Friday, 22 August 2014

Men fo Yore: Michael Joseph Owens

This is another in a series of posts about men from history who have either achieved great things in one form or another by pushing boundaries: either in themselves or in society or science or exploration of some form. Boundary pushing and growth is what men do, it's their nature: to grow and push outwards. We, as men, are the frontiers men, the first to discover/uncover new territory, in a metaphysical sense (i.e. including both material and the immaterial) that is later colonised and 'civilised' by the rest of humanity. 


Michael Owens


Born: 1 January 1859, in Mason County, West Virgina
Died: 27 December 1923, in Toledo, Ohio

Michael Owens was a glass manufacturer who invented an automatic glass bottle manufacturing machine that revolutionized the industry. His mechanization of the glass-blowing process eliminated child labor from glass-bottle factories, which he had himself experienced from the age of ten. To help provide income for his coal-mining family, Owens joined a glasworks at that age, where he stoked coal into the "glory hole" of the furnace used to resoften glass during the several stages of the hand-formed process. Within a few years, at age 15, he had graduated to the job of glass-blower.

In 1888, he moved to Toledo, Ohio, where he worked at the glass factory of Edward Drummond Libbey, and shortly became its superintendent. It produced high-quality consumer items, including cut glassware, which he demonstrated at the company's exhibit during the World's Columbian Exposition in Chicago in 1893.

He had already started experimenting with a piston-pump to first suck molten glass into a mold to gather a correct measure of the material and then to transfer it to a second mold into which it was blown by reversing the pump. Although the initial results were crudely formed, he was ready to take out patents in 1895 (No. 534,840; 548,587; 548,588). Owens designed machines to manufacture lamp-chimneys and tumblers.

Together with Libbey and others, Owens formed the Owens Bottle Machine Company in 1903. With continued development and improvements, by the time he obtained patent No. 774,690 on 8 Nov 1904, he had a machine capable to producing four bottles per second.

He was ready to expand the business, and in 1905 opened a factory in Manchester, England.

Owens Bottle MachineOwens' machines could be built with from six to twenty arms, each blowing a bottle. The machine would cut loose the finished piece and deliver it to a conveyor taking it to the annealing oven. Since a fifteen-arm machine could do as much work as originally done by a dozen or more skilled glassworkers, depending on the size and shape of the product, there was a dramatic saving in labour costs. One version of his bottle-blowing machine, the "AR," contained 10,000 parts and weighed 50 tons.

Meanwhile, Libbey and Owens had helped fund Irving W Colburn, who since 1900 had been working on a machine capable of continuously drawing flat sheet glass. In 1912, they bought the patents to this machine, which Owens perfected, and the Libbey-Owens Sheet Glass Company was opened in 1916 to make window glass.

While Owens continued as the inventor, Libbey worked with investors and licensed the inventions to other bottle manufacturers.

From 1919, he retired from day-to-day management of his company to focus his time on inventing. He eventually held 45 U.S. patents, either independently or jointly with others.  
Source: http://www.todayinsci.com/O/Owens_MichaelJ/OwensMichaelJ.htm

If you've been out and about this summer foraging wild fruits to make into jams, jellies, pickles, homebrew wines etc, and wondered which man invented the machine that makes all those jam jars now you know - it's Michael Joseph Owens.


[End.]

Monday, 18 August 2014

Do You Need to Eat Red Meat to Be a Man?

As I'm sure you're well aware one of the more common observations that floats around the manosphere is that modern Western men are feminised, and that to counter this feminisation Western men need to behave like cartoonish macho-men in order to save their masculinity.  One of the ways that the manosphere proposese that men save their masculinity is by eating plenty of red meat, just like their hunter-gatherer ancestors did.  Loads of scientific studies are thrown up about benefits of paleo diets (especially by the Heartiste crowd) and how we should eat plenty of red meat to boost our musculture, testosterone and hence masculinity.  This notion - that real men eat red meat every day - is wrong.  There is plenty of evidence that men can develop and maintain impressive physiques by eating vegetarian or even vegan diets.

Just check out the physique of Mac Danzig, a former MMA fighter no less, to see what a vegan diet can do for you:



Mac Danzig (a former MMA fighter)

FC veteran, former 155 pound King of the Cage and Gladiator Challenge champion, Mac Danzig, has become a successful vegan mixed martial artist. This 27 year old Danzig has carved his own path and along the way shattered stereotypical images. The lightweight fighter’s success evidences a fighter can be successful without the consumption of animal products. 
Despite his success as a vegan competitor in MMA, the concept that meat was pivotal to a fighter’s performance was also an ideology that Danzig subscribed to early in his career. “I use to think that I needed chicken and fish as a source of protein in order to train properly”, recalls Danzig, a 6 year veteran of the sport. “I subscribed to that theory for a while and then when I finally decided to cut everything out and I was doing it right, it felt really good and I didn’t lose any strength at all. I feel like I recover quicker so it’s been good.”
(Source: http://wilddonna.com/male-veggie-athletes/)

Besides Mac Danzig there are many other vegan and vegetarian atheletes who show that it's possible to eat a plant based diet and still be a world class athelete.  Below are some of those vegans:
Brendan Brazier (triathlete)
Robert Cheeke (body builder)
Luke Commo (MMA Fighter)
Arian Foster (NFL Player)
Patrik Baboumian (Weight lifter)
James Wilks (MMS Fighter)

(For those who are interested HERE is a list of other famous vegans and their occupations.)

Finally, this post is here only to point out that men can eat plant based diets and have an impresssive physique, it's not here to advocate vegetarianism or veganism or to tell you to eat such and such; there's enough nannying around as it is.  Simply be aware of the consequences of any options available to you (e.g. eating a meat-only or vegetable-only diet) and then make your choice fully aware of the consequences, both the good ones and the bad ones.


[End.]

Friday, 15 August 2014

Men of Yore: John James Sainsbury

This is another in a series of posts about men from history who have either achieved great things in one form or another by pushing boundaries: either in themselves or in society or science or exploration of some form. Boundary pushing and growth is what men do, it's their nature: to grow and push outwards. We, as men, are the frontiers men, the first to discover/uncover new territory, in a metaphysical sense (i.e. including both material and the immaterial) that is later colonised and 'civilised' by the rest of humanity. 

John James Sainsbury

John James Sainsbury (12 June 1844 – 1928) was the founder of the Sainsbury's supermarket chain.
 
Early and private life
John James Sainsbury was born on 12 June 1844 at 5 Oakley Street, Lambeth, to John Sainsbury (baptised 1809, d. 1863), ornament and picture frame maker, and his wife Elizabeth Sarah, née Coombes (1817–1902).[1] During his childhood, his family moved house several times between rented rooms. The area in which they lived was close to the Thames wharves and to Waterloo station, which opened in 1848.
John James started work at the age of 14. He may have stayed at school beyond the normal leaving age of 10 or 11, possibly helping out as a "monitor". His first job was with a grocer in the New Cut, Lambeth.[1]
 
In 1863, John James's father died and John James took on the additional responsibility of helping to support his mother and two sisters.
 
At the age of 24, he married Mary Ann Staples and they set up a dairy shop together at 173 Drury Lane, Holborn.[1] The couple had probably saved a few pounds with which to buy shop equipment but their circumstances were extremely modest. They shared the cramped accommodation above the little shop with three other families.[1]
 
 
Business career
Throughout his life, John James avoided personal publicity and little evidence remains of his character. His business style was to offer competitive prices while, at the same time, demonstrating higher standards of quality, service, and hygiene.[1]
 
From one store in Holborn, London, opened at 173 Drury Lane in 1869, Sainsbury built a chain of grocery stores which numbered 128 when he died in 1928. Sainsbury's remained a family business during his whole life. At the time of the firm's incorporation in 1922, John James took on the title of Chairman and Governing Director, a position which he held until his death in 1928. His last words were "Keep the shops well lit".
 
Today, the group owns over 1,000 stores but no family member has been involved in management since David Sainsbury retired in 1998.[1] They do, however, continue to control approximately 15% of the shares.
 

Retail corporations get a lot of stick these days, and have done for the past generation or so.  Some of this stick is justified (e.g. for price rigging) and some not (e.g. they sell hygienic, quality goods with a low markup).  Regardless of the ethics of some retail company's, they are an essential part of the production chain, and thus are essential to our lives, because without them we wouldn't be able to purchase the goods necessary for life like processed grass seed (bread), processed plant matter (clothes), and processed rocks (cutlery).  While we may grumble about some injustice that a retail outlet has committed by underpaying farmers for goods, or the fact that they throw away umpteen tons of edible food every day on the whole do a good job of something that many of us would struggle at.  So thanks to the all the decent retail workers out there, from the cashiers on up to the CEOs.


[End.]
 

Tuesday, 12 August 2014

Alternative Lyrics to Well Known Songs 28 - Sacred Hymns

(These lyrics is based on the song 'Broken Wings' by Mr Mister)

This is a dialogue between a, ahem, Jonah-like (i.e. whinging) follower of Odin who struggles to emulate, be like, his chosen God.  The follower speaks during the verses (in plain font), spending his time whining and lamenting about his own in-adequecies.  Odin speaks during the Choruses (in italic font), encouraging his lamenting follower to sing sacred hymns as a means of behaving, acting and thinking as an Odinist ought to do.  i.e. as one that does.  (Odin looks down on those who just think/theorise and do nothing).  Odin also encourages his follower to look up during thunder storms.  After all, thunder and lightning are signs of Odin - in his role as 'Thunderer'.  (Odin has many names which can be found HERE.)  It also mentions that Odin is the source of 'Holy Fire', which generally points towards his place at the centre of the pantheon, where all things originate, where all things grow from, where all things gain power from, where all things arise from, etc.

It's a song that exhorts confident action rather than procrastinating and dwelling on inadequecies.  Whether you believe in Odin, gods, the spirit realm etc, or not, having confidence and a pro-active attitude will be better for you than having the opposite.


Play the song in the video above and sing along with the alternative lyrics given below.


#Sacred Hymns#Odin,
I don't understand,
why we can't hang on to each others minds.
This time might be the last I fear
unless I make it all too clear I need you so.
Ooh oh oh oh.


"Sing these sacred hymns
learn to fury again
to set your soul free;
and when you sense
thunder 'n' lightning
you'll know to look up heaven-ward
and blaze with me.
Sing these sacred hymns."


Odin.
'bout last night
I cannot apologise enough
for what I said.
Oooh.


Odin!
I now know
that you are the primal source of all holy fire.
I need it so.


"Sing these sacred hymns
learn to fury again
to set your soul free;
and when you sense
thunder 'n' lightning
you'll know to look up heaven-ward
and blaze with me."


"Sing these sacred hymns.
You're going to learn to live

like a true son of thee;
and when you sense
thunder 'n' lightning
you'll know to look up heaven-ward
and blaze with me.

Yeah yeah.
Yeah yeah."


"And blaze with me."

"And blaze with me."

Odin,
It's all I know,
that you are the primal source of 'all' holy fire.
Yeah yeah yeah.
Yeah yeah.


"Sing these sacred hymns
learn to fury again
to set your soul free;
and when you sense
thunder 'n' lightning
you'll know to look up heaven-ward
and blaze with me."


"Sing these sacred hymns.
You're going to learn to live

like a true son of thee;
and when you sense
thunder 'n' lightning
you'll know to look up heaven-ward
and blaze with me.

Yeah yeah."

"Yeah yeah."

Ooh ooh.


[End of lyrics.]


 

Tuesday, 5 August 2014

Short Story: Destroying the Prison Warden

[Foreword: Another short story this week for your delectation.

I don't know what this story's about.  It seems to be about evil and about punishing evil, hence the title 'Destroying the Prison Warden' but it's not really about that.  It's about becoming aware of evil and then confronting that evil.  Although I must stress that the confrontation in the story is more about letting good happen rather than forcefully destroying evil with heartfelt effort.  That's the way it happens in the story anyway: effort-less rather than effort-full.

As with the other short stories, the setting is the science-fiction computer game world Frontier:Elite, but the details aren't important and the story can be read and understood without knowing anything about the game. It's just an environment to experiment with different ideas, like a proverbial 'sandbox world']




Destroying the Prison Warden:


Location: Unknown
Date: December 3229


    Luther Burgsvik had been assigned as a guard, a personal guard, for a prison warden by his employers the Varangian Security Services (VSS).  VSS were a private security firm that hired out their services to the right client.  Not just any client who paid good money, but the right one.  In this regard they were unlike other mercenary companies who whored themselves out to the highest bidder or the one who offered them more opportunities for combat.  The VSS had something that other security companies did not: honour.
    It was this sense of honour that led them to only be hired by clients with good intentions, like a mining company that was selling it's goods for civil engineering projects, instead of a Drug Baron who needed his Opium plantation protecting.  It was also this sense of honour that permeated through all tiers of the company.  Both the neophyte Rekkr (warrior) and the experienced Jarl had honourable convictions.
    This sense of honour is what was causing Luther to wonder whether the prison warden that he was supposed to be protecting was really worth protecting.  He had seen the warden displaying behaviour that seemed to imply a deep seated sadistic streak.  He had also heard of rumours that the man had been torturing prisoners in the privately run prison complex, but had no personal proof of the acts so he could not report the Warden to either the Executives of the Prison or his own boss in VSS.
    The situation had gotten progressively worse over the weeks, until the situation finally reached a head, and Luther decided that he had to challenge the Prison Warden about the accusations of torture.
    The two men were stood in a dingy concrete sub-terranean prison cell, about four metres by eight.  The only other person in the room was a scrawny, half-naked prisoner who was shackled down in a crude steel chair and awaiting interrogation by the Warden.
    The Warden had been 'testing' Luther, finding, trying to find some weakness, some vulnerability, some deep seated desire he had to exploit: a chink in Luther’s mental armour that he could exploit.  A weakness, some where that he could weasel his way in and destroy the mans honour.  The warden had been trying to do this by asking subversive questions, tempting Luther, trying to find out the mans desires, trying to undermine him, to get him to lose his self-control.
    "But surely you must have some instincts.."  The fleshy shouldered warden continued.  "Some desires that you feel compelled to act out.  That you have no control over.  What if you were confronted by a crying baby?  Wouldn't you want to make it feel better?"
    Svelt, bearded, Luther regarded the warden for a moment.  "If I was confronted by a crying baby, I could just as easily feel empathy for the child, cuddle it and make it joyful again, as I could feel a-pathetic for the child, submerge it in a vat of hydrochloric acid to destroy it.  Both options are available to me.  I can choose to either feel warmly-empathetic and help it, or feel coldly-sociopathic and destroy it."  Luther said in a matter of fact tone.
    The dungeon master replied. "That kind of self-control makes you a dangerous man."
    "Why?"
    "Because no-one can predict what you are going to do. You have total control over yourself.  Everything you do is because you will it, because you choose it."
    "Yes?"  Luther puzzled.
    "Well don't you see!?"  Dungeon master said animatedly.  "Don't you see?!  People hate that!  They hate what they can't control.  You.." he gesticulated at Luther "..they can't control.  You're like a.. a wild card, a maverick, a loose cannon, something that can't be manipulated."
    "I don't care about other people."
    "Hah!  Now why doesn't that surprise me!"
    Luther took his las-pistol out of it's holster and held it by his side.
    "Wait!  What are you doing?"
    Luther locked his eyes on the other mans eyes.  He said calmly "I'm going to kill you."
    "Why?"
    "Because of the evil that you were planning to do to that man by inflicting terror on him."
    "Wait.."  The dungeon master threw his hands in-front of himself trying to fend of an invisible attack.  "I.. I.. I wasn't really going to inflict terror on that prisoner.  I was just scaring him."
    Luther kept his eyes and laser fixed on the man, and pointed over to a stainless steel trolley with his free hand.  "There are two vials of terror and fear serum over there, and a device for erasing short term memory.  That is evidence that you were going to go ahead with inflicting terror on this prisoner.  After that you would use the memory eraser to erase all memories of the torturing to protect yourself from prosecution by your employers."
    The Dungeon Master laughed playfully.  "Oh silly you.  I wasn't really going to use them,  I was just going to scare him a little, that's all.  Just simple stage props that's all they are.  A little joke's all it was, you see?"
    Luther then pointed in the direction of another prison cell.  "You've already done this to at least one other prisoner, which shows that you have the capacity and will to do wrong to this man."
    "Oh, alright.  Alright!  I've done this operation once before.  I admit!  But this time I 'really' wasn't going to."  He chuckled and wrung his hands nervously - showing an incongruity between his internal thoughts and external actions.
    Luther then pointed directly at the man.  "Your pupils are dilated and your breathing rate is above normal.  This indicates a high endorphin level in your bloodstream in anticipation of the event you are just about to commit.  Which you consider to be thrilling.  'You' have incriminated yourself.  You are evidence of your own evil intention.  The truth is out."
    The Warden screwed up his face and turned savage "Bastard!".  His voice turned into a bitingly nasty little voice full of venomous hatred.  His eyes turned in to evil black marbles.  "So what if I was going to torture this little shit.  Who fucking cares?  He has no-one to care for him.  No family.  No friends.  No-one.  What concern is he of yours?  You trumped up shit-eating storm-trooper."  The man clenched his fists.  "And who are you to stop me from having my little bit of fun?  Who are you to tell me what I can and can't do?  Who are you to tell me what's wrong?"
    "I'm alive and you're not.  I hate death.  I hate you.  I am going to destroy you."
    He pointed at Luther.  "You!  You're nothing but a fucking Fascist.  That's what you are!  You make up your own rules and then subject other people to them.  That makes you nothing but a fucking Fascist.  A Judge, Jury and Executioner all rolled into one."
    "So is God."
    "Fucker."  He barked with malicious hatred.  "I fucking hate that fucker.  The warden faced up towards the sky and with the upmost black, heart-felt hatred that he could muster from his venom-filled soul barked "DIE."
    Luther continued in his emotionless, borderline monotone voice.  "I am the punisher.  I am here to punish you for your crimes; I will expurgate all of you from the face of this planet.  Scum like you will no longer be allowed to wrong to innocent men.  I deny you the ability to do wrong.  I deny you.  You no longer have the ability to do wrong to other people.  You will be condemned to an eternity with no one but yourself to torture, to inflict pain and misery on.  I condemn you to an afterlife with yourself.  I condemn you.  Die.  Die and remain unborn, never to be born again.  You will never be reborn, you will remain without choice forever; forever and ever you will be with no-one but your own choice.  I pity you, but I cannot save you.  I cannot help you, and you will be left behind; left in the darkness where you belong, where you want to belong.  I have no more time for those who want to die.  My heart is tired and I can cry no more tears.  You.." He pointed at the warden "..you are finished.  It is over.  The last act, the last scene, the curtains are falling, the lights are dimming, the audience are leaving, the stage is empty.  You are now eternally condemned."
    The warden's final iota of self-control snapped and his face turned purple and violently ugly.  His hands raised and turned into clawed talons ready to rip Luther’s face apart.  "Raaargh!".  He charged at Luther, who quickly ended the man’s last attack with a laser-shot to the skull.  The lifeless body kept moving forward under it's own momentum, it's own inertia, until it fell and slumped at Luther’s feet purged of the perverted, sick soul that once inhabited it.
    Luther looked briefly at the singed head of the corpse laying at his feet.  A small waft of smoke arose from the exit wound.
    He smoothly holstered his pistol and turned to the frightened, wide-eyed prisoner who was shackled down to the chair.
    "W-w-w-what are you going to do?"  The prisoner asked nervously.
    Luther walked over to the man and knelt down at his feet.  He scrutinized the shackles on the man to figure out how to unfasten them.  "Find out how to remove your bonds and then get you and me out of here."
    "O-okay.."
    Luther then reached into one of his trouser pockets and retrieved a universal lock-pick and started undoing the shackles.
    "B-b-b-but how?"
    "I don't know."  He replied in his typically monotone voice.  "I don't think that far ahead."
    "Heh.." The prisoner laughed half-heartedly at not knowing whether his new predicament was any better or not than his last.  "And w-what about your bosses?  W-what will they d-do to you?""
    "You mean my employers?  Varangian Security Services?"  He pushed a few buttons on the lock-pick which started to do its work.
    "Y-yes.  Won't they want t-to court martial you for th-this?  I mean you just k-killed someone wh-who you're hired to protect."
    "I don't think they'd approve of what this creature was doing to his prisoners.  They are honourable you know."
    "Th-they won't h-hang you for this then?"
    "I certainly hope not."
    Luther un-fastened all of the shackles which fell to the floor with a clunk.
    "A-and that part that you said about God being a Fascist, d-did you mean it?"
    "Yes.  He makes the laws of wilfulness and freedom and subjects us to them.  That sounds pretty fascist to me."
    "W-what's wrong with wilfulness and freedom?"
    "Nothing."  Luther looked at the mans eyes.  "You like being alive and free to make your own choices don't you?"
    "Y-yes..?"  The prisoner said uncertainly.
    Luther looked at the man with smiling eyes.  "Good."
    He put the universal lock-pick back in his trouser pocket.
    He stood up and helped the fragile man, the ex-prisoner, out of the chair.
    "Now, let us get out of here before some of the guards turn up and find out what has transpired."


[End.]

Monday, 28 July 2014

Alternative Lyrics to Well Known Songs 27 - Drama Queen

As I’m sure you’re all aware, Drama Queens like to bitch, they enjoy creating scenes, being melodramatic, and they generally complain and/or whine about the littlest of things.
The Drama Queen: every incident or opportunity, no matter how insignificant, is exploited, exaggerated and if necessary distorted to become an event of dramatic proportions. Everything is elevated to crisis proportions. Histrionics may be present where the person feels she is not the centre of attention but should be. Inappropriate flirtatious behaviour may also be present.
Source: http://bullyonline.org/workbully/attent.htm

If you ever hear a woman, or indeed an effeminate man for that matter, making a mountain out of a molehill then avoid them like the plague.  They'll get you to waste you precious time on the most ridiculously inconsequential things you could conceive.  And that is time that (unless re-incarnation or a similar metaphysical system is true) you won't get back, ever.

So instead of wasting your precious time with Drama Queens, invest your precious time doing things that bring you joy, whatever they may be (and remember that Benjamin Franklin played with kites, and Frank Whittle played with toy planes, so anything goes).

(This post was inspired after/during reading THIS entry from Bob Wallace).

Play the music video above and sing along with the alternative lyrics given below.


# Drama Queen #
Oooh-ooh
Watch her bitch.
Hear her whine.
Having the time of her life.
Ooh-ooh.
See that girl,
cause a scene,
she is the drama queen.
 
Sparking off at the local mall.
She argues about something small:
"Why did you park the car there?
"Couldn't you park it here?
"We're gonna miss the shops."
 
Her claims are ridiculous.
They won't miss the effing shops.
They're open until late.
They're open twenty-four.
But she just doesn't care.
 
'cause when she get's the chance,
she's is a drama queen.
Hear her whine about anything.
Drama queen.
Hear her bitch about anything.
Oh yeah.
 
Watch her bitch.
Hear her whine.
Having the time of her life.
Ooh-ooh.
See that girl,
cause a scene,
she is the drama queen.
 
Here they are now in the shops
and she's bitchin' 'bout something else:
"Look at the price of these things,
and these things too,
They are exorbitant."
 
See when she get's the chance,
she's is a drama queen.
Hear her whine about anything.
Drama queen.
Hear her bitch about anything.
Oh yeah
 
Watch her bitch.
Hear her cry.
Having the time of her life.
Ooh-ooh.
See that girl,
cause a scene,
she is the drama queen.

She is the drama queen.


[End of lyrics.]

Tuesday, 22 July 2014

Bullying, 'Hazing', 'Banter' etc

 

haze

2 [heyz] Show IPA
verb (used with object), hazed, haz·ing.
1. to subject (freshmen, newcomers, etc.) to abusive or humiliating tricks and ridicule.

Source: http://dictionary.reference.com/browse/hazing
It's a myth that bullying, hazing or any other variations (emotional or physical) are good for toughening up up, or 'turning boys into men'.  Bullying does psychological damage AND physiological damage to the men who experience it.  Physiological damage is in the form of irreparable brain damage:
- Damage to the Corpus Callosum (a bundle of nerves that joins the two hemispheres of the brain).
- Damage to the PrefrontalCortex (the front third of the brain that is apparently responsible for higher thinking, personality, and 'executive function', i.e. masculine decision making)
- Damage to the Hippocampus (apparantly responsible for memory, spatial awareness, and inhibitions)

Here's the text that inspired this post:
The only neurobiological condition inherited by boys that affects later violence is they have a smaller corpus callosum, the part of the brain that connects the right and the left hemisphere.16 The larger corpus callosum of infant girls allows them to work through trauma and neglect more easily than boys. Furthermore, boys who are abused had a 25 percent reduction in sections of the corpus callosum, while girls did not.17 This means boys actually need more love and caretaking than girls as they grow up. If they do not receive enough interpersonal attention from their caretakers they suffer from damaged prefrontal cortices (self control, empathy) and from hyperactive amygdalae (fear centers), their corpus callosum is reduced further, and they have reduced serotonin levels (calming ability) and increased corticosterone production (stress hormone). All these factors make them have weak selves, reduced empathy, less control over impulsive violence and far more fears than girls.18
The central psychobiological question, then, is this: Are boys given more love and attention than girls by their caretakers in order to help them offset their greater needs? The answer, of course, is just the opposite: boys are given less care and support, from everyone in the family and in society, and they are abused far more than girls, so by the time they are three years of age they become twice as violent as girls.19 Boys’ greater violence by this time, including their propensity to form dominance gangs and to endlessly “play war,” are the results of their greater abuse and distancing by adults and being subject to demands to “grow up” and “be manly” and “not be a crybaby” and not need attachments—attitudes taught by their parents, teachers and coaches. By age four boys’ play is full of provocations that test their self-worth: “At 4 years of age, girls’ insults to one another are infrequent and minor…Boy/boy insults, however, are numerous and tough.”20 The so-called “aggressiveness” usually ascribed to boys is in fact wholly defensive, as they try to ward off their greater feelings of insecurity and hopelessness.21 It isn’t “aggression” males display; it’s bravado—defensive testing and disproof of their fears.
Source: http://www.psychohistory.com/originsofwar/02_whymalesaremoreviolent.html


And lest you think that this only occurs in men there's also evidence that Corpus-Callosum shrinkage correlates with women who have Bi-Polar disorder:
Corpus callosum abnormalities in women with borderline personality disorder and comorbid attention-deficit hyperactivity disorder.
Source: http://www.ncbi.nlm.nih.gov/pmc/articles/PMC2077349/
 
Young boys need more love than they are getting, or have possibly ever got, from their caretakers (parents, guardians, teachers, and other people who take responsibility for them on a day-to-day basis).  Hazing and intimidating style initiations are not a form of love.  If boys don't get enough love then they suffer lasting psychological damage and irreparable physiological damage.  Damage that not only effects them personally but also effects the people around them particularly when they grow up and have children of their own or work in positions of power.  Saddam Hussein is one example of this:
Saddam Hussein, like so many dictators, had an unbelievably traumatic childhood.38 His mother tried to abort him by hitting her abdomen with her fists and cutting herself with a kitchen knife, yelling, "In my belly I'm carrying a Satan!" She gave the infant Saddam away to his uncle, a violent man who beat the boy regularly, calling him "a son of a cur" and training him to use a gun and steal sheep. Saddam committed his first homicide at eleven. His political career centered on the murder of his fellow countrymen, and he particularly enjoyed watching the torture and execution of officers who had fought with him.
Source: http://www.psychohistory.com/htm/eln02_gulf.html


Prince Vladimir III of Wallachia, AKA Vlad the Impaler, is another example of what an abusive childhood can result in (emphasis added):
In 1444, at the age of thirteen, young Vlad and his brother Radu were sent to Adrianople as hostages, to appease the Sultan. He remained there until 1448, at which time he was released by the Turks, who supported him as their candidate for the Wallachian throne. Vlad’s younger brother apparently chose to remain in Turkey, where he had grown up. (Radu is later supported by the Turks as a candidate for the Wallachian throne, in opposition to his own brother, Vlad.)

In Adrianople, Vlad was locked up in prison and often whipped and beaten because of his verbal abuse towards his captors and his stubborn behavior, while his younger brother Radu the Handsome was much easier to control. Radu converted to Islam entered the service of Sultan Murad II's son, Mehmed II (later known as the Conqueror), and was allowed into the Ottoman royal court.

These years had a great influence on Vlad's character and led to Vlad's well-known hatred for the Ottoman Turks, the Janissary, his brother Radu the Handsome for becoming an Ottoman, and the young Ottoman prince Mehmed II (even after he became sultan). According to McNally and Florescu, he was jealous of his fathers preference for his elder brother, Mircea II and half brother,Vlad Calugarul, he also distrusted his own father for trading him to the Turks and betraying the Order of the Dragon's oath to fight them. It was in Turkey where Vlad first witnessed the act of impalement (the Ottomans often beheaded traitors and deserters).
Source: http://vladiiitheimpaler.blogspot.co.uk/2010/04/vlad-impaler-dracula-life.html
(This is a prime example of the scientific law: "For every action there is an equal and opposite reaction"; and also the moral law: "Do unto others as you would have them do unto you.")


It makes one look at the victims like Saddam Hussein and Prince Vladimir in a different light: less as cartoon-like monsters and more like human beings who have responded to a given situation.

It also makes one look at the social commentators (on the internet and in the MSM) who mindlessly attack people like Saddam Hussein (call them butchers etc) in a different light, because clearly these commentators do not think about these people as human beings.

Now I'm not arguing that we should all make daisy chains and sit around singing #Kumbaya# like a bunch of pacifistic hippies, excusing every indecent act we witness as a result of childhood trauma, because that would be calamitous for other reasons (e.g. it would allow wilfully malevolent people to get away with wrong-doing), I'm arguing that boys are sensitive and need love, respect, and freedom to express themselves in various forms and if they don't get that then they will suffer psychological and irreparable physiological damage because of it.  Hazing, testing, bullying, toughening-up, or whatever you want to call it, does nothing to help.




P.S. The originator of 'Psycho-History', Lloyd DeMause, has a mix of information of varying veracity so if you read any of his work (of which there is a lot) be wary of this fact.  For instance while he asserts that mothers are the principle abusers of children (which can be confirmed by THIS web page) but he also peddles the myth that '1 in 3 women are raped' (which has been du-bunked umpteen times in the Manosphere/Androsphere, like HERE and HERE; even some economists are tiring of the myth).  So just be wary that his approach is original but his data is somewhat dubious.


[End.]