Dave Pellowe
goodsauce.news
DAISY Turnbull, the daughter of one of Australia’s most infamous, once-closeted ‘progressives’, wrote an opinion piece titled, “Parents must talk to their sons about consent.”
It occurs to me she, like so many others raised by Woodstock wannabes, thinks the next generation of children should be raised as if sexual promiscuity is inevitable. She in particular was raised by the man who claims responsibility for undefining marriage in law, the stroke of a pen formalising the entire erasure of ancient sexual boundaries which began with “free love” in the 60s and divorce on demand in the 70s.
How fitting, having reduced human sexuality from a multi-faceted nexus of beautiful intimacy, unreserved responsibility and reflective of divinity – to a debased indulgence of selfish desires like unaccountable animals, ‘progressives’ should now insist those animals be better trained and restrained.
I don’t presume human history only ever sustained Victorian sensibilities and family standards straight out of a 50s family sitcom. There’s always been more or less sexual immorality in various ages and cultures.
But we’ve always, at least in the Christian West, understood that those immovable boundaries existed. Even if we transgressed them, we didn’t pretend there were no boundaries.
The concept of consent is something I have never taught my sons, and I will never have to because Christian values are so much higher. I would sooner teach them to sit, fetch or roll over. I have played backyard cricket and touch footy with them. Training them as if they were dogs is not only entirely demeaning to them as young men, it is completely redundant given the far more advanced lessons they have learned from me.
I have married their mother and loved only her my whole life. I have taught my sons marriage is a commitment, a conscious act of the will and not a result of feelings or romance.
I have taught them there is no such thing as ‘safe sex’ outside the confines of marriage.
We’ve also taught them, contrary to the propaganda they’re bombarded with, there is no greater joy or fulfillment possible from sex than when enjoyed per the Manufacturer’s instructions, with one person (naturally of the opposite sex), for life.
I’ve taught them, as I was taught, to never drink to excess. I have never not been in control of my behaviour nor interested in the kind of party where others might be completely uninhibited.
What their mother and I have taught them is the consequences of lesser standards and removing ancient boundaries is not only invariably damaging to the enjoyment of the marriage they will one day want to be all it can be, but that sexual promiscuity today could have tragic, unforeseeable results many years into their future.
In a week where good advice to defence cadets on not being easy targets for predators was met with outrage by ‘progressives’ as “victim-blaming”, the younger Turnbull wrote a culture of advocating personal responsibility is more to blame for the traumatic experiences of some women than the culture which advocates, “If it feels good, do it.”
Daisy quotes Mia Freedman who recently said we should be raising our sons to hold the girl’s hair back when she’s sick, not take advantage of her.
Sit, boy. Roll over. There’s a good dog.
It’s remarkable that ‘progressive’ sexual ethics have sunk to the level where we think we need to explain rape isn’t okay. That’s a reflection on your standards, Daisy, Mia — not mine.
My standards are much higher. Getting so recklessly drunk that such an animal could “take advantage” of a girl’s diminished capacity is not the first mistake that girl made. Going to such a party was a mistake. Being alone with a man was a mistake, as was having friends who would let you.
Subscribing to facile feminist dogma which conflates personal responsibility with ‘victim blaming’ was probably the foundational of all mistakes describable as a voluntary lobotomy.
In no way whatsoever is the sexual predator explained or excused from the terrible criminality of his violent assault, and he should have the book thrown at him.
I love my kids enough to tell them how to never be found in the wrong state of sobriety, in the wrong company, in the wrong place, at the wrong time. It’s far easier to prevent them becoming prey than to moralise about how bad their predator’s parents were.
I’m the parent who will take responsibility for my children’s safety and sanity – as much as possible – by teaching them to take responsibility for what they can control, instead of hypocritically complaining about others who don’t.
Don’t play on the road.
Lock your car.
Respect yourself enough to not naively assume everyone else does.
We don’t need conversations about consent unless we assume a culture of ‘progressive’ sexual ethics, cancel the sanctity of marriage, and assume our kids are incredibly stupid animals.
It’s entirely likely, and plainly observable, that such children will only live up to their parents’ expectations.
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