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
Thousands of years later, these stories still have relevance.
To wit:
The Fox Who Had Lost His Tail
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.”
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.
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
There are three groups of readers here today. A third of you just shuddered to see that I’m reviewing this book. The second third just boned up in anticipation of discovering a new convert to RealThink on the JQ. And the third third have never heard of the book before and have no idea what the fuss is about.
Hello to all of you.
This is Part III in MacDonald’s trilogy investigating the movements, survival and success of the Jewish people across times and places from an evolutionary point of view. In Critique, he examines the intellectual role of Jews in the west, especially in the profound cultural changes that have taken place since the 1960s.
To summarize: according to MacDonald, the Jews are Read More
As has been timelessly noted, the swiftness of time’s passing is a subjective thing.
As my kind reader no doubt noticed, the first three weeks of June, 2018 were the longest in recorded history. Nasa data confirms that the earth slowed in its orbit over this period and those three weeks actually took three months.
That was also the three weeks before my break.
The following weeks, it goes without saying, raced by with unprecedented speed. There is presumably reliable data to back this up.
And yet, when I think of ‘last year’, the whole horrid thing seems like Read More
Every so often I’ll suffer a burst of positivity. Life is alright, I’ll think. I’m riding to work, the sun is shining, the birds are singing, there’s no trouble, it’s quite safe, the urban scenery is marvelous – what have I to whinge about? I smile at kids and cluck at dogs as I ride past. I notice the pretty ladies. Sometimes I start humming. I’ve even whistled.
And within twelve hours it all goes to shit.
Perhaps this is a case of the statistical phenomenon known as Read More
My boss’ car was dirty and someone scrawled on it, ‘Equatorial Guinea for Equatorial Guineans’. Ha. That little Immigration Patriot will receive nothing but virulent support from me. If he’d similarly like to get all the Equatorial Guineans, and other Africans, to leave the West and go back to their own violent and poverty-stricken homelands, so much the better. Perhaps he might start by calling around his overseas cousins, of whom I’m sure he has stacks. In keeping Equatorial Guinea Equatorial Guinean, keeping the Equatorians in is the main challenge. Keeping foreigners out is the easy part. There are hardly any here. Jesus, I know most of them personally. Don’t worry, mate: foreigners don’t want to live here any more than you lot do. Because of what you’ve done to it since the Spanish left.
But one can’t argue with an anonymous window scrawler. I very much doubt he reads this blog.
I’ve lived overseas most of my life, and my experiences of racism have been Read More
On a post about the success of African adaptation, Comrade Luisman commented:
Isn’t it funny that a European invented the term Evolution, but to this day the Europeans don’t understand it. Africans have usually no clue about the theory of Evolution, but they intuitively understand it. Fuck, make babies, get at least two of them to adulthood. Let them fuck, make babies, etc.pp.
I’ve been turning this over in my mind. Upon consideration, our maladaptive behaviour (invade the world, invite the world, turn sex roles upside down and inside out, and bear no children) is not unique. One does not have to look far to find other cases of societies that have, from an evolutionary point of view, gone mad.
We open our scene in a seedy pub in a disreputable south-east Asian city. I’m not the kind guy who just sits around and drinks all day but for two or three days that’s what I’ve been doing, justifying myself on the grounds that I’m meeting some interesting people, and that I feel like it.
This long-haired ginga yank comes in and we get talking, he’s ex-marine, was in Iraq II but eventually quit that life, moved abroad, got himself a foreign bride and some halfie kids and now lives on less that 15 grand a year out in the burbs. Not a dirty old man like most of them there, just my age. Maybe even a bit younger.
He seems pretty cool and I ask him what I’m wondering, which is: how do you feel about that whole war now, in hindsight?
People often do runners from my workplace. This is most common for locals. There’s a weekend, or a holiday, and when we come back there’s someone missing. Usually they’ve been long planning it and have pissed off over the border the moment they sensed an opportunity.
Good luck to them.
It used to happen a lot with foreigners, too. After a break one would often be missing. I know that feeling. When the time comes to board the plane for the return flight, I Read More
At some point the Vikings settled an uninhabited Iceland and were seemingly unperturbed by how freaky that place is. They immediately set to work doing what Vikings did best – farming, sailing around Europe on raids, fighting endless feuds with each other and writing epics about it.
This is such an epic.
In a land without a state monopoly on violence – that is, barbarism – a master morality reigns, with free men living and thriving upon their own reputation for ferocity, and that of their extended family. A tiny incident like a comment about a daughter or a wife’s sharp tongue about a neighbor can lead to decades-long tit-for-tat killing between childhood friends or even relatives.
In such a world it pays to be reasonable, honourable, and dependable, and known to be so. Nevertheless, marriage to a troublemaking lady will soon land you right back in the thick of it. If a court finds in your favour at the Thing, you’ll only receive that justice if you’re prepared to dish it out yourself. Anyone who blinks is considered weak and thereafter will be pushed around, robbed and humiliated by everyone.
Wimps like me would not last a minute. You can see why people had surnames like ‘Bloodaxe’.
The plot, apparently based on true events, is far too convoluted to relate in full, but it begins with Hrut needing to go and fight for his inheritance, but then a powerful lady calls Gunnhillda invites him over. He is told that if he goes to her she will look after the whole dispute for him (in return for certain entertainments provided on his part), while refusal would mean he and his family would be driven from their land. So off he goes.
Various feuds break about between multifarious parties, and as one hero dies on the dueling island, another emerges to continue the story. The body count reaches hundreds. Finally Christianity arrives in the brutal little island, via the conversion of the King of Norway. Does this calm things down? Well, the ones who refuse to convert thereby create new feuds and are murdered by the freshly-minted Bible-bashers. Viking’s gunna Viking. And in the end a bunch of them turn up in Constantinople as guardians of Christianity.
Guess they were all gone by the time the Turks rocked up.
Oh, and Njal gets burnt.
‘Hard times beget strong men.’ But at what cost? Pre-civilized society is one long battle of all against all, with the average man often dying in a duel or skirmish or raid. Anyone not prepared to live such a life becomes a slave or is treated with contempt by everyone. Modern women would love to live in such a world, stirring up their menfolk against each other and sexually favouring the victors – look at their passion for the non-politically correct TV shows they twiddle their little beans to, like Game of Thrones, Mad Menet al.
But would any modern man want to go back to such a time? Perhaps the criminally-inclined might, they being a type that has presumably declined over the centuries as civilization gradually hung and beheaded that sort of fellow. The type who want to join Isis or bikie gangs.
As for us normies, we’d rather just eat pizza, drink beer and watch X-Videos.
Civilization makes life so much more peaceful and content for the ordinary man. But, at what cost? Look at the Scandinavian countries today. Vikings no longer, they are led by women, sit down to piss, and soon they’ll be fully colonized by the same Islamic civilization (?) that overthrew the Byzantine empire.
Such is life: short and brutish or long and feeble. But in this Viking saga there is contained a warning: we of Northern stock were once quite different from how we are today, and we could return to that state in the future.
But it is not as simple as ‘civilized = weak, barbaric = strong’. There are twists and roundabouts in this story.
Ancient Rome triumphed over many barbaric tribes because, being civilized, they were larger, better armed and more organized. Civilized government allows a state to exist on a massive scale. That is, I guess, the point.
On the other hand, when Rome finally let in too many Goths all at once, the newcomers found that the Romans had grown weak after having the state protect them from criminals for so long, and that if they strode into Romans towns they could take what they wanted without meeting any resistance. So they did, and the empire collapsed.
A millennium later European civilization recovered and was easily able to sweep away primitive cultures wherever in the world they found them.
And today, civilization’s strength is again waning, with both East and West suffering unsustainably low birthrates and staring down the barrel of disappearance or replacement. It seems that it is barbarity’s turn again.
Charles Murray warned long ago that the New Left, puritanical as it is about anything remotely touching upon race, sex and that sort of thing, might one day break its cognitive dissonance in an extreme and dangerous over-correction. Perhaps it is from that side, not the hard right, that our people might again plunge into savagery.
Personally, I’d rather just stick with civilization. But suit yourselves.
Well, there have been some developments. Some changes in my circumstances, some changes in my thinking – in short, my life has changed dramatically. For the better.
I thought at first that I should start this post with the explanation, then the news, such that it would be easier for my beloved readers to absorb. But, no – you can take it. So here it is.
We previously looked at Menken’s withering attacks on US involvement in WWI, the lack of protest against wartime curbs on Constitutional freedoms, sheep-like political views and Prohibition.
In Prejudices, Menken goes into some of the underlying human traits that prompt such cruelty and stupidity. On the over-the-top violence committed against olde-time sinners – “saloon keepers, prostitutes, . . . believers in the Darwinian hypothesis, . . . adulterers”, he says: Read More
For the last time. See you on the glorious other side, in around four months, when I will have completed my sentence. If nothing goes wrang in the meantime.
I mean, *wrong*.
Funny, that’s the first thing that’s ever gone wrong.
Things are tough: we’ve had no water for a month and it looks like I may get no more for the rest of my time there. Internet has stopped completely. Other things have happened that I cannot share at this time.
But I’m now so close to freedom that I can smell it.
I know that you think you’re all independent-minded and free-thinking and open to new evidence and all that. Don’t you?
But you’re not.
At most, during your lifetime, your views will only modify a little bit. Switch from Democrats to Republicans? Whoop-di-doo. Become more free-market, then less so? Like those mites that live on your eyelids, this move is too small to see without a microscope.
I know you still don’t believe me. You’re thinking, this guy’s full of shit. And while you’re reading this you’re going to have a mental debate with me, thinking you’ll win.
You’ll lose.
Okay, ready? Climb aboard the Real World Express! Toot-toot! No hanging your arms out the side or you’ll lose them and have to eke out a living doing gay amputee porn.
Let’s start with a few questions about your existing beliefs. Please play along. No sneaky skipping forward. If you jump ahead, I will know. And I will be very disappointed in you.
As usual I am late to the party. In January 2019, there was a big brouhaha about Gillette’s ad campaign. And by the time I’m out of the jungle and can post this response you’ll have forgotten all about it.
It seems Gillette’s PR team needs a bit of help. What else am I here for but to offer unsolicited advice and make the world a better place? So here we go: alternative Gillette TV ad campaigns that could help to repair the damage caused by the last one.
A Red Indian is banging his drum in the face of an adolescent boy in a Maga cap. The boy nonchalantly takes out a Gillette razor and begins to shave his teenage fluff, much to the consternation of the old Indian who cannot grow facial hair.
Jingle: “Gillette – the best a man can Kek.”
A bunch of mostly ugly women and soy-boys are staging some kind of attention-seeking Slut Walk. A young man watches them in undisguised disgust. Suddenly among the crowd he spots an attractive lady – except for her obligatory underarm hair. Their eyes meet and they have a moment – all the sounds and background images fade and there is nothing in the frame except those two. The skanky-but-hot girl reaches his position and he hands her a Gillette razor. She takes it with a submissive and grateful smile. Their eyes are locked throughout. Ugly girls and low-T men around them look on with intense jealousy.
Jingle: “Gillette – the best for girls you can’t forget.”
Vladimir Putin is hunting in Siberia alone and bare-chested. His manboobs and muffin-top are digitally minimised in this shot. He reaches a rugged outcropping of rock, spots a bear, and aims his rifle at it. Then he changes his mind, puts down the gun, strides over to the bear and punches it out. He takes out his Gillette razor, the package of which boasts it could ‘shave a bear’. He tries it curiously on the beast’s flank and finds that it does, indeed, do the job. He nods approvingly and then the unconscious bear comes around and they nod approvingly at the amazing razor together.
Jingle: “Gillette – the best for every man’s pet.”
There’s a high, bling wall stretching across the desert as far as the eye can see it, with giant Trump-faces carved into it like those big statue things in Lord of the Rings, you know the ones I mean. A bunch of hairy, greasy Mexicans in ponchos and sombreros turn up to a gate. The ICE official looks them up and down and shakes his head. The Mexicans go behind a clump of cactus, have a brief siesta, bath with their drinking water, shave with Gillette razors, put tequila on as aftershave, take out nice suits from their bags and put them on, then go back to the ICE official and present him with their visa documents and advanced degrees in robotic engineering. The ICE official smiles and beckons them in.
Jingle: “Gillette – the best for every wet(back).”
In a German city, a crazy, big-bearded Muslim with wild eyes and wearing traditional garb is driving a large truck towards a mall decorated for Christmas. He is cackling insanely and as he draws closer he speeds up and heads directly towards the terrified pedestrians in his path and screams “Allahu akbar!” A German man boldly steps in front of the truck. He is dressed in lederhosen and a helmet with a spike on the top. He glares at the driver and holds up a Gillette razor in one hand and a can of Gillette shaving cream in the other. The terrorist gasps in horror and slams on the brakes, jumps from the truck and runs away in terror as the German advances with his shaving implements. The crowd cheers and chants pro-German but not quite Nazi slogans.
Jingle: “Gillette – the best ISIS will regret.”
In Bangkok, backstage of a ladyboy cabaret show, one of the performers looks in the mirror and realizes she has a long, thick, black hair sprouting from her chin. Her friend looks at her and gasps melodramatically. (The following is spoken in Thai and appears in English subtitles).
“Nan, that is disgusting!” (Makes comically camp hand gestures).
“Oh no, what shall I do? The show starts in one minute!”
“Here, quick, use this!” The friend hands Nan a Gillette razor and the errant hair comes right off. They rush onto the stage just in time and the show is fabulous. A handsome, well-dressed Western man in the crowd admires Nan, and in a montage we see him meet her after the show, they return to a flash hotel together, and then they travel off together in a yacht into the sunset, cuddling and smooching in silhouette.
.
by Fernando Pessoa.
by General Smedley D. Butler
by unknown Icelanders
by H.L. Menken