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In the 1992 film 'Man Bites Dog', an Australian picture directed by Rémy Belvaux, André Bonzel, and Benoît Poelvoorde, a faux "documentary" crew follows a gangster around as he goes about his life of murder and mayhem. The film was controversial for its purported overt racism and rightwing politics. In one scene the gangster dispatches a young black man and then strips him in preparation for disposing of the body. The gangster is shown over the naked body exclaiming, "Look at this! Seventeen years old and already hung like a rhino!"

I do wonder how much the politics of penis size quietly drives the contemporary world. One has to realise the primary reason there was (and still is, to be honest) a cultural third rail regarding white women dating black men is exactly for the reason Malcolm X intimates. Cock size has forever been a kind of biological arms race, and white men with Asian women is as infuriating to some as white women with black men is to others. Many a jilted lover has shouted, "you only like him for his big dick!", which is typically received with a smirk and an unspoken, "yeah, so what if I do?"

That long-simmering biological arms race was historically geographically localised—and the typical delta between one guy and the next relatively modest—until the past few centuries when all sorts of races began intermingling on a vast scale and women began to exchange notes with one another regarding how not all men are created equal. The stakes are literally life and death, of course, because if she chooses him over you because he is "better endowed", the consequence may be your bloodline dying with you.

Life isn't fair. And if your sweetheart has her love for you annihilated one day by some guy's merciless love removal machine, well, pound sand. DNA will have its way.

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Good movie... I always thought it was a French production.

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Lol, only a Chinese boy band could make a tune about popcorn. No wonder it's called bubblegum music. AC-DC can rest easy:).

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Great article!thanks.Here`s what it takes to become one of Finn Mac Cool`s men:

`Till a man has accomplished twelve books of poetry, the same is not taken for want of poetry but is forced away. No man is taken till a black hole is hollowed in the world to the depth of his two oxters and he put into it to gaze from it with his lonely head and nothing to him but his shield and a stick of hazel. Then must nine warriors fly their spears at him, one with the other and together. If he be spear-holed past his shield, or spear-killed, he is not taken for want of shield-skill.

No man is taken till he is run by warriors through the woods of Erin with his hair bunched-loose about him for bough-tangle and briar-twitch. Should branches disturb his hair or pull it forth like sheep- wool on a hawthorn, he is not taken but is caught and gashed. Weapon-quivering hand or twig-crackling foot at full run, neither is taken.

Neck-high sticks he must pass by vaulting, knee-high sticks by stooping. With the eye-lids to him stitched to the fringe of his eye-bags, he must be run by Finn’s people through the bogs and the marsh-swamps of Erin with two odorous prickle-backed hogs ham-tied and asleep in the seat of his hempen drawers. If he sink beneath a peat-swamp or lose a hog, he is not accepted of Finn’s people. For five days he must sit on the brow of a cold hill with twelve-pointed stag-antlers hidden in his seat, without food or music or chessmen. If he cry out or eat grass-stalks or desist from the constant recital of sweet poetry and melodious Irish, he is not taken but is wounded.`

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Not finished:

`When pursued by a host, he must stick a spear in the world and hide behind it and vanish in its narrow shelter or he is not taken for want of sorcery. Likewise he must hide beneath a twig, or behind a dried leaf, or under a red stone, or vanish at full speed into the seat of his hempen drawers without changing his course or abating his pace or angering the men of Erin. Two young fosterlings he must carry under the armpits to his jacket through the whole of Erin, and six arm-bearing warriors in his seat together. If he be delivered of a warrior or a blue spear, he is not taken. One hundred head of cattle he must accommodate with wisdom about his person when walking all Erin, the half about his armpits and the half about his trews, his mouth never halting from the discoursing of sweet poetry. One thousand rams he must sequester about his trunks with no offence to the men of Erin, or he is unknown

to Finn. He must swiftly milk a fat cow and carry milk-pail and cow for twenty years in the seat of his drawers. When pursued in a chariot by the men of Erin he must dismount, place horse and chariot in the slack of his seat and hide behind his spear, the same being stuck upright in Erin. Unless he accomplishes these feats, he is not wanted of Finn. But if he do them all and be skilful, he is of Finn’s people.`

From Flann O`Brien`s At Swim-Two-Birds,1939

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`Of the musics you have ever got, asked Conán, which have you found the sweetest?

I will relate, said Finn. When the seven companies of my warriors are gathered together on the one plain and the truant clean-cold loud-voiced wind goes through them, too sweet to me is that. Echo-blow of a goblet-base against the tables of the palace, sweet to me is that. I like gull-cries and the twittering together of fine cranes. I like the surf-roar at Tralee, the songs of the three sons of Meadhra and the whistle of Mac Lughaidh. These also please me, man-shouts at a parting, cuckoo-call in May. I incline to like pig-grunting in Magh Eithne, the bellowing of the stag of Ceara, the whinging of fauns in Derrynish.

The low warble of water-owls in Loch Barra also, sweeter than life that. I am fond of wing-beating in dark belfries, cow-cries in pregnancy, trout- spurt in a lake-top. Also the whining of small otters in nettle- beds at evening, the croaking of small-jays behind a wall, these are heart-pleasing. A satisfying ululation is the contending of a river with the sea. Good to hear is the chirping of little red-breasted men in bare winter and distant hounds giving tongue in the secrecy of fog. The lamenting of a wounded otter in a black hole, sweeter than harpstrings that. There is no torture so narrow as to be bound and beset in a dark cavern without food or music, without the bestowing of gold on bards. To be chained by night in a dark pit without company of chessmen—evil destiny! Soothing to my ear is the shout of a hidden blackbird, the squeal of a troubled mare, the complaining of wild-hogs caught in snow.

Relate further for us, said Conán.

It is true that I will not, said Finn.`

I remember reading this enthusiastically to my parents 30 years ago(in German,thanks to the fine alcoholic translator Harry Rowohlt)

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The only group to circumcise baby boys is Jews (or gentile cultures dominated by Jewish influence). Other groups practicing circumcision inflict it years later as part of ritual passage to male adulthood, toughening them up in order they might become functioning men as a foundational part of their cultural belief system. Not saying this is a good thing, only that it's a better thing.

Not sure Optera has got the shame/dick size thing quite right. I believe there is penis envy among males (not OF males by females as Freud postulated) and that it has a racial component. Blacks have the Biggus Dickuses, then Whites, then Yellows, generally speaking of course. But I can't imagine many jilted males shouting "you only like him for his big dick!" Even if my woman's new lover were Black, I'd sooner yell "I can't believe you left me for a Black man."

I've always been amused by the ambiguity inherent in the expression "Once you go Black, you'll never go back." Once you've tasted forbidden fruit, only then can you viscerally begin to understand why it's been forbidden.

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It's likely true that most only think it, rather than shout it. Who really knows, maybe Asians shout, "I can't believe you're leaving me for a man with such unimpressive educational attainments!"

"How could you leave your goose feather bed

Your blankeys strewn so comely-o?

And how could you leave your newly wedded Lord

All for a raggle taggle gypsy-o?"

"What care I for my goose feather bed

Wi' blankets strewn so comely-o?

Tonight I lie in a wide open field

In the arms of a raggle taggle gypsy-o"

"How could you leave your house and your land?

How could you leave your money-o?

How could you leave your only wedded Lord

All for a raggle taggle gypsy-o?"

"What care I for my house and my land?

What care I for my money-o?

I'd rather have a kiss from the yellow gypsy's lips

I'm away wi' the raggle taggle gypsy-o!"

https://youtu.be/R3PsxG-CQjE?feature=shared

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