It may surprise some, but in all the archives of game, there is no definitive treatment of The CQ. Well, that ends now. Atavistic Intelligentsia is taking a stand: no more miff-tiffing. You guys know what I mean. The arguments are iron-clad–ethical, metaphysical, practical. Maybe the alt-right can excuse some forms of degeneracy, but this we cannot tolerate. Delenda est cunnilinctio!
Grimey, gaunt-eyed throngs are groping their way across the world. Europe–the object of their longing–offers all. The black and brown masses, hearing her Siren-call, know that they will be welcomed. Europeâ€™s ancient populations are tired. They see no reason to resist.
Such is the premise of Camp of the Saints, the 1973 novel of Jean Raspail. It has rightly received a lot of attention lately, as swarms of Syrians and Somalis, Nigerians and Sudanese, Eritreans and Iraqis begin to infest the Old Continentâ€™s cities. But Raspail was not the first to imagine an ignominious and anticlimactic end to Western Civilization in its homeland. Forty years earlier, another had imagined the same scenario.
Not only imagined, but predicted. In 1933 Oswald Spengler, Germanyâ€™s most celebrated philosopher of history, published his last major work TheÂ Hour of Decision. Spengler is known primarily for Decline of the West, his two-volume, thousand-page meditation on the meaning of history. But perhaps he should be better known for Hour of Decision, because in it, he prophesies many aspects of the current crisis.
The Hour of Decision, at 230 pages in English, is much shorter than Spenglerâ€™s magnum opus. Decline of the West explains why and how the West has reached its spiritual and cultural peak, and will remain largely stagnant for the next few centuries, before it collapses totally. Hour of Decision is more specific. It describes what exactly will happen as a result of this inner decay. Continue reading Spengler’s Last Prophecy
Game is worshiped on our far corner of the internet. And rightly so, there are few things as powerful as a Red Pill suppository to shake a man out of involuntary celibacy and set him on the path to self-improvement. But Game is not the end all be all panacea it is purported to be. Game can improve your chances of getting laid, but it does not improve quality of the pool of women you have to choose from, nor does it necessarily diminish the risks of scoring the lay or address the very real logistical difficulties of scoring.
Many young men have realized this and have simply opted out of the game altogether. Hell, they donâ€™t even need be MGTOWs, but simply Not Employed, in Education or Training.
But letâ€™s step back a bit to explain why.
Men intuitively know from many of their failed hook-up experiences how hard it can be to coax a woman into bed with them. The slightest hiccup in a Manâ€™s game plan can give the wriggling Id of the women a chance to rationalize not sleeping with him that night. Since you are trying to create an emotional state of â€œyes, yes, yesâ€ compliance and ease, the late Uber driver on a cold winter night can really throw a wrench into the gears of your well-thought out plan.
Roosh- to his credit- talks about the mountains of logistics that must be overcome to score the lay, let alone the elements of Game that come into play. So letâ€™s step back and examine some of the more mundane logistics at play here.
1) If you live in an American city, chances are you will need a car.
American cities are notoriously hard to get around in. Why? Because most decent families ran away to the suburbs and only the hipster enclaves and gentrification toe-holds remain. To get to where the action is at, you almost always have to head downtown. How are you going to get there? Well, you either Uber or drive. Make sure to take about 15 dollars for parking if you choose to drive by the way.
2) It is extremely expensive once you are there.
Wages seem to have not gone up enough in relation to soaring Long Island Iced Tea prices. Never offer to buy the girl a drink initially. But chances are you will have to end up buying her at least one drink as the evening progress. And God knows you canâ€™t just go in sober, or stand there empty-handed. So itâ€™s a drink for you and eventually for her- at a minimum. Maybe youâ€™re at a slightly cheaper bar, so letâ€™s say that you only end up spending 12$. Oh and the Uber too, how much was that again? Well, depends how far out you liveâ€¦Letâ€™s remember that you probably spent 12$ just getting there.
3) You have to be 21.
This point seems to be often overlooked. There are many budding disciples of Game that cannot get into bars and must rely on College parties. More than that- they need to pay cut-throat rates from sketchy homeless people, older siblings or upperclassmen to get their hands on booze. Social networking is key. Cold approaches simply do not work in a college environment. This is because the cold approach relies on subtle visual, subliminal, and verbal cues to signify high status. In college, or in any social environment where you are not surrounded by strangers, these cues can be faked, but they can also be verified. Not only that, but some social circles are more exclusionary than the most high-end clubs with velvet rope and lines out the door. To be quite honest, these young men would be better served learning how to get in with the right people, competing at a college sport or dealing drugs than spending hours practicing and refining their cold approaches.
4) Being a young man in a bar is like being a freshman in high school.
Bottom of the totem pole. Why? Because 21 is the cut-off age, and that means most of the girls there will be your age or older. Most of the men however will be older, and as students of the Crimson Arts know, chicks dig older guys. Especially when itâ€™s their first couple of times out on the bar scene in the big bad city. And get this! Most of the women will be older than you! Cleverer guys can lie- if they have the facial hair to back up the claim. But being caught lying about your age is the closest thing to a Cardinal Sin a man can commit while doing a pick-up. My baby-face does me no favors as I try to say that I am a 27 year old man with a straight face.
5) You almost definitely will need to go to multiple places in one evening.
Are you a firm believer in the â€œVenue-change/ isolationâ€ move? Venue-changes work and they work on many levels. They can work to break up a gaggle, create emotional commitment and spice up the evening as you take the girl to a more familiar place. Going to the club for a dance is a great way to start getting more intimate with your Kino. But cover fees? Another drink for you and maybe her? Letâ€™s say another 15 dollars. Hell, even without the girl in tow, say youâ€™re not doing well in one bar. Well that means finishing your glass and heading to yet another place..
6) You need a place of your own to get the lay.
If you live with your parents, you canâ€™t get laid. Sure, sometimes you can head over to her place. But on the first date? Girls have this psychological hold-up about sleeping with you at their place on the first night. Itâ€™s too intimate, her place lets you get too close to her, and she doesnâ€™t want that. The lack of a decent pad to go back to is a huge hurdle for young guys. You gotta either do it in a bathroom stall, in a car (see point 1) or just be content with a number and a hook up. Who knows, maybe you can meet up with her againâ€¦and face the exact same logistical hurdles.
And What is the Payoff?
Put simply, a lay. Chances are it wonâ€™t be a 9 (regardless of what you tell your buddies the next day). But you get your dick wet, with a girl that is willing to put out on the first night. Again, if you are a young man and live in a college town or university environment. The midday text with a smiley face thanking you for a good night weighs heavily on your mind.
You must secure it or be damned. Youâ€™re in uncharted waters, at the complete mercy of the girl you just banged.
You hope that she didnâ€™t have the herp or that she wonâ€™t have buyerâ€™s remorse the next day. You nervously scratch your nether area as you clamber into the shower and turn on the hot water. â€œWas it worth it?â€ You might ask yourself.
And you wouldnâ€™t be alone.
The Mentality of the NEET is a direct product of Late Western Society
There is an entire generation of men that has done the math and decided to sit this one out. The women are not that attractive, the ratios are not that favorable, you have to hustle and spend nights out on the prowl playing the role of clown just to get some action. By the way, you probably spent around 50$ for a night out and if you didnâ€™t get laid, then it was for virtually nothing. Two nights of that will set you back 100$ and thatâ€™s not an exaggeration. Sure you can work more at your job, but wouldnâ€™t that leave less time to go out?Â It shouldnâ€™t be that hard for you to put yourselves into the shoes of these young men. Getting the next lay is hard, it requires stuff that many young men simply donâ€™t have; like say some spending money, a bed that isnâ€™t in your parentsâ€™ basement, a good downtown area to go to or a wide social circle you can rely on.
The Best a Modern Young Man Can Do
You spend your time working out to get fit. You learn the ropes of game. You work a shit job (thanks boomers) because the good jobs are fewer and further between. Your women donâ€™t respect you and donâ€™t respect themselves enough to look good for you. You then go out and stake your claim to some sub-prime poon estate, and pray for deliverance the next week.
But wait thereâ€™s more!
And letâ€™s say you take the Red Pill to heart. Start questioning Feminism, the Liberal hive-mind and the sanity of your peers in supporting a Third World Flood of Biblical proportions, and see how many of your social circles, how many of your friends and peers suddenly accept the new you. Chances are, you might even lose your job, get kicked out of University, or develop a reputation as an Evil Misogynistâ„¢. Not all of us can reach Heartistian levels of poolside ambivalence to the situation that modern Western society finds itself in. Time, energy, and money. Thatâ€™s the theme of this post and donâ€™t worry, weâ€™re going to bring it all together now.
Can you really blame young men for giving up on getting laid in the West?
Some have tried shaming NEETs into rejoining modern society. But really, how can you shame the shameless?
Video games and porn beckon for some. Asceticism and meme-ing for Trump beckon to others. One thing is for sure, all these young, dispossessed men with no creative outlet for their energy except 2d waifus or occasional forays downtown are checking out of society. And really, who can blame them?
Modern Western Society has created the NEET and now it doesnâ€™t know what to do with it. On the liberal side, they continue to kick a dog thatâ€™s already down. On our side, we try to convince the NEET to go about the difficult task of getting laid. While the Red Pill approach is infinitely better for the well-being and short term happiness of the NEET, it is still an incomplete answer and one that doesnâ€™t address the fundamental societal shortcomings that have led to NEETdom. Un-becoming a NEET takes re-engaging with a society that one has already disconnected from. You must slog through the trenches again, and for rather ephemeral benefits.Â I leave you with this thought, the drive to get laid is important- hell its incredibly strong… But it may not save the NEET.Â
Maybe, its because the NEET doesn’t want to be “saved.”
In these degenerate times, even to speak of love is to invite scorn, to be called a sentimental fool or a pathetic beta male. But it was not always so.
Love has been a central topic of discussion in Western Civilization. The early Greek philosopher EmpedoclesÂ gave it the status of universal force. Plato, too, and the neo-Platonists dedicated many works to the topic. The myth of Eros and Psyche was a perennial theme of art, and the Grail legends still have cultural influence today. Similarly, our movies and television shows are pervaded with romantic themes. However, similar to Greshamâ€™s law, paltry conceptions of love drive out granderÂ ones. IÂ shall not examine the decline here, but merely present some defense of the more noble conception of love.
This ideal of love isÂ beset from two sides: that of the bro and the intellectual, as I shall call them. I hope to show that both positions, while understandable, are wrong-headed. Briefly, the bro position attacks love as mere beta male pussy nonsense while the intellectual holds that it is a puerile and mawkish idea. I will freely admit that in disproportion and in severance from real-world particulars it can become those, but it is not essentially that way. Ideals need defending from the cynicism and extremism of a degraded culture.
To address the bro criticism let us look briefly and from a great height at the Middle Ages. One cannot doubt, in general, the dominance of patriarchy in this period. Conflict is common, man and nature are more dangerous than at present, and human muscle is the main driver of production. This too, on the other hand, is the age of chivalry and of the troubadour. Men utterly dominate the scene, yet (excessively) romantic notions of love are rampant. This is because, contrary to the narrative, it is the male that is the romantic, not the comparatively anaesthetic female. (Of womanly notions of love, I have little to say. It is a more concrete thing – tied to the more practical affairs of life, security and safety not least.) Â To address a familiar theme, the male is the agent of romance, the female the object. The minds of men are more easily enthralled by abstractions, including ideals. When we rule our own societies, an abstract feminine is a motivating ideal whether she be a Helen or a Mary, a Gretchen or a Beatrice. Biologically, we crave the female, spiritually â€œthe eternal feminine draws us on.â€
From the other side we have the sneering (((intellectuals))) and the jeering intellectuals. They constantly try to deconstruct or otherwise undermine the idea of love. Think of Lucretius and his flatulent Venus. I am sure a fair few of you have some Mencken quotations to hurl at me, but they do not bite in light of his Sara Haardt. The intellectual has more than his share of self-awareness. This causes both baseless romantic ideation as well as virtual paralysis in cases of real potential romance. This no doubt leads to embittered intellectuals. Among his peers, this creates an arms race for greater and greater cynicism. It is a situation made all the worse by the need for many intellectuals to seek novel views as well as to separate themselves from the rubes back home by disparaging their time-worn and hokey ideals. It is no coincidence, either, that the hipster must assume a tiresome aura of irony in his otherwise rabid quest for authenticity.
Both the bro and the intellectual are bitter, their jadedness no doubt hard-won. Our culture still has the vestiges of white civilization; the idea of love is still out there. We see it in our movies and our television shows, especially older ones. A formerly common plot involved the discovery of old love letters or poems, for example. That plot still makes sense today, but it cannot be about today. At best it belongs to our elderly, but even that becomes less and less true. Similarly thousands of romcoms feature the â€˜meet cuteâ€™ but that requires a functioning community and inviting public spaces. Can we really imagine our malls, train stations, bus depots, airports, parks, town squares and so forth as viable spaces for love? Of course not! Mugging and murder perhaps, but not love. Many such spaces are unsafe, unpleasant, and downright uninviting. Even those that are tolerable lack the social infrastructure to be relevant to non-utilitarian activities.
Our culture still indulges white ideas of love, but this just sets up white men for failure. Those ideas have no vital relevance. The failure that results when white men do what they feel they are supposed to do (and moreover what is instinctual) causes much sorrow and anger. We then turn to game blogs out of desperation, or become male feminists hoping for pity sex, or become embroiled in relationships that our culture actively wishes to fail and which sadly often do. The result is a lot of meaningless sex, a lot of failed relationships, and a lot of ruined lives. Women turn to pharmaceutical intervention while men turn to mechanically banging club sluts, and those are the â€˜luckyâ€™ ones! The man thinks of some sweet girl he once knew, the woman of the sweet girl she once was. That is if either can feel anything at all, beyond some vague hope that the next little death be a final death. The unlucky ones end with porn addictions and body pillow waifus or short blue hair and extreme adiposity. This is a profound disaster for our people, men and women alike.
I will not speak of this not-so-little rift within the lute without offering some notes of hope. One must first understand that I paint a far bleaker picture than is yet real. There are still safe and lively public spaces as well as happy and loving couples. We must not kid ourselves that these are not under heavy attack though. Our neighborhoods and our marriages are ravaged by our increasingly alien culture and laws. Awareness, a much-ballyhooed and misused word, is our greatest friend in this moral war. The recognition of our own values is of paramount importance. Love, like beauty and truth and freedom, is a core Western value; we should not so easily surrender it. The subversive nature of love has long troubled the utopians. That is until they hit upon the idea of rotting it inward until it molders away. They have replaced it with a mere simulacrum â€“ an ersatz love that is solely sex. We have not lost yet, though.Â
We still have some of our ideals and our ways of life. To counter our enemies, the sexes must work in unison. So go fall in love, itâ€™s the white thing to do.
The alt-right has really come into its own over the past couple of years and with this comes growing pains. One trouble we face is the integration of women into the movement. Many alt-righters had manosphere days and many of us former libertarians have seen what happened with female entryism there. In normal times, it is fair to be skeptical of women in politics, but we are not in normal times and we are beyond politics. It is not simply a political movement that has arisen; it is a rational desire for an ethnostate and for the restoration of a white way of life. It should be obvious that a white society requires white women, but I intend here to assuage some legitimate concerns.
Before delving into specific comments, I feel that it is necessary to address a fundamental fact. Our (((enemies))) actively wish for the destruction of our people. Divide and conquer is a time-tested and effective strategy. Our enemies know this and have used it to devastating effect. The rise of (((feminism))) and its (((backlash))) have brought much ruin to our people. These ideologies (feminism and masculism) are truly foreign to our people. It is sad that some would elevate one putrid semitic religion to counter the poison of another. Do not mistake me for engaging in egalitarian nonsense. I support the truly Western notion of sexual complementarism: the sexes require one another to be a complete whole. Too many accept Eve or Helen as their level of anima, but to save ourselves we must seek Sophia. And so, let me now white-knight for waifus.
â€œWomen who are into politics are nuts.â€ This may well be true, but consider the following: Jared Taylor frequently mentions how much more sane people with our political views are on average with the rise of the internet. Yes, the current crop of known alt-right waifus are probably abnormal by woman standards, but that does not mean they are completely off their rockers. My suspicion is that they fall into three kinds: 1) those red-pilled by male influence 2) those who are sperg-lasses 3) and those red-pilled by life. Of the first, little need be said. These girls were well-raised or have good taste. Obviously we should support them and ideally wife them. Of the second, we should not be surprised that slightly more autistic girls would be much more likely to abandon the ((((Narrative))). Of the third, we can imagine some lady faced with a frightening experience and then turning to, say, Coontown (RIP) or some other outpost of truth in the safer parts of the web. From there, we should hope she comes to us.
â€œWomen should be making huWhyte babies.â€ Duh. Of course. But how much time does it take to send out a tweet or post a comment, or even join a podcast? We shouldnâ€™t be watching TV or the like anyway. We moderns have plenty of free time, we should use it to good ends. I donâ€™t think anyone is arguing that women should abandon their children to engage in online political activism. As for doxing, well, thatâ€™s a chance we all take.
â€œWomen shouldnâ€™t be leaders.â€ Thatâ€™s reasonable enough, but donâ€™t let the perfect become the enemy of the good. If a female-led party is the rightâ€™s best hope, so be it. As for leadership in the alt-right, that seems a curious notion. As we are not a formal organization we do not have leaders. What we do have are content producers. Donâ€™t like some ladyâ€™s content? Donâ€™t support it. Disagree with it? Go make your own. And donâ€™t whine about gals getting more support, you arenâ€™t in competition!
â€œWomen rent-seek.â€ Does anybody expect to make money off the alt-right? Some of our more talented content producers do need funds for their projects, and some of them will be women. Again, if you donâ€™t like it, donâ€™t support it. If you donâ€™t like that other men support them solely because theyâ€™re thirsty, well, change human nature?
â€œWomen and men are just different.â€ Again, this is true, but I think this is more of an argument for women in the alt-right, not against it. Men and women have different strengths and we should exploit that. Women are probably better at red-pilling other women. Even if they arenâ€™t, the endorsement of our ideas by women gives them a normalcy that they would otherwise be denied. It is easy to attack a bunch of men as pathetic losers who masturbate to anime all day, but that becomes more difficult with women around. Also, if we wish to be degenerate, we can leverage attractive waifus to manipulate thirsty guys. Every movement needs cannon-fodder; we canâ€™t all be philosopher-kings.
â€œWomen suck.â€ Have you seen any men lately? We are all in bad shape. Ours is a degenerate age. Women are like amphibians: a bellwether for environmental destruction. They are also less able to engage in cultural defection, pulled down by the stinging bitchiness of their fellows. Degenerate women abhor good women and will bring their entire cold arsenal to bear in an attempt to drag them down to their level. None of us can engage in total unilateral cultural defection, but women need more help to de-poz themselves than men.
â€œI donâ€™t want to wife some â€˜recoveredâ€™ degenerate.â€ So donâ€™t. No one sane is asking you to. I am asking that we remember the poisonous society we all come out of. If someone makes a good faith attempt at reform, we must allow them. Letâ€™s not get caught in the sort of holiness spiral that afflicts SWPLs. We cannot afford to turn away those who repent. But you probably shouldnâ€™t marry them.
â€œWomen are just not as important politically.â€ Angry young men control the politics of a collapsing society – that much is obvious. But what are angry young men fighting for, if not for wives and girlfriends and mothers and so on? Much anger stems from the degraded quality of women, giving them a promise of good women helps bring them to our side.
â€œThe Mannerbund.â€ Yeah, what of it? The existence of women does not destroy male companionship. It is true that the presence of a woman can disrupt a male space. The sexes do need separate spaces but we also need a commons. We arenâ€™t just discussing pension structures or the benefits of light, we are trying to save ourselves. As the physical commons falls further into darkness, we shall badly need our digital spaces. Also, much of the fixation on this topic is predicated on some silly ethology. Humans (and dogs and wolves for that matter, to address some silly analogies) do not have rigid hierarchical structures (chickens do though). Dominance is primarily a pair-wise affair as well as being environmentally mediated. It need not be commutative nor does it always go from A to B. Humans have troop aspects but we also have pair-bonding aspects, especially whites.
â€œWaifus.â€ The identification of alt-right ladies as waifus is a good way to frame things. These women either belong to alt-right men as actual wives or girlfriends or they belong to the community until such a time as they can be united with their one true shitmate.
â€œIâ€™m just angry/sad that I donâ€™t have an Aryan QT3.14/88 by my side.â€ Arenâ€™t we all? Either keep your whining to yourself or go out and make one. If you find you cannot, accept that the love-based northwest European marriage pattern involves high numbers of those who never marry. Devote your time instead to the cause, not moaning about bitches on the internet.
Caucasus girls can be strikingly beautiful. With jaw-dropping exotic looks and feminine character, they truly are a breed apart from most girls you find in the Post-First.
But how does one go about bedding them?
Well here’s the problem. Their men are territorial and will not tolerate a member of an out-group dating one of their girls. Exceptions abound, but a talk with any serial daters within FSU countries that have Caucasus migrants will confirm that these exceptions simply prove the rule. You must always assume that the primary obstacle to dating a mountain girl is the mud man behind her that will literally try to break your ribs if you start making the moves on one of their women. Now, a conquering peoples always allows out-group mating for their own males, but enforces strict dating codes for its own females. This is nothing new, and it is happening now in Europe. White European women are being culturally-enriched in staggering numbers. But again, this is not mentioned in the media and even if it was, it is reasonable to assume that nothing would happen. Europeans, like all whites after all, exhibit pathological altruistic traits and out-group tolerance at levels that borders on the suicidal. One could argue that this is the result of out-breeding and the prohibition of cousin-marriages- a practice that continues in the dark world- leading to decreased sense of kinship among members of the European peoples. But that is the subject of another paper. Suffice it to say, you’re not going to get far with Muhammed or Shamil’s daughter unless you either bribe him with a goat, or do it on the sly.
Be careful though. From my own experience, Caucasus girls have a very powerful form of a shit-test indeed: they threaten to tell their family that you have been seeing them. This spells a beat-down (or worse) for you, and a beat-down for her. This is a nuclear shit-test, probably inherited from generations of bride-abduction tradition in the Caucasus. Dial the Alpha up to 110% because you are going to have to brag about how you can personally curb-stop all 22 of her cousins at once and that you aint afraid of nuffin. Caucasus girls are strange like that- they hate and are obsessed with their family at the same time. They long for Western society and to make the flight to freedom from over-bearing fathers, groping cousins and seedy uncles. Many of them lust for white men and if you have blond hair or blue eyes you will be a hot commodity indeed, but some of them are possessed with insane levels of guilt about seeing a non-Durka Durka man. They will eventually tell someone, and then you’re in for it. Be prepared to walk around, looking over your shoulder and forget about going to your local shawarma spot. You never know where her brother, or cousin will be and how could you- they all look the same anyway.
I would be remiss if I did not give you another warning.Â If you ever piss her off or get caught with another lover, she may just tell her family that you forced yourself on her, and at that point I hope you have some buddies that can back you up. Understand this and proceed with caution.
Muzzies are very territorial of their women, and even the “westernized” women are kept under tight wraps. Their men however are free to date whoever, and treat them however they like if they are not Muslim. You won’t find many feminists complaining about how Muslims treat their women and the women of any country that was stupid enough to let them in in any significant number (Read: Every single white country in the world) but then feminists never seem to notice when transgressions occur and the perpetrators are not white men. The sand people are not the only group to be territorial of their women, Basketball-Americans exhibit some of these same tendencies when whites try to make a move on their women, even though they themselves spend most of their time lusting for “da white wimminz” and musing about, “where dey at.”
The benefits of banging a Caucasus girl are ephemeral. Mostly its a dare bang. You get a thrill from being a modern day vag-Crusader, and the satisfaction that you bagged a rare girl indeed. But if you do it at your place, and you have a falling out with the girl afterwards, be prepared for a restless couple of weeks indeed. I hope for your sake that you are packing heat. This is in no way an exhaustive guide to banging women from the Caucasus, in fact its a very niche topic. After all, how many people have Chechens living nearby in their neighborhood, or Dagestanis? But if your Conquistador blood gets roused one day, and you decide to mount an expeditionary raid into uncharted territory, bear in mind the warnings I have provided for you today. But then do it anyway, your ancestors will be sniggering and fist-bumping you from their graves. And really, what better incentive could you possibly need?
The Russians have first hand experience with feminist and multiculturalist lunacy. In the early decades of the USSR, the Bolshevik government concoctedÂ an artistic style called “Socialist Realism.” And no, they weren’t trying to be ironic. “Socialist Realism” depicted things the way Stalin and his fuck-puppets in the politburo thought theyÂ should be. This resulted in all sorts of absurdities, absurdities that you know well, because they have resurfaces asÂ some of the commonest tropes in current entertainment.
If there is one rule in art, it is that you cannot regularly violate the principles of psychological normality.Â In certain genres, you are free to mess with the laws of nature –animals can talk, it can rain jelly-beans, creatures that are half-man, half horseÂ can frolic in meadowsÂ of candy canes and corndogs, whatever. ButÂ even then,Â the characters must generally behave according to known psychological principles (the occasional wack-jobÂ notwithstanding). No one could tolerate a novelÂ where all the male characters were happy to let some dipshit boff all the women, asking for nothing in return but 18-hour days toiling in the uranium mines. It’s too great a stretch of the imagination. People just don’t act that way.
One of the most blatantly absurd tropes is the bad-ass girl who beats up or kills dozens of men. You’ll find her in bothÂ Socialist Realism and current US entertainment. Â This trope (goddamnit, I sound like Anita Sarkeesian)Â has madeÂ cop-dramas and Hollywood action flicks not just predictable, but unwatchable. Â Now, you might object that the bad-ass girl isÂ only an abuse of physical reality, not psychological normalcy. But you’d be wrong. Of course a girl can hold down the trigger and mow down dozens of studs. What is so irksome about the bad-ass girl is that she is a psychological abnormality. When it comes to fighting quality, the typical woman does notÂ compare to the average man. Even Homo Americanus, betweenÂ marathon red-tube sessions and IPA hangovers,Â wouldn’t lose a fight to a girl 999 times out of 1,000.
So of course Socialist Realism got off to chicks racking up rediculous K2D ratios. InÂ Chapaev (1934), bad-ass babe Anka mows down rows of Tsarist soldiers (the sexy dudes in the screen-shot below,Â note that the officer looks like he’s chomping on a stogie, but it’s probably a whistle). But even before Anka goes all Audey Murphey, a bunch of her male comrades loose their nerve and flee, only to be rallied by their commissar.
But Chapaev is pretty mild compared to other Soviet films. Even thoughÂ Anka holdsÂ off the reactionary hordes, she runs out of ammo (seems to be a Russian thing) and gets saved by the male protagonist, Chapaev.
If you want the full monty, you have to watch Tsirk (1936). Â Tsirk “Circus” hits all the commies’ favorite talking points–feminism, miscegenation, multiculturalism–and rams them down your throat. It’s the story of Marion, an American actress who gets run out of the US for having aÂ child with aÂ black man. The scene of her expulsion is especiallyÂ piquant. A mob of rasiss Americans chases her out of town, shouting “lynch her” and “nigger lover.”Â So naturallyÂ she seeks refuge in the freedom-loving Soviet Union, where she joins the circus, irony not intended. She gets into a one-sided relationship with a beta-boy German showman, but she only has eyes for her Slavic-superman fellow performer Ivan. Ivan is happy to oblige. He must have gotten bored with nice, sane Russian girls.
The movie climaxes in aÂ multicultural lovefest. Marion’sÂ GermanÂ beta-boy ex exposes her for the miscegenetrix she is. The circus crowd is nonplussed at the revelation, and passes the adorableÂ mulatto around to prevent the German from getting a hold of him. He retreats in shame, and the audience passes the boy around some more, singing a lullaby, with solos by representatives of the USSR’s various minority groups. Â They wrap it up with some parading on red-square, featuring Marion side-by-side with her alpha-cuck boyfriend.
Then there’s Gladkov’sÂ Cement,Â almost a book version ofÂ Tsirk.Â The hero, Gleb Chumalov (more like Chumalot), returns from three years of fighting capitalists and monarchists only to find his wife is a cold,Â Communist new-woman.Â AndÂ she’s been shacking up with another man. To top it off, everyone blames him for her infidelity because he was away at war. A woman tells him, “You left Dasha to torture and death and now you cannot expect to get a hold of her.” I bet a lot of our Iraq and Afghanistan veterans can relate.Â I’m sure plenty more lunacy happens inÂ Cement, but I wouldn’t know, because I can never get through more than a page before I give up.
These are just three examples of Soviet lunacy. The message-films like Tsirk are largely forgotten. RussianÂ literature from the 1920s and 30s is virtually unreadable today. It has largely disappeared from Russian memory. Russians know the 19th century classics, they often know Pushkin poems by heart. But Socialist Realist works, despite decades in the official curriculum, are rightly neglected. Tolstoy and Dostoevsky are timeless, Gladkov is absurd.
Throughout history, feminism and miscegenation have appeared from time to time, but are invariably subsumed. That should give us hope. We’ve tried this before, and it failed.
Coming to college, upon the recommendation of a blue-pilled beta friend, I joined an organization called Chi Alpha. They were the real deal: crying and shaking, guitar-strumming, tambourine-banging, born again evangelists. But being an immigrant, and clueless to boot, I had no idea what kind of craziness to expect. Full disclosure, in my beta boy angst, I was easily seduced by the easy smiles and talk of community, acceptance, and Christian life. I even went on a retreat with the group where I saw feminized Christianity at its best. Luckily I made it out unscathed, with a tale or two for you, dear readers.
Iâ€™ll never forget the time that a middle-aged (read: post-wall) speaker came to talk to us on special invitation. She lamented how God had not yet sent her a man and described how hard she had worked at her career and how she had a few men that walked out on her earlier in her life, leading her to take a break from dating. She claimed that she found God at this time, leading her to only pursue men in a Christian manner, which I assume meant not frequenting the same dive bars.
Either way, this new â€œChristian approachâ€ to dating didnâ€™t seem to pan out, because the subject of her talk was all about God not giving her a man and how it must just not be her time. The trials that this poor spinster faced elicited comparisons with Job and Rachel from the Old Testament. I remember how her voice trembled, and I couldnâ€™t help feeling how awful those men were for dumping her while she was trying to pursue a Christian lifestyle.
She even talked about the debt that she had accumulated from going to graduate school in her early 30s, and how she hoped that God would help her find a way to pay off her debt. I wonder how much the first goal and the second goal were related in her mind. As always, the â€œhook up cultureâ€ was decried and the disrespect for women by males at the university was constantly a subject of pontification. Naturally, the true causes of the hook-up culture were never addressed, the broken nature of the old dating model never mentioned, and slutty behavior by women never called to account. But hey, what do you expect from gynocentric feminized Christianity?
The girls all shed thick, heavy tears and nodded emphatically about how hard it was to find a good Christian boy to fall in love with. Needless to say, there were Christian boys all around them, only none of them seemed capable of igniting a fire in their loins. I wonder why. Iâ€™ll venture to say selection bias had something to do with it.
Whiny femme-boys with no applied charisma skill (game) trying to justify their involuntary celibacy as part of a wholesome Christian lifestyle donâ€™t make college girls swoon. But rather than confronting their sexual marketplace value and working to improve their game, their character, and hell, maybe even working out a bit, they instead found religion as a balm for their broken hearts.Â Hereâ€™s the pitch:
Pastor: Do you feel out of place and rejected by girls?
College boy: Boy, do I!
Pastor: Never get invited to parties?
College boy: Not reallyâ€¦
Pastor: Come join our
cultclub and Jesus will take all the pain away.
College boy: Maybe Iâ€™ll get a cute Christian girlfriend if Iâ€™m good and God rewards me!
I only saw one match-up occur between two Chi Alpha members: a reformed slut and a football player. Full disclaimer, the girl was a 3 or a 4 on a good day, and on the big retreat to Virginia beach, broke down during discussion time and sobbed out a story about how she had lots of pre-marital sex with her boyfriend and felt abused because of it.
Now a black football player, at any university, is a prime catch for any girl, and this guy wasnâ€™t bad looking at all. His big problem though: he was too nice and had no game. Naturally he tried with several girls when he came to college, and flamed out spectacularly several times, leading him to join Chi Alpha as the savior intended. After being â€œset upâ€ with this damaged goods â€œChristian,â€ the football player became the toast of the club, a shining example of what every good Christian ought to do. The fact that this 3/10 had had more sex with more partners in her short 19 years of life than he ever would probably in his entire life never seemed to bother him.
How noble of all of these angsty betas to renounce their involuntary celibacy for a voluntary oneâ€”the sacrifice must have been immense. Here is my main point about these religious groups: they are INCREDIBLY damaging to young men because, like youth groups of the past, it puts a skewed moral burden on many young men and actively prevents them from developing their skills with women.
The sexual marketplace has changed, and all those beta traits that church groups used to foster in their young men are totally useless. You know that hottie sitting next to you in the pew? Chances are sheâ€™s banging some random dude she met at the university pub on Saturday and sitting there talking to you about â€œChristian valuesâ€ on Sunday (true story). Why? Because its alpha or die, dear readers.
And as long as she continues mouthing platitudes and shedding tears during the group sing along, no one will know. Even if she should choose to confess her sins or something, I guarantee you that she would be forgiven. Evangelicals are predominantly female. Evangelicals love reformed sluts. Jesus has been re-branded as the perfect white knight poster boy for the feminized Christianity cult that I see in America. Try pulling that shit as a guy who got drunk and had a one night stand, youâ€™d be standing before an honor council by the end of the day.
According to Chi Alpha and evangelical groups like it aimed almost exclusively at youth, one would think that Christ came down from heaven for one reason and one reason only: to prevent underage drinking and pre-marital sex. In a nutshell, this was the point of the group. Any group that takes awkward betas and reinforces their tendencies to the point of associating religious holiness with social awkwardness deserves to be purged. There are enough conflicting messages from Hollywood, clueless parents, left-wing school administrators without so called religious â€œconservativesâ€ jumping on the bandwagon and skewering men as well.
Where was the tradition? The whole, â€œwomen be loyal and submissive to your husbands,â€ â€œdonâ€™t whore around in your 20s and expect a husband when youâ€™re overweight, pushing 40 and drowning in student debtâ€ stuff? It wasnâ€™t progressive enough I guess. Our universityâ€™s brand of evangelicalism even avoided condemning gays the same way their southern brethren would. I asked several times about the churchâ€™s position on the homosexual lifestyle, and got no replies, probably because we had many homosexuals in the congregation. Pretty conservative, amirite?
There was nothing truly Christian about the experience. The movement felt like it had been spawned in the early 90s and that Jesus had died as early as the 9/11 attacks with only a tenuous connection at best to the actual crucifixion and the story of the early church. Long story short, it wasnâ€™t for me, and I decided I needed a church based in tradition and not drowning in progressive platitudes, and based on the â€œmake it up as you go alongâ€ attitude of the Protestant tradition.
A short epilogue:
After I overcame my weird, guilty, religious phase, stopped showing up (I only went for about 3 months), and read up on some game material, I turned right around and banged a couple of those girls. Praise be to God.
Most of you by now know about the rape culture campaign that has reached fever pitch around the nation. Even Michelle Obama and some other B-list celebrities got in on the action by posting youtube videos talking about ending â€œrape culture.â€ This hysteria rages particularly hard on college campuses, making me feel very lucky to be off the dating market at the moment. But not everyone is as lucky as me.
An acquaintance of mine was dating her boyfriend in college for two years. Over the summer before her junior year however, she decided that she had enough. Naturally she gave a myriad of reasons why she
wanted needed to break up with him. Apparently he was â€œholding her backâ€ from experiencing college life. At the time, I took this statement at face value and thought he was just a stick in the mud. More realistically however, she was just starting to get bored of the boring beta that trailed after her at all the parties and wouldnt let her have any â€œfun.â€
And boy did she have fun after they broke up. I had a front row seat to the affair. And since she was like â€œone of the brosâ€ she didnâ€™t skimp on the details. Full disclosure: she is not a prime catch (otherwise I too would have been tempted to smash), in fact Iâ€™d rate her a solid 5, in other words: very average. But most college males are incredibly thirsty and will jump at the opportunity to get with anything that even resembles a girl with interest in them. Suffice to say, she did way better for herself than one would expect based on her looks. She even had a fling with a 35 year old banker that would wine and dine her every week.
ThisÂ brings up something Iâ€™ll never understand: why adults looked wistfully back at their college years as if they were years of abundant poon just falling out of the heaven like unleavened bread. The truth is that chicks dig older guys, and the first half of college is rough for your average male, and only gets a bit better for most as they get older. Personally, I had a blast, but I had the added knowledge of being an acolyte of game. The others thoughâ€¦theyâ€™ve been struggling, and probably will continue to do so until they become rich bankers themselves. It doesnâ€™t help that you have the histrionics of the â€œrape cultureâ€ people to deal with either.
Back to the storyâ€”one night several months after their breakup she and him met up at a party again. One thing led to another, and they slept together that night. Only several weeks later, the girl went to the administration and claimed that she had been raped. The administration hem-ed and haw-ed and decided that the safe thing to do would be to suspend the boy for a year, pending a further investigation. Did you catch that? He wasnâ€™t proven guilty, he had witnesses that even came to his defense (one of my old roommates), and they were both drunk, but none of these mitigating factors prevented him from even openly debating whether he in fact committed rape or not.
Personally I know the guy, and he is one of the most vanilla-fied, beta-fied, and pussy-fied herbivores that you will find on a college campus. The idea of him forcing himself on anyone, including an ex-girlfriend that is the exact same height (and weight probably) as him is downright laughable. So perhaps the girl was suffering from a case of buyerâ€™s remorse? It seems like the most plausible explanation, but it begs the question, who is the type of guy that gets falsely accused of rape?
Itâ€™sÂ the lesser beta, never the bad boy alpha.
My own experiences add a splash of color to the affair. About a year and a half ago I asked out anÂ Indian chick (HBD 8.5) on a date. I didnâ€™t know it at the time, but I was oozing with charisma and natural game. She was working at the desk as a sort of secretary and wasÂ studying for her MCAT when I approached her. Keep in mind that this was before I understood the science behind applied charisma.
Naturally Alpha Me: You look really excited.
NAM: To be working this job.
Her: Yeah, its a blast. (*rolls her eyes*)
NAM: Are you studying for your MCAT?
Her: Yea, it sucks.
Me: I could tutor you!
Her: Are you also taking the MCAT?
Her: Haha then why do you think you can tutor me?
Me: Just a hunch. We should get lunch before we study together though.
Me: Whenâ€™s your break, Iâ€™ll come pick you up then.
Her: Hahahaah, ok 12.
I was wearing a sleeve-less t shirt, ray-ban knockoffs and most importantly I had that special factor x swagger that gave me that mischievous sparkle in the eyes and sly grin on my face that showed her I didnâ€™t take her too seriously. (In retrospect, I suppose I used a variant of Rooshâ€™s elderly opener.) The lunch date became an alcohol date the next day and just as I was escalating for the grand finale, she drops this bombshell on me.
â€œI have a boyfriend.â€
Ooof, game over right? Well the red-pilled male naturally understands that this is just last minute resistance, but I took it at face value. I backed off. Which is a shame because sexual tension continued to grow between us, until one night after we went on a drunk walk through the city at 4am, she insisted on sleeping over in my apartment. When I tried to make an advance on her, she refused and said that we had to sleep separately.Â I had a bunk bed and was on top, she was on the bottom. I hop up, close my eyes and hear her say:
â€œIf you were a man, you would take me nowâ€
I jump down, blood boiling, throw myself at her, only to have her start squirming and say, â€œWHAT are you doing!? I have a boyfriend!â€
Confused, I climb back up. One minute later.
â€œWhy did you stop?â€
I jump back down. Encounter resistance again, climb back up, confused as fuck.
â€œIâ€™m in your room and youâ€™re not doing anything to me?â€
Third timeâ€™s the charm right? Wrong. Same thing happens, I fall asleep soon after.
I wonder to this day what would have happened if I had done what she was begging me to do. Would I be in front of the honor council? Was I alpha enough then to escape her morning after buyerâ€™s remorse? Hard to say, but the deck would have certainly been stacked against meâ€¦
The only conclusion that I can draw is that college used to be a sort of training wheels on practice ground for middle-class males. Only now, the learning curve is steeper and the consequences much more dire for failing to internalize the lessons of game. I donâ€™t even think this will stay on campuses for long, so Iâ€™ll be the first to say it here: â€œrape culture awareness, coming soon to a workplace near you.â€ The moral of the story? Itâ€™s alpha or die, dear readers.