Prioleau Alexander: Manifest Destiny Meets The Beta Male

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As everyone knows, leftist men haven’t added much to society, save for their tireless commitment to serving on the kind of non-profit boards run by women who don’t shave their legs. Sure, they rant endlessly about the disadvantaged, but it’s women who do all the actual work in helping these folks — social work, teaching, staffing food kitchens, volunteering at crisis centers … you know, the stuff that actually requires you to get off your ass.

Hold up — I’m leaving out governing nations that have murdered a hundred million of their citizens, and that’s no walk in the park. So let me refine my statement: American leftist men haven’t added much to American society, save for the jobs they created through their demands that colleges construct crying rooms.   

Many people wonder if Phil Donahue was the beginning of leftist men in America, but the fact is these milquetoasts have been wandering the earth for a couple hundred thousand years. The ground-zero timeline came when the first caveman decided to eschew his hunting duties and chose to gather fruits and nuts with the women. Pressed for an explanation, he said, “Ugg no want die. Ugg want others die in his place. Ugg too sensitive and valuable to hunt.”

America was founded, of course, as a result of seafaring exploration — an extraordinarily dangerous activity. Adrenaline inducing, yes, but dangerous. Who do you think was aboard those ships — men like Chuck Yeager, or Dylan Mulvaney?  I suppose Dylan might’ve been down in the hold, drinking Bud Light and making a little dough for services rendered, but he sure as hell wasn’t the foretopman trying to untangle the mainsail in a gale.  

Upon arrival in America, these Alpha males had to carve a nation out of unforgiving wilderness with an axes, shovels, and sticks-that-go-boom. In Jamestown, they endured what they called “The Starving Time,” and ate their dead co-settlers. Next, they dug up the bodies of the previously deceased, and ate them.

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They did this without a single listing of the caloric content of the bodies, nor a warning that said, “Consuming undercooked rotting corpses you dig out of the ground may be hazardous.” They saw a problem — empty bellies — and solved the problem by having dinner with their former friends and neighbors. I seriously doubt they felt good about it, but the fact was they needed some protein.

The settlers next challenge was dealing with a bunch of understandably hostile-but-apparently-Republican locals, who were adamantly against the idea of open borders. Had these early settlers been leftists, they would’ve apologized for the interrupting the Stone Age soiree, and fled back to their safe spaces in Europe — and left behind a few billion dollars in AR sticks-that-go-boom for the Indians to use at a later date.  

Fortunately for the future world, these hearty explorers pressed forward and, well, just took the land they needed to expand West. The Indians, hoping some of these madmen were liberal, demanded to know why they were using “weapons of war, literally designed only to kill.” They pressed this stance until they got their hands on a few of those weapons of war themselves, and used them to kill some of the Whitie thugs perpetrating violence on them.

This almost stopped the bloodshed in the founding of America, because many of the settlers thought, “These Indians are a-okay. They quit bitching and armed themselves, and they’re killing us for killing them. They’re conservatives, too. We should be friends.”

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Sadly for the Indians, the fact was the settlers needed the Indian’s lands, and the settlers proceeded to ignore their own feelings of guilt, and pressed forward with their long-term goals, unaware that their blood, sweat, and tears would one day result in people who like a different kind of sexual friction having their own month.

Contrary to popular belief, American Indians didn’t go the dean of the University of Utopia and whine — they got in plenty of good licks. Whitie needed killin’, and together they put more than one tomahawk in that collective head. I ought to know, because my great-great-great-great Uncle was killed in a skirmish with the Apache.

A bit down the line, America’s founding fathers realized that England was: a) Tyrannical. b) Taxing them for foreign wars. c) Refusing to respect their inalienable rights. d) Run by a moron.

What happened? Did they grovel to the king and his government for better treatment? Ask kindly if they’d consider their feelings, and lift the Royal boot off their necks? Ponder if things would be better if they waited a few decades, for when the next king would “open new lines of dialogue,” and better understand their issues?

No … they fixed the problem by acting with extreme prejudice. They kicked ass. They didn’t develop consensus and negotiate — they saw the facts, and fixed the problem by enlisting the service of fellow bad-ass conservatives. They then elected a President who personally rode at the front of the militia lines to put down a rebellion by drunken Irishmen, who were mad the taxes on whisky made by the Scots were being passed along to them. Of course, being a conservative ol’ George realized this was a pretty good reason for rebellion, so he pardoned everyone.

When it came time to expand West, the conservatives saw a way to both make money, and be left alone by the nosy bureaucrats in DC — and it was a hell of a party. The bad news was that between the Indians, the cold, the heat, the lack of food and water, and a number of carnivores who viewed the settlers as not-fast-enough food, these Westward-bound souls were dropping like flies. The good news was that in response to the chaos, everyone bought guns, and two new breeds of conservatives came into being: Those who liked law and order, and those with a more … libertarian view of the world.

The Wild West was born.

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At the center of the era was the cowboy, whose life centered around pushing Texas longhorn cattle from the pasturelands of Texas to the railroad junctions in Colorado, Missouri, Kansas, and Wyoming. After a successful drive (which meant you weren’t dead), the Cowboys would kick it in towns like Tombstone, Dodge City, and Deadwood – just the names alone conjure up visions of spring break for a gender studies major, no? For the most part, these cowboys behaved like you would expect men with payday cash to behave: They spent it on booze, hookers, and poker … and the rest they blew foolishly.

This post-War Between the States cowboy heyday also provided us with lots of cool good guys and bad guys, conservatives all: On the side of conservative libertarianism was Jessie and Frank James, Cole Younger and his brothers, Billy the Kid, Butch Cassidy, the Sundance Kid, the list goes on. The side of the law-and-order ticket was equally filled with testosterone — Wild Bill Hickok, Pat Garret, Wyatt Earp and his brothers, Doc Holiday, Judge Roy Bean, that list goes on, too.

I ask you: Does it get any better than this? Guns, leather saddles, horses, whiskey, cigars, poker games, blood, sweat, and well, more sweat, dressed in a full-length duster with a low-slung holster? We had wandering white guys, black freedmen, pissed off Indians, and nationless Mexicans swaggering out into the high noon sun to do what a man’s gotta do — without a trial lawyer, OSHA wiener, HR crybaby, anti-gun lobbyist, or college student within 2,000 miles.

It was a conservative’s paradise. For everyone.

Back in DC, the liberal busybodies took note of all the fun conservatives were having being left alone, and did what they do best: Ruined it. Territories became states, lawyers and lobbyists got involved, and it all went to hell in a handbasket. Schools popped up and turned perfectly good free-range kids into liberal rule-followers, who later became merchants and what-not, and towns began prohibiting guns in city limits.

It quickly became a liberal’s paradise, where you couldn’t even shoot a man for supposedly drawing to an inside straight. Like usual, the progressives won.

Was this the end of the America that offered such great fun for conservatives? Pretty much. Before too long, the Colt .45 was replaced by the suit and tie, the duster became the overcoat, and the cowboy hat became a stupid looking bowler. Business became king, and contracts replaced handshakes.

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Sure, there was some pro-business stuff like unregulated child labor, but that faded away when Mothers Against Working Children to Death got involved. The bedwetters even got booze outlawed for a while. Unions and the government reined in the Robber Barons, who just trying to feed their families. Horseless carriages enabled women to put on shoes and leave the kitchen, which would one day lead to Hillary Clinton and 20 percent off coupons for Bed, Bath and Beyond. Sure, lightbulbs enabled men to “work late,” but the telephone enabled their wives to call at 4:50 to make sure they were coming straight home, because supper was getting cold.

The cracking of the conservative empire could be heard all across the fruited plain, and liberal men could heard cackling like Kamala Harris.

To keep conservatives from getting too bored, America declared war every 20 years, which thrilled liberals as the wars thinned out the conservative ranks. It also increased the number of liberals, as while the actual men were off fighting for truth, justice, and the American way, liberal “men” were home sipping appletinis, and echo-chambering that “some Americans are leaders, and some are bleeders. The nation is lucky we stayed home.”

Today, we live mostly in a liberal paradise, where un-homed drug addicts defecate on city sidewalks, violent criminals go un-prosecuted, trespassers get 10 years, the government is the source of all solutions, and drag queens groom children for a life of perversion.

I don’t know about this brave new world we call America. I’d move to another country, but no other nations have a Second Amendment. I’d head out West, but all the good spots have already been Californicated. I’d like to stay in Charleston, but we’ve been flooded with so many liberals fleeing their socialist states that Obama carried Charleston County — twice. 

It’s ponderous, man. If it wasn’t for dentistry, deodorant and diesel fuel – I’d say I was born 150 years too early.

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ABOUT THE AUTHOR …

Prioleau Alexander is a freelance writer, focusing mostly on politics and non-fiction humor. He is the author of two books: ‘You Want Fries With That?’ and ‘Dispatches Along the Way.’ Both are available on Amazon. He hopes to have another title published soon, but that would require his agent actually doing his job, so it may be awhile. Oh, and if you want to see his preferred bio pic? Click here …

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