Written by evan keliher

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Friday, 26 March 2010

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Beware the De-Ballers with their sharp scissors! Stand tall like real men everywhere, strike a blow for machismo, respect and honor. Look like a real man even if you aren't one by being duplicitous, cunning, and deceitful. (All traits copied from women, of course.)

Adopt a swagger, wear macho clothes, smoke cigars, grow a beard, sign up with the Hells Angels, practice spitting, say no to N.O.W. and their sensitivity crap!

The first half of De-Balling tells you how you lost your balls, who took them and why, and the second half tells you how to regain your them with no effort on your part.

Copyright 2000 Evan Keliher

(Published 2006)

Cover Design by Steve Lopez, Hemet CA

ISBN: 0-9648859-1-3

SAN 298-8054

Library of Congress Catalog Card Number:2006902901

NB-Warning! Women & Girls: It should be obvious that this book was written for guys. Do not read this book unless you have balls to lose or regain. Don't say you weren't warned.


Part One



1. In the Beginning

2 Early De-Balling Attempts

3. De-Balling Today

4. The Men's Movement

Part Two


5. Teenagers-It All Starts Here

6. Male/Female Differences

7. Men, Women, and Sex

8. Women in Our Locker Rooms!

9. Why We Need Nude Dancing

10. Men and Ogling

11. Sex-A Battle Plan

12. More On Sex

13. Who Pays for Dates?

14. Sexual Harassment-It's Them vs. Us

15. Why Men Are Loners

Part Three


16. Men at Work

17. Build Yourself a Real Man's Body

18. Get a Black Belt in Karate

19. Men and Hair

20. Should Men Get Plastic Surgery?

21. Get a Real Man's Job

22. Get a Hog

23. Take Up Cigar Smoking

24. Frequent Pool Halls

25. Tattoos

26. To Be a Man, Be a Sport

27. Guys and Guns

28. Drive a Man's Car

29. The Remote Control

30. Men As Risk Takers

31. Men's Clubs

32. The Summing Up


They start out with a male calf, a hairy creature with great dark eyes and a bleat that would charm all but the hearing impaired. He's docile and playful and frisky, a joy to behold as he prances about the farm with his fellows.

Then he approaches bovine puberty and things begin to happen as per nature's orders. He grows very rapidly as testosterone shoots through his body like a wave of corruption spreading through Congress and suddenly the little tyke is turning into a young bull and becoming something quite different from a frolicking calf.

As you know, bulls are fierce animals weighing half a ton or more with deadly horns capable of punching major holes into anything that irritates them. What's more, bulls are lacking in patience; in fact, some even go so far as to claim they're short tempered in the extreme and cannot be trusted.

Bulls like things their own way. They're independent, resolute, and brave. They'll bridge no nonsense, tolerate no insult. In other words, bulls are uncontrollable. Testosterone is the culprit here. This is the stuff that makes bulls bulls. Remove the testosterone and you take away the essence of bull-ness. Since the testosterone comes from the testicles, young bulls are routinely de-balled to produce something called a steer, a docile, spiritless, passive creature sans balls.

The same results are obtained when men are de-balled, a process that is now continuing apace in America and swiftly turning us into a nation of wimps and dweebs without spines or convictions, pride or honor.

It is our intention to sound the alarm and reverse the insidious de-balling of America and help restore our national manhood before it's too late.


A brief overview of the rise of de-balling with its beginnings and current state of things including a commentary on the role played by recent attempts to address the subject.

Chapter One - In the Beginning

In the beginning there was this big bang and a lot of quarks and antimatter and neutrinos and sparks and other stuff poured out and filled up the universe. A few billion years later our sun appeared and so did our planet. Eventually, life sprang up in the ocean and evolved into dinosaurs, some very ugly birds and assorted bugs, and a lot of greenery.

Then about three million years ago, give or take an eon or two, a monkey mutated into the first human being and started along Darwin's evolutionary road driven entirely by instinct and the natural laws governing the development of monkeys. These prototypical men eventually became modern man and by being aggressive and strong and determined they ultimately gained control of the planet and everything on it.

They weren't people right away, of course-the Darwinians are right, after all-but slowly became recognizable as people over some time. These people appeared in pairs from the start and included both sexes in the mix, a fact that does much to explain all the trouble we've been in ever since.

As with the bulls previously mentioned, men had balls and testosterone and grew into men while women, as everyone knows, were made of the odd rib and estrogen and they grew into creatures of a different ilk.

At first, men and women got along fairly well because the rules were simple and everybody understood them. Men were bigger, stronger, faster, and better jumpers than women so they naturally took charge of things and everyone accepted the status quo because it just seemed right to do so.

Men and women had different roles from earliest times to the present because of their basic differences, both physiological and psychological. When cave woman wanted a piano moved or a dinosaur driven off she called the nearest guy and gave him the job while she carried in some more water or washed the cave walls. She did so because men were and are much better at moving pianos and driving off dinosaurs than women are.

It doesn't necessarily follow, of course, that women are better at carrying in water and washing walls than men. We're dealing with a division of labor here, though, and it makes good sense that it's divided along lines that best serve both sexes. Ergo, men charged with surging testosterone and equipped with massive forearms handled all the violence and dangerous stuff and women developed their nurturing skills and affection for housework.

Men were the unquestioned leaders of the tribe, too. They were the chiefs and high muck-a-mucks and priests and they made policy and decided the laws and dispensed whatever justice there was and generally ran things and it was right and proper they did. After all, weren't they bigger and stronger and specifically designed by nature to do these things?

Doesn't the same thing prevail in all other species? Male lions lead their prides, male wolves their packs, rams their flocks, boars their rashers, bulls their herds, and so on ad infinitum. This situation exists universally because nature intended it so; one might even say the whole thing was set up by some sort of divine decree when work was first begun on Eden.

I ask you, is NOW so bold as to challenge divine decrees? Are feminists willing to thwart God's will? Will they defy eons of tradition rooted in the very essence of our beings?

All down through the millennia these immutable laws have governed man's evolution and helped us become what we are today. Ancient Egyptians recognized men as leaders and gave them prominent roles to play in society. Men built the pyramids while women cooked their meals and minded the kids. Men went off to war and killed the neighbors on every side while women stayed home and sewed uniforms for the troops and held bond rallies. Men carved enormous statues and harnessed the mighty Nile and wrote great literature and ruled the known world and the women played their accustomed roles-supporting ones, usually.

The pattern continued in ancient Greece. Helen inspired the Trojan Wars but she didn't fight in them. Her role was a sexual one and nothing more. She turned everybody on and drove them half nuts with a mighty barrage of pheromones and the guys went off and laid waste to whole civilizations and all because the lady was sexy as hell.

In fact, this seems to be one of women's chief roles in our history. They seduce us with wanton displays of half-naked breasts and creamy thighs and sloe-eyed glances and makeup and blasts of pheromones that would wobble a cardinal and we go off and do noble (or insane) things as a result. In this sense, their role is merely to inspire others but not to take direct action themselves. Is this also a part of nature's plan?

Anyway, that's how it worked then. Men did things and women watched 'em and lent moral support. Nobody drew up a plan or polled everybody or called for a vote on the matter, it's just the way things worked because they worked better that way. Pianos were moved, dinosaurs successfully driven off, neighbors killed, pyramids built, art created, societies governed, and all by men playing roles outlined for 'em by nature herself. What could be more obvious? Or more natural?

This isn't to say women played no role at all, of course. They had babies, after all, and not by executive fiat but rather because they were fitted out to perform this function. It wasn't a committee of men that put 'em together; they came so equipped and things took their natural course.

Women actually played roles every bit as important as those of men; they just played different ones. It's likely that men even shared women's work at those times they weren't busy fighting tigers or slaying bison or whatever but everyone knew who was supposed to do what, anyway.

And so the human species eased its tenuous way through Africa and the Near and Far East and into the subcontinent and across Europe and grew until it numbered in the millions and took a bead on the Neolithic Age some 20,000 years B.C. when Homo sapiens (us) rose up and massacred all of our slow-witted Neanderthal neighbors, took all their stuff, and launched an enlightened age that would see the rise of Christianity among other wonders.

N. B.

1. Men are natural leaders because nature made 'em so.

2. Women play supporting roles, also decreed by nature.

Chapter Two - Early De-Balling Attempts

Governments, or the guys who ran 'em, anyway, took an early interest in the testosterone issue even without actually knowing what the hell it is. They did know they needed tough guys with machismo to spare who could wage war on selected enemies and still not be uncontrollable as citizens during those rare times when peace reigned. The problem was how to have it both ways.

This all started when some guy who was bigger and probably smarter than his buddies declared himself in charge and demanded they accord him respect along with a certain percentage of their income. He hired a few of his buddies as backup men and everybody fell in line or else. It amounted to a kind of prehistoric extortion ring shaking down local merchants for protection money.

While the scheme worked, it was a highly dangerous one since there were always some really tough guys out there smart enough to see what the chief and his pals were up to and reckless enough to do something about it. The first political plot was hatched within minutes after the first government was formed in some Neanderthal cave and the world's first chief executive found himself up to his ass in enemies before the day was out.

So he had to de-ball 'em, or partially de-ball 'em, anyway, and he did that by depriving 'em of their manhood in certain ways. A man made to acknowledge another as a superior will suffer some such loss. So will a man held in some sort of economic captivity. A man reduced to begging can become something less than a man.

What the chief did was to make subjects out of people who once were his equals. By enforcing laws designed solely to keep his ass in power and exacting tribute, he was able to flourish even if his people starved.

Still, governors probably wouldn't have been able to stay in power through force alone. After all, starving and oppressed people will eventually rebel if abused severely enough and faced with enemies they can reach. Ask all the assassinated bigwigs who've run afoul of enraged mobs.

But the chief had some help from the religiosos who were busy running a scam of their own. These guys learned that they could bamboozle their fellows with magic and shadow play and outright lies and they formed some of the earliest religions for the sole purpose of maintaining themselves in something bordering on affluence. Our own Christian religion, clearly the world's only true religion, didn't put in an appearance until Roman times, of course.

These early primitive religions were aimed at keeping people in line. There were gods to appease, sacrifices to make, collections to take up. People were threatened with terrible punishment if they pissed-off the gods-or their appointed vicars on Earth, i.e., the boys at City Hall. In other words, the religiosos and politicians worked hand-in-glove to hoodwink the people and promote their own mutual interests.

Well, once these guys joined forces the little man was done for. Between the

gods and the pols, the poor sap never had a chance. He was too slow to figure the whole thing out and went along because he didn't know any better.

And what was the result? Remember, our subject is de-balling, destroying one's manhood, and isn't that what happened to men when they fell under the spell of their smarter neighbors and agreed to let others do their thinking for them?

So men lost much of their manhood to the strictures of church and state but they still liked to believe they were real men in other ways, places, and times. For example, men took pride in being masculine among other men. They wanted to be perceived as real men, macho guys who could tough it out with the best of 'em if required to do so.

They were all great with the ladies, of course. A wink and an elbow in the ribs told all. One of the requirements of manhood is to be successful with the ladies, everybody knows that. Even guys who never score will imply they do to save face. Naturally, the chiefs and high priests made laws giving them the right to multiple wives and an unlimited supply of mistresses because having many women has always been a sign of power and importance.

Ironically, it was the women men wanted in wholesale lots who turned de-balling into a fine art and left countless millions of broken caricatures of real men in their wake. The fact is women have felt put upon since they took the rap for that apple incident and they've been after our asses ever since. They never made any overt moves against men as that would have been downright dangerous, but they murmured among themselves and plotted our ruin while doing lunch and hanging out at the hairdresser's.

You see, it didn't take women long to figure out that man's strength lay not in his hair or muscles but in his balls. They saw what happened to the young bulls and they knew they could work the same magic on men if they could just have a go at their balls.

This isn't to say women wanted to castrate men in any real sense. They knew it would be fatal even to threaten the average guy's balls let alone make any sudden moves toward 'em with a sharp instrument. No, they merely desired an emotional de-balling, one made up of innuendo and insinuation, a kind of psychological castration that would leave men intact and yet sap their strength and make 'em malleable. They knew if they could rob a man of his masculinity they could dominate his ass and make him do their bidding.

But how to pull this off? How could weak women confront strong men? What weapon did they have at their disposal that would prove effective against men?

Then somebody remembered sex. If there was one thing women had that men wanted it was sex in all its forms. The average Neanderthal galoot could be mesmerized in a trice by a flashing thigh or a well-turned ankle and women learned to manipulate men through their sexual charms in no time.

Women could reward men with sex. They could withhold it as a kind of punishment. They could get even when pissed by laying all the other guys in the neighborhood and making their man a laughingstock and the butt of jokes among small children. They could even use it as a stock-in-trade and go into business in that earliest of early professions.

At some point somebody-doubtless a woman since no sane man would ever come up with such an absurd notion-invented marriage and demanded that men submit to a catalogue full of conditions before they'd give 'em any at all. Women required that men agree to support 'em through good times and bad and not have sex with any other women among other equally exasperating things.

Well, these guys were horny as hell because the women had cut 'em off unless they bought this new concept so they gave in and agreed to surrender another chunk of their manhood for guaranteed access to nooky. Under the circumstances, of course, they had no choice. What good are freedom and honor and an intact integrity if you never get laid?

But the worst was yet to come. Shortly after the first wedding in some meadow somewhere, the new wife got pissed about something and she gave her new husband a scathing scolding and roundly cursed his family and lineage and the spineless dweeb hung his head and moped around like a beaten yellow dog. Women everywhere took note.

Nagging swept the planet. Patents were applied for, clinics established, workshops arranged, franchises sold. Mothers instructed their daughters in the fine points of the trade and whipped their feckless husbands into shape for their edification. A lot of women would lash their husbands with scorn and heap abuse on their asses just to entertain their lady friends of an afternoon.

No one was immune. History is replete with stories of men great and small who were nagged their whole lives long by vicious old bats with tongues like shredders. Socrates and Alexander and Brutus and Eric the Red and Lincoln and everybody in Wales and countless others felt the sharp lash of some harridan's tongue.

The result? More de-balled men, of course. Their need for sex added to the exactions of church and state and the advent of nagging left most guys entirely bereft of manly qualities and produced the first of a vast army of wimps who continue to proliferate to this very day. These guys were known everywhere as the de-balled ones, the henpecked, the ones who went pant-less.

It's a mighty sad picture, isn't it?

One prominent writer claims men are screwed up because their dads were inept. Pure nonsense, of course. Mere psychobabble. The point is men's balls have been under attack for eons by all kinds of people who benefit from being surrounded by wimps. De-balled men can be made to toe the line. Such men are easily led and can be readily used for anything from outright slaves to cannon fodder with nary a complaint from the victims. Everyone holds such men in contempt, especially their wives who are most responsible for rendering 'em eunuchs in the first place.

And the whole business continues even today.

N. B.

1. It is a function of government to de-ball the men in its society.

2. It is a function of religion to help 'em do it.

3. Women are the greatest de-ballers of all and are responsible for most of the world's castrati.

Chapter Three - De-Balling Today

Are men worse off today in the de-balling department than they formerly were? Yes, because there are more de-ballers out there nowadays, more people with sharp instruments, more pointed rules, a surfeit of eunuch worshipers in our institutions both public and private. Keeping your balls intact today requires your undivided attention and real courage, and even then most men end up without 'em, anyway.

For example, governments everywhere are even more involved in the de-balling trade than they were in the past. A frightened, timorous populace is still the goal and the pols have many more ways to reach it thanks to the advanced technology of an enlightened era.

We're all spindled, folded, and mutilated, aren't we? They've got us on computers in Washington and in every state capital. We're logged in on police computers, army records trail us everywhere we go, our DNA is registered with God knows how many data banks around the country, and most of us are under actual surveillance in banks, grocery checkout lines, and department store dressing rooms.

The truth is, you can hardly make a move these days without alerting anybody who cares enough to take the trouble to look in on your ass. We're reduced to numbers, mere ciphers: social security, driver's license, phone and fax, credit cards, Blue Cross, we're numbers to all of them.

The ultimate number is your genetic code. Every last man of us has been reduced to a series of dots and swirls in the double helix of a DNA molecule. Each is unique, unfailingly you. If there's any truth to the idea propounded by certain religiosos that Satan would one day assign us numbers and precipitate Armageddon, why, by God, your DNA could very well be that number.

This loss of identity wreaks havoc with a guy's sense of himself, with his feeling of maleness. A real man knows who he is and takes pride in himself and holds his head up so he can look people in the eye. But it's hard to do this if you've come to regard yourself as nothing more than dots and swirls on somebody's computer printout.

It was easier for a caveman to be a real man; at least the guy had a name and people knew who the hell he was.

So the government continues to work at de-balling us because it still prefers tractable subjects to intractable ones. While this policy works in one way, it is seriously defective in other ways that we'll examine shortly.

As for the church, it's lost some of its clout in recent centuries with the advance of science in particular and education generally. Where it once threatened people with fire and brimstone it now offers guitar playing and English in its holy masses. In some cases, priests stand at the door and shake parishioners' hands like aldermen soliciting votes on the courthouse steps.

And evangelical fools and jackasses like Pat Robertson and Jim Bakker and Jerry Falwell and the rest have driven all but the truly ignorant from the bosom of the church and into the Unitarians' camp. Satan should put these guys on commission, for God's sake.

People just don't believe in hell these days; in fact, more and more of 'em don't even believe in life after death and are thereby immune to threats of future punishment. Sin has become negotiable. You can always assert situational ethics as a defense and sufficiently cloud the issue and so escape altogether.

In other words, today's men aren't under as much pressure from the church as were guys in the Middle Ages. They no longer burn dissidents at the stake or stone adulterers. Today's men are free to do whatever they like with little to worry about from the clerical set and that means we keep more of ourselves and are more masculine as a result.

Among the chief de-ballers are employers, the guys who hire the rest of us and have an interest in maintaining the status quo that has been so good to them and theirs. They don't like troublemakers. They don't want individualists, freethinkers; they regard such people as dangerous and will fire their asses just as quick as they can flush 'em out.

They do like sycophants, bootlickers, toadies, and lickspittles. They cultivate yes-men. They prefer employees without spines, men without honor. They surround themselves with people they can bully and threaten and intimidate and even humiliate because they're essentially assholes and without saving graces of any sort.

Can you imagine how hard it is to take crap from these guys and still be a real man? What happens to a man's balls when he's being chewed out by some pipsqueak who's in charge just because his old man owns the company? How do you keep a macho image of yourself when economic necessity forces you to kowtow on request?

There's almost no escaping these assaults on your manhood unless you're independently wealthy and can afford to tell the world to go to hell or you live in a cave and just don't give a damn. All the rest of us have to surrender some major chunks of our machismo just to pay the rent and come up with three squares a day. It's no wonder so many guys have joined the ranks of the de-balled in recent times.

Incidentally, one hopeful sign these days is the number of men who are becoming entrepreneurs and trying to start their own companies so they won't have to play these degrading games. These guys would rather take a chance on failure, bankruptcy, and the poorhouse than crawl before such vermin as one finds in positions of power everywhere.

Still, neither the government nor the church nor tyrannical bosses have done more to break the spirit of men than have our women. The real ball breakers are our own helpmates, creatures manufactured from our very ribs and put here solely to succor us and entertain us as per divine order.

Once women established the concept of holy matrimony with the full support of both church and state, they knew they were in the driver's seat and they've never surrendered the wheel since. They made us sign up for life without parole. We had to stick around even in sickness and poverty till the Grim Reaper showed up at last and set us free.

We were easy prey, too. They decked themselves out in discreetly placed leaves and rubbed berry juice on their lips and adorned their bodies with shell necklaces and aromatic animal fat and lured various poor saps into a compromising situation and got knocked up. This enraged their fathers and hasty marriages were quickly arranged and the poor saps were reduced from proud, romantic figures roving the hinterlands in search of adventure to beleaguered dads desperately grubbing for enough provender to provide for a cave full of offspring endlessly demanding more of everything while their wives bitched and whined because they weren't doing enough to keep 'em as they felt they deserved to be kept.

Incidentally, until very recent times the above scenario in re marriage was the usual course of things throughout the planet. Girls flooded the countryside with those dread pheromones and guys knocked 'em up and shotguns were produced and marriages resulted. Actual proposals were almost unheard of and nobody got formally engaged. The guys just wanted to get laid and gave no thought to the consequences while the women, needless to say, gave much thought both to the laying and its consequences.

Shotgun weddings weren't aberrations then; they were the norm. Girls were often sent to convents in the Middle Ages to keep 'em away from guys and pregnancy with varying success. Chaperones were employed to watch over daughters and fend off unwanted suitors and still most girls ended up preceding a shotgun down the aisle. Such is the power of our libidos, especially when combined with the cunning and craftiness of woman in search of some poor sap to call her own.

Women lobbied forever more strict adultery laws in an effort to curb our perfectly normal tendency to covet every good-looking woman that crossed our path. Adulterers were jailed or whipped on occasion. Some were stoned, others driven into exile or worse.

Cuckolded husbands often shot their wives' lovers in what amounted to grave injustices. After all, they should shoot their errant wives instead since they're the ones who are obliged to say no. Certainly no one expects real men to refuse a handsome woman's inviting smile; such an act would run counter to our biblical instructions to sow that seed and multiply.

In any case, a married man limited to but one woman is forced to go against his nature and act in an unmanly manner. Monogamy, remember, is not a natural condition. It's rarely if ever found in nature. Oh, I know some people claim geese mate for life but a recent study by Dr. Ashii Tsunami found that wasn't the case at all. The good doctor wore a phony goose outfit and observed geese for thirty years as a virtual member of the flock. He learned that male geese are inveterate philanderers and will sneak off to rendezvous with available females every chance they get. So much for fowl fidelity.

It's clear that our propensity for having multiple women would clash with our wives' requirement of one to a customer. We've worked on the problem since it first became one and still haven't reached any satisfactory answers. Just saying no isn't a satisfactory answer, of course.

But more on all this later.

Things didn't change much all through the Renaissance and Elizabethan times and on down into the twentieth century. Men continued their usual roles as leaders and dominated home and public life in all its forms. Women continued to be mothers and wives in acting out their own destinies and things moved along nicely. We advanced ourselves by leaps and bounds from primitive savages to enlightened sophisticates under the plan laid out for us by the forces of nature herself and all was right in the world.

Then about thirty years or so ago some women became dissatisfied with their lot and began to insist that we let them run things for a while and the next thing we knew we were awash in feminists sans bras and good sense. They wanted to overturn all those eons of evolution and tradition and defy the clearly stated will of the gods by aspiring to places they were never intended to have and it's been all downhill ever since.

They resented it when we opened doors for 'em. They said they were independent people with individual worth and could open their own doors. They demanded respect and refused to be sex objects and wanted to be valued for their minds, if you can believe it. They claimed to be our equals and bitched because we couldn't furnish 'em with regular orgasms and railed against our chauvinism.

All along the feminist's chief goal has been to change things for the better by changing men into something else. After all, we're the problem, aren't we? If we're the thing that's broken, then we're the thing that needs fixing. All we have to do is allow ourselves to be made over to suit women's idea of what a proper man should be and presto! everything's hunky-dory. What could be simpler?

But is it so simple? Are we broken because women say we are? If women are screwed up, is the fault necessarily ours-or is it possible they're responsible for their own troubles? Maybe women should look to themselves if they're all that anxious to fix broken things and leave us the hell alone.

Finally, in the last few years men rebelled against the tyranny of NOW and reacted by forming a so-called men's movement which claimed to know what ails men and how to cure that ailment. People wrote books that became bestsellers and nerds and losers by the thousands flocked to the new gurus in search of some mysterious missing ingredient in their psyches that made 'em the wimps and losers they are.

And it's all so much bullshit, you know.

Anyway, that's how we got where we are today. Now let's take a closer look at just what the hell's going on here and see if we can make some sense of all the bullshit.

N. B.

1. Machismo is our heritage; don't apologize for it.

2. Women play supporting roles; men are stars. It's always been so.

3. Forget about divine intervention as there won't be any.

4. Beware of employers as they often demand a man's balls as a condition of employment.

5. Be an entrepreneur and take charge of your own balls.

6. Resist monogamy as it's unnatural and de-balls its adherents.

6. Remember, one's balls are terrible things to waste.

Chapter Four - The Men's Movement

Naturally, you'd expect some sort of reaction to the strident blasts of the feminists as the number of de-balled men grew steadily under their unrelenting pressure. After all, even the completely de-balled will eventually rise up and protest against outrage if they're pushed long and hard enough and so we did.

A counter-revolution was launched, or that's what we thought it was at first. Robert Bly became a kind of spokesman for the movement and wrote (along with numerous others) on the subject and organized encampments in the woods where guys could assemble and do manly stuff and assert their independence and defy women through the strength found in numbers.

Bly was going to show guys how to be real men, that was the plan. He had the secret, knew all about machismo and how to get it. All guys had to do was read his book, sign up for a campout or two, and that would do the trick.

Alas, it wasn't to be, though. The whole men's movement turned out to be a hoax, a fraud, an elaborate scheme to dupe men with ploys designed to pick their pockets even as they drove us even further into a kind of national henpeckerdom.

Ironically, Bly, et al., promised an antidote to feminism and de-balling and ended by actually helping women wield their sharp instruments as they went about their evil work. They did so by adopting women's goals and secretly advancing their agenda even as they claimed to be restoring lost balls and making men real men again.

These guys came out foursquare in favor of women and against men and their positions are in print for all to see. They turned their backs on real men, switched off Monday night football and replaced it with tapes of General Hospital. They're against all traditionally masculine activities such as cigar smoking, drinking beer, playing pool, girl watching, fistfighting, and similar pastimes. Instead, these charlatans encourage us to get in touch with our feelings, open up and reveal our innermost secrets, and cry unashamedly.

Don't they know these last are all female characteristics? These are things women do. Women love all this crap, they get off on sharing secrets and opening up and sobbing their hearts out over a hangnail or because some brute promised to call and didn't.

Bly wrote a bestselling book called Iron John, as opaque a work as you're likely to find anywhere and completely devoid of sense. The thing's full of monsters, wild beasts, fairy princes, hobgoblins, elves, magical keys, mysterious voyages, evil forces, dark forests, and lots more. People swear oaths and pound on drums and chant and generally freak out and the poor reader hasn't a clue as to what's going on.

It's also plain dumb. For example, in the first chapter a guy approaches the King and he's told there's a forest nearby that lots of guys enter but none ever leaves. Naturally, our hero immediately decides that's for him and he heads into the forest with his dog.

As you can see, the story's silly already since only a complete simpleton would rush pell-mell into a woods nobody ever comes out of but this is typical Bly.

Anyway, this guy enters the woods and comes to a pond. As he goes by a hand suddenly reaches up from the pond and grabs the guy's dog and pulls it under. The hero calmly goes back and gets some guys to help him pump out the pond and they find a rusty, hairy man lying on the bottom. (No further mention is made of the dog.) They take the hairy man back to the castle and the King locks him in a dungeon and gives the key to the Queen.

What's that? Bly said nobody ever returned from the woods so how the hell did this guy make it out? And where would he find more guys willing to follow his ass back into these woods of no return? Look, it's not my story, I'm just repeating what Bly wrote. I told you it didn't make any sense, didn't I?

Well, there's more of this drivel. There's a lot of stuff about demons created by missing fathers filling holes in psyches and further muddying of an already murky meaning. Here's a quote, for example, by Bly of another writer who's apparently as opaque as Bly himself. "...if the son does not actually see what his father does during the day and through all the seasons of the year, a hole will appear in the son's psyche, and the hole will fill with demons who tell him that his father's work is evil and that the father is evil."

You see, Bly claims all our troubles were caused by the Industrial Revolution when men were forced to leave home to work in factories and weren't around to teach their boys how to tie fishing flies and hit a baseball. In other words, we're screwed-up because we didn't spend enough time with dad and never learned hot to tie a proper knot.

Isn't that astonishing?

And utterly silly. My father was a working stiff, a blue-collar guy who drove a city bus and raised an enormous number of children. I never actually saw him drive his bus and yet I never thought he was up to anything evil when he left at the crack of dawn every day. All I know is he worked long hours, lived frugally, loved his family, and was a first-rate dad. If there were ever any holes in my psyche, I'm pretty sure they never filled up with demons.

Or how's this for sheer foolishness? Since our missing dads spent all their time doing evil things on the job and failed to serve as positive male role models, we have to find a father-figure somewhere else and learn knot-tying from him instead. Bly calls this new "dad" a mentor.

Okay, so here's his plan. Each boy is to find an older man, some joker in the neighborhood who'll agree to serve as his mentor and teach him how to tie knots. I assume this guy will also take him places like ballgames and movies and fishing and whatnot. He'll play the role of his absent father and supply him with the missing ingredients necessary to become a real man.

This mentor will help the kid become a man. He'll be his boon companion, his guide, his guru, his pal. The kid will hang out with him and look up to him and he'll forget all about that loser of a dad who's too busy committing unspeakable acts at work to give him the time of day.

Swell. Sounds okay, right? It's sort of like having two dads, one to work his ass off providing for our material needs and another to be a pal and show us a good time. What kid could want a better deal?

But Bly's plan is fatally flawed twice over. Think about it. He wants us to attach ourselves to a mentor but where the hell is the average kid going to find an older man who has the time or inclination to teach knot tying to somebody else's kid? For one thing, don't most older neighborhood men have kids or grand kids of their own who need knot-tying lessons? Aren't these guys already pretty busy with their own lives without taking on the responsibility for the guy next door's kid?

I use myself as an example. I raised three sons of my own and I didn't get any help from the other guys in the neighborhood. As I remember it, we each assumed responsibility for our own progeny and either did or did not teach knot tying. I guess a lot of kids actually grew up without ever learning how to tie a decent knot and yet most of these kids turned out all right and might even be called real men today.

So there's flaw number one. You just won't find any older neighborhood men willing to do your old man's job for him. Ask around and see for yourself.

"Hey, Mr. Smith, my father's too busy to take me to the ball game. Will you take me?"

"Get lost, kid. Can't you see I'm busy?"

"But the hole in my psyche's filling up with demons and..."

"Beat it, kid, or I'll call a cop."

That's about how that scene would play out, at least it is if the little beggar came around my house. I mean, what's in it for me? Do I gain anything by playing mentor to my neighbor's kid? Of course not. In fact, I not only gain little from such an arrangement but I stand to lose a great deal in the bargain.

And that brings us to the second fatal flaw. Any old codger who'd agree to hang around a lot of young boys would soon find his ass arrested as a pedophile and thrown into the clink as a deviate and sleaze ball.

Think of it. An older guy starts hanging around your twelve-year-old son. He gives the kid candy and befriends him around the neighborhood. You see this going on but you're a real ignoramus and attach no special meaning to it.

Next, he helps your kid fix his bike and invites him in for the odd cookie and milk social and then offers to take him to ball games and movies and then on overnight camping trips and all this time you're never going to wise up to this pervert's motives?

What would be your first reaction if an older neighborhood man began to show an undue interest in your young son? Damn right, you'd get a board and beat the crap out of the guy on the spot and warn him to keep his ass away from your kid or you'd shoot him dead. You'd respond this way because you haven't been living in some mythological world with Bly for the last several decades and know damn well only child molesters hustle young boys.

Have you been reading the newspapers lately? Do you ever watch these cop shows? Or any of the talk shows featuring pervert stories? Why, there's an endless parade of pedophiles and similar wacko on these shows with the most awful tales ever told. These guys are running amuck in every neighborhood in America and wreaking untold damage on innocent kids everywhere.

And what kinds of guys are they exposing as child molesters? You think they're all ugly guys with ragged scars on their cheeks and drool draining from mouths with pronounced canine teeth? Hah! They're Boy Scout leaders and favorite teachers, uncles and neighbors, dentists and cab drivers; the bastards are everywhere and all incognito. They wear three-piece suits and jeans and clerical collars and pretend to be something they're not and we never know who they are or where they'll strike next.

And with all that said, Bly wants you to turn your young son over to such a "mentor" so the kid can compensate for your having a job that makes you leave the house every day.

Isn't that bizarre? How could a guy come up with such an inane scheme? Two minutes of even distracted thinking would be enough to show the plan for what it is, i.e., flawed and silly.

What all this adds up to, of course, is Bly's attempt to feminize men by encouraging us to develop our feminine sides and learn to be more ladylike. The truth is, the last thing men need today is another dose of pseudo-masculinity crap shoved down our throats by a lot of psychological transvestites running around in men's clothes while wearing mental bras and garter belts. We've been fed this feminine conversion crap for thirty years now and we can see where such a diet leads.

Men are confused today and Bly adds to the confusion with his malarkey about elves and hobgoblins. Nobody knows what the hell our role is supposed to be nowadays. Are we supposed to be tough guys who face down danger with impunity and scowl at fear itself? Don't our boys need football and hockey and healthy macho images to bring out their manly qualities? Have we been wrong all this time?

The answers are yes, yes, and hell, no. Raising kids to be real men has been the goal of every society because it's always been clear even to primitive people that it's the way nature planned it. Girls are taught to behave like girls; they learn how to play house and gossip and apply makeup and shop and withhold sex and fake orgasms and nag and deceive and cry and do all the things women have always done.

When these girls grew up they became wives and mothers and mistresses and librarians and they practiced their nurturing skills on husbands, kids, sugar daddies, and books. Everybody knew what women were expected to do and how they were expected to act and we sailed along smoothly from caves and clubs to condos and the nuclear age. Apparently, we were doing something right.

Men, on the other hand, eschewed gossip, crying, and withholding sex in favor of activities more suited to their own needs and the needs of society. We taught 'em how to run and shoot and fight and suffer pain and bear up under adverse conditions and defend women and kids and do all the things men have always done. It was a symbiotic relationship and worked to the advantage of everyone concerned. All this was before NOW and Bly, of course.

With this record of success behind us, why this crazy desire to turn us all into so many wimps and weaklings? What's the point? Are all these guys really on NOW's payroll? Have they had sex change operations and truly become women? Are we on our way to a unisex world where the sexes become indistinguishable one from another?

Of course not. No misguided so-called men's movement can undo the work of eons of evolution, not even one filled with starry-eyed Blys and whole rafts of hairy men. Man's nature is ingrained in him, it's in his genes, his spirit, his very maleness. We will be men long after the Blys of the world have disappeared without a trace, their ideas in tatters and their drumbeats and howls faded away to distant echoes beyond anyone's hearing.

Now let's take a look at yet another aspect of the men's movement, an alarming concept that's striking at the very heart of our masculinity. One of the main tenets of all movement leaders is that men must learn how to cry. For some peculiar reason these guys think it's important that men cry a lot and they all offer special courses designed to turn on the spigots.

I've seen these guys conducting crying sessions in the woods at night and it's a frightful scene, one out of a Hieronymus Bosch landscape. There's something unnerving about watching a lot of heavy equipment operators and lumberjacks standing around blubbering like a bunch of women coming out of a tearjerker movie.

The leaders work 'em into a lather just like some tin horn evangelist shearing the sheep in his tent on some back lot somewhere.

"Okay, boys," the leader intones, "let's talk about your fathers now. You never got to know your fathers, did you? That's because somebody started the Industrial Revolution and your fathers went to work in distant factories and abandoned you to the care of your mothers who weren't man enough for the job."

Two or three lummoxes in the back sniff a bit and a couple more clear their throats.

"And your fathers didn't teach you how to be real men, did they?" he goes on. "They never took you fishing or showed you how to tie knots or throw a curve. They never took the time to listen to you. In fact, they never really talked to you, did they?"

A sob is wrenched from some half-wit down front and two truck drivers begin to wail mournfully. Somebody blows his nose.

"So you were deserted by your fathers and you couldn't find a mentor and you were never initiated into manhood and now it's too late. You're all alone,

abandoned, and unable to tie a decent knot."

At this point a former linebacker breaks down altogether and starts blubbering like a baby and the rest of the crowd joins him and the leader beams with pride on what he's wrought.

Isn't that an appalling scene?

What's more, what's the point? How does it help us become real men by blubbering openly and unashamedly? Remember Gen. Schwarzkopf of Desert Storm fame? He announced on TV that he cried regularly during the campaign and he was proud of it, too. Maybe he attended one of those camp-outs with Bly and got his brain thoroughly washed along with the other simpletons who show up at those affairs. It's a cinch he didn't learn how to cry at West Point.

Anyway, is Schwarzkopf really a better general because he rains teardrops all over his field maps? I think not.

And what happens to the general's image when his subordinates see their leader crying all over the place? Could you imagine Gen. Patton sobbing his little heart out in his tent late at night or Gen. Eisenhower having a good cry with his aides?

It's the eve of the Normandy invasion. Eisenhower and Patton are in Ike's command post. Two soldiers meet.

"How's Ike doin'?" the first says.

"Oh, don't worry about ol' Ike," the other says. "Right now he's in there havin' a good cry with Gen. Patton, but they'll be ready to kick ass come mornin'."

"Yeah, Ike's a sensitive guy and all the soldiers respect him. He reminds me of my missing father who deserted me an'..."

Isn't that absurd?

A more likely scenario featuring crying generals might go something like this.

"How's Ike doin'?"

"Oh, don't you worry about ol' Ike. He's in there right now havin' a good cry with Gen. Patton and..."

"What?! They're cryin'? What the hell are they cryin' about?"

"Well, maybe they're cryin' 'cause they figure we're gonna get our asses kicked tomorrow an'..."

Alarmed, the first guy says, "Yeah, that's it! I'll bet they know somethin' we don't know. Maybe the Germans got some kind of new sub an' every ship's gonna get sunk in the goddam channel an' we'll all drown like rats!"

"Hey, you're right! Come on, let's spread the word. Maybe we can go AWOL an' hide out in London till these guys get a grip on themselves!"

That's what you'd get if generals started crying on us. Guys don't have much confidence in leaders who break into tears on a moment's notice and it's because crying is considered inappropriate and unmanly, and especially so in guys who are supposed to be macho by virtue of the work they do.

What the hell are Bly and his cohorts saying to American men, anyway? That by becoming criers we'll somehow be better men? What nonsense! What we'll become is more feminized men and that's not where we need to go. Crying is and always has been a woman's game and men will gain nothing by imitating women in the crying dodge; in fact, things would be a lot worse in every way if we carried this business to its logical conclusion.

For example, a burglar is breaking into your house late at night and your wife wakes you. She announces that she hears a burglar and you hear him, too. Somebody is moving the furniture out of your living room and your terrified wife goes to pieces. She jumps out of bed and hides in the closet and sobs uncontrollably.

Okay, what do you do? Well, if you've been to one of those midnight seminars with Bly you're likely to break into tears and join your wife in the closet. And why not? Isn't that what they've taught you to do? Isn't crying the appropriate response to stressful situations?

But will people be pissed if they learn you hid in the closet and cried with your wife? Damn right they will. That's shameful behavior and we know it intuitively. While it's okay for a woman to hide and cry, it's not okay for a man to do so. A man's duty is to snatch up a Louisville slugger and sally forth into the living room to do battle with the asshole that's threatening his family.

Instead of teaching men how to be crybabies in woodsy settings around campfires, we should be hardening their asses in tackle football games and fist- fighting. Men should know what their duty is instinctively and rise to meet it without any confusion about how they should conduct themselves. Anything else makes us all something less than real men.

Boys need to be taught to hold back tears. Tough guys play hurt. A pat on the ass, maybe a shot of cortisone, and it's back in the game. Their teammates will respect 'em and admiring cheerleaders will vie with each other to give 'em some.

But how would it look if the halfback got slammed down by a half-dozen linemen and he came to the sidelines crying like a baby? What would the coach say? How would his pals react? Would cheerleaders be moved to let this guy have any nooky? Why, he'd be laughed off the field, that's what would happen. He'd never score again, either on or off the field.

We all recognize that tears from a penitent television evangelist confessing

he's just laid the entire choir and is in fear of losing his TV show are disgraceful in the extreme and bring great shame on men everywhere. So would unabashed weeping by some tough police sergeant who's sobbing because he had his feelings hurt.

Aside from these and other obviously unacceptable cases, though, there are lots of times when even the most macho guys out there can cry with abandon and it's perfectly okay. Any great tragedy will suffice such as the loss of a child or a nuclear blast that decimates New Jersey or the failure of the Cubs to have a winning season again.

A real man can always cry and get away with it in moments of great joy, too. I've seen men cry tears of happiness and relief when their divorces came through, and others cry when they hit the lottery or hit a grand slam to win the World Series. Some guys cry when they're retiring after fifty years with the same company or getting the Humanitarian of the Year award and this is all well and good because people understand such tears.

But beyond these few cases male tears are unacceptable. It may be chic and "in" for guys to claim to be sensitive types able to cry on command but this fad won't last. In fact, this whole sensitivity crap is nothing more than a fad that will soon go the way of all fads and the trend-setters will come up with some new fraud to hoodwink the public.

Well, don't you be a part of it. Our goal is to do manly stuff and stop apologizing for it. Refuse to go camping with Bly and his pals. Avoid drums and drumming. Don't hug anybody who's not a beautiful woman.

Above all, keep the spigots turned off and we'll all be better men for it.

N. B.

1. Beware of phony gurus-or any other kind.

2. Stay out of woods from which nobody ever returns.

3. Keep an eye on older neighborhood guys who offer to be mentors to your young son. If one shows up have his ass arrested.

4. Don't be a crybaby; it's unmanly as hell.

5. Save tears for major calamities and/or moments when macho tears are called for.

6. Above all, refuse to let burly truck drivers blubber all over you in woodsy settings-or anywhere else.

You can't quit now or you'll remain a dweeb and be mocked by small children and disdained by girls of all ages. Order a copy and get your manhood back.

I might add that Grandpa Ganja is no misogynist; I've been married to the same wife for 58 years and she thinks I'm cool.

The story above is a satire or parody. It is entirely fictitious.

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