On shame and the use of language.
Last week’s Ziklag included a brief piece from a longer work that is underway. The topic is manhood, and the segment is addressing the problem of feminism, and its powerful shaming tool of natural lust that is harnessed against modern serfdom by means of brainwashing with pornography, something fundamentally under addressed in both law and the pew.
I cannot promise to complete this work, which is why I intended to leave those little words “of a dick” off the copy/paste/publish of this platform, and let them stet only in the later work where they would be in context, thus intending to leave last week’s message with the lovely ending, “Don’t be ashamed.”
Serendipity strikes again.
If you’ve followed me, you will know I’ve been an advocate of Christian Male Sexuality and Biblical, Procreational Fatherhood since I was asking questions as a caller on Issues, Etc. back when it was still on the KFUO am airwaves and “burners” were just called “cell-phones.” I advocated then monogamous, lifelong marriage between natural gametes as the only Biblical model. Since then I’ve only added a conviction that growing families in Jesus’ Name can’t be done well without the Psalms and Proverbs, along with founded the SonsofSolomon.net Christian Patriarchy street philosophy for discipleship and debate. It’s a Bible-driven prayer movement aimed to relaunch the LLL for Generation X in the most pious and stealthy way possible.
Whether it lives or dies, my son and I will still both have dicks.
We also call them penises. But Latin does not roll of the tongue the way it once did, at least, not when squished up between Gaelic and Norse the way it is now in English. On the jiu jitsu mats, and in nature in general, it is the most succinct, not the most precise, words that tend to win. So at times, when dealing with our bodily discussions about growing up, our penises are our dicks and our dicks are our penises, and while the women of the house may have genetalia too, they most certainly do not have dicks.
This barnyard and forest talk does tend to make the weaker sex squeamish. So we try to keep this kind of talk “to the boys.” But the fact is that men do it when the women aren’t looking and no amount of feminist shaming will ever stop men from doing things that are natural, like being fascinated with our own bodies.
It does not embarrass the women of a Christian home that their men are not women. It is no place of Christian women to tell the men how they ought to or ought not to talk about their own bodies. Where there are many a fine touches that the right lady will add to a Christian gentleman’s home, those touches shall certainly never be to take away his right to name his own members.
My son, then, is not a girl. He also knows why, and I plan to teach him much more than the basics so that he is ready to stand firm in this collapsing wild west of decaying language and character.
You, too, then, might know that the word "dick" as a vernacular term for "penis" has a mixed etymological history. It most likely is Middle Dutch “dik” (in theory traceable to the germanic Proto-Indo-European root *tegu-) and meaning “fat” or “thick.”
Don’t the men always wish?
If not wish, then they certainly jest.
As a shy, quiet kid, I was the posture of an athletic wallflower in the showers, but I wasn’t deaf to all manner of entanglement and jest. I didn’t miss how getting “one up” on the others was part of the everlasting game of manhood tag that never really stops once the brothers have learned to repartee.
So, whether we are poking at each other about the post-yiddish “schlong” (“serpent”), the Viennese “wiener” (“sausage”), or the proto-germanic “cock” (“male bird”), what we clearly have going against us is a linguistio-cultural war on boys to make them feel ashamed of their dicks. This is done by tut-tutting at them until they accept that female sensitivities and a two-syllable onomatopoeia are more enduring than the raw mail power of the Phalus!
Simple metaphors built of the birds and the bees are so much clearer to, well, everyone except the grammarians.
Language is the tool of mastery, and its nuances the masks of shame and fear in most conversations. In these latter days, if saying, “Jesus had a dick,” is offensive to you, you are simply unprepared for the world that is coming next and the masters of men who will rule it. I pray you have brave men around you, who love you, and who will protect you in the name of Jesus Christ.
Have you quit wasting your time with porn yet? Good.
Now, stop wasting your time online and go do something good for the Kingdom that your sons are going to inherit.
That is Fatherhood.
Alleluia! Sometimes what you want is just not in the cards. So, no matter what you do, get some wisdom. Wherever you go, remember you have a white hat on.
And, since you’re a Christian man, have a dick, keep it in your pants unless you are with your wife or on the toilet, and definitely, in all that you do, endeavor not to be an ass online.
You might just make a new friend in the least expected places.
Ladies:
That last bit about “not being an ass online,” with other language in this piece, might be a little hard for you to accept because of your various sensitivities. I respect you, and so am glad to translate the latter phrase from puppy-dog-tail to sugar-and-spice. Along with less shame at that wild and terrifying mystery created by God between their legs, the male readers also took away the notion that they should use their newfound freedom with royalty, understanding the good of the public square and the other special needs of children and the frail.
Little boys do well from this lesson about “not being an ass or a dick,” for it forces them to reckon with the action of their testosterone. Being thick-headed gets you in trouble. A recalcitrant donkey is no good as a man.
Whatever language you use to parse it, the phallus is central to a man’s identity in the way that genitalia is essential to the facts of procreation. Yielding to the subtle negative pull of fading Americana’s “you’re not allowed to!” boy-destroying cult will steal the dignity from your son in the mirror and leave him ill prepared for the streets where wicked men will say much scarier things than his mother ever dreamed up.
You, ladies, cannot be dicks online, which, if you are one in a thousand, you may be able to accept is the root reason that you bristle at the fluidity of the word. It’s not about participation. It’s about dominance. Dominance what female dogs desire most, though it is not always obvious.
80% of online is fake reality and that is why you are depressed and taking pharma.
I am exceedingly grateful for your readership.
Don’t be Jezebel. Be Hannah. That woman knew how to us the name of God!
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