»  VDARE.com Monthly Diary

  November 2024


Boomer sex fizz.     According to Philip Larkin:

Sexual intercourse began
In nineteen sixty-three …

We know what he meant. Human beings were making the beast with two backs long before 1963, as Larkin — born in 1922, vigorously heterosexual, never married — surely knew, but the place of sex in our lives — in our society, in our imaginations — underwent some kind of radical shift in the early 1960s.

In relation to political power, for example. The pre-1960s U.S. Presidency may not have been an unbroken continuum of marital fidelity, but it was surprisingly close to one. The first thirty-four Presidents of the United States were, sexually speaking, a sober lot: the earlier ones quite strikingly so by comparison with their contemporaries in charge of the big old despotic empires.

(You can include female despots in that latter group. Was it Catherine of Russia or the Dowager Empress Cixi of China — pronunciation here — whose favorite retainer was said to be able, while standing upright, to spin a wagon wheel on his erect member? I forget.)

Then along came JFK.

Shirley MacLaine says Marilyn Monroe went to bed with both John F. Kennedy and his brother Robert on the same night.

The Oscar-winner, 90, makes the scandalous claim in her new coffee book, The Wall of Life: Pictures and Stories from this Marvellous Lifetime, which features a photograph from May 19, 1962 — the night Monroe breathlessly sang "Happy Birthday, Mr. President" to JFK.

MacLaine was present at the event and says she attended an afterparty where she saw President Kennedy leave a bedroom with Monroe inside.  [New York Post, November 2nd.]

Today, sixty years on, the scenery has of course all changed. There is no 2024 equivalent of Marilyn Monroe or Brigitte Bardot. We are not as reserved as our great-grandparents, but the fizz of Boomer sexuality has calmed down to occasional bubbles.

(As an aside: I've always thought the late Martin Gardner was on to something when he remarked the coincidence that the only two letters of the alphabet shaped approximately like the female bosom are "M" and "B," while the best-known sex symbols of the middle twentieth century had initials "MM" and "BB." Although Gardner did not mention it, we Brits had a sex symbol of our own in those years: Diana Dors. DD?  Hmm …)

In idle moments I sometimes channel-surf through to reruns of the sitcom Two and a Half Men, which aired through the aughts. (From 2003 to 2011 in the Charlie Sheen version, which I much prefer.) The show relies heavily on sexual humor. That makes it a Boomer relic, as I am reminded any time one of my Millennial kids happens to cross the room as I am watching and laughing. My Millenial stops, watches a minute or two stone-faced, then exits with eyes rolling.

Have social scientists come up with general theories about how these shifting currents of sexual attention affect the fate of societies? Of course they have; but I wasn't acquainted with any of them until late November. Then, scrolling through X, I came across a post by M.A. Franklin, proprietor of the Foundation Father website, which gives advice on fatherhood. Franklin had posted a good long thread on the anthropologist J.D. Unwin, whose dates are 1895-1936.

I had never heard of Unwin. Now I have his 1934 book Sex and Culture on my reading list.

[Permalink]


America's Newspaper of Record Legs.     In all the shifting currents of sex-in-society, some things stay fixed.

Opening my New York Post this morning, what should I see occupying most of page three but a leggy young blonde of no very significant news value — brandishing a cigar! Nothing new about that: here are illustrations from the Post for four  consecutive  days  prior.

And here was George Orwell, writing a long lifetime ago:

There is an immense amount of pornography of a mild sort, countless illustrated papers cashing in on women's legs, but there is no popular literature specializing in the "vulgar," farcical aspect of sex.  ["The Art of Donald McGill" in Horizon, September 1941.]

How I love my New York Post! — the still center in a changing world.

(Legs apart … Sorry! I meant to say, legs aside: I don't know how things go at the Post in 2024, but in the old Fleet Street tabloids forty years ago, the corner of the newsroom that housed the subeditor responsible for those features was known as the Ts and Bs desk, for "tits and bums.")

[Permalink]


A man of honor.     Speaking of Presidential sexuality: Following Donald Trump's election this month I thought I should flesh out (yeah, yeah) my understanding of the other person to win two non-consecutive terms as President, so I took Henry Graff's short biography of Grover Cleveland out of my local library.

Before reading Graff my knowledge of Cleveland was rudimentary. I knew the story about the child that he sired before he was married; I knew the ditty it inspired when, a dozen years later, Cleveland was elected President:

Ma, ma, where's my Pa?
Gone to the White House, ha ha ha!

I knew that, and I knew that Cleveland had behaved honorably towards the child, financing his education. (The boy became a physician.)

I now know that Cleveland may have been double honorable. The boy's mother, Maria Halpin, was free with her favors. Cleveland was certainly a recipient of those favors. Among others similarly blessed was Oscar Folsom, a dear friend of Cleveland. The child might have been his; Halpin actually named the baby Oscar Folsom Cleveland. It's also possible that none of those concerned — Cleveland, Folsom, or Halpin — knew who the father was. Graff:

Possibly Miss Halpin did not know who the father was and had selected Cleveland because he was the most likely or because he was the only bachelor among the possibilities. Folsom was a man about town who sought his pleasures of the night. In all likelihood, Cleveland accepted responsibility because of his affection for Folsom, who was killed in a traffic accident in 1875. The gesture honored the memory of his friend and spared his widow and daughter from shame.

If that's right, Grover Cleveland was a first-class American gentleman.

[Permalink]


Rumors of wars.     Another ineradicable constant of the human condition, although on a larger organizational scale than sex, is war. There was a surge of pacifist sentiment after both World Wars in revulsion at the appalling mass killings and destruction, but it didn't last long. The armies were soon marching again. Where armed conflict between nation-states is concerned, homo sapiens can't keep his pants on.

Of most concern to us this month has been the War Between the World's Two Most Corrupt White Countries.

I can't understand why we're involved in the thing at all. Well, I know of course that we are perforce involved because we're in NATO; but why are we in NATO? The EU has three times Russia's population and ten times her wealth, yet they can't take care of their own defense?

Ukranians clearly wish to have a nation of their own. It would be a shame if they were denied that, so good luck to them in fighting for it. Still, it's equally a shame that the peoples of Tibet and East Turkestan ("Xinjiang") can't have nations of their own, yet no-one in the U.S. government thinks it's America's business to do anything about it.

Empires gotta imperialize. So long as they don't try to seize our territory or maltreat our citizens, let them get on with it.

Looking forward, and assuming civilization survives the current hostilities, there is at least the prospect of a war with no civilian casualties. The October 31st issue of The Economist ran an article headed "Intrigue, greed and hostility burn in the Antarctic."

The 1961 Antarctic Treaty governing who may do what on the continent is showing serious signs of strain, with Russia and China vetoing every proposal at a recent conference.

Behind these tensions is a new scramble for the Antarctic, intensified by the re-emergence of geopolitical rivalry between great powers, climate change and a race to exploit its resources. Start with the rush by both new and existing Antarctic players to build and expand bases on the continent. China's activities are growing the fastest. Although it had a late start, only signing the treaty in 1983, it has doubled the number of research bases it operates over the past decade; earlier this year it opened its fifth station, which is equipped with dual-use civil-military satellite monitoring facilities …

Other countries have also become more assertive. Russia has ramped up its investment. In November India will assess designs for a third research station. Saudi Arabia joined the treaty club in May. Iran says it plans to open its first base, claiming "property rights," even though it is not a party to the treaty. Treaty members may legally build bases. But some of what is happening at them may breach the pact's prohibitions against military activity and resource extraction.

If war breaks out in Antarctica it will be an entirely military matter. The few hundred nonmilitary personnel currently living there — mostly research scientists of one kind or another — will quickly be evacuated. Antarctica has no towns or cities, no factories, schools, or hospitals, no children or retirees. This might, as I said, be a war with no civilian casualties — possibly the first ever.

The winner could reap a bonanza in oil, gas, and minerals, so there's plenty of motivation to fight. Let 'em go at it, I say. Just make sure the civilians are evacuated first.

[Permalink]


Wasted wit.     I took the title of that segment from Matthew 24:6, not very originally. To compensate from the lack of originality, here's a true story.

Time: late 1973 or early 1974. Place: Domestic interior in a midscale residential district of Queens Borough, New York City. Dramatis personae: Self; girlfriend and her granny, both Chinese immigrants from Hong Kong.

The girlfriend's aunt and uncle had recently purchased this house in Queens. It was a nice house: roomy and well-equipped. For Granny, who lived with them, it was a palace. She had been raised a peasant in early 20th-century South China. (According to my girlfriend, Granny had first met her husband on their wedding day.)

So Granny was showing us round the house, waxing enthusiastic about all the modern conveniences. She was especially keen for us to notice the latest-model radiators in all the rooms.

The Toishan dialect of Cantonese was opaque to me and Granny was jabbering too fast for my girlfriend to translate properly. Halfway through the tour I was already bored. As Granny directed our attention to yet another radiator, to my girlfriend I murmured: "Rooms, and warmers of rooms."

She didn't get it.

[Permalink]


The Boredom Fighter.     The item in my November 15th podcast about Japan putting into orbit a satellite made of wood continues to generate emails and comments.

That item included the following:

The Japanese scientists running this project are full of optimism about the potential for wood in space exploration. As one of them pointed out to reporters, quote: "Early 1900s airplanes were made of wood," end quote. Yes, they were. He went on to predict that metal satellites may be banned in future.

It wasn't just the early-1900s planes that were made of wood. As a commenter noted:

The British had an aircraft in WW2 that was largely made of wood: the Mosquito. It was the most versatile warplane ever, seeing service as a light bomber, for marking targets, reconnaissance, maritime patrol, special operations, night fighter, and who knows what else. It was a beloved aircraft.

Indeed; I remember assembling and painting the plastic model kit — Airfix, I think it was.

And the Mosquito was by no means the end of the line for wooden aircraft. There is, for example, the W11 Boredom Fighter.

When my wife and I moved here to Long Island in early 1992, we found that our neighbors included a fair-sized sub-population of retired engineers from the big aerospace companies. One of them, Don Wolf, lived in the house directly opposite ours.

Don and his wife Ruth helped us settle in, with much good advice about local stores and contractors, and strategies for dealing with the petty bureaucrats in Town Hall. Don and Ruth are at center in this picture of our son's one-month party in 1995.

Don was at that point long since retired from Grumann. In his later years at the company, knowing he would need a hobby to fight boredom in retirement, he had planned to build a plane of his own design that he could fly just for the fun of it. Hence the W11 Boredom Fighter. His son Don, Jr. explains that:

The W11 is his eleventh airplane design. It is his idea of what would be enjoyable to build and not "boring" to fly. Earlier designs were concepts and ideas that interested him but the W11 is the only airplane design that he completed, constructed, and flew. The design was refined over a period of several years prior to his retirement.

You can buy the plans for a W11 Boredom Fighter from Don, Jr. (who lives one block from us) and build it yourself if inclined.

Old Don passed away some years ago, but he'd be glad to know his plane is still being built and flown.

[Permalink]


Hey, Matt …     Matt Gaetz seems not too distressed at his nomination to be U.S. Attorney General having been thwarted by Senate RINOs. Latest I've heard, he has no intention of returning to Congress. He's joined Cameo, a website where you can request personalized video messages from celebrities. For $500 you can now have Matt sing "Happy Birthday" to your Mom.

I seriously doubt Cameo will hold Matt's attention for long. Not many people who've spent fourteen years in politics can resist the lure of the greasy pole. Matt will return somehow, either elected or appointed.

In my November 15th podcast I mentioned my one encounter with Matt Gaetz. That was five years ago, October 2019, at an informal dinner party in Manhattan. I did not think to mention the following, which I recalled after posting the podcast.

As the gathering broke up, Matt left before I did. On his way out I shook hands, offering a polite farewell and … my business card. "In case you need a speechwriter," I said, not altogether facetiously, as I offered the card. (Before Matt arrived there had been some talk among the earlier guests that Matt might run for the GOP Presidential nomination in 2024.)

Alas, I've changed my phone number since that card was printed. My email address is the same, though. I check emails twice a day, Matt …

[Permalink]


Math Corner.     Browsing in Jon Millington's wee 2008 collection from the Mother Country Mathematical Snacks I came to Snack Number Ten:

Groups of numbers

If you put whole numbers, starting at 1, into two groups, how far can you get so that no two numbers and their total appear in the same group?

The idea is to plod through the positive whole numbers 1, 2, 3, 4, 5, 6, … writing each one down to make a list, as I just did … except that it is at no point allowed for any number to be in the list if it is equal to the sum of two already listed. I'll refer to this condition as "additive purity." (I made that up myself; Jon Millington is not responsible.)

So we start listing: 1, 2, … but 3 is a problem. It violates additive purity, because 1+2 = 3. If we're only allowed one list, 2 is as far as we can go.

No prob; to accomodate 3 we just start a second list. I'll refer to the lists as L1 and L2 and put each into curly brackets:

L1 = {1, 2}
L2 = {3}.

Proceeding:  4 is easy. It goes right into L1, making it {1, 2, 4}; but then 5 can't go into L1, because 1+4 = 5. We can put it into L2, however, without violating L2's additive purity. The same applies to 6, because 2+4 = 6. We now have

L1 = {1, 2, 4}
L2 = {3, 5, 6}

Breezing along, 7 goes nicely into L1. That, however, means that 8 can't go into L1 because 1+7 = 8. Unfortunately 3+5 = 8, so 8 can't go into L2 either.

We seem to have reached the limit to how far we can take this. The limit is 7.

But wait! There is nothing in the rules to prevent us moving 7 from L1 to L2 and replacing it in L1 by 8. Neither move violates additive purity.

L1 = {1, 2, 4, 8}
L2 = {3, 5, 6, 7}

The number 9, however, is a real game-stopper. It violates additive purity in both lists, because 1+8 = 9 and 3+6 = 9; and there is no way to do the kind of flip we did with 7 and 8.  L1 and L2, as just shown, are as far as we can go with two lists. The limit is 8.

We could take the matter further by using 9 to start a third list, L3. Ten would have to go into it, too, since 2+8 = 10 and 3+7 = 10. Eleven, however, could go into L1 without violating additive purity (although not into L2 because 5+6 = 11) …

So, brainteaser:  The limit for one list is 2, the limit for two lists is 8. What's the limit for three lists?

[Permalink]