Friday, September 23, 2016


Part of what Milo argues is what Chris Hedges argues. That we have a liberal professional class that covets its rulership more than anything else. With both of them, trolls didn't necessitate this class regrettably closing its doors. Rather, enjoying the idea of their foreclosed ownership of what is right opinion and correct manners -- enjoying being distinct and better than everyone else -- they sought out means to classify everyone outside of their class as predators, trolls, deplorables. To both Milo and Hedges, our situation is Versailles. 

And the problem for the left is that there is truth in this. We just live outside those periods of unambiguous growth where the most progressive people out there -- which is always the left -- are absolutely uninterested in bourgeois/genteel pretensions. We've had that age -- the 60s. Now we are living in one where -- though they cannot acknowledge it -- they actually do enjoy the idea that they and their children will be part of a class clearly superior to other people. Best schools, right company .... since kindergarden, manufactured in a way that the cultural anthropologist studies to be recognized as unrelated to the odious and suspect mass public. 

We should hate this. It's obnoxious. It's even unfair to the professional class because if they were induced to be a bit more emotionally healthy, they would not be enjoying this but noticing how shortchanged it is to a truly egalitarian environment (remember when liberals created the internet and genuinely hoped it would allow hundreds of thousands of people to shine!). 

But it is something they will eventually evolve out of. It makes them vulnerable to attack, but they remain the most emotionally healthy people out there. And the policies someone like Clinton, who overall seems one of the more emotionally healthy people of her fine generation, will implement, will empower people and lesson the incurred growth of sadism and hate. If she can get in in this sort of environment, it would be a massively encouraging event. It would tell me that even during this period where so many people are rebelling against genuine progress, which owing to their own impaired childhoods, they feel makes people "bad" and "selfish," we're going to skate through this period better than they did the previous period like this, the 1930s. 

Milo as Salon's replacement

Milo is Salon's replacement. Salon isn't to be seen as empowering Milo, but rather as shuddering as they sense the limelight passing. Amanda Marcotte noticed that there were many who identified as strongly feminist... who were the sort of people who previously loudly applauded Salon when it went after sexist men, who suddenly revealed themselves as actually not so feminist at all -- and in fact as actually very, very angry at women -- when they became Bernie Bros. It was if they'd finally found a safe space where they could finally speak their minds without feeling like they would be obliterated for it, and they indulged as if previously prisoners humiliated into forced identification. 

They had aligned with people like Marcotte, that is, defensively. By being with her, they couldn't give voice to their prejudices -- and in fact had to experience the constipated discomfort of staunching them -- but they could partake in her being bitchy, arbitrary and dismissive -- buoyed, as Milo correctly argues, on being the cultural wars' victors and having remade their opponents into gutter rats - to versions of themselves they felt a need to deny. 

What's happened is that the nativist sense that our countries are like our dearest mammy has sort of gone live. A bunch of self-interested globalists have -- in this version of seeing things -- let their countries go to rot as they've been spoiling themselves Versailles style. And the ones who are now worthy of the penetrating, angry glare become, not the Hillbilly white boy, who's bad owing to being descendent of colonialism and centuries of exploitation and rape, but rather the like of university-entrenched feminists, who at end of the day are seen as mostly handmaidens of globalist ascension, who willfully couldn't give a damn if their abandonned home countries broke apart in rust and if it turns out the only people they were fighting for were themselves.  

So now people can go Milo rather than Marcotte and feel not so alone and vulnerable for it, but rather like the loyal, parent-cherishing child about to be accosted yet again by the presumptive, parent-dissing sibling... but this time while the club-toting, pissed-off parents are at hand. 

They've hopped over to someone else's shadow, and, just now indulging in its spoils of new permissions and liberties, are gleeful over it. 

Friday, July 29, 2016

Recent comments at (July 29 2016). I am Emporium.

Aunt Messy Emporium turney333 Jayne Cullen Just for you, Aunt Messy:
The fact that Hillary and Chelsea wore different color dresses intrigues me as well. They weren't unified, part of one-another -- all white. It was a white and red "split". Maybe not a priming of good-and-bad-witch, pure-and-bad-blood split... something which will soon be displaced onto Trump, as he gets portrayed as a foreign Russian devil, with noticeable female attributes. But I wonder if they were encouraging us to see Chelsea as the blood on Hillary's hands: that with Hillary elected, the future of the young would be a sacrifice of blood. 
A subconscious communication: if you're tired of pushy, uppity, disrespectful youth -- you don't need to go Trump Republican... Hillary will make sure they'll be targeted and killed in other countries. 

Thursday, July 14, 2016

Recent posts at (July 14 2016). I'm Emporium

Jayne Cullen Algernon2 The war on pornography that is going on right now though is perhaps best understood as a war against pleasure. It is the emerging prudish attitude of the 1930s condemning Jazz Age fun as civilization-destroying. It really just isn't the time to be with those who argue that porn dehumanizes. Such times might have once existed. Not now. Best to go with Marcotte's people just having a bit of me time on occasions.

Thursday, June 30, 2016

Recent postings at (June 30 2016)

E.L. Deflagrante kumicho "we do not get that the member nations are not US states, but nations with thousands of years of history"
I always wonder when people talk about the importance of the length of time a country has been a country, if they're thinking that somehow a race's history gets passed on through the genes. It's like as if some serum was injected into each young child, so they're inextricably infected with the millions of voices of their ancestral heritage. Within each one is actually a Jungian legion! I'm sorry, but weren't they rather just playing with their X-boxes and listening to their Taylor Swift? How exactly was the Magna Carta, Shakespeare, Chesterton and Churchill lurking somehow, even within that?
Maybe it's rather that if you've been well loved as a child, you don't project onto a nation anything mythical or magical -- you're spared that psychological malady. It becomes... simply a collective; one that might not make anywhere near as much sense as one you might choose to formulate within your own generation, with people of similar dispositions, across other countries. Like the E.U. was for the post-war generation. 

Sunday, June 26, 2016

Recent comments at (June 26 2016)

If this cosmopolitan world somehow manages to keep going, we're going to see some of these Anglophiles genuinely pressed on exactly how much, truly, they're disappointed when a cosmopolitan world collapses... how disappointed they are, truly, when suddenly everyone in their own country wants to know more of their Shakespeare, Jane Austen, Wordsworth origins, rather than what the rest of the world "bursted" (good literature bursts?) with their ostensibly equally worthy literature. 
For if it somehow keeps going, Literature departments will likely be pressed on this habit of sticking to, of permitting, study according to country. Why communicate to students that it's okay to devote oneself to more or less uninterrupted involvement in your own country, when the world you're in is an interconnected reality? Why communicate that people share something in common, perhaps mystically, owing to the fact of their geography, their national heritage?
Why not instead communicate that the person who might really be most simpatico with you, could be someone living in a different culture, and this won't be the joining of two exotics but rather of two natural soulmates? And the same for literature, so you couldn't possibly devote yourself to all things English and be as equally emotionally evolved as the student who naturally wants to dabble everywhere. Why weren't YOU like that as well? Why if you love this interconnected, global world, didn't you find yourself with a rather mixed reading list... and a bunch of traditionally oddly grouped texts, to want to arrange for a class? 
Why find yourself in this unfortunate fix where all the books you're going to be redoubling your efforts to comb through, are pretty much exactly the same ones Nationalists are going to be parading as recommended or mandatory reading lists? How much are you going to regret that during this next historical period, you're not so much going to stand out but rather, sufficiently "pass." 

Friday, June 24, 2016

Recents comments (I'm "Emporium") at (as of June 25 2016)

susan sunflower Emporium Good point about the similarity between this case and the scapegoating of Jews as child-abductors. Referring specifically to Jews, this was a minority actually leaps ahead in terms of childrearing, true child care, than the rest of Germans -- they were the most progressive group in the country.

Saturday, May 14, 2016

My response to Andrew O'Hehir's recent article (I am Emporium)

Is an “October surprise” that could put Donald Trump in the White House already baked into the American electorate? That’s the frightening question one could derive from this week’s column by Thomas B. Edsall, one of the most useful (and least ideologically hypnotized) contributors to the New York Times. We can’t be sure how many people really support Trump, Edsall reports, since there’s considerable evidence that they aren’t telling pollsters the truth. Voting for Trump, it appears, is something white people do in the shadows. It’s a forbidden desire that is both liberating and self-destructive, not unlike the married heterosexual who has a same-sex lover on the down-low, or the executive who powers through the day on crystal meth and OxyContin. On some level you know the whole thing can’t end well, but boy does it feel good right now.

Sunday, May 8, 2016

Recent posts on Facebook

May 2

We're going to see a lot of this sort of critique in the near future.
One thing I would like to point out is that there is a great deal of energy put into attacking those who sneer at the working class -- every progressive you know, is suddenly set up as the most callous person ever. Another thing is that Plato's sense of late-stage democracy is not really established as an illusion here. He -- Andrew Sullivan, that is -- basically agrees that something awful is necessarily unleashed as freedoms suddenly abound. For Plato it is societal inversion, as everyone forgets their "proper" role, deference is lost, and everybody does what they want; for Andrew it is more than people lose roles that actually matter, that aren't intrinsically humiliating, as well as that narcissism and emotion gets unleashed -- the passions -- and order and good reason is lost.

Saturday, May 7, 2016

Acting on one's own behest, in "Captain America: Civil War"

If "Captain America: Civil War" somehow was occurring in our actual world, it's a no-brainer as to which side — Cap's, who wants to keep the Avengers independent; or Iron Man's, who believes the team should essentially part of the security force of the United Nations — is right, the more progressive: the genuine evolution as to where the Avengers must go. Cap's would represent a sort of childish nationalism, where one country stands apart from the world because it can't see global cooperation as something other than entanglements and forced passivity, a curtailing of freedom: America as it was in the world until about Obama. Iron Man's would represent an adult appreciation that respecting the global community is the best way to not be a sort of global antagonist: the kind of force Vision talks about in the world that baits nations into warfare and terrorism that could have been drawn peaceful. But in this film world, overall, Iron Man's side, joining the United Nations, is mostly seem to be about a lapse of mature judgment, not a recognition of it. 

It actually is made to seem closer to what is occurring psychically when people who were once interested in being cosmopolitan start identifying themselves "starkly" as proudly nationalist: fitting yourself into the nationalist collective, you surrender distinction and autonomy but "feel good" because you suddenly feel free of antagonists for your own previous independence — a kind of defensive clinging, a retreat, undertaken not out of "wisdom" but because some great punishment was felt sure to be coming. This isn't to say that some of the members who decide for the U.N. aren't made to seem noteworthy for doing so: Scarlett Johansson's Black Widow, in particular, is made to seem as if she made a deliberated choice, where experience and age and the benefits of faithful friendship have all helped her to see the world in a more enlightened and sophisticated and less personal demon-haunted way (Don Cheadle's War Machine's pronounced, instant decision, on the other hand, seems a bit a flunky's response, as well as arrogant: he'd demand for a team that he's been part of, for how long?). But overall this steering towards the U.N. is made to seem as if it's part of the machinations summoned of the wilful mind of Iron Man, when he wants to chastise and punish his own teammates because he feels himself filled-up with rottenness. 

Iron Man's a bit of a wreck in this film, and it's not made to seem owed to the after-effects of having made the near self-sacrifice of himself through directing a nuclear weapon towards an armada, beckoning close in deep space. This is not him akin to Mark Ruffalo's Hulk, or in this film, Elizabeth Olsen's Scarlett Witch, taken apart over psychic repercussions from wrought damages on the battlefield — innocent lives lost, or near-lost. Rather, his troubles here are "Rosebud" territory: there's some terrible, terrible guilt associated with feelings towards his mother and father, that are bubbling up in a mad way, making it so that, for him, whatever carnage his team was responsible for in the past — whole wasted city blocks, whole wasted cities — bears the smallest comparative relevance. 

In the movie's first scene, where Tony Stark is revealing to an MIT audience a new-tech device he's invested hundreds of millions of dollars on, specifically to try and help himself rewire his brain so plaguing traumas can finally get eased, we have a sense of a guy, who, maybe in this instance — okay, yes — but maybe otherwise can't be trusted in a room with other people of about the same age he was when his genius was blossoming but so too his repudiation of his parents, just before — it turned out — they lost their lives in a car crash: the temptation might be, to help ease his own guilt, to project his own ostensible wickedness — which won't go away with time or even with brain-rewiring — onto some other self-representative. We don't sense it just here with this group of safely-ensconced, princeling children of the professional class, MITers, but when later in the film he seeks out adolescent Peter Parker, with all this young man's discomfort, his humiliating complete lack of ability to account himself well when actually pressed to be "the man" he claims for himself through his "Spider Man" moniker, there was a little bit of a feeling of someone come-along to manipulate and use, not to recruit —the wolf, the vampire, the predator, accidentally invited into the home, to prey on the squirming children caught within... all other pressing business, to the wayside. 

The Captain, on the other hand, is made to seem so that whatever talk there was of him possessing some hidden dark side in "Age of Ultron," it's simply false: this guy might find himself occasionally unable to comprehend the variegatedness of the global, 21st century, and maybe go "red, white and blue" just to re-center himself every once in a while, but really this guy has no dark side, no marked inability not to be able to adjust to and propel positive — personal growth-enabling — change. He can stay true to himself and the avenue of possibilities that are open to him, even as many of his friends slides off into disconsonance, into obeying the will of inner overlords now directing their psyches, calling for the punishment of the ostensibly obstinate and for collective, pointless self-sacrifice of all. 

I think the fact that Captain America loses Iron Man as a friend while more firmly re-attaching himself to his previous one, Bucky, the Winter Soldier, owes to the fact that the latter can be triggered to be a madman but remains otherwise good and sane, while it's getting harder and harder to find any speck of the former's full sanity remaining in charge. Captain America, it turns out, isn't the guy to make the sacrifice play, to lay down on a wire and let the other guy crawl over you... unless the guy crawling over him has got his own mental wires intact. Without this, he'll sever his ties, and attend to those he can continue to grow with. 

This can mean those who can be triggered to violence by key words but who otherwise know neighbourliness, and who've known the good hearth. But not those whose whole psyches are ever-set to rage, owing to repercussions from feeling responsible for the loss of parental ties and love, and who are in fact on the lookout for triggers to re-stage and find proper punishment for "the participating parties," even if adventurous, hard-earned plots weren't a-boiling to make sure one got served up.

Sunday, May 1, 2016

Recent postings on my Facebook site

I gather at some point in "Harry Potter" I'll get some explanation as to why the hierarchy at Hogwarts is so intentionally obtuse as to how horrible the family situation is that they keep on insisting Harry go back to.

Friday, April 15, 2016

Hairless Butt Potter and the Pederast's Dong

Hairless Butt Potter and the Pederast's Dong

Book 1: Boy with the Lightning Tattoo
By Patrick McEvoy-Halston and Steig Larsson

Hairless Butt: Uncle, you have me caged in my room and won't sign release forms so I can go on fieldtrips. I'm lonely, isolated -- and without practice in the summer, even my Quidditch is beginning to suck.

Uncle Asshole: You're a sorcerer, the dirtiest human being! You deserve no better! However, you do possess the most admirable hairless butt. How about we put our relationship on more agreeable terms ... If you do something for me, I'll do something for you.
Ron: Hairless Butt! It's great that you can visit during the summer now, and that you can join Hermione and me as we go on fieldtrips. How did you manage this?

[Hairless Butt details the sexual services he provides his pederast uncle so that his uncle will give him these minimal allowances. Ron, hoping to become the next Quidditch team captain and join the bros, begins to distance himself from Hairless Butt. Hermione, first to put up her hand to answer questions but a Catholic recluse on matters of sexuality and abuse, comes to full-time quarantine herself in the library. Hairless Butt becomes even more alone and isolated than he was before.]

Voldemort: Hairless Butt! I've arrived to destroy you!

Hairless Butt: Don't bother. I haven't the faintest interest in destroying you, only in joining you, if you'll allow.

Voldemort: ... Well, of course.... You're not mad that I killed your mother and father?

Hairless Butt: Not as much as I am furious at a world that takes a parentless child and lavishes it with further unrelenting cruelty. I mean, after all, didn't as much happen to you? You were an orphan, which is pretty friggin' sad, and yet the only thing anyone ever hears at Hogwarts is that you're the world's worst person ... and besides, as long as people are loyal to you, you treat them pretty well from what I understand. That would be a miracle coup for me!

Voldemort: Alrighty then. Let's go destroy the world!
Book 2
Dumbledore! Run for Your Life!

By Patrick McEvoy-Halston and Cormac McCarthy

Saturday, February 20, 2016

So through witchcraft life must be: a review of "The Witch"

The Witch is about an evolved family, brutally ruptured by an evil so powerful there was nothing they were going to be able to do to master it. Evolved? This absurdly Puritan family? This nutso sin-obssessed family—evolved? Yes. Historically, the Puritans themselves had better parent-child relations than their English kin... they were less intrusive parents, less punishing, and seemed to others like families "stepped out of time." They fled England for Plymouth so to not be swamped by their regressive countrymen. And this particular family flew their Plymouth colony, it would look like, for the same reason—they were prepared to balk authority; everyone else in town stays components of a collective. Yes, they instruct their children how sinful everyone is—what we moderns recognize as a significant kind of abuse—but when we see the family before it gets half-crazed by visible signs of the actual Devil preying upon them, we see no hitting, no sexual abuse; we see instead a good deal of the father talking to his children, listening to them, being soothing but not false—especially notable in his discussion with his son over the limits of human awareness, when their unbaptized child is taken and killed—even if it's only his weaknesses that his mostly grown-up child, the budding, teenage Thomasin, focusses on later in the film. 

And about that, about the daughter scolding her father with the truth of his weakness, his many lies and acts of cowardice, boldly enumerating every single instance: how many of you would ever dare the same with your own parents, right to their faces (the director Robert Eggers says he was influenced by Bergman's Cries and Whispers, one wonders if he wasn't as well by Bergman's Autumn Sonata, where the audience is both alarmed and quietly thrilled by the extent to which the daughter shreds through her mother's lies, defying all the unvoiced threats that commanded she never dare air but flattering reinforcements of her preferred self-image.), even if you were in a situation like hers where there was nothing to be lost in doing so. The last film I saw which featured the possibility of such a confrontation—last year's The Intern—had a feminist daughter at the helm of a large company she created about ready to suicide herself if her mother found out what a bitch she actually thought she was. So, yes, the correct perception of them is as actually evolved—products, each one, of considerable allowance, not as the repressed religious nuts that sixty years later (the film takes place sometime near 1630) would be responsible for the New England Witch Trialsthose ostensible worst of American peoples

Indeed, through what happens with Thomasin, there is a sense that the family's destruction and her "moving on" is about using the elements of what they're bound to—the narrative of a folk tale—to do the best impression of a family moving so far forward its lone remaining constituent knows a kind of liberation that can only be represented in the wilds of devilry—an eternity of licentious play and self-discovery, through willing subservience to the Devil. But before getting to Thomasin and how the film binds "witchery" to her own acts of impressive umbrage, almost in a sense forcing her to go perhaps truly pruriently bad in order for her to explore what is most exciting about her, it is important to note that this isn't a film where you simply cheer at the end for the girl being released from family ties and other harsh bonds, ready, instead, to flock about a beckoning undiscovered world. 

In particular, you care for the young boy as he bravely seeks down the horrors in the forest, and are abashed that this truly brave young man doesn't meet something he could feasibly handle, something that would give him feedback on how he himself is becoming someone to be reckoned with, as he makes his own moral choices and fights for those he loves (not just to kill the wolf, but his lying to his mother to rescue his father from sustained humiliation), but instead faces an instant great over-pour of a taste—lust—that he had only the slightest previous experience in getting a handle on (previously, his looking away when it dawned on him his sister might be aware that he was aroused at his catching sight of her partly exposed breasts). He was prepared to think he might master a wolf in a brawl (and he might well have), but had no handle on the consideration that lust wasn't something that could only come to rightly own you if it arose in full bloom on your own apparent knocking at its door (hasn't this as much been on your mind, young man? haven't you also been hoping more knowledge of this might be lurking deep in the proximate tangles of the woods?). We also feel tremendous empathy for all the kids as they, in a different register, quietly ask one another if the other is actually in truth with the Devil... there's the sense of the world siblings have constructed for one another, an understanding they have that parents aren't party to, that is touching and inspires our wanting to see kept protected. 

So it's not like when the family gets so torn apart, loyalties irrevocably shamed and broken—as they accuse one another of being the like of either failed patriarchs, wanton whores, and of course, witches and devils—amidst a farmed land that has likewise collapsed as an edifice outside of failure, that there is nothing but rightful allure that awaits her as Thomasin steps into a wild that instead knows self-command, the company of witches. She knows that in addition to being done right by by living unconstrained, loose, and free—"seeing the world," as the Devil says—she'll be dispensing trauma upon families of as just as much worth as her own has been many times to her. But still, it is every time she does what should objectively count most right about a person—their own self-exploration/development—that she becomes bound to witchcraft—so through witchcraft, life must be

It is when she is fiddling with a game of peek-a-boo, extending the duration she keeps her eyes hidden so that both she and the infant can be surprised with the infant's reaction to something outside of pattern, that the infant gets snatched away. Her brother is raped by the witch just after he gets manipulated (an act of creativity and self-activation) by Thomasin into letting her journey with him on his nighttime "adventure"—itself, an impressive act of self-activation on his part—into the forest. She manages the problem of the twins hounding her, calling her a witch, by stopping her repeated denial that it was in fact a wolf that snatched away the child and instead embracing the concept, unfolding in a moment into a lively, embellished persona ostensibly ready to boil and bake the twins if they should ever reveal her "true" identity. Through all of this, she reveals the kind of personality that would later flourish in New England Puritan communities, as it was from exactly these that America got its first impressive artistic and literary community. 

Wednesday, February 17, 2016

Superimposing another "fourth-wall" Deadpool

I'd like to superimpose the fourth-wall breaking Deadpool that I'd like to have seen in the movie. In my version, he'd break out of the action at some point to discuss with us the following:

1) He'd point out that all the trouble the movie goes to to ensure that the lead actress is never seen completely nakedno nipples shownin this R-rated movie was done so that later when we suddenly see enough strippers' completely bared breasts that we feel that someone was making up for lost time, we feel that a special, strenuous effort has been made to keep her from a certain fateone the R-rating would even seemed to have called for, necessitated, even, to properly feed the audience expecting something extra for the movie being more dependent on their ticket purchases. That is, protecting the lead actress was done to legitimize thinking of those left casually unprotected as different kinds of womennot as worthy, not as human.   

2) When Wade/Deadpool and Vanessa are exchanging info on their past lives, the only one who admits to anything really incriminating is Vanessa. She was and is a prostitute. We are ostensibly meant to see this as something that could empower her, or that she could engage in in an empowered way. But the fact that Wade didn't pay her for sex but rather to join him in a ball-tossing carnival game, suggests that if she had taken the money for sex, something about their relationship would have been degraded. She had to first be granted a cleansesex apart from money, and only after a normal period of datingto become more of an acceptable love interest, to be worthy of dignity. 

If the movie meant to really show her prostitution as something that didn't degrade/potentially define her they'd have let their relationship arise after he paid her for sex... the sense would have been he didn't spare her from something, something averse and degrading. She was liftedperhaps a bit unearned?into a dignified, "acceptable," situationwhat a guy! The way it is, if she should ever turn on him, humiliate him, spurn him, he could just throw another hundred her way and tell her it will be the normal "ball games" this time—even though she wouldn't go for it, it'd be a presage of the base life she'd be back to after himand she'd be denied the ability to take no disadvantage from it that would have remained hers if she hadn't been so graciously spared his "courtesy."  

3) What happens to Wade's face and body is not nearly as bad as we all are meant to pretend that it is. Using him as a proxy, we savour the fact that this guy gets superhuman strength and reflexes, as well as pretty much full immunity to being killed, gets to keep his superior physique and handsome facial structure, but is permitted the allowance of being as ruthless as he pleases to his enemy—and perhaps to the humanity that scorns him—because the cost of his transformation is so high. If it really was, we wouldn't make that trade in a heartbeat... and all of us would. We ostensibly made a lousy trade, but we really didn't: "more square footage...": we gloat on how well we scored on this deal. 

If the movie really wanted to make him so ugly Wade couldn't presume to ever be appealing to women again, and to ensure that we would desist in readily identifying with him, in using him in this film world as our "second skin," they could just have made him a third-degree burn victima pretty common, unexceptional fate, which looks this much worse: (actually, I can't show you picturesthey can be that terrible; you know what I mean.)

4) Wade endures a lot of torture (so to shock his genes into producing a mutation). If you really mean for those of us using him as our proxy to experience this as something nasty to sit through, you needed to exclude one thing in particular. Don't show him as one of two guys being tortured, and show the other guy, a regular guy, built out of beer and nachos not constant strenuous exercise, as enduring it particularly poorly (cowardly?), despite his easy-to-see-through tough-talk. What happens then is that the torture becomes something to bulwark/cement your own macho, and the other guy becomes someone we can project all our fears, all our humiliating experiences of childhood terror and subservience into, to disown. At the end of the torture, with the other guy perishing passively and "our" fate suggesting our remaining degree of fightour inherent difference"we" come out actually in a position where we ought properly to thank the villain: he helped cleft us from the Mr. Pathetic we fear could be our core.  

5) If the X-Men start courting our proxy, Deadpool, please don't pretend this doesn't send thrills down our spines. If "we" don't immediately accept, it's not because we like going solo. It's because, since Wade represents someone supposed to be akin to us, a "second self," who (according to film critic, Mike Lasalle) in being distinguished mostly for being shameless and endlessly self-forgiving is really not much like the standard brand of heroes and more like plain old everyone of us—notable, simply for possessing a "selfie"we kind of have to be eased in so we feel like we actually belong in the first rank... there needs to be some tweaking.

With Ant-Man, this was accomplished by elevating his heroism; by some restraint on his part. Here, we're seeing the other option in play: by representing the X-men with previously unrepresented characters, including a simple, code-following man-child, Colossus, and a withholding, pouty teenager... hell, even in his unadulterated, much-more-just-a-huge-asshole-than-just-bawdy state, he's already on Charles Xavier's coattails before even arriving at the entrance to his mansion. This movie is the red carpet in, if he chooses to use it. 

Why otherwise wouldn't he? Well, well there is something about a patient transferring upon his doctor a withholding part-object identity, that strikes me as relevant in this case. As well as perhaps just using a connection to an institution to stabilize psychic identity. But that diagnosis for another time, where owing to his "lowering," it'll probably have to applied to more of the hero class than just him.   

Monday, February 15, 2016

Dead potential, in "Deadpool"

According to the psychiatrist I pay most attention to, James F. Masterson, children who grow up under mothers who require their children to meet their own unmet needs for attention have a very difficult time nurturing what he calls their "real self." What happens is that the mother's strongly averse reaction to the child's first sign of autonomy, which occurs when as an infant s/he first started walking, and which kicks in hard once again at adolescence, scares the child away from full (or even partial) self-realization. In the way of the path ahead to ever becoming his or her real self are fears and pains arising owing to feeling abandoned, which are so paralyzing they're akin to what reliably blocked Truman from just driving across the bridge and leaving Seahaven in The Truman Show. He calls them the Six Horsemen of the Psychic Apocalypse: Depression, Panic, Rage, Guilt, Helplessness, and Emptiness. What happens to such children? They never really grow up, never really individuate. Ryan Reynold's Wade shows signs of being exactly this sort of person. At first, he's the kind of guy who seems mostly motivated to deny parts of himself he is concerned actually best represent him by bullying those in overt possession of these traits—geeky guys who wear their vulnerability on their faces and who rage powerfully at women. So it's not him, it's the guys he bullies. He becomes someone however who actually enters a real relationship with a woman, one with promise. But as soon as he gets past the period of mutual-gaze infatuation and enters that period where his relationship might challenge and mature him, take him adrift from his past life of being just another member of a homosocial gang, a calamity happens (here his developing cancer) which leaves him essentially living with his mother, fretful of women rejecting him (my god! my acne!), wantonly acting out his aggressions, and associating with those without the sophistication to see through him (here the simple-minded proletarian X-Men, Colossus, as well as the petulant sorta one, Negasonic Teenage Warhead). 

This is the first R-rated comic book film, but in truth what's on display in terms of characters relating to one another is mightily regressed from the adult relationship we saw on display between Tony Stark and Pepper Potts in Josh Whedon's the Avengers. It's too bad it's doing such good business, because it puts the pressure on recognizable adult characters in other superhero films (like McAvoy's Charles Xavier) not to make him wiltand not making him wilt, is the other reason why the X-men's mansion is always empty when Deadpool visits it, one he wasn't actually going to admit to (or indeed even allow himself to remain for long cognizant of) when he breached the fourth wall, wink, wink: Storm, Cyclops, Wolverine, as they've been depicted thus far, would have no truck with him. May they never be forced to pretend to be willing partners in his sort of retrograde.