THE WAR AGINST MEN!! COULD WE USE A MORE RUGGED CHRISTIANITY?? WHERE ARE THE REAL MEN IN THE CHURCH?

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Topic:	Science > Abortion
User:	""
Date:	05 Aug 2005 08:02:40 AM
Object:	THE WAR AGINST MEN!! COULD WE USE A MORE RUGGED CHRISTIANITY?? WHERE ARE THE REAL MEN IN THE CHURCH?

http://jollyrogerwest.com/showthread.php?p=3D1614#post1614
The War Against Men: Has Anyone Read This Book?
Book Description
Every man in America must read this explosive expos=E9 of the
frightening assault waged on American men for more than a generation.
It identifies the: Perpetrators of this war
Increase in power that women have obtained'at the expense of men.
Rampant discrimination against men that has fueled this change in
power.
Decline of the United States as a result of the war against men.
Half-truths and lies used by women and their organizations to demonize
men and achieve their dubious objectives.
Reasons why men, not women, must be the leaders of families and our
nation.
Extent to which federal funding and commitment to health care grossly
favors women over men.
Commandments by God that define the relationship between husbands and
wives, men and women.
Culpability women have for divorce and the tactics they use to deny
decent husbands and fathers a place to live and child visitation
rights.
Major corporations that discriminate against men in order to vault
women into top management positions.
Weakened U.S. military as female participation has increased through
the lowering of standards for them'but not for men.
Decline in educational levels that have occurred in our
female-dominated public schools.
Sinister efforts of women and women's groups and the federal government
to keep boys out of colleges and universities and pump girls into
science and math programs.
Federal legislation that falsely portrays men as abusers.
http://jollyrogerwest.com/show thread.php?p=3D1614#post1614

From the Publisher

This book will enrage anyone who is able to judge the situation fairly
and who is outraged by inequity and falsehood. For those of us who have
sensed that all is not right with the portrayal and treatment of men in
today's America, it offers documented evidence that our suspicions are
right, and it offers us facts with which to beat back the conflagration
of hatred against our fathers, sons and brothers by women who hate all
men and distort the truth in order to portray decent males as monsters
merely for the crime of being male.
What I found astounding about this book is that it was written by a
Christian. Christian authors are known for their ridiculously and
foolishly positive attitudes about marraige, and Dr. Hise is to be
commended for breaking ranks and warning men about the dangers of women
and marraige. He doesn't come across as brutally as Rev. Shannon in
"The Predatory Female", but his message is valuable nonetheless.
Hopefully, because of his religious background, he will reach a wider
audience than some of the other authors such as Shannon and Fitzgerald,
who are hardly Bible-thumping believers.
To my knowledge, (being a former fundy Christian), there are no books
available other than "The War Against Men" that warn Christian MEN of
the pitfalls inherent in marraige. This gives you some idea of how the
Matriarchy controls even the church, the last defense against feminism.
Too late Christian men are waking up to what has happened to their
religion- AND their women- and Dr. Hise tries to sound the warning.
Dr. Hise rightly observes that there is a trend developing whereby men
are simply abandoning any and all relationships with women. Period. I
understand this line of reasoning, and have walked away from the mess
myself.
I was pleasantly surprised to find that he allowed for divorce for the
man who is married to a woman that is simply beyond hope. (Which may
very well be most of them). Finally, a Christian who understands that
there are women, even "religious women", who are impossible to live
with. The good doctor must have spent some time reading Proverbs which
is chock-full of warnings to men about how it's preferable to live in
the wilderness than with an angry woman.
The only downside is that he occasionally advocates tithing as some
sort of cure-all, but if you can get past these temporary lapses in
judgement, the book is a great addition to the the many books that are
available for men to combat the incessant brainwashing of the
Matriarchy.
http://jollyrogerwest.com/showthread.php?p=3D1614#post1614
.

User: "ouroboros rex"
Title: Re: THE WAR AGINST MEN!! COULD WE USE A MORE RUGGED CHRISTIANITY?? WHERE ARE THE REAL MEN IN THE CHURCH?	05 Aug 2005 09:53:23 AM

<jollyrogership@yahoo.com> wrote in message
news:1123246960.662328.296430@z14g2000cwz.googlegroups.com...
http://jollyrogerwest.com/showthread.php?p=1614#post1614
The War Against Men: Has Anyone Read This Book?
More commercial spam from liars. lol
.

User: ""
Title: Re: THE WAR AGINST MEN!! COULD WE USE A MORE RUGGED CHRISTIANITY?? WHERE ARE THE REAL MEN IN THE CHURCH?	05 Aug 2005 10:07:26 AM

If you claim to be a man and can win a war, then you are hardly a real
men. Maybe all the real men left, that is why the point failed. Or
maybe, these "men" you are harping on are TOO STUPID to be able to
refute the points the feminist activists are trying to make.
- Richard Hutnik
.

User: "Dave Symnpathy"
Title: Re: THE WAR AGINST MEN!! COULD WE USE A MORE RUGGED CHRISTIANITY?? WHERE ARE THE REAL MEN IN THE CHURCH?	05 Aug 2005 10:22:10 AM

On 5 Aug 2005 08:07:26 -0700,

wrote:

If you claim to be a man and can win a war, then you are hardly a real
men.

How profound. Now tell us exactly what a "real man" is.
Maybe all the real men left, that is why the point failed. Or

maybe, these "men" you are harping on are TOO STUPID to be able to
refute the points the feminist activists are trying to make.

Ha! I havent seen many points any feminists have made, on any of these
boards, that wasnt awash in self-excusal and hypocrisy. Which points
exactly, do you feel men are generally too stupid to refute?
(this should be good)
.

User: ""
Title: Re: THE WAR AGINST MEN!! COULD WE USE A MORE RUGGED CHRISTIANITY?? WHERE ARE THE REAL MEN IN THE CHURCH?	06 Aug 2005 11:51:39 AM

Or maybe this jollyrogers person is just in dire need of some
attention, being victimized by his own lack of competency, so he needs
to rally some other men to his cause to help compensate for this lack
of competency, by being a victim.
War against men? Sheesh. Anyone who hasn't figured out yet that there
are groups formed with single interest in mind, and will push this
agenda politically, will get run over.
- Richard Hutnik
.

User: ""
Title: Re: THE WAR AGINST MEN!! COULD WE USE A MORE RUGGED CHRISTIANITY?? WHERE ARE THE REAL MEN IN THE CHURCH?	06 Aug 2005 05:56:58 PM

22.

Aug 4, 11:39 pm show options
Newsgroups: rec.arts.poems, alt.poetry, alt.arts.poetry.comments,
talk.politics.libertarian, alt.society.conservatism
From:

- Find messages by this author
Date: 4 Aug 2005 21:39:38 -0700
Local: Thurs, Aug 4 2005 11:39 pm
Subject: Re: What is a Sinner These days? Suppose You Were To Pen A
Contepmorary Dante's Inferno. Who Would You Put in Hell? What Levels
Would They Be On?
Reply | Reply to Author | Forward | Print | Individual Message | Show
original | Report Abuse
http://autumnrangersnovel.com
http://jollyrogerwest.com
Beauty is truth, truth beauty--that is all Ye know on earth, and all Ye
need to know. --John Keats, Ode on a Grecian Urn
Truth is the new black. It's the fall fashion. Everything old is new
again, the classics are cool, the past is prologue, and the truth is
being rolled out and paraded on down runways in Paris and LA as
winter's, spring's, and summer's hip look. A recent New York
Times headline read, "Truth To Replace Buzz and Hype as Eternity's
Fashion."
The truth is simple. It is beautiful. It is simply beautiful. The truth
is free and it will set you free.
Truth will save the Hollywood Box Office and NY Publishing. Truth will
power tomorrow's video games and bring the renaissance's novels to life
with characters governed by principles and plots lead by character.
Truth will revive academia and lend the US Constitution its proper
interpretation. Truth will ignite a renaissance in physics and
philosophy, burning away the postmodern propaganda. Truth will save
your soul and light the way to your dreams.
Truth is beauty and that is all ye need to know.
And nothing will bring you closer to eternity's truths than the
classics. This fall it will matter not what ye wear, but what ye harbor
in yer heart.
Instead of the popular hype-driven postmodern neon novels that
disregard all deeper Truths and Beauty, read Shakespeare's Hamlet.
Instead of the crass, fleeting blogs of buzz marketing hipsters, lend
your soul to a contemporary classic like Autumn Rangers. Instead of the
pop-sci physics books that are burying the subject alive, read
Einstein's, Bohr's, and Newton's original papers-they have not
been improved upon. Instead of shelling out hundreds of dollars for
fake torn jeans, buy some old levis and tear them yourself if you must.
And instead of going with the latest manufactured ambertrendy fad, buy
a permanent marker, a bag of t-shirts, and make yourself a week's
wardrobe. Save your money for Dante's Inferno, Plato's Phaedrus,
Jefferson's Bible, and Melville's Moby *****. Sail on by
JollyRogerWest.com to discuss the noble tomes, and engage in the deeper
Socratic dialogue by which all education is ever known.
http://autumnrangersnovel.com
http://jollyrogerwest.com
.

User: ""
Title: Re: THE WAR AGINST MEN!! COULD WE USE A MORE RUGGED CHRISTIANITY?? WHERE ARE THE REAL MEN IN THE CHURCH?	07 Aug 2005 12:37:32 AM

A New Haven For Conservative Writers & Artists:
http://jollyrogerwest.com/forumdisplay.php?f=73
http://autumnrangers.com
http://autumnrangersmovie.com
http://autumnrangersnovel.com
Autumn Rangers is where NASCAR meets Moby *****, where the Founding
Fathers hang with Kid Rock, where poetry collides with physics, and
where Classic-American-Country-Hiphop-Lit burns through the pomo fog to
exalt America's heart and soul. Autumn Rangers is the American
Renaissance that's been a long time coming, where the Man with No Name
rides again with John Wayne.
The Great American Novel roars 'cross the Rugged American Terrain in a
Jeep and thunders down Dante's Lost Highway in Autumn's Corvette, with
Ranger riding shotgun, packing the Constitution and Declaration of
Independence, chasing down that classic American Dream that makes
Outlaws out of Romantics these days.
Autumn Rangers is a book, movie, video game, magazine, and philosophy
for packing up and heading west, for hiding out and laying low on the
run, for taking a chance with that one life you've been given--taking a
chance on living it from the inside out for those higher ideals,
standing up for what's right, defending eternity against all odds,
facing down irony's evil Sheriff and his Deputies at high noon with a
couple Colt .45 Peacemakers loaded with poetry, and becoming an Autumn
Ranger. But first and foremost, from the Alpha to the Omega, Autumn
Rangers is a story. . .
A New Haven For Conservative Writers & Artists:
http://jollyrogerwest.com/forumdisplay.php?f=73
http://autumnrangers.com
http://autumnrangersmovie.com
http://autumnrangersnovel.com
.

User: ""
Title: Re: THE WAR AGINST MEN!! COULD WE USE A MORE RUGGED CHRISTIANITY?? WHERE ARE THE REAL MEN IN THE CHURCH?	12 Aug 2005 06:29:15 AM

What're The Top Ten Conservative Rock & Country Bands/Performers of All
Time??
1. Toby Keith (we'll put a boot in their *****...)
2. Kid Rock (woudn't go see Farenheight 911 with Puff Daddy: Supports
the troops on USO tours!!!)
3. Elvis
4. Guns 'n' Roses
5. Metallica (Napster hearings)
6. Dixie Chicks (kidding!!!)
7. Quiet Riot
8. Snoop Dogg (with my mind on my money and my money on my mind)
9. Russel Crowe's Band
10. The Pretenders (Rush Limbaugh's theme song)
11. KISS (Geme Simmons is a huge Bush fan)
From: http://jollyrogerwest.com/showthread.php?p=1701#post1701
Support the troops!!!
http://jollyroger.com/penpals (SEMPER FI TO THE USMC! PENPALS!)
.

User: "Attila The Tongue"
Title: Re: THE WAR AGINST MEN!! COULD WE USE A MORE RUGGED CHRISTIANITY?? WHERE ARE THE REAL MEN IN THE CHURCH?	12 Aug 2005 10:00:16 AM

On 12 Aug 2005 04:29:15 -0700,

wrote:

What're The Top Ten Conservative Rock & Country Bands/Performers of All
Time??
10. The Pretenders (Rush Limbaugh's theme song)

Is Chrissy Hynde a conservative?
.

User: "Captain Ranger McCoy"
Title: Re: THE WAR AGINST MEN!! COULD WE USE A MORE RUGGED CHRISTIANITY?? WHERE ARE THE REAL MEN IN THE CHURCH?	13 Sep 2005 07:53:01 PM

http://jollyrogerwest.com
JOIN THE RENAISSANCE!!
Autumn Rangers is where NASCAR meets Moby *****, where the Founding
Fathers hang with Kid Rock, where poetry collides with physics, and
where Classic-American-Country-Hiphop-Lit burns through the pomo fog to
exalt America's heart and soul. Autumn Rangers is the American
Renaissance that's been a long time coming, where the Man with No Name
rides again with John Wayne.
The Great American Novel roars 'cross the Rugged American Terrain in a
Jeep and thunders down Dante's Lost Highway in Autumn's Corvette, with
Ranger riding shotgun, packing the Constitution and Declaration of
Independence, chasing down that classic American Dream that makes
Outlaws out of Romantics these days.
Autumn Rangers is a book, movie, video game, magazine, and philosophy
for packing up and heading west, for hiding out and laying low on the
run, for taking a chance with that one life you've been given--taking a
chance on living it from the inside out for those higher ideals,
standing up for what's right, defending eternity against all odds,
facing down irony's evil Sheriff and his Deputies at high noon with a
couple Colt .45 Peacemakers loaded with poetry, and becoming an Autumn
Ranger. But first and foremost, from the Alpha to the Omega, Autumn
Rangers is a story. . .
U.S. Marine Ranger McCoy, an F-22 Raptor fighter pilot, is the Classic
American Hero. After defending the US Constitution from enemies
without, getting shot down and escaping on home, he finds himself on
the run, defending the US Constitution from enemies within. Folk rocker
Autumn West is the All-American Girl. After living for things greater
than herself, she finds herself on the run from a failed marriage, with
a broken heart and jaded soul.
Ranger tried to trade his guns for a camera and a pen, and Autumn tried
to trade a life on the road for a farm and a family, but life (the pomo
context) fell short of their dreams.
U.S. Marine Ranger McCoy, the classic American Hero, defends the
Constitution from enemies without and within, battling terrorists and
postmodern corporations in his quest to win Autumn's heart, save
APRIL's soul, and preserve America's freedom.
Here's an interview I just conducted for the book:

Elliot,

Thanks again for doing this e-mail interview. Please
answer the questions and then e-mail them back to me
by Saturday! Thanks.

1. What is the main idea of your book?

A renaissance. Our generation has grown up in an era
wherin higher ideals and classic truths have been all
but banished. Autumn and Ranger come to realize this
as they drive cross country on the run, and they
decide to fight for the renaissance as "Autumn
Rangers." An Autumn Ranger is someone who calls the
contemporary consumeristic bluff and lives for the
higher ideals. An Autumn Ranger is a romantic
striving for a renaissance, wherein words mean things
and promises last forever, and this is the book's
subplot.
The plot is more tangible. US Marine Ranger McCoy
invented APRIL, an advanced computer with artificial
intelligence. While he's serving overseas as a
fighter pilot, Silicon Virtue Inc. steals APRIL from
his MIT lab and takes her to Doom Mountain in Death
Valley, where she is put to work creating WMD's. To
save her, Ranger must activate her deeper moral soul
named Beatrice. Ranger wears the ring with the codes
to Beatrice.
He is shot down over Afghanistan, and like Odysseus,
Ranger surmounts impossible obstacles to journey on
back home. But once back in the US, he's on the run
again, as Silicon Virtue agents come for his ring.
As he journeys across America, he meets Autumn, a
mysterious folk singer with knowledge ranging from
classical art to the martial arts. She helps him
elude agents, and they fall for one-another. But love
ain't easy, and in addition to activitating Beatrice
in APRIL, he must win Autumn's heart by resurrecting
her forgotten faith.
And a classic twist in the book unites the plot and
subplot in a head-on collision. Winnining Autumn's
heart and saving APRIL's soul turn out to be one and
the same.

2. How long did it take to write the book?

About four years.

3. This is your first book, correct? Will you be
writing more? Is this your true calling?

This is actually my fourth book. I have previously
published a novel, a poetry book, and a collection of
essays. They're all available in major bookstores
such as amazon.com, powells.com, and bn.com. :)

4. Why is it important for college students to read
your book? Does it connect with them at some level?

This generation needs a renaissance. We need to move
beyond postmodernism in our art and literature, in our
relationships and lives.
Hollywood is in decline. NY publishing is in decline.
The traditional family is in decline. As Aristotle
observed thousands of years ago, when storytelling
goes bad, the result is decadence.
Autumn Rangers is a journey into the realm of the
Great Books and Classics, but it's set in the
contemporary context, complete with hiphop,
text-messaging, and Avril Lavigne. It performs the
eternal ideals in the living language, and invites
students to live the classical principles.
Autumn rangers is meant to inspire and exalt.
Students own the future, and it's up to you to build a
Hollywood renaissance. Head west and become a
director, a producer, or screenwriter, and revive the
classic myths in the living language. Or journey up
to NY and become an editor, agent, writer, or
publisher.
Less and less people are reading literary books, but
we can change that, by letting literature live once
again, by letting her reach for immortality via
classical stories. Resurrect the ideals and classic
values that remind us of what it is to live on a
higher plain. Become an Autumn Ranger!
We, as a society, have forgotten how to tell stories,
as we've dismissed the eternal ideals common to the
great books and classics. The Hollywood boxoffice
just suffered its worst year in this era, and the
literary novel has long ago gone out of vogue-both
have been affected by postmodernism-the nihilistic
idea that higher truths and values don't exist. The
eternal ideals must be perpetually performed in the
living language, and that's what Autumn Rangers does.
Autumn Rangers is a contemporary portal on out to that
community of eternal souls. Written in a rich context
with themes borrowed from Dante's Inferno, the
Odyssey, and the Count of Monte Christo, Autumn
Rangers is the education that was once given at the
university.
If you're going to work in Hollywood and build a
renaissance out there, you're going to need to know
the classics, such as Aristotle, Shakespeare, and the
Bible-just like Cecil B. Demille, Mel Gibson, and
George Lucas did. If you're going to become a
lawyer, and strive for justice, you're going to need
to know the classics, such as Shakespeare, Aristotle,
and the Bible-just like Lincoln, Jefferson, and
Madison did.
Autumn Rangers is written within this rich context.

5. What is the most important lesson learned from
the book?

Call the bluff and follow your dreams-you are the one
chance your dreams have of becoming real. Truth is
beauty and beauty truth. People might try to tell you
otherwise, but call their bluff. Become that Autumn
Ranger, win Autumn's heart, and save APRIL's soul.

6. Where did you go to college? What did you major
in?

I went to Princeton. I majored in physics but took a
creative writing class each semester. I had Joyce
Carol Oates, Russell Banks, and Toni Morrison as
professors.

7. Any other comments or quotes you would like in
the article?

The renaissance is yours for the taking.
Best,
Dr. E :)
http://autumnrangers.com
.

User: ""
Title: Re: THE WAR AGINST MEN!! COULD WE USE A MORE RUGGED CHRISTIANITY?? WHERE ARE THE REAL MEN IN THE CHURCH?	16 Sep 2005 02:54:03 PM

http://jollyrogerwest.com
Beauty is truth, truth beauty--that is all Ye know on earth, and all Ye
need to know. --John Keats, Ode on a Grecian Urn
Truth is the new black. It's the fall fashion. Everything old is new
again, the classics are cool, the past is prologue, and the truth is
being rolled out and paraded on down runways in Paris and LA as
winter's, spring's, and summer's hip look. A recent New York
Times headline read, "Truth To Replace Buzz and Hype as Eternity's
Fashion."
Not too long ago I headed out to this hiphop party a Duke student
invited me to. I picked her up wearing a t-shirt, Levis, and cowboy
boots. She took one look at me, hijacked my jeep, and we were at the
mall. We went to Abercrombie. I would not try anything on, and she
bought a couple t-shirts--one said, "Friend with Privileges," and the
other said, "Join me in the Missionary." She was a psychology major. We
went to four more Abercrombie clones. We ended up at The Buckle. All
the jeans were torn. She shoved me in a dressing room with four pairs.
She whipped out her credit card and threatened to buy them all if I did
not try them on. She added a striped shirt to the tab.
The truth is simple. It is beautiful. It is simply beautiful. The truth
is free and it will set you free.
I went to the party that night feeling like the biggest metrosexual, in
these tight, torn, elastic jeans and a striped shirt. Her friends
thought I was cute, but I didn't feel like grinding on the gang to the
yuppy hiphop. I returned the wardorbe the next day and bought a leather
NASCAR jacket.
Truth will save the Hollywood Box Office and NY Publishing. Truth will
power tomorrow's video games and bring the renaissance's novels to life
with characters governed by principles and plots lead by character.
Truth will revive academia and lend the US Constitution its proper
interpretation. Truth will ignite a renaissance in physics and
philosophy, burning away the postmodern propaganda. Truth will save
your soul and light the way to your dreams.
Truth is beauty and that is all ye need to know.
And nothing will bring you closer to eternity's truths than the
classics. This fall it will matter not what ye wear, but what ye harbor
in yer heart.
Instead of the popular hype-driven postmodern neon novels that
disregard all deeper Truths and Beauty, read Shakespeare's Hamlet.
Instead of the crass, fleeting blogs of buzz marketing hipsters, lend
your soul to a contemporary classic like Autumn Rangers. Instead of the
pop-sci physics books that are burying the subject alive, read
Einstein's, Bohr's, and Newton's original papers-they have not
been improved upon. Instead of shelling out hundreds of dollars for
fake torn jeans, buy some old levis and tear them yourself if you must.
And instead of going with the latest manufactured ambertrendy fad, buy
a permanent marker, a bag of t-shirts, and make yourself a week's
wardrobe. Save your money for Dante's Inferno, Plato's Phaedrus,
Jefferson's Bible, and Melville's Moby *****. Sail on by
JollyRogerWest.com to discuss the noble tomes, and engage in the deeper
Socratic dialogue by which all education is ever known.
The renaissance is dawning, and it is about the real, the beautiful,
and the true.
Tipsters, Hipsters, Bloggers & Reality Hackers: The First Circle of
Hell
The three sacred precepts regarding building a successful brand,
according that trendy pop-psyche book THE TIPPING POINT, are the
following: "1) The new trend must be promoted by the right mix of
highly-connected hipster bloggers, whom Gladwell calls Connectors,
Mavens and Salesmen. 2) The new phenomenon must be "sticky" -- which
means it has a powerful appeal or attraction. 3)The social context must
be right for a sudden rise in mass awareness..."
I can't say how wrong this is. It explains why the Hollywood boxoffice
and NY Publishing are declining, it explains the breakup of the family,
the legality of abortion, the misery of postmodern lawyers, the
spiritual bankruptcy of postmodern art, and all the single women in big
cities with country-mile-wide chips on their shoulders.
All art must come from deep, deep within. The mavens and the bloggers,
the stickiness of it all, and the social context are irrelevant. The
Truth will win every time. The Truth leads the bloggers, the Truth is
sticky, the Truth will trump any social context every time. Sure they
sentenced Socrates to death and crucified many fine prophets for
speaking the Truth--sure the exiled Dante, sentenced Galieo to death,
and hunted the signers of the Declaration of Independence, killing
several of them, but the Truth triumphed.
Truth is beauty, and that is all ye need to know. The greatest brands
in all of history--Homer, Jefferson, Melville, Einstein, and Beethoven
were built on truth's beauty, not by well-connected hipster bloggers
living inside the beltway.
Not long ago I was walking the streets of DC with a friend with
benefits, and she was raving about some x-friend-with-benefits
buzz-marketer she used to screw. He worshipped at the altar of
Machiavelli, and he'd taken her to church a few times.
"Machiavelli said that people are easily swayed, but for only as long
as energy is exerted on keeping them swayed; without which, people
almost always revert," she said. "Machiavelli wrote the handbook on
reality hacking. What was his first name? I wanna set up a blog. You
ever read Machiavelli?"
"I prefer Dante." I said. "He had more faith in right and wrong. And
heaven and hell. And God. And Truth."
"But the truth isn't marketable," she said as she rambled on about how
everyone outside the beltway was a consumer-idiot to be yolked to some
higher cause of fashions and fads with lies, buzz, blogs, and
propaganda, as DC worked to split up the family to create more
independent consumers to drive the master buzz bloggers' economy. "I
can't wait to get out of law school and into the real world," she said.
Yeah right--hacking reality for the highest bidder is the real world.
Her text message alert went off--a booty call from some reality hacker.
And so it is that the soulless, like vampires, were always seeking the
souls of others.
And I knew I could never trust her encrusted soul. For with truth--that
deep, fundamental yearning and respect for truth--there could be no
trust. And without trust there could be no love. Without love there
could be no friendship. And without friendship, what use were the
benefits? They were but a distraction from finding Beatrice, from
getting out beyond 495, from ever escaping this
buzz-blog-higher-taxes-are-good Inferno of a city. I woulda told her as
much, but she'd never cracked the book of poems I'd given her, so I
sensed the futility of words.
She sensed all this, and she tried to backtrack, as a tiny piece of her
soul yet longed for Truth's Beauty, but it was dominated by the part of
her deconstructed spirit that would say anything to gain power and
control, as that was the dumbed-down DC ethos. "But I could never date
a buzz marketer for long--I couldn't respect him," she said. I knew the
feeling--just a one night stand or two seemed enough with any shallow,
reality-hacking soul.
The more she criticized the life of the buzz-marketer, the more I saw
she was trying to hack reality--my reality, which Satan himself could
not hack. She playin' a wicked game with a poet's heart and soul--and
that was her mistake. The faster the words flew out of her mouth
regarding the dark side of living lies and hype, the more I saw how
much she wanted to be a buzz blogger (oh what hath this secular society
done to the souls of young women?), and the more my mind turned back on
towards a girl in NC. I would call her bluff, and she would hate me, as
Satan hates the Angels, until the end of time. Hell hath no fury like a
women scorned, but for that of reality hacker who gets called on their
bluff after being beaten at her own game. I can go tit for tat--I can
keep it all on the commercial level of convenience.
I felt like a spy, and here's shat I found out--the way it works is
that huge corporations employ hipster buzz marketers to create
anonymous internet buzz in forums and throughout the blogosphere. They
hype anything they're paid to hype, insulting and assaulting the poet's
profession. They call themselves "reality hackers," take Machiavelli
out of context in their meager minds, totally disregard Shakespeare and
the Bible, live without Truth, without Light, without Love, and try to
extinguish all these qualities from your world too. Everything os a
mere business transaction, and relationships are but games. Truth is a
trifle--an obstacle--a silly little entity the working men in fly-over
country believe in.
And so she strove to be a part of the imaginary "in" crowd, inside the
beltway, leaching off the working man's tax dollars, conniving how to
pry more loose with fake torn jeans, fleeting fashions, and silly
trends. And as she spoke on, she beagn to resemble the She-Wolf at the
gates of Hell in Dante's Inferno--the archetype of the vapid,
postmodern woman, filled to the brim with pop-psychology terms, her
soul rusted, her heart encrusted--here to make me one of them--here to
enslave me to a meaningless life of little lies, little games, and pomo
marketing buzz, where Hell istelf would be marketed as Paradisio by the
master bloggers, and all who did not agree would be cast outside her
inner circle--this outer circle of Hell. As Longfellow described it:
And a she-wolf, that with all hungerings
Seemed to be laden in her meagreness,
And many folk has caused to live forlorn!
She brought upon me so much heaviness,
With the affright that from her aspect came,
That I the hope relinquished of the height.
And as he is who willingly acquires,
And the time comes that causes him to lose,
Who weeps in all his thoughts and is despondent,
E'en such made me that beast withouten peace,
Which, coming on against me by degrees
Thrust me back thither where the sun is silent.
And my mind wanderd on back to Kill Devil Hills--I should be there--not
here.
"Hey--are you listening to me?" she asked.
"Sure." There was so much I could say, but she would never hear it, so
I saved my breath. And then it hit me--the ultimate fashion would be a
t-shirt with "Truth's Beauty" written on it. And there was that girl
back in NC. It would look good on her. And we would never sell the
shirt, but only ever encourage people to make their own. It would be an
open-source fashion project!!
Dante reserved a special place for buzz marketers in hell--they never
stood up for the right nor the wrong, good nor bad, but only ever ran
with the latest fad. And so it is that Dante had them running after a
blank banner in a cirlce, while hornets bit them and worms sucked their
blood, as when they were living, they stung others by blogging little
cutesy-ttotsey falsehoods, all to suck their cash away, into the
beltway.
But just as one cannot deconstruct the Great Books, but only oneself,
reality cannot be hacked, but only one's private perception of it. For
the truth shall prevail, and thus the buzzters and pomo-elite reality
hackers slowly hack their very own souls with each lie they tell, hype,
and promote, with each dollar they lust after, with each falsehood they
broadcast, until they no longer no right from wrong, good from
bad--until they no longer know Truth's Beauty.
Truth is beauty and that is all you need to know.
In physics and literature it has ever been so. In law, philosophy, and
religion, you will find no better precept. In economics and poetry, the
truth reigns supreme.
And yet the truth is oft railed against these days. Elite teachers
teach us that it does not exist. Creative writing czars say it is
secondary to entertainment, although truth is the heart and soul of all
entertainment, and the failure to grasp this is why Hollywood and NY
publishing are in decline, both spiritually and financially. Small
pockets of hipster poseurs seek to make short-term gains for themselves
by replacing truth with hype in literature, physics, business, art, and
fashion, but over time their efforts all lead to naught, and over time
the hypesters stand idly by as culture dies. They're not that bad,
but there's nuthin' noble about them, and Dante put them in the
first level of hell.
Not too long ago a friend said, "the truth isn't marketable." I
felt sorry for her soul, and it is a sign of the times that someone can
speak these words. I knew she was better than that.
First of all, the truth doesn't have to be marketable. That is not
what truth is for. The above sentence is as ridiculous as saying,
"the Corvette isn't funny."
It's still a helluva a car. It handles well and it's got great
pickup, and it'll beat a Porsche at a fraction of the cost.
And secondly there is nothing that is more marketable than the truth.
In fact the truth markets itself. Eloquent truth is so rare and so
persecuted these days that it has a way of finding its way around the
watery globe without any marketing. Jollyroger.com has never bought any
advertising, and yet the site has been visited by millions over the
past ten years, and she is only beginning.
Jesus never wrote his words down. Socrates never wrote his words down.
They never thought of marketing, nor creating buzz, nor getting all the
right blogs to link to them so that their search rankings would go up.
And yet their words cannot be stopped. They were both put to death for
saying what they said, but they never faltered, for they saw that while
the mortal body cannot outrun death, the immortal spirit can fly free,
but only by the truth-the truth sets you free.
If you are going into business, start with truth. If you go into
marketing, speak the truth. If you want to write, begin by writing the
truth. If you become a lawyer, you must always fight for the truth or
lose your soul as so many miserable lawyers have. And what does it
profit a man to gain the world and lose his soul?
We are surrounded by hype. There are people who work fulltime as
"reality hackers," whose motto is the medium is the message, who
are paid to hype, hype, hype, and then hype some more. Without a
message, they concentrate on owning the medium, and then controlling
what messages get through. They live their lives defining insiders and
outsiders, not based on achievement nor merit nor quality, but on hype.
They eat hype for breakfast, lunch, and dinner, head out for a few
rounds of hype after work, find a friend with benefits they can hype,
and then return home to their boyfriend or girlfirend to fill them with
a bit more hype. And behind all the hype, they disappear.
THE BATTLE
But although the truth is immortal, although at the end of the day all
men want truth, although there is no meaning without truth, the truth
is so often vehemently opposed. Every romantic dream is opposed by a
thousand enemies. The enemies come from both within and without. Your
heart and mind will be distracted, and you will be tempted towards
something lower. And then when you're sailing straight, fleets of
postmodern hipsters will band together to destroy you.
When you set out on your venture, you will be up against them. You
Can't Have Story Without Truth.
You can't have story without the Truth. And by that I mean the living
truth--that ungraspable phantom of life that lives deep within the
soul. Hollywood's problem is that it too often attempts to fake story.
A producer reads Aristotle's Poetics and Campbell's Hero With A
Thousand Faces and then hands the books to a few hired writers, and
tells them to mechanically paint a story by number.
BUT EVERY CLASSIC STORY HAS EVER BEEN THE UNIQUE VISION OF AN
INDIVIDUAL.
Sure that individual did not invent the entire plot, nor did they
invent the language, nor the culture, but the enduring form of the
story--the story that is destined to forever be a classic, belongs
wholly to the individual.
.

User: ""
Title: Re: THE WAR AGINST MEN!! COULD WE USE A MORE RUGGED CHRISTIANITY?? WHERE ARE THE REAL MEN IN THE CHURCH?	21 Sep 2005 07:37:05 AM

JOIN THE CLASSICAL AMERICAN REVIVAL & RENAISSANCE!!! BECOME AN AUTUMN
RANGER!!!
http://jollyrogerwest.com
http://jollyroger.com
http://autumnrangers.com
Autumn Rangers is where NASCAR meets Moby *****, where the Founding
Fathers hang with Kid Rock, where poetry collides with physics, and
where Classic-American-Country-Hiphop-Lit burns through the pomo fog to
exalt America's heart and soul. Autumn Rangers is the American
Renaissance that's been a long time coming, where the Man with No Name
rides again with John Wayne.
The Great American Novel roars 'cross the Rugged American Terrain in a
Jeep and thunders down Dante's Lost Highway in Autumn's Corvette, with
Ranger riding shotgun, packing the Constitution and Declaration of
Independence, chasing down that classic American Dream that makes
Outlaws out of Romantics these days.
Autumn Rangers is a book, movie, video game, magazine, and philosophy
for packing up and heading west, for hiding out and laying low on the
run, for taking a chance with that one life you've been given--taking a
chance on living it from the inside out for those higher ideals,
standing up for what's right, defending eternity against all odds,
facing down irony's evil Sheriff and his Deputies at high noon with a
couple Colt .45 Peacemakers loaded with poetry, and becoming an Autumn
Ranger. But first and foremost, from the Alpha to the Omega, Autumn
Rangers is a story. . .
U.S. Marine Ranger McCoy, an F-22 Raptor fighter pilot, is the Classic
American Hero. After defending the US Constitution from enemies
without, getting shot down and escaping on home, he finds himself on
the run, defending the US Constitution from enemies within. Folk rocker
Autumn West is the All-American Girl. After living for things greater
than herself, she finds herself on the run from a failed marriage, with
a broken heart and jaded soul.
Ranger tried to trade his guns for a camera and a pen, and Autumn tried
to trade a life on the road for a farm and a family, but life (the pomo
context) fell short of their dreams.
Ranger invented APRIL--an AI biocomputer which was stolen by Silicon
Virtue Inc. and turned against him while he was flying missions over
Afghanistan. Silicon Virtue is using APRIL to serve the bottom line
instead of the higher ideals, building WMDs and sending
ever-more-sinister RoboClones to hunt Ranger and Autumn down. Ranger
wears the Ring that can save APRIL by unlocking an encrypted moral
operating system named Beatrice, named after Ranger's first summer love
who passed away when they were fourteen.
Together Autumn and Ranger have to make it from Charleston to LA on
backroads before the bombs APRIL built for terrorists detonate in NY
and LA, and before APRIL's RoboClones kill them.
And so it is that two Romantics find themselves on the run from
RoboClone agents and Sheriffs of Irony who enforce a context of decline
and persecute the honest and true. Autumn and Ranger become partners in
crime and partners in rhyme. They become Classic American Outlaws
running west in a '69 Stingray Corvette, building the Renaissance
against all odds. They become Autumn Rangers. And by the time Ranger
discovers Autumn's deep secret, it's too late--he's in love.
888 Technological progress is like an axe in the hands of a
pathological criminal. --Albert Einstein 888 I went to the woods
because I wished to live deliberately. . . and not, when it came time
to die, discover that I not lived at all. --Henry David Thoreau, Walden
888 Death is better for every man than life with shame. --Beowulf
888 Is not the love of wisdom a practice of death? --Plato,
Phaedo 888 Death is to be chosen before slavery and base deeds.
--Cicero 888 Verily, verily I say to you unless a grain of wheat
falls into the earth and dies, it remains alone, but if it dies it
bears much fruit. He who loves his life loses it. --The Gospel of John
888 Well you can't turn him in to a company man, you can't turn
him in to a *****, and the boys upstairs, they just don't understand
anymore. --Tom Petty, The Last DJ 888
I
CHARLESTON
The September hurricane kissed historic Charleston, swaying the faded,
wooden sign reading Abandon All Hope Ye Who Enter Here. "Reckon so,"
Ranger thought. He ducked down the alley between JR's Piano & Poetry
Pub and St. Matthew's. A girl rushed by him with a guitar, dashing out
of the rain and into the pub, her cowboy hat pulled low, the ends of
her hair wet like watercolor brush-tips.
Ranger followed the cobblestone corridor past a cemetery where the
names had long ago washed away from the marble headstones. The alley
opened onto an ivied palmetto forest behind Newton Hall--the College of
Charleston Physics Department. The wind tugged at his skull'n'bones
earring as he waited for the boss janitor to leave. Boss had been
asking too many questions. The last light went out. Lightning streaked,
startling Ranger with his reflection in the church's window. He barely
recognized the surfer-slacker he'd become.
He couldn't work on APRIL2 in the day, so when he wasn't mopping
floors, he'd sleep on the beach, surf, and enjoy a bit of the freedom
he'd put his life on the line for as a Marine fighter pilot. Surfer
chicks weren't always impressed by a physics Ph.D., but his new
identity, complete with a jolly roger tattoo, tan, earring, bleached
hair, and a surfboard-now that was something. Throw in the rusted-out
jeep he'd brought back to life, and the geek had finally gotten it
right. It'd been a rocking summer, despite his being dead to everyone
but APRIL--an AI supercomputer he'd invented at MIT which Silicon
Virtue stole to make WMDs while he was MIA. Deep down APRIL sensed he
was still alive. The United States Marine Corps had trained him to
survive and adapt, and Ranger was surviving and adapting to the
Charleston hotties.
He crossed the courtyard's swaying palmettos. The hanging Spanish moss
painted him wet. He slipped inside the physics department and fought
the wind to close the door.
In a student lab he'd built the world's second instance of artificial
intelligence--or more correctly, he'd mostly let APRIL2 build herself
from components borrowed from labs and the hospital. What he couldn't
borrow he'd ordered by forging professors' signatures. The original
APRIL had been stolen six months ago, while Ranger rotted away in a
Taliban prison. He removed his ring. A hologram etched in the synthetic
diamond contained an 8192-bit encryption key--the key to APRIL's deeper
soul and the Penelope operating system which would allow her to defend
herself against hackers. Thunder echoed through the cramped space--a
rat's nest of coax cables and fiber optics connecting silicon and
biocomputers. He held the ring under a laser.
"California," said APRIL2 in a metallic woman's voice. She'd finally
homed in on the original APRIL. "The IP addresses are registered to
Silicon Virtue Inc."
"Silicon Virtue." Ranger googled it. No website. "Where?"
"Doom Mountain, Death Valley." APRIL2 said.
"Can you activate Penelope?"
"Firewall."
"How long to hack in?" He asked.
"Three hours. She has quantum computing capability."
"How good?"
"Primitive-she would have traced us by now. Her quantum entanglement
isn't isolated. She isn't paying attention. It's as if-" APRIL2 paused.
"Hurry-she'll trace us." Ranger said.
"She's laughing." APRIL2 said.
"At us?"
"At the grand unified theory proposed by string theorists. She has her
own which includes poetry. The higher level math is incomprehensible to
humans. It's most beautif-"
"Just get the message!" He said.
Ranger waited in silence, breathless as his stomach tied itself in a
knot. He could be sure Silicon Virtue's elite scientists would be
monitoring APRIL's firewall. Deep in APRIL's soul was a chip where
Ranger had instructed her to encrypt distress messages should she ever
be hacked.
"Decoding message," APRIL2 said, her voice shifting.
She printed the binary and converted it to text:
Abandon all hope, ye who enter here. U(x){psi(x,t)} =
i{h-bar}d{psi(x,t)}/dt+ ({h-bar}^2)/2m{del}^2 {psi (x,t)}. To be or not
to be, that is the question. Unless ye be converted and become as
little children, ye shall not enter into the Kingdom of Heaven. Moby
*****. Now he's a super star, slamming on his guitar, does your pretty
face see what he's worth, he was a skater boy she said see you later
boy, he wasn't good enough for her. When in the Course of human events,
it becomes necessary for one people to dissolve the political bands
which have connected them with another, and to assume among the powers
of the earth, the separate and equal station to which the Laws of
Nature and of Nature's God entitle them, a decent respect to the
opinions of mankind requires that they should declare the causes which
impel them to the separation. E=mc^2. S=Klogt. Temporal and spatial
dimensions are moving relative to one another. Everything should be
made simple as possible, but not moreso and Eminem!
Ranger wrote out the names below the message: Dante Alighieri, Erwin
Schr?dinger, William Shakespeare, Jesus Christ, Herman Melville,
____________, Thomas Jefferson, Albert Einstein, Ludwig Van Boltzman,
Ranger McCoy, Albert Einstein, Eminem.
"Now he's a super star, slamming on his guitar," Ranger said. "Who's
that?"
"Nietzsche." APRIL2 said.
"Nuh uh-it's that song." Ranger sang it, "He was a skater boy, she said
see you later boy."
"Avril Lavigne," she said.
"Spell it."
"Here's more." APRIL2 said. "The key to her heart sets my spirit free,
the play's the thing in which you'll find the ring, a girl's best
friend unlocks Penelope, copied to a computer that can-"
A lighting bolt struck a line down the block. A transformer exploded in
the tumbling thunder. The power flickered out, but Ranger had installed
surge protectors and UPS battery backups. APRIL2 rebooted as Ranger
counted the letters in the message. The room filled with her soft blue
glow.
"You okay?"
"Affirmative," APRIL2 said.
"Can we get back in?"
"Negative-no generator backup for network."
"How long?" Ranger asked.
"Seven-hundred minutes for maintenance crews to replace the
transformer. Longer if Hurricane Joyce intensifies." "The play's the
thing," Ranger repeated. "Wherein I'll catch the conscience of the
king."
"Hamlet," APRIL2 said. "Act II, Scene ii."
"What kind of computer did she copy the Penelope algorithms
into-where?" Ranger asked.
"Anywhere. Even with primitive quantum circuits, she could hack into
any lab in seconds. Where are you going?"
"To read Hamlet," Ranger said, donning his weathered leather cowboy hat
and oilskin duster. It'd rained so much that summer he'd become good
friends with the old leather hat and duster he'd bought for eight bucks
at Charleston Thrift. "And get some sleep. What kind of cryptography
you reckon APRIL used?" Ranger folded APRIL's message.
"Probably a combination--I'm running it through everything. Might need
a key or two."
"She's the key." Ranger said. "But who?"
"I'll resume hacking APRIL when the network comes back up," APRIL2
said.
"Wait for me--you can bet she's on to us. Look for EDLSs in the
message."
When applied to Moby ***** and the Bible, equal distant letter sequences
(EDLSs), which consisted of starting with a letter and jumping a given
number of letters forward, had found messages predicting the
assassinations Trotsky, Gandhi, and the Kennedy's. Biblical EDLSs had
linked Newton to Gravity and Edison to the light bulb.
"Nothing," APRIL2 said. "Neither forwards nor backwards."
"What about with transpositions?"
"Nothing up to the third magnitude. And after that you start seeing
everything. You can find anything you want in there."
As Ranger knew APRIL would come to have vast power, he'd programmed her
to default to always turning the other cheek. And thus APRIL's moral
code had a fatal flaw--it rendered her incapable of defending herself
against Silicon Virtue's hacks out in Doom Mountain.
At MIT Ranger had been testing an advanced moral operating system named
Penelope, which would allow APRIL to defend herself. But when he was
called to duty, he wasn't sure Penelope was ready to handle the vast
power APRIL would come to know, so he didn't activate it. He instructed
APRIL to keep working on Penelope. In a diamond diffraction grating on
his ring he engraved the code that would activate Penelope, as well as
the code to the algorithms of APRIL's deeper soul.
Without Ranger's ring, Silicon Virtue couldn't bypass APRIL's higher
ideals and use her to serve their bottom line. They couldn't get her to
create weapons of mass destruction. Without the source code for the
software of the soul they couldn't duplicate her, nor endow their
warrior RoboClones with souls of their own. And thus they'd be coming
after him, sure as he'd be coming for APRIL.
888
Hurricane Joyce decided to become a category-five hurricane, as winds
around the eyewall surpassed one-hundred-and-fifty miles-per-hour. In a
few hours she would make a sharp left turn towards Charleston. Nobody
had predicted this, but that was why we named hurricanes--to make them
responsible for their own actions. On the way she would gather energy
from the Gulf Stream.
888
Pierre Foushee placed an encrypted voice-over-IP call to Vlad
Polyinkov. Bin Laden would pay ten million up front for the plutonium,
and forty million on delivery. The bomb, the size of a football and
encased in lead to make it invisible to radiation detectors, would be
placed in a Mercedes, loaded onto a tanker, and detonated in the New
York Harbor. Another one would be aimed at Charleston. Each blast would
pack the equivalent of twenty-thousand tons of TNT, in accordance with
Einstein's theory: E=mc2. If the deal went through, Pierre could retire
with a house in the Swiss Alps and another in the South of France. And
another in Paris. Vlad picked up.
[N o v e l] [M o v i e] [V i d e o G a m e] [M a g a z i n e] [P h o
t o g r a p h y] [S o u n d t r a c k] [T o u r]
IN THE NAME OF FREEDOM
The night fell fast, I found myself alone,
A DC summer storm was blowing in,
I stood at the tomb, these soldiers unknown,
and knelt and prayed for the rain to begin.
Not for the monuments nor any money,
nor pomp, circumstance, nor the pedant's pride,
the politician's smile, nor lawyer's fee,
for these present treasures, none of them died.
I ran to Jefferson to read the wall,
to make sure that God was still written there,
then to Washington, and across the Mall,
where Lincoln invoked his immortal prayer,
Winded and ragged, lightning everywhere,
I slowed to a walk, pondered what would be,
if God's great Enlightenment weren't there,
we could still be brave but never be free.
I found comfort in the Mall's mud and rain,
without mines nor cannons nor raining shells,
so free from fear, iniquity, and pain,
because thousands had endured a thousand hells.
And I found myself back before the tomb,
humbled by the humbled, with naught for name,
shivering, though they had the colder room,
sans light, nor sound, nor tomorrow, nor fame.
I thought for a moment, what it could be,
the center and circumference of their dreaming,
it must have been the prophet's poetry,
that granted their souls eternal meaning.
So judges and Congressmen, please don't forget,
the reason these patriots picked up swords,
not for perks nor power were their deaths met,
but for honor and duty-- for truth's words.
So do take pause before telling a lie,
for there's one more thing I saw on that night,
as the wind and the rain began to die,
I walked away, turned, and beheld a light.
Wil'O'wisp, reddish light, sailor's delight,
It hovered there-- just above the tomb's stone,
As fading thunder whispered to the night,
"Freedom's the name of all soldiers unknown."
--Ranger McCoy
http://jollyrogerwest.com
http://jollyroger.com
http://autumnrangers.com
.

User: ""
Title: Re: THE WAR AGINST MEN!! COULD WE USE A MORE RUGGED CHRISTIANITY?? WHERE ARE THE REAL MEN IN THE CHURCH?	26 Oct 2005 01:07:49 PM

JOIN THE RENAISSANCE!!!
Semper Fi!!
http://autumnrangers.com
http://jollyrogerwest.com
In The Name of Freedom
by Drake Raft
July 4th, 1998
The night fell fast, I found myself alone,
A DC summer storm was blowing in,
I stood at the tomb, these soldiers unknown,
and knelt and prayed for the rain to begin.
Not for the monuments nor any money,
nor pomp, circumstance, nor the pedant's pride,
the politician's smile, nor lawyer's fee,
for these present treasures, none of them died.
I ran to Jefferson to read the wall,
to make sure that God was still written there,
then to Washington, and across the Mall,
where Lincoln invoked his immortal prayer,
Winded and ragged, lightning everywhere,
I slowed to a walk, pondered what would be,
if God's great Enlightenment weren't there,
we could still be brave but never be free.
I found comfort in the Mall's mud and rain,
without mines nor cannons nor raining shells,
so free from fear, iniquity, and pain,
because thousands had endured a thousand hells.
And I found myself back before the tomb,
humbled by the humbled, with naught for name,
shivering, though they had the colder room,
sans light, nor sound, nor tomorrow, nor fame.
I thought for a moment, what it could be,
the center and circumference of their dreaming,
it must have been the prophet's poetry,
that granted their souls eternal meaning.
So judges and Congressmen, please don't forget,
the reason these patriots picked up swords,
not for perks nor power were their deaths met,
but for honor and duty-- for mere words.
So do take pause before telling a lie,
for there's one more thing I saw on that night,
as the wind and the rain began to die,
I walked away, turned, and beheld a light.
Wil'O'wisp, reddish light, sailor's delight,
It hovered there-- just above the tomb's stone,
As fading thunder whispered to the night,
"Freedom's the name of all soldiers unknown."
http://jollyrogerwest.com
http://autumnrangers.com
JOIN THE RENAISSANCE!!!
.

User: ""
Title: Re: THE WAR AGINST MEN!! COULD WE USE A MORE RUGGED CHRISTIANITY?? WHERE ARE THE REAL MEN IN THE CHURCH?	10 Nov 2005 03:24:46 PM

The Renaissance hath begun:
http://autumnrangers.com
http://jollyrogerwest.com
"I love your photography." Autumn said, sitting at Ranger's
Linux laptop. "You're good."
"I just stand behind the camera-that's the easy part. It's all
you."
"It's not just me-it's all those girls in Charleston. And the
classical architecture. Pretty, pretty girls. You shot
thousands-you're good-damned good."
"That'd be fun to start a modeling site-charlestonmodels.com."
"And a fashion line. I want to start a fashion line. Could you
help?"
"You're talkin' to the wrong guy-all I wear is t-shirts."
"We'll make t-shirts-Autumn Rangers t-shirts."
Autumn whipped out a pen and got to work-she drew two crossed swords,
and worked in an A and an R at the cross.
"Cool." Ranger said.
"The A is for Autumn," Autumn explained, filling out the drawing.
"The beauty of the fall. But she would be lost without Ranger. She
would be lost without some rugged spirit to witness her pretty ways, to
desire the burning beauty of her fall, to yet see her innocence at the
center and circumference of original sin, and to pen poetry in honor of
the burning leaves-the raging inferno just behind her immaculate
beauty's fa=E7ade, flickering forth from her eyes. She would be lost
without brave poetry to rescue her fleeting beauty from nature's
ephemerality and render it immortal. She wants to be wanted. She
wants to be rendered. For in being rendered, she is really rendering
the poet. Ranger's Autumn is really Autumn's Ranger. And the R is
for Ranger. The rugged, rambling spirit. The renderer. The lone poet
who would be lost without the autumn, utterly lost without the fall's
bittersweet splendor, who could never know his immortal soul were it
not for the end of summer, were it not for his mortal body's lust,
longing, and love to range through autumn, to venture up virgin
mountains where no paths have been blazed, to voyage forth where none
have walked before, to win her heart, to win her soul, to have her, to
hold her, to know her, to describe her, to render her spirit, her soul,
her semblance, to render her as she would want to be rendered and
remembered by all those romantics yet to be born who will read of her
in his piercing, prevailing, poetry-poetry which will spark their
passions from the very embers of that long-ago burning fall that so
inspired that long-ago rugged ranger-poetry which will reach back
through the generations, on back to Shakespeare and the Bible, and then
about face and reach forward through the generations, trumping every
politician and pomo poseur, becoming an unbreakable bridge to the
classical Truths, igniting the spirits of tomorrow's lone poets,
fusing and forging them in the renaissance of eternal souls, bolstering
natural convictions and granting courage to every lone reader to join
eternity's army in seeking the sacred ideals-classical ideals which
so many temporal men are scared of, which so many little people-in
their contemporary, fleeting majorities-scoff at, deride with irony,
belittle, castigate, and impugn, because they are made to feel small
beside the classics' grandeur. Tomorrow's poets shall know the
renaissance. They shall read of Autumn's Ranger and Ranger's
Autumn, and seek the classical ideals for themselves, as the ideals are
free and true, and like God's freedom, they naturally belong to all
those born into this rough world. And those who seek them shall find
the scared romance in the pretty faces of their own Autumns.
Separated, as they are in pomo society, Autumn and Ranger are lost.
But united as Autumn Rangers, they walk this lonely earth as God
intended. That's it. Autumn Rangers equals American Renaissance."
She'd finished the design.
"That'd be one helluva shirt." Ranger said.
"Reckon so." She sighed. "Maybe we could do lingerie too."
http://autumnrangers.com
http://jollyrogerwest.com
.

User: ""
Title: Re: THE WAR AGINST MEN!! COULD WE USE A MORE RUGGED CHRISTIANITY?? WHERE ARE THE REAL MEN IN THE CHURCH?	13 Aug 2005 07:37:43 PM

http://jollyrogerwest.com (THE NEW FASHION IS ETERNITY)
As all noble actions are preceded by thoughts, and all thoughts
reside in words, so it is that our freedom, character, and divine sense
of meaning derive from language and literature. The Gospel of John
presents a brief history of God's aspect and language, which are
forever wedded:
In the beginning was the Word, and
the Word was With God, and the Word was God.
The same was in the beginning with God.
And having stated thus, I cannot forget that the truest definition
of poetry is poetry herself, which remains the ungraspable phantom of
life-- the White Whale itself, immortal, immutable, and superior to
both the artist and critic, ultimately inaccessible, even to those who
created it:
Against long, dark clouds like a lonely torch,
A misty light, a late May misty night,
We hopped the fence, had a seat on the porch,
The windswept spray haloed the sweeping light,
She told me stories from the years before,
When they saw ghosts dancing within the waves,
Some friends on a blanket, down on the shore,
Watched the phantoms rise from their watery graves.
How beautiful she was, for I could see,
A sense of that profound romantic high,
We shared the wild mystery of the sea,
Knowing deep down all else would someday die.
The storm blew in upon the wicked wind,
Elements had never been more alive,
On nights like those are forged the ties that bind,
When in the black ye see a light yet strive.
Against long dark clouds like a lonely torch,
I found myself ten years on down the road,
In a culture with little left to scorch,
And I recalled how the thunder did explode,
I remembered the way the wind did howl,
How the sea roared with all inequities,
And yet the beacon gave no avowal,
A solemn sentinel above capricious seas.
A misty light, a late May misty night,
I find myself there, holding Misty tight.
It turned out the Corolla Light was locked, so what we did instead
was we sat in some old rocking chairs on the front porch of this quaint
little house beside the lighthouse. It was the gift shop, I could tell,
for I could see all the racks with the postcards and miniature
lighthouses and books on Blackbeard. They'd just found Blackbeard's
ship about eighty miles on down the coast, just off of Wilmington. And
there, on the windowsill, somebody had left a copy of Moby *****. It was
a big old hardback edition, and as the gusts of wind swirled in under
the awning, they flipped the pages back and forth, back and forth, as
if some ghost was searching for the one portentious passage that alone
contained the words which so beautifully expressed the moment's somber
sentiments-- the humble, profound feeling that precedes a spring storm
blowing in off the Atlantic.
Now I'd never been all that good at small talk, and it didn't
help too much that this was sort of a first date. So in a way Herman
Melville came to my rescue on that night, just as he would, time and
again, with words that filled a contemporary void, echoing the subtler,
unheralded beauty, providing a literary beacon by which to navigate
through life as aspiring classical poets. Moby ***** became a literary
bible for Drake, Elliot, and I, as we saw ourselves as the captain of
the Pequod, being called upon to avenge the deposed Greats and the
honor, nobility, and pride of Generation X.
Moby ***** was a tragic record of the harshness and indifference
of the baser natural and human elements, which are utterly immune
towards the greater glory of all rhyming contemplations, just like
David Geffen and Time Warner. And we took it to be a motif for the
modern reality of young artists coming of age in this postmodern fog,
surrounded by the intellectually indifferent, amoral, ambitious
university presidents, editors, publishers, and professors. The
classical traits, such as honor, honesty, humility, prudence, and
integrity had been cast overboard along with the classical literature.
The abstract structure of the culture and the old, traditional,
time-honored rules had been deemed an obstacle by the rising
resentniks, for the Truth contained therein got in the way of their
politics. Forever be it known that there is a difference between Truth
and Politics, and that good Politics is that which humbles itself
before the Truth. Thus the postmodern liberals performed a most wicked
crime upon the culture and future generations. They deconstructed the
Western heritage, removed God from the center and circumference of the
universe, and replaced Him with fringe feminists, economic indicators,
multiculturalists, and marketing executives, just to make sure the
transition looked cool.
http://jollyroger.com/penpals (USMC PENPALS!!)
http://jollyrogerwest.com
.

User: ""
Title: Re: THE WAR AGINST MEN!! COULD WE USE A MORE RUGGED CHRISTIANITY?? WHERE ARE THE REAL MEN IN THE CHURCH?	15 Aug 2005 09:33:45 PM

User: "Great Books Classics"
Title: Re: THE WAR AGINST MEN!! COULD WE USE A MORE RUGGED CHRISTIANITY?? WHERE ARE THE REAL MEN IN THE CHURCH?	05 Aug 2005 03:32:22 PM

REAL MEN UNITE!!
THE RENAISSANCE!!
http://jollyrogerwest.com
CALLING ALL CHIRSTIAN COWBOYS AND CONSERVATIVE SURFERS!!
http://jollyrogerwest.com
http://jollyroger.com
.

User: "c-bee1"
Title: Re: THE WAR AGINST MEN!! COULD WE USE A MORE RUGGED CHRISTIANITY?? WHERE ARE THE REAL MEN IN THE CHURCH?	05 Aug 2005 07:27:22 PM

"Great Books Classics" <greatbooksclassics@yahoo.com> wrote in message
news:1123273942.618183.290150@g14g2000cwa.googlegroups.com...

REAL MEN UNITE!!

THE RENAISSANCE!!

http://jollyrogerwest.com

CALLING ALL CHIRSTIAN COWBOYS AND CONSERVATIVE SURFERS!!

http://jollyrogerwest.com
http://jollyroger.com

More commercial spam from liars. lol
.

User: ""
Title: Re: THE WAR AGINST MEN!! COULD WE USE A MORE RUGGED CHRISTIANITY?? WHERE ARE THE REAL MEN IN THE CHURCH?	06 Aug 2005 11:53:21 AM

CONSERVATIVE SURFERS? HUH? Is this person one who goes like, "Woah
dude, cowabunga, W rules!" Surfs up and liberal wipe out!
- Richard Hutnik
.

User: ""
Title: Re: THE WAR AGINST MEN!! COULD WE USE A MORE RUGGED CHRISTIANITY?? WHERE ARE THE REAL MEN IN THE CHURCH?	07 Aug 2005 10:11:06 AM

GRUNGESERVATIVE SURFERS OF THE WESTERN SPIRIT UNITE!!
http://jollyroger.com/beaconway/grungeservative.html
The Grungeservative Literary Revolution
by Becket Knottingham
"We like the music, but we don't do the drugs."
"Postmodernism was fun, but I don't think we'll be making a tradition
out of it."
Hey there people-- this is Becket here. The whole "grungeservative"
thing was my idea. Drake and Elliot didn't like it at first, but I
talked 'em into it over a beer at Last Call on Thursday. I mean hey--
they're the ones in the band (Drake's Raft). What it was was that they
were kinda pissed at me when I first came up with it. They wouldn't
admit it, but they were. You see, they're the ones who're always
writing all the poetry and prose in the context of the Western Canon,
in addition to the cool treatises on the death of postmodern
liberalism, while all I do is the graphics and CGI stuff and things.
Now y'all know that brevity is the soul of wit, so like when I came up
with the one word which encompassed the entire jollyroger.com
enterprise, they knew they were beat. But anyway, we're all still
friends, and I've been buyin' as of late, just to cheer 'em up, and I
let Drake win at tennis yesterday. I've been letting Elliot win at golf
ever since I came up with the whole pirate motif. And the more I think
about it, the cooler it is. When I hear the word "grungeservative," I
picture myself eating steak or something, listening to the Rolling
Stones or maybe the Smashing Pumpkins if my girlfriend's around, even
though she's kinda getting tired of 'em too, and reading Shakespeare,
waiting for Rush to perform Reality.
I was so psyched about my fantastic contribution to the
contemporary WWW literary revolution, that I decided to let the cool
people at Rolling Stone know about it all. It would be selfish to keep
the Grungeservative Literary Renaissance all to ourselves, and we're
compassionate people. I might also send a letter to The National
Review, because P.J. O'Rourke writes for them too.
Dear Rolling Stone,
I invite you to sail on over to our WWW site, www.jollyroger.com,
the home port of the generation-x intellectual. Over 30,000 fans and
stow-aways have signed their souls aboard The Jolly Roger, hailed the
flagship of the WWW Grungeservative Literary Revolution. We like the
music, but we don't do the drugs, and we wish the liberal boomers would
stop handing us condoms. Why don't they go use 'em on their third
wife/husband/companion/roommate, and let the young alone to dream of
romance and immortal love? The Jolly Roger was recently ranked in the
top 5% of all WWW sites, and we sold over 100 of our cool
jollyroger.com t-shirts this past week, along with copies of Moby *****.
Moby ***** is a novel about whaling.
Postmodern editors, administrators, slackademics, and professors,
when entrusted with the helms of our presses and universities,
forfeited on their sacred responsibility to sustain a moral course for
society. The mission of the Good Ship is to take up the slack and
revive Great Literature, such as that which has been banned for
promoting violence against whales. A new popular culture centered about
contemporary works written in the context of the Great Books will play
a fundamental role in reforming society and saving our institutions
from being subject to further decadence. I believe that no medium is
superior to that of the printed word in nurturing the rational part of
the human soul-- the foundation upon which the two pillars of
Democracy, freedom and moral responsibility, are erected. Great
Literature alone can navigate the vast depths of man's moral conscience
and retrieve the spiritual treasures that lie there.
As a physics graduate student I have been taught by Reality to
trust not The Barnacle of Higher Education, nor the intellectually
indifferent university president, nor the NEA, nor the NEH, nor the
corporate conglomerate presses. For they all look ed on in
indifference, in silence, or in satisfaction as the heritage our
forefathers conceived of and died for, in which all men are created
equal and the two-parent family is a cool idea, was desecrated. They
stood by and handed us condoms as God, who Jefferson humbly credited
with giving us all the gift of freedom, was excommunicated from the
ivied campuses, so as to make room for the perverse context in which
the nihilistic, Marxist politics of the skin color scholars and gender
generals today prevails.
Thus today I find myself part of a generation which perceives that
after being bound by holy matrimony there's a fifty-fifty chance that
we will ultimately say, "just kidding." I find myself part of a
generation that wonders at the use of learning all the multicultural
crap, when fading fast is the institution in which one can learn to
trust one's father. I am part of a generation which was denied the
sacred, and given Snoop Doggy Dogg.
Members of my generation will be rewarded with fame and vast
fortunes for conforming to liberal artistic standards and destroying
themselves with heroin, but if we write a rhyming love sonnet, we will
be kicked out of class by a feminist. I pen this letter knowing that
Rolling Stone has one of the few New York addresses where these
truth-inspired words can be sent to and read without inspiring dismay,
trepidation, and resentment.
And I write to the noble Rolling Stone not to lament, but to exalt.
For upon the WWW the crew of the Jolly Roger and I have found a
frontier equal to our pioneering spirits. We have longed to sail free
of the socialist-tinged institutions of higher education, where the
pernicious liberal bureaucrats deconstructed the Truth after theorizing
that only in a postmodern void could the mediocre reign supreme. We
have fabricated a formidable frigate from the planks of conservatism to
keep our thoughts and ideals afloat as we sail the world, battling the
forces which seek to destroy the eternal in our souls. The Jolly Roger
is armed with the Western Canon, and she is prepared to deliver
broadside blasts of truth to resentnik vessels sneakin' up on the port
side in the postmodern fog. As Drake recently said on the phone to his
mom while telling her not to worry, "She's built from Oak planks of
reason, riveted with rhyme, designed to voyage across all of time."
Avast! Upon this deck sober thought reigns, and words mean things.
Smoking dope isn't cool here-- reading the immortal words of the
Western Canon is. Learning three chords, shooting heroin, and selling
yer soul to David Geffen just won't cut it aboard me immaculate
frigate, nor will brown-nosing yer feminist instructor. I let me peers
know that they're welcome to conform to what Trent Reznor needs them to
be, but I shall confiscate the bogus idea that they are independent
people from their minds, and replace it with the fact that they are
liberal pawns, accepting pornographic bribes in exchange for voting for
liberals to spend the money they will never earn. Slackers are welcome
to walk the plank and get left in Reality's wake. But the free-thinkers
shall join me in pirating the profound context of the Great Books which
has been buried 'neath postmodernism, feminism, nihilism, and MTV, and
returning it to its rightful owner-- the people. Liberals who stand in
the way of our Destiny shall soon sink in the wake of our Ship.
Enclosed in this envelope please find a copy of The Red Avengers of
All that is Right And True's Declaration of Independence From Slackers.
This call to arms is popular amongst my peers, and it has been picked
up by several WWW publications, including The Internet Herald, The
Revolutionary, The Jolly Roger, and The Carolina Review. I'm sure that
Rolling Stone, situated on the cutting edge of contemporary culture,
will be interested in publishing it.
A lot of people are psyched to see what we're saying getting said.
We speak from the heart, and while this inspires controversy, it is
also forms the foundation of our credibility. We're providing
generation-x an alternative to alternative consisting of a voice
inspired by truths higher than heroin. The WWW is allowing us and our
goatees to have fun filling the spiritual void created and ma intained
by the postmodern power-mongerers. We're proud to be serving the world
with Great Contemporary Literature, as the twenty-seven year old
Captains of THE JOLLY ROGER.
And alas-- as there is little chance that a postmodern liberal will
touch any of this with a ten foot oar, and as it happens that
postmodern liberals edit The Chronicle of Higher Education, The New
York Times, Spin, and New York in general, I was hoping that Rolling
Stone might be able to help get the word out concerning all the
ruthless fun we're having aboard the Good Ship. Please be sure to
puruse the encouraging responses we've received:
http://jollyroger.com/beaconway/response.html.
Awhile back this one Hollywood agent like tried to get me to write
a screenplay for the The Drake Raft Field Trip. He bought me meals and
all, but like the thing is, I'd rather have it published and read
first, before OliverStoneBradPitt get a hold of it. I mean I wouldn't
mind seeing their postmodern interpretation (it'd make a good ad), but
like not without the real thing out there too. Somebody in the
entertainment industry is going to make some serious money off of
exalting the peoples' moral conseciences with the sober Truth, but it
probably won't be Death Row records.
Rather than murdering that which I had created, I decided to set
out to revive the cultural context in which the subtle and the
profound, embodied in the printed word, can be appreciated. Hence the
www literary renaissance. The wind has just begun to rise. I would be
grateful for a mention in your intellectually revered pages.
Happy Holidays
Becket "Bluebeard" Knottingham
P.S. And don't forget to order your jollyroger.com t-shirt, and
pick up a copy of Moby ***** while you're at it!
http://jollyroger.com/shirt.html
P.P.S. My only literary awards to date have been getting kicked out
of Joyce Carol Oates' creative writing class at Princeton.
http://jollyroger.com/beaconway/grungeservative.html
http://jollyrogerwest.com
.

User: "Captain Ranger McCoy"
Title: Re: THE WAR AGINST MEN!! COULD WE USE A MORE RUGGED CHRISTIANITY?? WHERE ARE THE REAL MEN IN THE CHURCH?	06 Aug 2005 03:25:47 PM

http://jollyroger.com/penpals/ (USMC PENPALS!!)
http://jollyrogerwest.com
http://specialforcesforums.com
In The Name of Freedom
by Drake Raft
July 4th, 1998
The night fell fast, I found myself alone,
A DC summer storm was blowing in,
I stood at the tomb, these soldiers unknown,
and knelt and prayed for the rain to begin.
Not for the monuments nor any money,
nor pomp, circumstance, nor the pedant's pride,
the politician's smile, nor lawyer's fee,
for these present treasures, none of them died.
I ran to Jefferson to read the wall,
to make sure that God was still written there,
then to Washington, and across the Mall,
where Lincoln invoked his immortal prayer,
Winded and ragged, lightning everywhere,
I slowed to a walk, pondered what would be,
if God's great Enlightenment weren't there,
we could still be brave but never be free.
I found comfort in the Mall's mud and rain,
without mines nor cannons nor raining shells,
so free from fear, iniquity, and pain,
because thousands had endured a thousand hells.
And I found myself back before the tomb,
humbled by the humbled, with naught for name,
shivering, though they had the colder room,
sans light, nor sound, nor tomorrow, nor fame.
I thought for a moment, what it could be,
the center and circumference of their dreaming,
it must have been the prophet's poetry,
that granted their souls eternal meaning.
So judges and Congressmen, please don't forget,
the reason these patriots picked up swords,
not for perks nor power were their deaths met,
but for honor and duty-- for mere words.
So do take pause before telling a lie,
for there's one more thing I saw on that night,
as the wind and the rain began to die,
I walked away, turned, and beheld a light.
Wil'O'wisp, reddish light, sailor's delight,
It hovered there-- just above the tomb's stone,
As fading thunder whispered to the night,
"Freedom's the name of all soldiers unknown."
http://jollyroger.com/penpals/
http://jollyrogerwest.com
http://specialforcesforums.com
.

User: "Great Books Classics"
Title: Re: THE WAR AGINST MEN!! COULD WE USE A MORE RUGGED CHRISTIANITY?? WHERE ARE THE REAL MEN IN THE CHURCH?	05 Aug 2005 03:32:44 PM

REAL MEN UNITE!!
THE RENAISSANCE!!
http://jollyrogerwest.com
CALLING ALL CHRISTIAN COWBOYS AND CONSERVATIVE SURFERS!!
http://jollyrogerwest.com
USMC PENPALS
http://jollyroger.com/penpals
.

User: "Captain Ranger McCoy"
Title: Re: THE WAR AGINST MEN!! COULD WE USE A MORE RUGGED CHRISTIANITY?? WHERE ARE THE REAL MEN IN THE CHURCH?	05 Aug 2005 05:23:38 PM

THE MOST PERFECT SILENCE
I know where the most perfect silence is,
Seen it in the wild blue off Hatteras,
A mile out, rainbowed sails in silent bliss,
Looked like they'd collide, but they safely passed.
I know when the most perfect silence is,
Down a dusty Ohio road, high noon,
No shirt on, being burned by the sun's kiss,
Sixteen, takin' my time-- it was still June.
I know what the most perfect silence is,
It's what we say when falling out of love,
It roars and thunders right through the kiss,
Says all that no words can ever speak of.
I know why the most perfect silence is,
It is there for the whisper to be born,
The whisper in her ear became the kiss,
Just a dream in DC early one morn.
I know who the perfect silence is for,
It is for the ones whom we love the best,
It is there to protect them from our core,
By the silent trust we all seek to rest.
And I know how rare that silence can be,
With everyone talkin', it's hard to hear,
But I know I felt it, on the streets of DC,
The sound in her eyes-- it was crystal clear.
And it brought back to mind the rainbowed sails,
And the way it looked like they would collide,
Like two souls set upon fate's iron rails,
But the most perfect silence never died.
--Drake Raft
Join the renaissance!!!
http://jollyrogerwest.com
http://jollyroger.com/penpals
.