I went to Starbucks with my son for some pastries and drinks (I don’t patronize the company but someone gave me a gift card). The evening’s ambiance was pleasant, with alt-something music playing and a smattering of older adults here and there. There were also two groups of young women.
The first thing you notice on a healthy girl is the luster of her hair. At a table we passed there were three pleasant-looking high school girls, one of them downright luminous. They were not one iota different from the ones I went to high school with. Each new generation is a marker of time that counts off the passage of centuries.
After getting our order, we sat on a couch near a table with two college-aged girls, who in a counterpoint to the girleens’ timeless femininity, marked the idiosyncrasy of our own era. The chubby one vindicated the cliché with her blue hair. The other was more normal-looking but had an argumentative face and wore oversized glasses. They were just wrapping up their conversation about President Trump. I won’t hold you in suspense: they were against him.
Men pick up on the aura of an unbalanced psyche. They were female gammas, analogous to their male counterparts in their self-sabotaging alpha ambition without the alpha goods. The thin one was making me wary with her darting glances and the odd fiddling with her phone like she might try to surreptitiously take a photo of us, so I was ready to prevent that.
There is a classic movie scene that dramatizes a permanent choice that every girl makes at a key moment in her life:
TONY: Are you a nice girl or are you a cunt?
ANNETTE: Can’t I be both?
TONY: No. It’s a decision a girl’s gotta make early in life, if she’s gonna be a nice girl or a cunt.
Today that cunt might be an SJW, and likely to have a young man up on false-rape charges. The core constituency of feminism is the tragic women who had made up their minds to be dissolute with their youth and live out their days hating anyone who reminds them of what they had thrown away. One of life’s iron rules: you reap what you sow.
When it was time to go, we walked past the table with the three pretty girls and I understood that nature always persists in springing afresh. If you have a daughter, you literally have a treasure on your hands, so long as you raise her right.