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You’d presume there would be some kind of grand, cosmic justice enacted in bed. Why would you think that? Well, it’s kind of instinctive. Don’t you think? A lover lacking in one realm would try to make it up in another. I’ve not rooted too many blokes, but so far as the sheilas are concerned, this does not hold true.
The stereotype is that a beautiful lover lies back and Read More
At the time of writing, Chateau Heartiste has just been shitcanned by WordPress.
The blog had become very different from the Roissy of old, but some of the poetic invective convinced me that the original writer was still involved.
One day, years ago, he went too far and hinted that it was time for acts of violence. He then reported that he’d received a stern note from WordPress warning him to rein it in. I thought that was fair enough – he had skirted very close to the bounds of legal US speech. Debates about freedom of speech always come down to where to draw the line, not whether there ought to be a line at all.
But on Friday he finally got Read More
Book review of Free Speech Isn’t Free: How 90 Men Stood Up Against The Globalist Establishment — And Won
I had no interest in this book. As I was already reading and intermittently writing for Return of Kings at the time I already knew the story well. However, after Amazon and others defenestrated Roosh I decided to buy one of his books just to spite the fash. As I have no interest in picking up Icelandic women nor the finer points of seducing Paraguayans, this book was the best bet, so I bought it.
I found that not only had I forgotten many of the details, but also my mind had done that funny trick it often does where it Read More
Australia’s heritage population is partly descended from convicts sent from England and Ireland. It’s no secret. We brag about it! Two of my own ancestors were convicts, a man and a woman, and they married each other. I don’t know what crimes they committed but I can only assume they were sexual in nature.
And we cheerfully assume that this convict stain which we’re so proud of has contributed to our culture, making us egalitarian, anti-authoritarian, cheeky, unserious. And yes, there are aspects of that.
But as others have noted, if so many convicts were sent there, then the UK also had to have sent many Read More
I’m almost the worst investor in the world.
The only things that saves me from the distinction of being Number One Shittest is that I’m Read More
As the kids would say.
I don’t have a TV and my internet access is very limited, so I only just saw this rubbish about Iran bombing a Japanese ship a couple of days ago.
The sound was off, a few headlines were scrolling, I saw the grainy footage of the evil Iranians taking the mine off the boat and twirling their dastardly mustaches, and I yawned and thought, ‘Gulf of Tonkin’. You might equally say, Lusitania, the Manchurian Incident, the Gleiwitz Incident, Pearl Harbor, incubators being turned off, weapons of mass destruction, chemical weapons attack, etc., etc.
If you are still shocked by all this dishonesty, you must be a child and ought not be reading this site. Go do your homework. Wars are full of lies, and there are many who want to start them for their own benefit.
If anyone actually invades Australia, I might consider the war just. And even then I’ll be skeptical about what’s really going on. Otherwise, I reckon it’s all a load of shit. Still, this time they’ll have no trouble recruiting the fresh meat to go fight, the public will support it, those aiming to profit will do so, and we’ll go on like this forever.
Tell me how it isn’t so.
Image credit: i.ytimg.com
A while back I pulled a silly April Fool’s prank where I claimed I was going to stay on in Eritrea and marry a local girl. I thought that I would get a whole bunch of vitriolic criticism like MGTOW Mark Minter did when he announced on Roissy that he was going to marry, and I even referenced it for the Illuminati (‘top that, fuckers’).
Most people didn’t fall for it at all, but those who did were unanimous in their support for my decision.
Look, I’m not having a go. All who offered their sincere congratulations are Good Eggs, have been positive contributors here, and I mean them no offense. But I need to say something about this. The main thing is: really?
Really?
The fact that my imaginary fiancé was black is neither here nor there. That was just a Read More
[Written mostly in Africa. From now on I will note where the post was written if confusion is likely, i.e. where I have written ‘here’ and expect you to know what I’m talking about.]
I have seven more weeks to go.
I know it makes more sense not to count the time, as the practice only slows it down, but I can’t help it. All last week, several times a day – no, dozens of times a day – I would think, eight weeks to go, eight weeks to go, eight weeks to go.
And now it’s seven.
I have set myself a rule – I don’t do half-weeks or anything like that. Come Friday afternoon, as I ride home, I allow the week to tick down and only then excitedly begin obsessing over the new number. I am very strict about this.
My physical health is poor. Today I tried to do some basic cardio exercise but I Read More
Just feckin’ with yez, I’ve been out for a week, there’s no Yonas and the USB thing never happened. Previous three days’ content plagiarized from the Eritrea Profile, a fine publication that cuts through the foreign media bias about events in East Africa.
I brought this post forward as I reckoned I was taking things too far. To prove that I’m the real McCoy: Luis, San Mig Light tastes like shit. Dicky: yes, the Hole is terrifying. College Reactionary: I banned you because you suggested genocide and speculated about where I was. Now I have unbanned you. Go in peace and do not sin again.
And Isaias fucks pigs. I shall not name the pig unless provoked.
Comments are back on
Yesterday at work I lost my USB. It had a bunch of my blog post drafts on it. Why did I have that at work, you wonder? Well my normal work USB got a virus so I had to use my home one.
I had it at the printer, left it there, then realized and went back and it was gone.
Finally, a colleague who I will call Bitchface Fascist Cunt announced that she had it, that she’d found some of my less than complimentary posts about her country (I think I may have referred to the administration as a ‘special needs government’ at one point), and declared that she’s going to denounce me to Read More
I have always been immature, in every respect.
Teachers noted it on my report cards, though academically I was fine. At my thirteenth birthday dinner, my parents asked the Chinese waiter to guess my age and he went with ten. Still got a free fried ice cream with a sparkler on it, but.
As a teenager I was behind my same-age peers in all respects – cried too easily, late to fill out, never had girlfriends, didn’t have a part-time job. I lacked confidence, was skinny and spotty, and these factors prevented me from grabbing opportunities that would have helped me to grow up.
Things became alarming when Read More
The left is unified. Anyone, no matter how unimpeachable her leftist credentials, who dares go against the Cult-Marx catechisms shall be cast out, humiliated and destroyed. The left eat their own, as they always do, but there are no competing streams of thought within their milieus. A wag might suggest there is not presently a single stream of thought. In any case, there is only one Left, it is called Baizuo, and I need not repeat its many and contradictory shibboleths to my venerable readers.
The right is entirely different. There is the mainstream, pro-immigration, pro-business, pro-globalism and pro-war (any war!) right of the old-school conservative parties in each Anglophone country. Among those are the social conservatives who would happily approve Lenin for the Supreme Court if only he were pro-life. There are the libertarians who focus mostly on taxation, regulation and free trade. There are the paleo conservatives, who care much less about the role of government in the economy than they do about immigration and foreign interventionism. And there is the hard right, perhaps defined as those wanting new, separate ethno-states rather than just the maintenance of what fragments remains of the old ones.
The groups fight each other, but none seems to Read More
Pessoa wrote:
Freedom is the possibility of isolation. You are only free if you can withdraw from men and feel no need to seek them out for money, or society, or love, or glory, or even curiosity, for none of these things flourish in silence and solitude. If you cannot live alone, then you were born a slave. Though you may be possessed of every superior quality of spirit and soul, you are still nothing more than a noble slave or an intelligent serf, you are not free. But that is not your tragedy, for the tragedy of being born like that is not yours but Destiny’s. Woe betide you, though, if the very weight of life itself makes you a slave. Woe betide you if, having been born free and capable of providing for yourself and leading a separate existence, penury forces you into the company of others. That tragedy is yours alone, which you alone must bear.
Some people are suited to work. Almost everybody, in fact, but good luck getting them to admit it. A UBI would destroy the average man, turn him into a criminal, a drug addict, a member of the Underclass. At the very least make him fat. Most people get meaning, social connection and a sense of accomplishment from work. They get promotions and go up levels and receive new desks and baubles and recognition, just like in a computer game. For that matter, I don’t enjoy computer games much either.
As a young man, like every other troubled young man with more brains than sense, I read Notes From The Underground
I thought, I’d kiss a cow’s arse for that. I’d give my left ball for that. I’d draw my Gran’s beating heart and present it to munificent Kali for that. Think of it! Never needing to work, ever again! Being free!
The reader might here be misunderstanding me. I’m not especially lazy – having things to do is fine. Rather, what I abhor about work, and I think here I’m as one with Pessoa, is needing to deal with people. All day, every day. All those workplace dramas, politics and stresses, faux pas, lunatics, angry people, disappointed faces, mistakes, inadequacies, insecurities, and on and on.
To be free of it . . .
Not free to necessarily sit on a beach and drink cocktails, or to work on magnificent projects, or to chase magnificently nubile ladies. Just free to not have to deal with all of that trouble. Not rapture, not ecstasy; just a mild and reasonable freedom, like what an eccentric English gentleman might once have had when he collected stamps or shrunken Papuan heads.
I think this is what my life has always been leading to, though I did not always know it. From the first moment I became aware of this concept of freedom, it has had an allure for me like that which gold, power, fame, fast cars or beautiful women have for other men. Saving money instinctively, without budgeting, is a natural outgrowth of this underlying desire to be at peace.
Work is not the same for all of us. For some it is a daily horror. Any job would be so for us – perhaps aside from home-based stenography – because it involves being out there in a world we would prefer to avoid as much as possible.
I like to go out sometimes – once or twice a week is good – but that is enough. The rest of the time I prefer to be secluded. I live like that on my breaks and it is not glorious, it is just . . . peaceful. Quiet. After holidays colleagues say I look different – cheerful, relaxed; my face gets fatter and I sometimes even smile. Yes, me – smile! Might I one day become one of those smiley people, like Jonty Rhodes? Oh, that might be going too far. Way too far. I generally wear a beset and mournful expression. But perhaps I might one day look less beset and mournful. I guess that would be an improvement.
Luisman worries I’ll blow all my money. Adam reckons I’ll get bored. Well . . . soon we shall know. For whatever goes wrong in my new life, you can expect to encounter reams of whining about it here on the People’s Blog. So you’ve got that to look forward to.
Book review of Brave New World
In 1984, the world is ruled by a totalitarian, self-perpetuating system that brutalizes its own upper echelons most of all. In Brave New World, Huxley paints a different picture of the future, one where human interactions are mandatorily shallow, where casual sex is expected, and where bad feelings have mostly been bred and conditioned out of the docile, fun-loving population.
It is too easy to make fun of science fiction that is already out of date. There are anachronisms such as scientists taking notes with pencil and paper, manual laborers who are still required in large numbers, liftmen (elevator operators), and English women who are slim and attractive.
But good science fiction aims to comment, not to predict, because the latter is impossible. Huxley envisions what some of his contemporaries might have considered an ideal society: one where the family has been done away with, children are born in test tubes and raised in nurseries, trained from infancy to enjoy their assigned roles in society, and kept happy throughout their lives by generously provided rations of the feel-good drug soma.
Bernard Marx (yes, I yawned too) doesn’t fit in. He doesn’t want to be happy all the time. He wants to Read More
Book review of The Bell Curve: Intelligence and Class Structure in American Life (A Free Press Paperbacks Book)
In the last two years I have read an enormous number of books due to my technological isolation, and many times I have thought, why the hell didn’t I read this when I was twenty? This is one of those. It is so prescient, so relevant, and so essential to understanding present-day SJW/Big Tech hysterias that I was embarrassed that I had not read it before, and that, like most others, I had completely misunderstood what it was all about. If you haven’t read it, you no doubt suffer that same misapprehension.
The Bell Curve is one of the most maligned, unread and misrepresented books of the last century. The main purpose of this post is to explain what it is really about, and how important it is.
First, of course, we must explain what it is not about. The Bell Curve contains one section about race and IQ, with some speculation about the causes of observed aggregate differences. It does this only as the Read More
My company rents out a small apartment building. I’m the only bloke here at the moment. As we’re super rich in this country my colleagues and I hire cooks, cleaners and a night guard.
One day a girl announced she didn’t want to hire the night guard anymore because it was too expensive. She asked what we thought. I said I reckoned we should keep him just for the sake of giving someone a job. Sure, he’s not essential, but it costs us so little and it’s all his got. He looks after his mum. The pay only just covers the cost of some basic food. And this is not a city full of free-market opportunities for the enterprising local. Why bother penny-pinching in such circumstances? Anyway, he’s also handy for running errands, carrying things and whatever, always pleased as punch to make himself useful.
Charity is one thing, but giving someone a job is quite another.
The other residents didn’t want him there anymore. One said she’d noticed he was starting to come late and leave early (while still acknowledging that he was as reliable as a Bumfuckistani gets), while the other said she didn’t care.
Thus outvoted, that one that wanted him gone said to me excitedly, “We’re firing CJ on Saturday!” It was a few days before Christmas. She had a gleam in her eye.
I had a sick, uncomfortable feeling that I did not Read More
I cannot recall the line of reasoning to it. Perhaps there was none. I was in a conference as part of my professional development training and for some reason the fortyish lady delivering the presentation shifted, as fortyish ladies will do at the merest opportunity, into how Girls Are Good and Boys Are Bad. She didn’t specifically mention puppy-dogs’ tails but we got the idea.
She complained about how boys these days aren’t even taken girls out on dates. What has this to do with my job, you are wondering? Absolutely Read More
Book review of The Fables of Aesop
Thousands of years later, these stories still have relevance.
To wit:
An ugly feminist was unconsciously so disgusted with herself that she tried to convince all the other girls to cut their hair short and dye it blue, get out of shape and get tattoos. She said it was much more convenient that way and that they would receive much praise for their changes on Instagram.
The other girls said to her, “If you were not so repulsive yourself, you would not thus counsel us.”
I have a fantasy.
It comes when I get sick, and I get sick very often. The last time, a few days ago, I was spontaneously combusting with fever. I forced myself to keep the blanket on at least halfway because I knew the night was cold, and my legs were like two tubes full of magma. So, some trouble sleeping and plenty of time for my diseased brain to obsessively focus on and develop my fantasy.
The fantasy is: I am sick. There is a girl who loves me. She wets my brow. She rubs my shoulders, if I can bear it in my weakened and sensitive state. She asks, are you okay, Nikki? You’ll get better. She kisses me on the cheek then lets me sleep, keeping a wary eye on me in case my condition should worsen.
Sometimes I hold her. Sometimes I lie apart. But always I’m next to her, feeling her warmth, taking strength from her lovingkindness.
But there aren’t girlfriends any more.
I had one who brought me over Read More
Very early in the morning the city looks how it did ninety years ago. In the dusky light the cracked concrete and peeled paint are less noticeable. Recognizably European streets and buildings begin to materialize in the gloaming. The only sounds are birds and the very occasional car which itself is almost ninety.
What a wonderful place this was! Such perfect weather. A town laid out like a work of art. Every second house is listed by Unesco for its unique and innovative design. The swaying palms and jacarandas that were planted way back then, now mature. One can squint and imagine Read More
