This is going to sound mean.

To some, it’s going to sound really mean.

But I have had it up to my eyeteeth with the feminization of males in this culture. Feminists have so neutered, castrated and emasculated men that things which defined manhood in previous generations are looked upon now, not as simply what men do, but rather as marks of savagery, barbarism and backward living.

Man is the covenant head of the household? You brute.

Man is the breadwinner? And what’s your given name, Mr. Cro-Magnon?

It’s well beyond sad. It’s pitiful. We’re not gents or even guys anymore – we’re geldings. Well, nearly. The Betty Friedans and Andrea Dworkins have turned us all into bipedal sperm banks whose only useful function in life (and science may get around this, too) is dropping a donation in the gene pool every now and then.

And don’t for a nanosecond conjure the thought of raising any male progeny to be anything other than a whipped piece of nothing like dad. Son will learn, like pops, to be a good unman, a perfect little no-count ninny like the chump who sired him.

We’re not just hiding behind skirts the way some insecure males did in times past; nowadays, we’re wearing them, complete with Chantilly lace and frill around the hemline.

The damage reports from this sort of mind-boggling idiocy have been coming in for a while now, most recently books like Christina Hoff Sommers’ “The War Against Boys: How Misguided Feminism Is Harming Our Young Men.”

The other night, WorldNetDaily news editor Joe Kovacs alerted me to another recent casualty. Brace yourself – it’s worse than we thought:

According to the July 13, Hartford, Conn., Courant, PETA has recruited a Boy Scout for a TV ad to oppose fishing. You read it right – a Boy Scout against fishing.

That’s like supermodels against crash diets, divorce lawyers against adultery or congressmen against intern pools. Nuts!

“Justin Aligata said he feels the conflict every time he puts on the Boy Scout uniform,” wrote Phil Lemos for the Courant.

“The West Hartford teen doesn’t understand why the Boy Scouts of America offers merit badges in fishing when the organization’s 1998 handbook says a scout ‘does not harm or kill any living thing.'”

Any living thing?

I presume this pantywaist brushes his teeth. Oooh! Oath violations left and right, killing scads of microbes and germs with every swish of the mouthwash. What, bugs don’t qualify? The handbook makes no distinction about sentient beings or any Peter Singer-such nonsense – just “any living thing.” And since Aligata reads his BS handbook with as much word-for-word literalism as a fundamentalist preacher thumbing through Holy Writ, it seems he’d better convert to Jainism before he accidentally murders any more living things.

“I may be a scout patrol leader, but there’s one merit badge I will never try to earn,” says Aligata in the ad. “Boy Scout law says we’re not supposed to hurt or kill harmless things without reason. So I just couldn’t hook helpless animals in the mouth, yank them out of their environment and still call myself a Boy Scout.” Without reason, hmm?

How about lunch?

How about the challenge and sport of it?

How about the enjoyment of it?

I don’t even eat fish, and I love to “hook helpless animals in the mouth [and] yank them out of their environment.” I know others who’ll eat the fish I nab. I just love catching them. It’s relaxing and refreshing when they’re not biting, exhilarating and exciting when they are.

But in the caring and gentle mind of Aligata, “It’s wrong to hurt animals. Please don’t go fishing.”

I’d say, “Just shoot me” right about here, but that’d probably only serve to display more of my violent, barbaric tendencies.

Of course, it used to be that those barbaric tendencies were considered the acme of normalcy in the male of the species. I’ve got a book here from 1890, “The American Boy’s Handy Book” (thankfully republished in 1996), which details all manner of knuckle-dragging barbarism.

Lads reading the “The American Boy’s Handy Book” will learn all about making duck decoys for hunting; snaring, spearing and hooking fish; knocking birds out of flight with homemade bolas; making and using blowguns; building traps for small game; along with what to do with the dead animals: “Practical Taxidermy for Boys.” It’s all there: skinning, stuffing and even “a new manner of preserving fish.”

Someone better pick Aligata off the floor.

Fishing used to be just the tip of the boyhood iceberg. I can still remember catching my first. It was up at small lake near Donner Pass, Calif. (You remember, where that family ate each other back in 1847.) I caught a German Brown trout with my dad – I still remember telling everyone we met for weeks about the “German shepherd” I so deftly hooked. And all over the country – it doesn’t stop at the lake – there’s hunting waterfowl and deer and even bigger game.

I can’t wait till my newborn son, Fionn, is ready to pick up the “The American Boy’s Handy Book” and try a few things on for size. Fishing and hunting with my boy is something I’m looking forward to.

What about Aligata? Well, if he really “feels the conflict every time he puts on the Boy Scout uniform,” I suppose he can always trade the thing in for a pink dress.

As for me, I’ve got a full day ahead – just enough time to oil my firearms, polish up my animal-skull collection and head down to the pond with a couple beers, a cigar, a pole and handful of hooks and worms.

Here fishy, fishy.

Related columns:

  • Junior’s got a gun. Who cares?

  • PETA hires Jesus Christ


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