23 year old Benjamin stands perched on a narrow plank at the bow of a modestly sized wooden boat. The other men behind him ease their oars through the water, gently pushing the craft forward. Benjamin is nervous. It is his first time and there is a lot riding on his success. Just minutes earlier his older brother made an attempt and failed.
When the moment is right he leaps into the air, holding the harpoon, easily twice as long as his body, as far above his head as he can. He comes down with all the force he can muster, slamming the barbed head into the flesh of the 50 ton Sperm Whale, then turning about as quickly as possible and swimming back to the boat before the thrashing animal kills him.
Eight hours and a tremendous fight later Benjamin’s village has enough food to eat for months.
###
Sam Yang steps forward gingerly on the high wire. He grips the cable above him for balance and inches ahead aware that a misstep could mean his life. This is not a circus show. There is no crowd watching, spellbound and breathless. Beneath him there is no net. Instead, a few yards under his feet is the Mekong River. It is rainy season and the water rages beneath him faster and more violent than Niagara Falls. The Mekong at this time of year produces the most turbulent and deadly rapids on the planet.
Sam is on a fishing trip, which he needs to do or his wife and children won’t eat.
###
Sulaiman, a miner in East Java, chokes from the noxious gasses and keeps chipping away at the yellow stone. His eyes, skin and lungs burn from the acid mist in the air. When he finally has two baskets filled with 200 pounds of sulphur, he hoists them up and settles the wooden rod (we should call it a yoke) on his calloused, disfigured shoulders and begins the long ascent back up out of the volcano to have the sulphur weighed and get paid.
His window for doing this kind of work, and making this kind of money is short. Within a very few years his body will begin to break down and he will have to find other ways to support his family.
###
Rakita, a Dorobo hunter, is 65 years old. He leads two younger men with him across the savanna floor, on the prowl for wildebeest. Rakita is training his young companions on a specific technique, namely how to take prey from lions while they are feasting. His method is simple. He finds a pride who have just made a kill, in this case one of about 13 lions. Then he walks up to them, staring them down and temporarily intimidating them so that he can take a portion of the fallen animal from them.
The lions scatter as he invades their space and assess him through the brush, their freshly blood covered mouths baring teeth. He quickly carves off a haunch, hefts it over his shoulder and walks slowly away from the kill.
This one, methinks, needs to be repeated. The hunter walked up to a large pride of lions in the middle of a feeding frenzy, bearing only a spear, and freaking took their food from them.
###
In the age of technology these stories seem amazing, almost incomprehensible. It would be easy to stand (or sit) in awe of all of it here on my sofa, typing away in the air conditioned comfort of my townhome. I am doing this, of course, after having watched all this in the BBC Miniseries “Human Planet,” on a high definition, 46” television, pausing with the remote whenever I needed something to snack on or take a piss.
I try to remember that while entertaining, this is not Hollywood. It is the story of human beings, the most intelligent, resilient and resourceful species to ever inhabit the planet. In the days before microprocessors, gunpowder and a thousand other things that softened us into doughy blobs of couch dwelling leisure addicts, this is how the human race survived.
These “primitive” societies are living reminders of our collective roots, and perhaps more indicative of our true potential and capability than landing a man on the moon. And all four of these real life scenarios have several things in common aside from the absence of modern technology.
The most obvious, of course, is the correlating absence of women.
Wherever you go on planet earth and still find cultures living in the more Neolithic style of our ancestors; wherever there is an absence of life softening technology; wherever you find that stamina, strength, courage and extreme risk are needed to ensure survival, you also find the male domination so bemoaned by fat-assed, insulated academicians and gender ideologues across the technologically advanced west.
There are no exceptions to this.
None.
There never have been.
And it is proof, before our very eyes, that feminism isn’t a product of social progress, but technological progress. Women, despite whatever deluded notions we currently maintain about their capabilities, would do nothing but ensure the end of the human race were they collectively given anything to do outside of childrearing, typing and complaining. And the fact is, despite some rather significant changes in the last half century, that is what most of them are still doing.
I know how harsh that sounds. The truth often is. And I suppose there is still just enough PC influence in my brain to point out that there are some women, for whatever reason, who have the tenacity to compete effectively with men in the realm of survival. They have my respect, as do women who don’t possess that tenacity but don’t imagine the world of men has wronged them because of it.
Women have their own strengths and capabilities, but enough to ensure the survival of the species? Not on your life. As I said, never have, never will.
That is why you see the results of women’s “liberation” in the form of a degenerate obsession with vanity, celebrity gossip and consumerism. Even their political inclinations, once operating under at least a phony guise of legitimacy, have now devolved into nothing more than self-serving, female centric industries like DV, rape advocacy and women’s health.
Men conquered the world and made humans flourish. Women took that world and gave us slutwalks; a whine fest for the painfully unfuckable.
It is tempting for me to just suggest to women that they just say thank you and try not to be so childish and aggravating, in order to show appreciation for a world so advanced by men that it gave them time to organize a cellulite parade; that they even had time to think of such a thing. But I will pass on that.
I don’t want thanks for things I didn’t do myself any more than I want blame for other things I didn’t to either.
What I will do though, and without compunction, is point something out that the blue pill world has distorted for the last half century.
Remember young Benjamin, the whale killer at the beginning of our story? As is the custom of his culture, as the whale killer, he was rewarded with many of the choicest parts of the massive quarry.
It is a really simple concept based on common sense, justice and the need to create incentives for performance in the survival game.
Those that produce are given preference over those who don’t. Those who take the risks, shed the blood and lay it on the line are rightly given more power and prestige. It’s not a sexist conspiracy; it is as simple as having the good sense of handing the ball to the fastest runner, if you want to win the game. And it is also as simple as having the humility to hoist him up on your shoulders for the accolades when he scores a touchdown.
I can just imagine what some blue pill zombies would think about this. The poor sots know little else than their default position that women have been prevented from doing the things men do so in the end all of this is sexism and patriarchy.
I can only think of one thing to say to that:
Get the fuck out of my face with that bullshit.
Do you think Sam Yang’s wife is being prevented from walking that wire over the rapids? Do you think there are women standing in line for their chance to walk into an active volcano and carry twice their body weight in sulphur up the side of a mountain?
Are village women being held back from their turn with the harpoon?
Well, if they are, there might be a good reason for it; like the fact that stupid, dead women can’t, without technology provided by men, land a whale or feed a village.
One thing I have always loved about the truth is its eternal indifference to whether or not people like it.
