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Five years ago I had an interesting conversation with a distinguished writer and best selling author, a former editor for Newsweek and longtime contributor to the New York Times. He was a "former" editor and contributor because his perspective on political events became too heterodox for the enforcers of "correct" attitudes to tolerate. Although not credited, he had assisted Dr. Charles W. Socarides in writing, Homosexuality: A Freedom Too Far (Adam Margrave Books, Phoenix, 1995). Dr. Socarides dedicated the book to his homosexual patients and structured it as "1000 questions about the causes and cure of Homosexuality and the impact of the Gay Rights movement on American Society." As this description indicates, the book skirts the Rodham-Clinton era use of law as an instrument of social engineering and thus, coercion. It is a compassionate and important work and utterly beyond the pale of what any mainstream press will print.

Preferring to remain anonymous, the writer told me about the many publishing houses at which he had contacts, that were familiar with and respected his work and yet brushed him off when approached them with A Freedom too Far. When I shared some similar experiences of my own in Academia, publishing and in divorce courts, he recounted another anecdote. His daughter in-law was an author of children´s books and recently a mother. When she approached publishers with her latest work they rebuffed her, complaining that her presentation of the father was, "too positive."

This is the dogma of the post-modern legal, political and entertainment system. As anyone who watches any television at all soon recognizes, the required image of the white heterosexual father (even more than of white men generally) is that he is an incompetent buffoon who receives contempt from his wife and children, when his presence is depicted at all. (Increasingly, fathers are displaced by SUV´s).

One might expect that ads aired during sporting events would be an exception to this rule. Not a bit; the feminists and homosexuals who control advertising and the Corporate offices that contract for their services feel confident enough in their monopoly over the images that define American identity that they devote their ads for sporting programs to indoctrinating men and boys in self-contempt.

Here are a few current examples.

A harried looking father emerges from a ballpark runway and hurries to his seats, carrying a carton laden with drinks and food. His wife takes it from him and the kids start grabbing. "Hey, guys, what did I miss," he asks eagerly. They ignore him. "Hey, guys, what did I miss," he repeats plaintively. After a pause, his wife says dismissively, "Pedro Martinez struck out three." Another silence ensues. Then, one of his daughters adds in a bored drawl, "We were on the big screen" (cut to a shot of Mom hugging the smiling kids and mugging for the camera). Looking away from Dad and making a face, the other daughter holds out a baseball and says, "I caught this" (naturally, the girl catches the ball in this ad; everyone knows girls catch as well as boys, etc). Dad sits there holding the now nearly empty carton, looking baffled, sad and peeved. "Did I miss anything else," he exclaims. "Yeah!" says junior glaring at him. "My nachos!"

A voice over booms cheerily, "Hey, Dad! Take ‘m out to the ball game!" Sure, Dad, work yourself to death. Kiss the boss´s ass so you can afford $130 for five tickets (average price at Fenway Park, $26/) and fifty bucks more for a few bites of crummy food so your wife and kids can tell you what a jerk you are. That´s appealing, isn´t it? General Manager Dan Duquette and John Harrington, President of the JRY Corporation that owns the Boston Red Sox seem to think so. (And they know that the people who make and review ads in New England think so, too). This promo airs several times during Red Sox telecasts. And note the lesson for the next generation: Mom and big sisters already have taught junior to despise his old man. So when junior grows up (if he ever does) and marries (good luck) he will tolerate the requisite load of contempt from his wife and kids while continuing to buy and lug the supplies. He will buy and lug them, that is, until Mom decides she´d rather discard him altogether and take the kids, house and bank account while indenturing him for life as her wage slave. "Play ball!"

If this image of the American Family doesn´t appeal to you, write to GM Duquette or President Harrington and tell them what you think of their ad.

Here´s another beauty from the Red Sox promoting their product. A pasty-faced, snaggle-toothed guy in a body cast is getting wheeled into a hospital holding pen by two nurses with annoyed, bored (sense a pattern? Men are insufferable, women so saintly to endure them) expressions on their faces. "This one gets radio reception through his wires," one sniggers. She means the numerous wires holding his face and jaw together. At these words, heads pop up from the surrounding beds as a collection of other male cripples and freaks crowd around ‘radio man´ and proceed to twist his bandaged head until a ball game broadcast is blaring from his dentures. Then two of them exchange high fives and cringe (stupid men) as their casts collide and the sound of cheering fills the room. "Take ‘em out to the ballgame," booms the jolly voice.

 Ronald Coors has a reputation for giving liberally to "conservative" causes. When his ads do not feature him walking through scenic snowy mountains, they display enormous Amazons wielding keg-taps and an assortment of strutting babes and drooling, groveling dudes. The recent offerings of Coors Light ballgame ads have become even more overt in presenting the correct image of sexual roles. In one, a pudgy, baby-faced guy is backing away from a concession stand with a couple of dogs and a tall brew. Right behind him is a beautiful dark haired lassie who scrutinizes him dryly and proceeds to declaim an insider´s knowledge of beer and baseball terminology. "Wow," stammers baby face. "Do you, c-c-c-come here often?" "Haven´t missed a game yet," answers her highness and proceeds to pull her sweater up over her head. The camera cuts away from her just as the sweater approaches her breasts. Of course it´s all tease, no delivery, all fizz, no nutrition. Tickle them till they buy. Cut back to baby face staring with awe (the viewer is supposed to identify with him). "Wow, can this get any better?" he exclaims. The beauty straps on her carrying case and eyes him coolly. "Wow! She´s a beer man!" exclaims baby face, as the audience thrills at trans-sexual or transvestite possibilities. "Yer spilling yer beer," she notes, as he stands there with his cup tilted and dribbling fluid in a mockery of flaccid ejaculate. (This image appears in numerous beer ads this year, perhaps to fulfill those early feminist celebrations of ejaculation without erection, whatever makes men miserable). "Your beer," she repeats disgusted and walks away, leaving baby faced American man standing there without a job, without a broad, and without the beer he already paid for. Back to the counter for another Coors!

Another contemporary come-on from Coors features three "Miss World" contestants sitting next to each other in the stands, an ingenuous American, a sultry but "pure" Austrian beauty, and a strapping, raven-haired German dominatrix in black leather. "Ladies," smirks a fatuous "beer man." "There´s only one left. Tell me why you deserve this Coors Light." "Because the Silver Bullet shines like a beacon of freedom!" Declares Ms. America bouncily. "Ummmmm!" smirks Beer Man. "Because like the first Coors Light I am pure, and also born in the mountains," gushes pigtailed Fraulein Tirol. "Yes you are" drools beer man. "I deserve the Coors Light," says the SS giantess grabbing one, "because I said so!" and with that she pours and crushes the can." The crowd cheers, she waves and beer man stammers and stutters, "we have a winner!" That´s the kind of woman a real beer man admires.

Write Mr. Coors and tell him what you think of his company´s marketing strategy.

The last example of how beer and baseball ads are engineering the further decay of American sexual identities is an ad for Citizens Bank. Have you noticed that like public schools, banks have become a job program that all but shouts, ‘only women need apply´ whether it´s in the lending offices or at the counter? Like those described above, the CB ad is one of those gritty black and white numbers that are supposed to create an "old-time," historical and thus credible image, almost like looking at a piece of ready made history. (Forget Washington, Lee and the Constitution, we´ve got the history for you right here. White men are all racists anyway). Quick shot of a square, whitewashed modern building in the evening, low voices are heard creating an intimate mood. Inside, the lights are low. Is it an office, a living room or the "home office" of Yuppies? "I don´t know," the strained voice of a man is saying. "I´ve never worked, we´ve never worked so hard for anything in my life. I´m sure it will work." Pause: "I don´t know, I mean, it will, will it?" "Jack," comes a female voice, soothingly as to a child. She sits at a table covered with papers, her brow wrinkled with concern and impatience, clicking a ball point pen and staring at the ceiling. Man continues, "I don´t know, I just need to be sure." "Jack, Jack; it will be all right," says the tired, knowing, matronly voice. "Sure?" he asks tensely and stops pacing. "Sure," she affirms.

"Let your banker help you," booms the voice over. "She’s always there for you. Citizens Bank!" Thus does advertising wrap up the loose ends of the Cultural Revolution. Mommy and wife have evolved into Ms. banker holding all the dough and expertise while man and father have shrunk into an anxious, dependent youth. The feminists and the increasing number of those they intimidate and blackmail have re-shaped who we are taught to be as part of their relentless war to replace the family with the state. This is the end game of an old story, from Plato to Bacon to Rousseau to de Sade to Marx and 20th century illuminati like the Myrdals. "The family must be disintegrated into individual units each dependent on the State… In such a society we could very well do without marriage as a legal entity." (See an amply documented, excellent discussion of these matters by William D. Gairdner in The War Against the Family: A Parent Speaks Out [Stoddart, Toronto, 1993]).

What to do in the meantime, as culture disintegrates around us in the anguish of fatherless children, abortion, "no-fault" divorce and the State-Corporate privileging of sexual perversion? Tune in, get angry, turn it off and take action.