, spongy puzzles, puppets, Elmo dolls, cookies, toy cars, black-market weapons contractors, and, obviously, Baby Trump Balloons)
Perhaps, it's because the Baby Trump Balloon Offensive is the last chance Western civilization has to save itself from the maw of self-imposed destruction. I mean, look at him. Even wearing only diapers, Baby Trump is a lot more fierce than that faceless, communitarian Chinese cipher floating over Montana. He looks like a Sumo wrestler. It should be an easy win for the Americans. A couple hundred inflatable Sumo Baby Trumps can probably be manufactured in China in less than 3 hours; the taxpayers will pay the expedited shipping with DHL (as usual), and we can figure out where it's going, inflate the army of Baby Trumps under it, let them go, surround that thing, and get some answers for a change. Everybody's talking about how long it's going to take to train a bunch of Ukrainians to shoot some spitballs at Russia (their last line of defense, according to the analysts in the cushioned, spongy War Room in the Pentagram); how hard can it be, really, to unleash an army of Baby Trump Balloons on China? Make sure each one is loaded with some mean tweets, resembles a naked citrus fruit, and is a master of negotiation.
Unless, of course, we've been estrogentrified, and are therefore opposed to negotiation at every level of society. From the one that no longer has the sense to wonder whether or not the innocence of prepubescent children should be traded on the sexualized stock market of bad ideas that are doomed to crash, to the one that can't cop to the possibility that escalating the war in Ukraine is anything but a suicidally-terrible idea.
Reason is for patriarchs. Being straight is rape. Thinking is hate.
De-escalation of nuclear war is white supremacy.
Or is it nuclear weapons themselves that are white? Is it strength that makes everything about race, or is it strength that realizes how stupid it is to do so? Are we priming a bunch of estrogentrified social-engineering projects to blame straight white men for a war that a bunch of estrogentrified ninnies who wear high heels and need permission from their wives to make a bowl of cereal are too strong to de-escalate?
"Are nuclear weapons 'white'? Many texts respond in the affirmative, and arraign nuclear weapons for defending a racial order that privileges whiteness. They are seen as a reminder that the power enjoyed by the white western world imperils the whole of the Earth."
From the synopsis of this presumptuous piece of nightmare propaganda:
What a load of bunk. When did the Racist Horror Fiction genre morph into would-be political analysis, anyway?
About 100 years ago, I suppose.
Fortunately for us, history can't repeat itself. We've abolished the entire concept of history, so it no longer exists. Since history no longer exists, it can no longer come back to haunt us.
Such an empowering delusion.
Did I say delusion?
I meant to say relief.
Of course, we could shoot the Chinese balloon down. Unless we've been estrogentrified, and must cut our boyfriends' or husbands' balls off at every opportunity, because we've been trained to think that perpetual disconsolance is power, and that by being unhappy about literally everything at all times, we will somehow find fulfillment, by engaging in an endless chase for that which we've been trained to never find, instead of coming to the realization that we've been sold a false bill of goods so that we'd do Satan's work FOR HIM.
Namely, making ourselves worthless in the eyes of the opposite sex, thereby destroying our society and culture along with our hearts, minds, and souls,
Which, of course, we have.
Whether worthlessness is a choice, or not. Which, for ALL HUMAN BEINGS OF EVERY CONCEIVABLE VARIATION, it always is.
Oh well, too late. Consequences time.
Bummer.
Tell me you can tell her this. Lie to me, please. Tell me she'll listen. If you're her, tell me you're not offended. Even if only slightly, at the sub-cellular level, as an act of social conditioning. Against your own will, even. I'll believe that, probably. Just... lie to me, all of you, please. Tell me you're not afraid of the hammer coming down. Tell me the reason you're not afraid of this ridiculous hammer is because it can be reasoned with and doesn't represent the gavel of perpetual disconsolance. Tell me why I should apologize for nothing all day long, every day, to create "peace" in a situation in which I'm not legally allowed to have any. Tell me that's sustainable, or even remotely cool at the most basic level. Tell me you haven't been trained to tiptoe around anything that she might find "unacceptable" to her whimsical, manufactured ideals.
Then, tell me this "peace" is worth it, since it has created a society so weak and arrogant that it's about to get blown to smithereens in the least-peaceful way imaginable by a country that doesn't care about any of that. Tell me America doesn't need a hysterectomy.
Do it. Lie to me again. Tell me "a society based on women's fear is NOT a loveless, beauty-free wasteland."
Show me how American culture isn't based on women's tyrannical fear. Then, show me how this tyrannical fear posing ridiculously as fearlessness has created a loving, beautiful garden where men would have put a bomb crater where once there was a parking lot.
Do it. Show me. Disprove the concept of "estrogentrification." Not with a tantrum or a smug dismissal that is intended to intimidate me into sheepish compliance but which now only pisses me off, but with actions. Show me that American society hasn't been estrogentrified. Give me concrete, legal examples that make the phrase "divorce rape" look ridiculous on its face.
I don't want to hear it. I want to see it. Show me.
Then, get off it already, stop presuming to improve the world with unquestioned presumptions and untested, fantastical hypotheses, stop turning the society into a half-living proof for the Freudian concept of "penis envy," stop pretending to be a man, and get real. Cuz time is definitely a-wasting. You want men to "step up?" Put MRA issues front-and-center in society (second only to de-escalating this madness in Ukraine, which is more urgent) until it isn't suicidally idiotic and self-effacing for me to do so.
'Til then, there is literally NO REASON to even begin. Not one.
But do it, if you can. I'll be down in Mexico, looking the other way, holding my breath in my dreams.
In fact I already am.
“Solitude is independence. It had been my wish and with the years I had attained it. It was cold. Oh, cold enough! But it was also still, wonderfully still and vast like the cold stillness of space in which the stars revolve.”
Hermann Hesse
Nobody who isn't in denial still believes that there is anything remotely strong about arrogantly declaring and flaunting one's power while never, ever testing (questioning) it, but regarding life in an estrogentrified society, Brad Pitt and Tom Cruise are both divorced, which makes me wonder about my chances. If Brad Pitt isn't good enough for her, what chance do you and I have? George Clooney was a bachelor for years, but incidentally, today (Feb. 3) is his wife Amal's 45th birthday. Will she divorce her leading man over Epstein allegations? I hope not. Unless he screwed a bunch of minors, I suppose. That would be a reasonable dealbreaker. But even though Jorge is a Russian balloon-bot who still believes in Bush-era liberalism and probably writes emails on an Etch-a-Sketch as an unconscious way of reflecting the obsolescence of this way of thinking, I like him very much. He still does decent work, and is an eminently likeable, charismatic movie star in the old-school sense. The name "Jorge Clooney" on a movie poster is still a selling point, in my book.
May his relationship with Amal be the exception that proves the rule. I liked Michael Clayton so much I borrowed the line "I am Shiva the god of death" for my song "I Can't Be Your Drug." For going on a tangent's sake:
So, when are we going to release the Baby Trump Brigade and end this ridiculous Chinese incursion into hallowed American balloon-space once and for all? Why don't we shoot it down?
Is it because we're afraid to win? Is it because we've been estrogentrified, and consider it "aggressive" to defend ourselves?
Why did we trade mean tweets for nuclear war?
What was it, 60 years ago? We had the Cuban Balloon Crisis, and thousands of Russian balloons were stationed just 90 miles off the coast of Florida? How did we de-escalate that?
Was it, hmmmmm, perhaps by.... having some balls, and realizing that we were playing for keeps? And the Cuban Balloon Crisis was 60 years ago, when we probably could have actually won that fight. But the administration didn't want to WIN it, they wanted to AVOID IT.
At the risk, paradoxically enough, of LOOKING WEAK to the hawks and warmongers at the Pentagon. They resisted the temptation to fall for that ruse. That's how strong (and smart) they were.
Fortunately, we don't have to worry about looking weak anymore. That's why China isn't afraid if we can see her looking through our bathroom window; our strength is such that China has... no fear of it at all. Because we have been estrogentrified, pride is no longer the opposite of strength; pride is strength. America has never been stronger, and China knows it.
There's really no point in talking about estrogentrification anymore. Talking about it has become redundant. The only question now is, are we going to let a bunch of fascistic, over-decorated dog people drag us into hell alongside them?
"When diplomacy ends, war begins."
Adolf Hitler
If the regime doesn't engage in a sustained campaign of mean tweets and deploy a battalion of Baby Trump Balloons before sunrise tomorrow, I would make an active, pragmatic effort to devise a contingency plan... postfreaking-haste.
Yesterday, at the latest.
Thanks for listening.
