… und Luschen, die wir kriegen“
Wer sich für gute Männlichkeit interessiert, will auch das Gegenteil kennen, i.S. der Polarität dient das dem Erkenntnisgewinn, der Identifikation durch Abgrenzung, („etiam si omnes- ego non!“) eben „alles, was unmännlich ist“:
https://www.amazon.de/Die-M%C3%A4nner-lieben-Luschen-kriegen/dp/3492300863
Ich bin ja nicht der einzige, der an der Verweichlichung der Männer verzweifelt. Allesamt Frauen haben sich in diesen Artikeln um die Auflösung der Männlichkeit Gedanken, eher Sorgen gemacht: In der ZEIT („Die Schmerzensmänner“) über STERN („Männer, zieht den Strampler aus!“) bis FAZ („Küssen kann man nicht alleine“) … allein, es half und hilft nichts. In der BRIGITTE, Der Spiegel berichtete, gab es sogar ein richtiges „SkateBordGate“, als eine Frau dafür plädierte, dass erwachsene Männer doch sich bitte erwachsen verhalten mögen und vom Skateboard herunter steigen mögen. Ein veritabler Shitstorm war die Folge.
Zur Seite der Warmduscher, Saunauntensitzer, e-Roller und Ü-30 Skater
gesellen sich zunehmend „Hündchenhochheber“.
Das sind Typen, die („aus guten Gründen“ ?!) ihren Frauen keine Kinder zeugen, sondern Hündchen (Chihuahuas, Pinscher, oder, „dernier cri“: Hunde mit Bratpfannen- geformtem Gesicht) kaufen.
Diese Männer haben, passend dazu, so GAR KEINE Autorität, noch nicht einmal gegenüber einem Haustier und ihren Fiffi so wenig „im Griff“, dass das arme Wesen nie, in seinem ganzen Leben nicht, ohne Leine im Freien laufen, rennen kann. Er muss degenerieren, passend zu den Besitzern. Dabei hat der Hund nach dem Pferd das spezifisch größte Herz- der BRAUCHT Auslauf!
Völlig dekadentes, degeneriertes Hundevolk.
Manchmal hätte ich Lust, mir einen Schäferhund zu kaufen. Einen schwarzen Rüden. Nur so aus Protest. Um „ein Zeichen zu setzen“!
Bis dahin höre ich den MAlSTER SONG:
„I believe that you heard your master sing when I was sick in bed. I suppose that he told you everything that I keep locked away in my head. Your master took you travelling, well at least that’s what you said. And now do you come back to bring your prisoner wine and bread? You met him at some temple, where they take your clothes at the door. He was just a numberless man in a chair who’d just come back from the war. And you wrap up his tired face in your hair and he hands you the apple core. Then he touches your lips now so suddenly bare of all the kisses we put on some time before. And he gave you a German Shepherd to walk with a collar of leather and nails, and he never once made you explain or talk about all of the little details, such as who had a word and who had a rock, and who had you through the mails. Now your love is a secret all over the block, and it never stops not even when your master fails. And he took you up in his aeroplane, which he flew without any hands, and you cruised above the ribbons of rain that drove the crowd from the stands. Then he killed the lights in a lonely Lane and, an ape with angel glands, erased the final wisps of pain with the music of rubber bands. And now I hear your master sing, you kneel for him to come. His body is a golden string that your body is hanging from. His body is a golden string, my body has grown numb. Oh now you hear your master sing, your shirt is all undone. And will you kneel beside this bed that we polished so long ago, before your master chose instead to make my bed of snow? Your eyes are wild and your knuckles are red and you’re speaking far too low. No I can’t make out what your master said before he made you go. Then I think you’re playing far too rough for a lady who’s been to the moon; I’ve lain by this window long enough to get used to an empty room. And your love is some dust in an old man’s cough who is tapping his foot to a tune, and your thighs are a ruin, you want too much, let’s say you came back some time too soon. I loved your master perfectly I taught him all that he knew. He was starving in some deep mystery like a man who is sure what is true. And I sent you to him with my guarantee I could teach him something new, and I taught him how you would long for me no matter what he said no matter what you’d do. I believe that you heard your master sing while I was sick in bed, I’m sure that he told you everything I must keep locked away in my head. Your master took you travelling, well at least that’s what you said, And now do you come back to bring your prisoner wine and bread?