If you can read this WE MADE IT!
This website had serious problems for a few months. It didn’t work.
But now things are on the way back. By some time early in February 2022 all the content will be back. You’ll see the latest version of the book How to stop beating your wife. The book is about 75% finished as of the end of January 2022. It is projected to be completed by about April 2022. This website will have instructions on how to purchase the book as a pdf and hard copy.
Come back again soon and watch the gradual chapter additions. At all times you’ll be able to subscribe to us on Patreon. Thanks for your support.
When did you stop beating your wife? is the classic – and supremely nasty – loaded question.
Back in the day the accused target – the brute – had a tiny chance to recover his soiled reputation by claiming Who, me? She’s not my wife. But in our post-rationalist, post-existentialist, post-binary, post-modernist, post-truth era, facts don’t matter anymore. Fewer men have wives nowadays. More than a few women have wives. Yet the fix between wives and their beaters endures. Almost all wives insist they are beaten regardless.
As a humanitarian gesture a book of instructions on how to stop beating your wife is overdue. Fine. But that’s not what we have here.
Consider the book How To Stop Beating Your Wife a prequel. Powerful societal forces are already in place to end the shameful scourge of wife beating. The book will wake people up to what is already happening: the evolving right side of history. And why it is already too late for any opposing movements, laws or forces to change this progressive trajectory.
She felt the whip, Emile Bayard, 19th century
In a mere two hundred years from the book’s publishing date society will routinely acknowledge that Ecclesiastes is dead. The joys of rationalism, existentialism, binary sexuality, post-modernism, and the obsession with truth will be buried like an archeological fossil. As the philosopher Georg Wilhelm Friedrich Hegel (1770-1831) could have predicted, the thesis of beating one’s wife will clash with the antithesis of marriage-and-breeding to produce the longed-for synthesis: a new, equalitarian family. Set your clock by this prediction. Ready or not, within the next two centuries everyone will be swept into better lives.
Continue reading “Preliminary Expectoration”
It wasn’t until my thirties before I decided to put my self aside to become a father. I was married. After my first love insisted we wouldn’t have children, we went our separate ways. I could have remained single for a few years longer as I was making strides learning how to enjoy life with the ladies. But I wanted a family.
When another woman who seemed right enough came around, I married again.
The two of us grew up in similar, gritty East Coast big city neighborhoods. Our families consisted of mother, father and kids sticking together under one roof through thick and thin. Our parents – her father, actually, and both my parents – fled from the other side. We already had our degrees and professional credentials. We were some flavor or other of Jewish. She rose from her family’s limited resources, eventually mingling with people of great wealth. She was a master of New York pluck. We fancied ourselves as originals in our own ways, though not on parallel tracks.
Despite our stylistic differences, we swore we were ready to give all that up to settle down for the big task in life: raising a family.
It was no secret that marriage and family were institutions under assault on the day we caught each other’s eyes. In the world out there, the signs that the ground was shifting were everywhere. Divorce lawyers were feasting. People were fleeing their marriages instead of trying to fix them. In my days on the outer fringes I was on the same party invitation list as the authors of the book Open Marriage. Some of my friends tried “group marriage” (she and he married another she and he). Nor were the two of us innocent babes in the woods. We had each already been divorced. During my previous marriage I was among the first of my generation who didn’t insist that his wife bear his family name as her last name.
Continue reading “Chapter 1: Putting my self aside”