Jesse Bone: Women on Tap

The as-promised Jesse Stone analysis.

I first heard of the Jesse Stone series a couple years ago when they showed up on Netflix Instant. I tend to like the movies that Tom Selleck picks, and from that I deduced that I would probably like the sort of work produced by the sort of people that would pick Tom Selleck to star in their movie. While Magnum P.I. is his most famous, his cowboy roles are not far behind in popularity. Westerns are one of the few genres where conservative minds are still depicted in an unabashed manner. It’s a natural fit for the outdoorsy and Republican-voting NRA spokesman. So, on that recommendation I watched the first one, “Jesse Stone: Stone Cold”. It was sort of slow, and quite somber; which pretty much describes the whole series…or at least the first five. It’s also directed squarely at the kind of people who would be accused described as conservative-minded; particularly those who are middle-aged (or soon to be) and female.

Jesse Stone is a former Los Angeles homicide detective who takes a job as sheriff of a sleepy New England village. He does this because his wife started having an affair which culminated in her leaving him. In turn, Jesse began drinking heavily, even getting in trouble for doing so on the job. Though he ran away from that life he remains in daily contact with his ex-wife via nightly phone calls; usually with the handset in one hand, and two fingers of Johnnie Walker Red Label in the other. In between solving murder cases, shooting bad guys, talking to his ex, and getting blitzed on good booze, Jesse finds the time to bed a number of women; at a rate of about two per episode. They are all attractive women between 32-to-40 years of age, have their own careers, and are eager to jump in the sack with him. That never occurs later than their first date–if they make it that far.

From a marketing perspective it is very clever. For starters: They managed to combine ALL the conservative heroic career tropes into one character: wrongly disgraced former cop, current cop, cowboy from the wild west, even a Los Angeles noir vibe. The only thing missing is military service, but I’ll bet it’s in the backstory somewhere. As I said: clever. That conglomerated conservative hero outline suggests that a whole lot of thought when into making him as broadly appealing as possible.

Here’s where I think conservatives are confused (see: Sherlock-by-way-of-GKC “You see but you do not observe”): Can you tell me which of the romantic plotlines is meant to appeal to men, and which to women, and why?

The phonecalls with his ex-wife are mostly for the male viewers; men who want their women to appreciate them for who they are, what they’ve done, and what they’ve sacrificed. Granted, this pulls a bit on the heartstrings of women, because they’d really like their respective men to be this hung-up on them, and they believe they’d treat their men better. If you took this storyline out, men would be less satisfied with the show. Women could take it or leave it.

But female characters in the series take their turns on Jesse’s bone for the female viewers; who identify with and idolize the strong female character with a great figure, good career, and space in Jesse’s bed. It doesn’t bother the female audience at all that he’s had many women there; all that matters is that their avatar–the sexy empowered career woman–secures the chance to be the last one there. Men, I think, don’t care about the bed-hopping either way. You could take these parts out of the story and male viewers wouldn’t care at all. Women, however, would stop watching.

If you point out this female preference for illicit sex in film they will deny it all day long, and if that doesn’t silence you then prepare to be called: petty, judgmental, tyrannical, disproportionate, etc. If you were to do the same to a guy about Maxim magazine, he’d shrug, and say, “Yeah, you’re right, but I like boobs.”

The real truth about porn is that it’s not even “mostly” a men’s problem. I have read several times now that porn is “becoming” a problem for women because now they comprise 30% of the hardcore video porn consumers. So that’s…

  • 30% of hardcore video porn
  • 97% of porn literature (smut novels, etc.)
  • 97% of porn in R movies
  • 72% of porn in music (generally, guys don’t listen to female artists, but girls do listen to male artists)
  • 72% of porn in magazine racks (tabloids, Cosmo, Maxim, Redbook, etc.)
  • 2% of porn in adult magazine racks (Playboy, Penthouse, etc.)

I took off 3% for the gays. If we factor in who is creating and modeling all this porn, then the percentages only go up. All I’ve included is (reasonable guesses of) the consumer market.

The Deliciousness of Bad Eggs

There exists a context–pop/current culture–that is totally out of our control. If I examine a show as if it existed outside that context then I might say: “Hey, that show is fine.” In my opinion it is very stupid of conservatives to do this, and this is how they lose the culture war. It’s not a coincidence that every year Disney makes a movie about strong entitled princesses that either reject their father, or he is simply not around. It doesn’t matter to them either way, because the main point is to make movies that highlight strong females who do not need a father to succeed; that all their sins mistakes make them the beautiful heroines they were always meant to be.

I do not buy the line that women filter out the things we want them to filter out; the “bad eggs” as bad, for example. I can’t tell you how many times I’ve heard women say–of a pop hit they’re singing–,”Oh, I don’t pay attention to the words.” It’s a lie. It’s a flat-out lie, and they think they can sell it because they know men want to believe women are angels; that they don’t want dick; that they don’t think about sex; that they don’t linger on John Mayer’s much discussed sexual merits when they listen to his songs; that they don’t want to be the most beautiful and haughty princess who lives in a castle and has a potentially dangerous but ultimately harmless liaisons with foreign princes. Women don’t exist in a moral vacuum; waiting to be pulled towards or spared from bad eggs. They love them some bad eggs. (Which is why I detest the stupid idea that women like strong provider types, and that why they like bad boys is because they are actually displaying provider tendencies. My experience is they liked me bad.)

Re-purposed from this comment.

An Example of Harmful Risk-Aversion

In the comments of the previous post on why I will remain anonymous[1] SunshineMary asked:

Cane, I’m a little confused at the two things you are comparing. The liberal examples you gave are examples of corrupt cronyism. Why should conservatives emulate that?

Because if it’s not corrupt it’s not cronyism, and if we actually are correct, then it’s not corrupt. Let’s compare a couple of fictitious (but common) examples of what I’m talking about.

Libby Left Makes Good

Libby Left is in marketing, and pro-abortion. On Saturday she goes out to counter-protest a pro-life group picketing outside a Planned Parenthood. Enraged by their presence, Libby crosses the street to the pro-lifers to shout slurs directly in their faces. This is so invigorating to her that she completely loses her senses and begins to spit on them. A brawl ensues. The police and media are called, and Libby is among several arrested and makes the headlines of the local rags as the instigator.

Monday she returns to work, and Sindy–Libby’s boss–asks her all about the experience. Regretfully, for Sindy, public pressure mounts on their company, and she is forced to let Libby go for the sake of the company’s public image. Not only does Sindy give Libby a stellar recommendation, she calls a few friends for drinks and they find her a job at another marketing agency. A month later, no one remembers Libby was fired for acting like a barbarian, but the story of her arrest–spitting and all–makes her a hero at parties.

Connor Right Gets Isolated

Connor Right is a facilities manager for a chain of Christian bookstores. Saturday he and his wife participated in a pro-life protest against the opening of a new Planned Parenthood office in his city. While he was there, a crazed counter-protester raged at him for ten minutes; culminating when she purposefully splattered his wife’s face with the mucus her yelling had generated. Connor retaliates, and shoves her down onto the grass. The police, having been summoned, witness the spitting and Connor’s retort, and both he and the spitter are arrested. Connor makes bail, and the news.

The following Monday, Connor’s fellow church member and boss, Sinclair, has security meet Connor at the door. He is escorted off the property and told his belongings will be delivered to his house. Frantic for his family’s welfare, Connor calls his boss for an explanation. Sinclair simply says, “You can’t hit a girl, Connor.” He replies that he knows what he did was wrong, but Connor’s pleas only encourage his boss that he’s doing the right thing. Sinclair sums up his obligatory Christian charity with, “You should have known better. I’ll pray for you.”, and they never speak again.

Why?

In neither case did the involved party transgress the values of the associated groups, nor the relationships between themselves and their employers, nor the friendships. The difference is Sindy values Libby’s association, shared principles, and has no problem extending Libby mercy to re-cover from an error committed while upholding those principles.

Sinclair values his own sense of justice and order above all else; including Connor’s association and shared principles…and Connor’s family.[2] He abandons any actual charity or redemption for the appearance of holiness; that others will not think he is like Connor. More importantly: It’s really important to Sinclair that others don’t believe he is like Connor; whether he is or not, and whether they will think it or not simply because he helps Connor find a new job.

In this age, there is very little that can be done about the pressure the media puts on a company, and it’s not fair to shut down a whole company just to keep on one man (even for the sake of his family). Many of those other workers have families, too. But that’s not the issue. The problem isn’t that sometimes men get knocked down; it’s that conservatives don’t want to make it their business to help those men back up; not even those who are repentant. They offer nothing but wishes.

Further reading:

The Parable of the Good Samaritan

The Parable of the Wicked Servant

The Introduction to the Book of Job (specifically)

If the Jews had answered that question wrongly they might have lost all their after influence in human history. They might have sunk even down to the level of modern well educated society. For when once people have begun to believe that prosperity is the reward of virtue their next calamity is obvious. If prosperity is regarded as the reward of virtue it will be regarded as the symptom of virtue. Men will leave off the heavy task of making good men successful. They will adopt the easier task of making out successful men good. This, which has happened throughout modern commerce and journalism, is the ultimate Nemesis of the wicked optimism of the comforters of Job. If the Jews could be saved from it, the Book of Job saved them. The Book of Job is chiefly remarkable, as I have insisted throughout, for the fact that it does not end in a way that is conventionally satisfactory. Job is not told that his misfortunes were due to his sins or a part of any plan for his improvement.

But in the prologue we see Job tormented not because he was the worst of men, but because he was the best. It is the lesson of the whole work that man is most comforted by paradoxes. Here is the very darkest and strangest of the paradoxes; and it is by all human testimony the most reassuring. I need not suggest what a high and strange history awaited this paradox of the best man in the worst fortune. I need not say that in the freest and most philosophical sense there is one Old Testament figure who is truly a type; or say what is prefigured in the wounds of Job.

[1] I will say that I don’t fear being outed, or doxxed. This wasn’t always the case (I think I wrote about that incident somewhere before), but it’s ultimately in God’s hands. The point isn’t whether I have faith that God can or will preserve what He wants preserve, but how I do not believe we are actually willing to participate.

[2]That’s an important point because, generally speaking, those of the conservative mindset are more likely to be married and have children. A conservative, then, is objectively more valuable because he represents many more people than just himself. Sinclair’s arrogance is more valuable to him than 4.1 people!

More Human than You, Man

Recently, I’ve given people around $70 for the privilege of watching pictures flit by at a high rate of speed in two respective sequences. One called “Don Jon”, and another with the captivating title, “Prisoners”. (bah-dum-ch!) Reviews will probably be forthcoming, but for now I want to talk about a third film that I saw twice while waiting to retrieve my already surrendered value coupons.

It’s a documentary advert about an appliance that can answer answer obscure questions, build confidence, provide companionship, and instruct mating habits. The appliance is called Nexus 7.

Like Government Check Dad, this app can’t play catch, but it does leave Mom free to live a more empowered and YOLO life than previous generations could afford. I’m not sure how the Treehouse of Solitude gets built under this dynamic, but once it is the kid can just hang there by himself and let Google’s pathetic bastardization of The Young Gentleman’s Illustrated Primer initiate him into the mysteries of life.

Monocular Vision

I’ve been in one city that is not my city for entirely too long. There was a mess-up in the scheduling, and I ended up being here 3 days between events. I need to go home for a bit, but that won’t happen for just over a week.

When you’re on the road, everything is…well, I was going to say an adventure, but I do it so much that it feels like a chore. So, no, it’s not an adventure. You do have to prepare, though, and be diligent in where you go, and what you do. Nothing is automatic. I can’t wake up and stumble into the kitchen to make coffee. If I want coffee, but not the really unholy concoction that’s in my hotel room (even a 5-star hotel room) I have to think about where I’m going. Here, I’ve got access to the club; so I just have to go down the hall. Still, it’s terribly bad form to stroll down to the club in your skivvies. I have to get dressed, and since I’m getting dressed, I might as well shower and shave.

You can see how this is screwing up my routine, because I haven’t even talked about a cigarette yet, which is the next thought after coffee, and very often before. Caldo law says I get up, pull on the basketball shorts I left next to the bed last night, make coffee, and go out to the garage to smoke a cigarette, check my email, and read the news. Here, on the road, I have to get dressed, and shower, and run through the rigamarole of getting Ready For The Day before I get a taste of civilization.

Going out, among people, first thing in the morning to get coffee, is an exercise in manners. Those are those words we say and gestures we make to keep from grunting and and scowling and shoving each other in the hallways as we make our way to the coffee. When you first start doing this, you will make the mistake of saying something stupid, like, “How are you?” You’d be surprised how many people answer this, like I care before coffee and a cigarette. Worse are the people who, in their rage, flip it back on you: “Good. How are you?”

Bastard. Now I have to lie, or tell them the truth; which sounds like: “Mnuh.” The lie it is. “Good, thanks.”

At some point, I realized that it’s a lot easier to sound like I’ve got a monocle, and say, “Good morning.” “Good morning” is great because I’m not talking about me, but you. I’m expressing a wish that you have a good morning…and, generally, I do. I’m hoping it’s so good that you don’t need any coffee, and so won’t get in my way, or take the last cup; making me wait for the next pot to brew.

The ritual of manners is so useful that I began using it all the time. I say, “Good morning”, or “Good day”, “Good afternoon”, “Good evening”, and even “Good night” all day long. Everyone responds in kind, and I can tell by the smile playing on their lips, that the tension, caused by their fear that I might ask them how they’re doing, has been released from their souls.

On this event, every day I had to pass by another vendor. She is 38-40, with long mostly brown hair that is streaked in that way middle-aged white American women are so fond of. She was thin and tallish; about 5′ 10″ in heels, with narrow non-child-bearing hips, and a boob job. In a word, attractive, if you’re into aging careerists. And every day, I said, “Good morning”, to her. And as I went out during the day for another cigarette, or a refill of coffee, I’d invoke the manners again. “Good day.” “Good evening.” “Another day!”

On the third day, I got a package delivered to me, but it wasn’t for me, and it wasn’t from someone I recognized. I did what anyone does when they get a package they didn’t order: I opened it. It was a specialized lock, and it had a note, “Pamela- Here is the lock…” It’s really not important what the note said, but I thought I should find out who Pamela was since she obviously needed something special locked.

I had to walk by the careerist woman again, and, on a whim, I asked, “Does the name Pamela mean anything to you?” She looked like a Pamela.

“Yes.”

“And? What does it mean?”

“That’s my name.”

“Then this is for you.” And I handed off the package, and went to refill my coffee. The rest of the day, when I’d smile, and say “Good afternoon”, she’d say something different. She started asking, “How are you?” Criminny. Now what? The lie, again? I hate lying. That’s why I put on the verbal monocle. It’s not that I’m trying not to sin, or be noble. I simply don’t feel like I should have to, but to say, “This coffee is trying to leak out of me, and I am getting irritated that I’m still in this stupid hotel with all you vapid sales people.” is to disembowel oneself, professionally.

“Well, that’s an excellent question, I’m glad you brought me up.”, and I smile and walk away.

This went on until the fifth day, except that from that package-point on, she said, “Good morning”, to me before I got near her table. She continually trespassed all over my monocle manners; asking me how I was doing; engaging me in smalltalk; informing me that there was coffee in the staff office (the succubus).

On the afternoon of this fifth day, the next to last day, as I was walking out of my area towards the elevators, and past her table, she was putting on lip gloss just as I saw her. She smiled sheepishly, as if I’d caught her doing something. She shrugged and put her hands in the air, still holding the lip gloss in her left; sort of pointed at me.

“Teehee. Lip gloss.”

No shit. A disembowelment warning flashed. Better not say that, either. “Is that for me?” I blurted.

“Sure. Where do you want me to put it?”

“Oh…heh…yeah, I’m going to go get some coffee.”

“Are you leaving for the night?”

“No, not yet. That’s why I’m getting the coffee.”

“Oh. Ok. Well-”

“Good evening.”

This is my life, about 20 weeks out of the year. Several times during those weeks, in one way or another, some woman I don’t really know offers to apply lip gloss to my body. Because I delivered the mail. I can read people very well, but I can’t always relate to them so great.

Game vs. Christ I: The Exclusivity of the Missionary Position

Proverbs 15:23 That I Might Be Useful

23 To make an apt answer is a joy to a man,
and a word in season, how good it is!

Free Northerner has a thought-provoking post up today, about working your mission until you die. I owe him many thanks for fitting a crucial piece in the puzzle I’ve been working out in my mind. This is the first of another new series.

Proverbs 15:24 There Are Only Two Roads, and Narrow is the Way

24 The path of life leads upward for the prudent,
that he may turn away from Sheol beneath.

There is a reason I keep coming back to the notion that Game* is inherently feminist. Hedonism is Feminism: The two are synonymous. It is not a matter of, “You go your way, and I’ll go mine”, or “I’ll pick the Game tools useful for my purposes, and you pick the ones useful to yours.” There is only, “You go His Way to the gates of Heaven, or you go your own way to the dark pit of Hell.”

At some point we must decide whether we shall be Christ’s woman–foregoing our desires to be our own heroes with our own separate missions–for His, as His helpmeet; or whether we shall demand we go our own ways; seeking our own empowerment, fulfillment, and satisfaction. We recognize it when we hear it from overt Feminists, carousel-riders, and women who delay marriage for self-actualization. Not only do we hear it: We in the Manosphere often cry out for the punishment and destruction of sluts! We deem their destruction and abandonment not only as predictable consequences, but consider them as the Lord’s will.**

For comparison, here is FN’s heartfelt complaint:

These last years, I’ve been looking for a mission. So far unsuccessfully. Because of this, I’ve cared little about whether I remained on this mortal coil or not. The lack of success has lead me to slowly become more nihilistic over time, and hedonism is looking increasingly attractive.

But it doesn’t seem enough.

I want to fight for something, to have a mission. I want to go to breath my last breath knowing that I fought for something greater than me.

This sounds very much like a 30-year old woman who has realized impact with The Wall is imminent, and that she is moored to nothing. The freedom of self-orientation has become a prison of isolation. It is a taste of things to come in the utter darkness and solitude of Hell. We were not made to be thoroughly independent, but rather distinctly functioning members of a larger corporate body.

A man is either a member of the Body of Christ–that is: the Bride of Christ seeking His way, doing His bidding–or he an Eternal Feminist seeking his own way, doing whatever of Hell he wants…until he hits The Wall. The Wall means death. It is death just as surely as The Wall of age is the last painful stop before the death of a pretty woman’s mating options. The Wall is the pain of realization that this road ends, and on the other side is the void. Sheol.

Proverbs 15:25 Widows of Man

25 The Lord tears down the house of the proud
but maintains the widow’s boundaries.

The Christian is the widow of mankind. The way of man–the way of the world–is dead to the man or woman reborn in Christ, now to be His bride. The consummation of which is in the future, at the end of all things of this world. The single Christian feels this delay more acutely than the married Christian because the married Christian is distracted by his spouse.

32 I want you to be free from anxieties. The unmarried man is anxious about the things of the Lord, how to please the Lord. 33 But the married man is anxious about worldly things, how to please his wife, 34 and his interests are divided. And the unmarried or betrothed woman is anxious about the things of the Lord, how to be holy in body and spirit. But the married woman is anxious about worldly things, how to please her husband. 35 I say this for your own benefit,not to lay any restraint upon you, but to promote good order and to secure your undivided devotion to the Lord.

He will maintain our boundaries if we are widows of man; faithful brides of Christ. If we become the proud, our houses must be torn down. He is a jealous God, and will abide no sloppy seconds.

Years ago, I encountered a quote by G. K. Chesterton with which I struggle mightily:

Men are men, but man is a woman.

I’ve quoted this often before because it often comes to mind. It pains me by its truth, and its repercussions. This is a hard thing for a man to recognize (much less reconcile!), but it is an inescapable truth about life. While binary sexes are ubiquitous in the animal kingdom, the missionary position is unique to humans. It is only with us that the Male penetrates the female face to face. Only we can see our love at the same time as we know Him.

That such thoughts unnerve me is confirmation of my sinful nature.

*I’m speaking of the more whole philosophy; the end of Inner Game by the means of the tools of Game.

**Why is it almost never interpreted to be the Lord’s will when a man is frivolously divorced? Why is is not considered the Lord’s will that there is an absence of marriageable women? Is he not sinful? Is he not full of iniquity? Is he not deserving of punishment; even divorce and alienation? Focusing on the just deserts is Satan’s domain; it is his role as the Adversary. It is the Advocate to whom we should be looking. The law condemns, but Christ forgives the repentant sinner; he transcends justice.