Dumbing down Alpha

In which a spat between a douchebag and a crybaby over the erstwhile affections of one of the most beautiful women alive is thoroughly misrepresented:
A battle erupted this week between film star Orlando Bloom and teen popstrel and social irritant Justin Bieber [Didact: These labels are overly generous for both men. Orlando Bloom can't act, and Justin Bieber can't sing. He is an annoying little jackass, I'll give him that much.]. Unusually, it was a feud played out not merely virtually, but physically. Bloom endeavoured to punch his pocket-sized rival, [Didact: badly] after they crossed paths in a celebrity-packed Ibiza restaurant. The ostensible cause of this altercation was Bloom’s ex-wife, the model Miranda Kerr. 
As Bloom stalked manfully away, Bieber (rumoured to have once been intimate with Kerr) taunted: “Say hi to Miranda for me.” In the wake of this incident, he posted a picture of Kerr in a bikini with a symbol of a crown next to it; later still, a picture of Bloom weeping. Kerr, never one to miss an opportunity for self-promotion, responded by issuing a picture of herself with her child, swiftly followed by an image of her sporting jeans, topless, in a bath. 
This is not the only skirmish Kerr appears to have inspired. The model was the occasion of a savage street brawl three months ago between billionaire businessman James (son of Kerry) Packer and television executive David Gyngell, his former best man and comrade of some 35 years. Packer was reported to have been left with a black eye, swollen cheekbone, and damaged teeth, requiring medical assistance. [Didact: That's it? And that's what you call a "savage street brawl"? I'd have expected to see someone in a cast...] Kerr made no comment, not even via the elliptical medium of topless shots. 
Who is this enigmatic goddess, whose attentions inspire such testosterone-fuelled feats? Is it a sign of power that she reduces men to such Neanderthal wrangling, or testament only to a status as mute, Instagramming object? 
Miranda May Kerr, 31, is an Australian model who came to global prominence as one of the Victoria’s Secrets “angels”: women paid to train like athletes in order to retain lithe yet curvaceous forms with which to model underwear. [Didact: Hey, if you're good at looking good, why not make money from it?] Kerr is foremost among this hotly fantasised-over celestial host, not only in looks but in manipulating and marketing said status. 
Her face may be a rhombic tribute to Euclidean geometry, her body that svelte, yet strainingly pneumatic form our culture most fetishises. However, it is the way in which she sells herself as an object of desire that remains most compelling. In 2010, an Australian banker was caught gazing at explicit images of our heroine in the background of a television interview. The clip went viral, the banker was suspended, and an internet campaign was launched on his behalf. Kerr cannily gave him her blessing. Not only did he retain his post, the incident prompted a 100 per cent increase in the number of Google searches for her name. 
In more wholesome vein, she markets herself as the dimpled embodiment of girl-next-door vitality, advocating a tree-hugging yoga, kale and coconut oil lifestyle, and has published a self-help book queasily entitled Treasure Yourself. [Didact: Translation- she's nuttier than a fruitcake, but she's also hotter than July. And when I say "nutty", I mean "crazy like a fox"- see below.]
It is a suggestive phrase. For Kerr has transformed her pulchritude into a source of wealth and power, and the world takes her at her own estimation, as coveted and treasured swag. She is routinely awarded the title “Sexiest Woman in the World” by the organs that issue such designations. It is an epithet that would once have been rendered “Most Beautiful Woman in the World”, like Homer’s Helen, “the face that launch’d a thousand ships, / And burnt the topless towers of Ilium”. Twenty-nine contingents, under 46 captains, making 1,186 ships, all for the sake of Zeus’s daughter, ravishing as she was ravished. 
Helen of Troy was the ultimate fought-over woman: a beautiful receptacle for fantasy via which men could compete to define themselves and their relationships. First, they contended over who should win her. Then they united to defend her father’s choice. The three goddesses offer Paris their bribes. He can surpass all other men by becoming king of Europe and Asia, by being skilful in war, or by possessing the world’s most beautiful woman; this latter asset evidently representing ambition’s pinnacle. Paris seizes his prize, indistinguishable as she is from the loot he takes with him. A decade-long war is waged in her name: a rhetorical repository for male tribal honour, geopolitical strife, and the balance of wealth between East and West.
Miranda Kerr is gorgeous, make no mistake. She has the kind of face, body, and presence that instantly stops traffic and reduces otherwise highly intelligent and powerful men to a state of drooling imbecility simply by virtue of her presence.

Uhh... what was I saying again?
Yet, to call this ridiculous little spat a brawl between Alpha males, as the article suggests in its opening by-line, is quite absurd. It is even more far-fetched to compare the hissy-fits and cat-fights that this woman has inspired between her various male paramours with the legendary epic that is Homer's tale of the fall of Troy. Homer must be turning cartwheels in his grave* at that comparison.

Frankly the article was so silly and so pretentious that I stopped reading pretty much after the end of the section I quoted above. Unlike most people, I have in fact read The Iliad- the Fagles translation is particularly good- and I consider it to be quite possibly the finest work of literature ever published. So when I see a woman like that- who is fine, no question about it, but sure as hell isn't up to the standards by which the Spartan women were held in their day- being compared to freakin' Helen of Troy, well, it's difficult to take anything else that the author writes seriously after that.

To my mind, the entire sordid episode illustrates exactly how not to behave if you want to be considered an Alpha male.

First, let's consider Orlando Bloom. Now, let's be very clear about this- the man CANNOT act. At all. I love the Lord of the Rings trilogy- I'm nerdy and crazy enough to watch all 10 hours of the Extended Editions, end-to-end, at the start of every New Year over the course of three or four weekends. But I'll be the very first to admit that the ONLY role that Orlando Bloom has ever played well is a borderline gay wood elf. Which, if you think about it, might perhaps explain why he and that woman in the purple bikini got divorced...

In other words, he is famous not because of skill or charisma or talent, but because of luck. He fit the requirements for the role of Legolas very well, and that's all. It is the only reason why he is famous- anyone ever seen Kingdom of Heaven? I rest my case.

And this lack of substance shows in the manner in which he approached a possible rival.

He tried to make a scene. He threw a hissy fit. He threw a sloppily aimed punch that looked really lame. And then he was caught crying like a little girl- whether in connection to the incident that sparked this nonsense or not, it doesn't matter.

And that is supposed to be our standard for an "Alpha male"? Perhaps the Telegraph's staff writers should think about reading through Roissy's archives before writing such nonsense.

Then we come to Justin Bieber, who... look, do I really need to write any more about him to point out that you'd have to be clinically insane to think of that insufferably irritating little dips**t as an Alpha male? Plus, he's Canadian, which I'm pretty sure excludes almost anyone from being considered an Alpha, by default.

The lessons from this girly slap-fight are pretty straightforward:
  • If you and your woman "split amicably", as you insist on telling the world, just move on, dude. She's out doing her thing, you should be out doing yours.
  • Learn how to punch. It's not easy. My teacher keeps telling us this- learning how to strike properly is the hardest thing you'll ever learn in martial arts, but it's by far the most important.
  • Don't be a bitch. This should be self-evident but apparently it is not.
  • If you can't avoid being a bitch, at least be smart enough not to get caught being a bitch. Orlando Bloom got caught crying after he threw a punch. Enough said.
  • If you're going to pick a fight, follow through. When you get into a real, physical fight, there is only one realistic outcome: one of you gets taken out. At the end of this... exchange, both "men" were still standing, presumably trading insults about how expensive the other's tampons are.
On a slightly more serious note, this is also a pretty good lesson in the dangers of dating a woman as desirable as Ms. Kerr. She is unquestionably one of the genetic 0.1%- a woman blessed with looks, charisma, and business sense far beyond almost any other woman alive. Make no mistake: if you are not capable of handling a woman like this, she will destroy you.

No woman is worth this fate. Not one. Don't ever let a woman get a hold on you to the point where she owns you like this. If you do, it will be the end of your strength and your independence, and that, for a man, is tantamount to death.

*I know, technically the Greeks cremated their dead, so Homer- if he existed at all, is merely dust on the wind by now...


  1. Miranda Kerr, the only decent looking woman to ever come out of Gunnedah. She is also proof that for enough money a woman will spread it for anybody (look up pictures of lard ass Packer in speedos)

    1. Only if you're supplying copious amounts of free eye-bleach, buddy.

      And yes, having bags of money definitely appears to have an open-sesame effect on women's legs. Or, as Winston Churchill once astutely pointed out:

      Churchill: "Madam, would you sleep with me for five million pounds?"
      Socialite: "My goodness, Mr. Churchill... Well, I suppose... we would have to discuss terms, of course... "
      Churchill: "Would you sleep with me for five pounds?"
      Socialite: "Mr. Churchill, what kind of woman do you think I am?!"
      Churchill: "Madam, we've already established that. Now we are haggling about the price."

  2. I got the impression from the making of featurettes on LOtR that even Sean Astin could take Bloom. And he's been horrible in every film. At least Keanu seems self-aware about where his few strengths lie and doesn't seem to take himself (nor praise or criticism) affect his day. I respect that.

    Bloom seems to see himself as an ACT-TOR, Philistine!

    Go beat them both, deadlift them and give them a maths lesson, would you?

    1. Funny you should mention Keanu Reeves. The man's expression stays the same through pretty much every movie he's ever done, but it turns out that he is one of the most fundamentally decent and humble men around. And his life has seen far more tragedy than a man has any right to endure. Such things tend to shape a man's character.

      Orlando Bloom and Justin Bieber come across as pathetic children by comparison.

      After I'm done doing what you suggest, I would think about sending them to you for guitar lessons- except that this would violate your human rights under the Geneva Convention's protections against cruel and unusual punishments...

    2. HA! Well, what would likely happen after about ten minutes into the guitar lesson would probably get me brought up on charges.

      One can hardly mistake a man who's been through such things. His character walks ahead of him. Maybe one day, I'll live up to the same statement about myself. One day, perhaps.


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