And, for the matter of that, Social Constructionism (good as it makes you feel about yourselves) is a Crock of Shit.
In living, self-evident proof of which I present Louis XV de Bourbon of France, as portrayed by Maurice Quentin de la Tour, who knew his sitter well, and was known and liked by him, although, being what we would call autistic--perhaps even somewhat bi-polar--the artist was not able to reciprocate the king's generous friendship. Still, de la Tour was at one and the same time (arguably, of course) the most photo-realistic and the most acutely perceptive (perhaps a function of his mental illness) portraitist who ever lived--and he gives us Louis XV, "le bien aimé," as he totally and undeniably was: A man. A virile man, in fact, without a trace or smidgen of the feminine in his constitution, whose essential, innate masculinity neither powdered wig (and face powder, and perhaps a little lip rouge) nor frilliness of attire, nor perky, rococo, smiling-eyed affect can disguise. Because, you see, Ladies--and, if you look close, you
will see in this portrait that--masculinity is an innate and essential quality which cannot be learned, cannot be taught, cannot be faked, and can't even (
pace, Shakespeare!) be dissembled. Conversely, the trannies, sissies, Postmodern feminists, and hoarse-voiced girls in trousers who
do attempt to imitate masculinity are, with no exceptions that I can think of, grotesque, hysterical, (and, the more
seriously they try to ape what they imagine to be masculine characteristics)
sickening and
insulting caricatures of men.
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