... Posthumous respect? Nope, he's still not getting any. A mostly forgotten movie from two decades ago in which he starred presaged the next big 'civil rights' movement in the contemporary West, the crusade for sheilas to be treated as though there isn't a package between their legs. Or maybe to be as though a package has always been there, I forget. In any case, I'm of course referring to Rodney Dangerfield and Ladybugs. The relevant synopsis:
Chester is desperate for a promotion at work. To impress his boss, he claims to have been a good soccer player in his youth and is badgered into coaching a girls' team called the Ladybugs. Dragging his assistant along as assistant coach, Chester figures the gig to be easy as the Ladybugs, sponsored by his company, are a dynasty. Unfortunately, only one player has returned. The team, which includes the boss's daughter, Kimberly, are clueless, make a dreadful start to the season, and the boss is less than impressed.
In his personal life, Chester is engaged to Bess, who has a son, Matthew, from a previous marriage. Matthew just happens to be a great athlete, but poor grades get him kicked off the soccer team. Chester invites Matthew to watch the Ladybugs practice and to get some tips. Matthew has a crush on Kimberly from school and it is partly due to this that Chester persuades him to dress like a girl and play for the team under the name Martha.
With only Chester, Matthew and Julie knowing the secret of Martha's identity, the team wins the rest of its games to get to the championship game. Kimberly makes friends with Martha, not knowing "she" is in fact Matthew.The closing scene in this corny movie from the early nineties demonstrates far more perspicacity in identifying where this strange road leads to than the entire NYT editorial board or our most preeminent legal mind does. As Chester prepares for the first game of the season in girls softball, we see a bus full of cross-dressed male recruits eager to alternately ogle and smash their hapless female opponents.
This is a PG-13 parody of gender bending. It potentially gets a lot more gratuitous. As a commenter at Steve's astutely pointed out:
This problem will be self-correcting. Jocks will start loudly proclaiming their female identity and demand to shower with the cheerleaders. Progressives will quietly throw the fight then.He's probably being overly optimistic in that assessment, but if you thought traditional, middle American cultural sensibilities were burned and pillaged in same-sex marriage's march to the sea, just wait for what the tranzis sympathizers have in store.
That said, athletics are where we find the most auspicious ground upon which to join combat with the Cathedral's Amazonian termagant forces and their eunuch auxiliaries. HBD realists are always up for a tough fight in the court of public opinion, and the Cathedral doesn't deal lightly with heretics. But the post-Christian West has another religion whose powers of captivation are even stronger--sports. If there is an ideal field for us to join battle on, this is it. Mainstream writers--even ethnically Jewish ones!--like Jon Entine and David Epstein are able to discuss athleticism and HBD in almost unveiled terms because sports competitions are designed to pit athletes against one another on a level playing field, and, because, well, Americans love sports. It's about the only shared cultural experience left in the polyglot country we used to think of as united.
Consequently, they're own lying eyes tell them a lot--it's harder to blame structural/institutional/socio-economic/cultural isms for west African black dominance in speed positions that are especially reliant on fast twitch muscle fibers like cornerback than it is to explain away why the children of wealthy blacks perform worse on standardized tests than the children of poor whites do and how putative white racism is squared with apparent yellow favoritism.