The Men Who Hate Soy Bugmen—
and love displays of faux masculinity.
Whatever era I’m in, you’ll always find me a little behind the times, and I had to look up Andrew Tate recently to try to figure out what all the adulation and loathing—depending on the side howling—was about.
I was surprised to learn this guy had been a kickboxing champ because he sure looked to me like one o’ them slouchy chinless wonders. As the father of a friend told her many many years ago, there’s a reason why a lot of men grow beards.
And using that nasty epithet though I just did, above, I really rather dislike mocking people for their nature-made physiques; none of us choose the outward encasement of our being that we’re born with.
It’s natural to be drawn to the beautiful; it’s remarkable how the plain or even the ugly become attractive when we find something in them other than their appearance to like or admire. These aren’t fixed measures.
I was a four-eyes Bucky Beaver during my elementary school years, so I tend to be a little more aware, maybe, than the average person, of how sneering at other people’s looks for claps is rotten entertainment.
But all the critics of the idiocies of the left are chortling like they cornered the market on laughing gas, shoehorning in the phrase soy bugman like they’re playing a game of Mad Libs but it’s the only pair of words they can remember, and though I tend to think Freud and Jung et al should have been apprenticed at ten to bricklayers so they could’ve done something more useful with themselves, I do feel a little concern about what’s really going on here. Are the young conservative/convert to conservatism men of our time really so desperately insecure about themselves?
I’ve felt contempt for certain of the physical contests within the world of sports for a long time. Boxing is not a sport; it’s beating someone else to a pulp for money, with some rules put in place to make it all seem kosher.
It’s treif.
Same for kickboxing, mixed martial arts. There’s no nobility in the gladiator way. The slavering of the crowd for blood is something unfortunately quite normal; that’s why we try to teach our little children that cheering on one side or another in a schoolyard fight is not a good thing. Even if the set-upon manages to defeat the bully, nothing good has happened. There are better, smarter ways to pit oneself against an opponent. Apparently Andrew Tate’s father knew that, and was excellent at proving so.
I’m sorry for those times in my life I cheapened myself with words, and I’m sorry when I see other smart people do that. The crowd you lure in, they’ll often make you a lot of that filthy lucre stuff. Some of those old movies about the world of boxing, they weren’t afraid to show the truth.
Beyond a certain age—and it’s pretty young, really—we choose who we are. Choosing rightly takes a lot of guts. That’s how I measure a guy’s manhood.
What’s your yardstick?
Had to look him up properly.
Looks to be a paid up Narcissist. Who has figured out the system, by continually providing comments that result in attention.
Knowing how to fight, is more important than the fight itself. It is a self-confidence thing that translates as this meme:
"A peaceful man is a dangerous man, who choose not to be. A weak man is no danger at"
or more recently in the "Cobra Kai" TV series using the old Karate Kid movies actors:
"Be badass, but don't be an asshole"
Did you know that psychological abuse and gaslighting actually causes physical changes in the brain, and therefore your thoughts and actions?