The Gold Standard


What is it like to be king? To have the power of a million men? To rule?

You could look to kings of yore and legend. Henry the VIII. King Arthur. The Pharohes. Xerxes. Darius. Alexander the Great. There are books upon books upon shelves made of books you can read and find out what it meant to rule.

But, frankly, I believe that’s all useless.

I tend to look for good role models in shows. Not Zac Effron giving flowers, one of the Glee gays standing up for homosexual rights or the Wilson doing the right thing on House. I look for men who are men. Men that, while keeping in mind that its entertainment, give lessons.

Today’s teacher: Mr. Ari Gold.

I have watched enough of Entourage (I should put this all under research on my taxes) to view the whole of Jeremy Piven’s character. He is the Hollywood tyrant everyone talks about, no doubt, but he is also a loyal family man who, for the most part, keeps his house in order. He has taken on many who have insulted his wife, his family and even his friends. Even friends who have let him down.

Piven’s portrayal of Gold is best known for the well-written, superbly acted outbursts of the entertainment super agent. Everything from sly one-liners to monologues that would make Shakespeare both blush and clap. He is in control, especially when he’s out of control. He has ruled kingdoms, lost them, only to return better than ever from the biggest of failings. And he has done this by being ruthless, angry and unforgiving, but also compassionate, stoic and driven.

Its not secret that I can get pretty tempered. Several of my posts early on and recently have been angry screeds against The Ex and others. This is something new, as before I started this blog and HarmonicaFTW 2.0, I had done my best to control my anger in front of co-workers, my family and my partners. My most recent article on In Mala Fide got a less than warm reception because of its advocacy of anger. The vagueness and lack of history behind it, as well as its point, probably brought on the negativity, but I welcome it. Several commenters made a very good point for all men, including my gaming brothers. You can’t run on anger. I wrote that anger was the fuel of masculinity. Reading my post over again with a clearer mind, I can see that was a pretty stupid.

But, to be a king, of a home, a business or whatever, you can’t stand stoically like David staring off into blissful contemplation hoping the answer will come logically or supernaturally. That’s just fucking stupid. You, as my IMF article said, can’t be ran over by attacks on your character or your honor. Honor being your reputation. Your word. Your livelihood. Family. Friends. Your good name. Words can bring people to their knees and not in the way we want them to. The false rape accusations flying from the mouths of women are the same lies and slander as a disgruntled woman or man making sure your promotion doesn’t go through, or that your friends turn on you, or that your favorite bar suddenly thinks your roofie to get laid. I have lost friends, good friends, to the rumors of others. And while people say, like cheating, its not the fault of the lover, but the cheater, what good is it to let the enemy go scott free because the ally had a moment of weakness.

Anger, controlled anger, is a valuable tool. I stay adamant about that. There have been many situations, not just with my former marriage, but in life in general, where my control doomed my goals. For example, I was due up for a promotion in my cadet squadron. I had put 2 years, hard work and many other things into the program. I worked hard. I studied. And while I wasn’t the best, but I wasn’t a jerkoff like some others I knew. The rules of the cadet program stated that after one year of instruction and one camp (whatever course you chose) you’d be up for a promotion. The first year, I didn’t get one. Oh well. The second year, I didn’t get one, but the tiny little brother of one of the fat female Flight Sergeant did. Not a problem except he had joined six months previously, no camp experience and hadn’t had a full year of instruction. He was promoted to corporal and that meant he was given a leadership role over me and my other friends who had done 2 years instruction and 2 camps. Objections were raised among my group, but since every commissioned officer signed off of it, we just shut up and watched the little runt jump from newbie to “sir, yes, sir”. Instead of bringing it up to the officers, or going over their heads, I just slowly slipped away. A few weeks later, I quietly walked in, gave in my uniform, said I quit meekly and walked away. A little indignation instead of cowardice may of let me leave with some dignity, or even convince me to stay and beat the little prick and his favorite hoes at their own game, but I was scared. Scared isn’t good. Scared isn’t the right response when getting fucked over.

What’s the right response to getting fucked? That’s up to everyone, but for me, and I’m not exactly that special so I’m not the only one who thinks getting a bit pissed can do a lot of good. Even my father, a very calm man most of the time, has ripped out his boss’ asshole and played My Heart Will Go On like it was a recorder when they truly started to mess with him, most of all when it affected his paycheck, which let me and my family survive. I’ve seen how calmly he bitchslaps uppity minions. I can only imagine how white the ones who got on his bad side turned.

I know many think this kind of ego-tripping outrage is a bad thing for men. That it makes them women. Somehow anger grows pussies while Zen creates balls. I disagree. I’ve read the blogs of betas turning alpha. Alphas getting jacked by angry cockblockers. I’ve had my own share of punks in my face and chicks talking behind my back. When I read a man walked away, as I did in the case of the stalker accusation, I cringe. I hate it. I think its pathetic. You don’t have to start a bar fight or slap a woman, but when I see a great comeback, I smile and give a mental fist pump to my buddy. The calmer guys were right. Control it. But don’t let your control control you. That was my problem and it drove me to huge outbursts that broke me down. Its not healthy.

In conclusion, sometimes, you just walk away. Sometimes, you say what’s what to put your attacker in their place. And sometimes, you just gotta take it out of your ass and shove it up someone else’s.


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