Bruised Fruit – The Return of Scipio

The dirtiest man alive—well, he is not really a man, but stay with me here—just met his match, so to speak. Professional sodomite and gad about town socialite Perez Hilton got punched a few times in his pudgy, soft face. Here is the result.

Usually a man getting punched in the face is no big deal. In fact, any man who makes it beyond his teens without both getting punched in his face and punching another guy’s face lacks something. Violence is something every man must deal with on some level. It is a rite of passage, like kissing your first girl. I passed both of these exams at 12 with flying colors. His name was Bobby. I pounded his face and left him bloody. Her name was Millie Loveland. She was skinny and had blonde hair to her waist. At 55 I still like skinny girls with long hair.

Hilton being what he is, went all emo. He made his beating a big deal. He wept, sobbed and—being a thoroughly modern fop—twittered his horrible, simply horrible, experience.

I am bleeding. Please, I need to file a police report. No joke.

Jeez, the guy just got his butt kicked and he advertised it. What sort of “man” would do that? He did not even bother to try and punch the other guy, but just walked away and went all teary. Even a 12 year old girl would have more self respect than that. I guess spending your free time seeking out all those all those anonymous male buttocks does something to a fellow.

But it gets worse. I now present you with the piece de resistance to this essay. It is a look into the heart and soul of Hilton and all “men” like him. It is a perfect view of the girlish mentality that affixes to such males and their followers and fans. And —you just knew this was coming—have you any doubt—any at all—for whom those depravities, those wretched weaklings, those soft gutted cowards, voted in the last election?

See the video. The freak is absolutely unplugged. There is some language during the second part, but you will not have to get that far to get an idea of the perfect semi-man, metrosexual, “New Castrati” that so dominate our popular culture. When you view this, keep in mind that millions of his ilk walk the land—and they vote.

I hope the guy who punched Hilton washed his hands afterward.

Update: For a fine essay on real manhood and other things, see Eternity Road.

Update: I ran into this photo of the freak. Let us call it “Puss in Boots.”

Would somebody please get a rope?

53 Comments;

Scipio June 26, 2009

Dear Straight:

I can understand. My closest times with God come in the quiet of early morning and while in the solitude of Nature. Nature, His Creation, is His gift to us. It would be a great ingratitude not to enjoy it.

I have had TWW on occasions that had nothing to do with me except for my physical presence. The one that stands out was my entrance upon a murder scene.

Time stuns me with her perversity. I have lived through moments when she went haywire, all sideways and slow-mo with fits and starts and ups and downs. Time acted thus when I came upon a murder scene while serving in the Air Force. Some drunk had blasted away at his once lovely wife with a .44 Magnum. I saw the result. That was some powerful gun.

I do not have much more to add except that time is a temporal thing, a created thing. It came into the world at the sin of Adam. It expires at death and does not exist in Eternity. Whatever our fate when we depart this earth, it is forever—timeless. For some that will be a good thing. For others, not.

Scipio June 26, 2009

Dear Van:

Much of what you wrote resonates. I can recall many times in my life—sometimes lasting for days—when my entire being was focused on one thing, and that thing was always mere survival. All else about that thing we call normal existence was completely extraneous. This was brought on by a missed path, a false step, a slight slip into oblivion. Everything about me became narrow, directed and concentrated. It was all or nothing. Usually after such an even I was exhausted mentally and physically—but not spiritually. There I felt rejuvenation, like a man who had won a marathon.

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Scipio June 26, 2009

Dear Straight:

I can understand. My closest times with God come in the quiet of early morning and while in the solitude of Nature. Nature, His Creation, is His gift to us. It would be a great ingratitude not to enjoy it.

I have had TWW on occasions that had nothing to do with me except for my physical presence. The one that stands out was my entrance upon a murder scene.

Time stuns me with her perversity. I have lived through moments when she went haywire, all sideways and slow-mo with fits and starts and ups and downs. Time acted thus when I came upon a murder scene while serving in the Air Force. Some drunk had blasted away at his once lovely wife with a .44 Magnum. I saw the result. That was some powerful gun.

I do not have much more to add except that time is a temporal thing, a created thing. It came into the world at the sin of Adam. It expires at death and does not exist in Eternity. Whatever our fate when we depart this earth, it is forever—timeless. For some that will be a good thing. For others, not.
Scipio June 26, 2009

Dear Van:

Much of what you wrote resonates. I can recall many times in my life—sometimes lasting for days—when my entire being was focused on one thing, and that thing was always mere survival. All else about that thing we call normal existence was completely extraneous. This was brought on by a missed path, a false step, a slight slip into oblivion. Everything about me became narrow, directed and concentrated. It was all or nothing. Usually after such an even I was exhausted mentally and physically—but not spiritually. There I felt rejuvenation, like a man who had won a marathon.
Pingback: Steynian 369 « Free Canuckistan!

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