1972. Les has a wife called Chris. He often talks about her at work. ‘Oh, Chris and I had a picnic at Silvan Reservoir’, he says when asked about his weekend. Yet each time the office Christmas barbecue comes around, Chris is unavailable. She is unwell. She is visiting family. She had to help a friend. Everyone smiles and nods. Oh, that’s too bad. Maybe next time. We were really looking forward to meeting her.
Of course, Les has no wife. There may be a Chris, and there was probably a picnic, but Chris is a bloke and everyone who’s figured it out politely pretends not to know.
2016. Les strolls in to work wearing a repulsively skimpy frock. After a quick visit to the ladies’ room he proudly flounces into the office and regales his colleagues with tales of his debauched weekend adventures. It was this big, he says. This big! He gestures more vigorously in the face of the man who is trying to ignore him. This big! And full of veins! Look at me, goddamn you. Hate crime!
But our culture is certainly not one of anything goes. While some lifestyle choices are now fawningly celebrated, other choices have become objectionable. And I am beginning to realize that I am making one of those socially unacceptable choices, and that I need to keep it in the closet.
You see, I am Read More
Book review of Stoner, by John Williams.
Kant said, beauty is that for which we have no concept. We can look at it, admire it, and feel that certain qualia that comes from beauty, but if we attempt to explain it in mere words we fail because words can only express concepts. Such beauty might come from a moment of perfection in music or from the composition of a great work of art.
In this spirit, it is impossible to properly describe the qualities of Stoner. It tells the story of a very ordinary man and his life which is, on the surface, insignificant. He is born into rural poverty, attends university and becomes an academic. He has some joys, tragedies, suffering and some minor triumphs along the way. These are of a sort that any person might experience. In the end, he Read More
The Anchorite by Teodor Axentowicz. Image credit: WikiCommons
People who need people are vapid. Those who cannot tolerate a day or so alone with their thoughts are madmen who will one day die without having ever reflected upon their lives in a meaningful way. Like a female gorilla or a river red gum.
A native anchorite, I am the opposite. I need occasional interaction with other members of my species in order to feel grounded and sane, but too much of it is exhausting. I have had periods of some months where I could choose exactly how much to go out and socialise. I found that my sweet spot is for a few hours, once or twice a week. My friends are exasperated when I pike at 11pm but that’s just how I am. The rest of the time I am happiest alone, reading or working on my own projects. I used to think this was a bizarre quirk of my nature but I’ve since read that this preference is Read More
Image credit: WikiCommons
How much gin does will take to make my soul come back? I think it might be four shots, five at the outside. Depends how quickly I drink. Need to reach that sweet spot between feeling drunk but still depressed and the moment when I begin to vomit.
I’ve been a couple of weeks without sex, mostly due to lack of effort on my part, and that old incel rage is coming back again. It shouldn’t take effort. There should just be a button. Whoever programmed this universe is a cunt. Probably laughing at us. If there’s a way out of our universe to his, he’s fucked.
Gin is horrible but it’s too hot for whisky. And my whisky is too good for ice. And I am too good for cheap whisky. I deserve to win the lottery. I’d set aside an annual budget of $12,000 for whores. Then I’d never need to speak to another woman again. Never get a message from my ex who’d said she wanted a break, now saying Read More
Book review of Paradise Lost by John Milton
Been cast into Hell for eternity? Look on the bright side. That’s what he does:
Infernal world, and thou profoundest Hell
Receive thy new Possessor: One who brings
A mind not to be chang’d by Place or Time.
The mind is its own place, and in it self
Can make a Heav’n of Hell, a Hell of Heav’n . . .
Better to reign in Hell, then serve in Heav’n.
Whose side are you on, Milton? You seem to have framed the Devil as an admirable Stoic. Of course Milton has to pretend to side with insipid, old God and his goody-two-shoes son, Jesus, but the scenes of those two sedatives chin-wagging are about as compelling as the dinner table conversation at the Flanders’ house. We can disregard the boring bits. Paradise Lost is an epic poem in iambic pentameter about literature’s most fascinating and maligned character, the one who dared to stand against God himself. He may have a bad reputation but the Devil seduces from us our curiousity.
Milton opens his verse in the midst of the drama, with Satan having been Read More
Image credit: Instagram/tizianacantonereal
In Italy, a respectable young lady named Tiziana Cantone and her boyfriend broke up. She then had a brilliant idea, one that would knock other Italian thinkers such as Cicero and Galileo off their lofty intellectual perches: she had sex with four men and apparently sent the resulting video to her ex in order to Read More
Right you lot, been busy but now I’m B.I.T. Had to do a Dark Side because there’s all sorts going on out there to warm your little cockles.
Don’t live with gays.
Living life my way.
A discussion of legal and political possibilities arising if Clinton became incapacitated.
An alternative view of Duterte.
Delicious Tacos is looking for a girl who is a loser. In the comments he gets an expression of interest from a teenager and he Read More
9:06pm Me: Can you come over tomorrow
9:26pm Her: I wanna take a break
9:26pm Her: A long break
10:07pm Me: Ok
And we’re done.
What was the stoush that led up to this? Nothing. Our last communication was about the passionfruit she gave me. I had failed to invite her over all weekend, though. Before that she asked if I wanted to travel with her to Thailand and I said I was too busy. The last time I saw her we got along fine and she came once or twice, not that it’s important. Then this.
Yet it was not entirely a bolt from the blue. I suspect it was a Read More
Note the plesiosaur in the background. Image from Wikipedia.
If you’re an old fart like me you would have once called up a young lady on the home phone. Her dad would answer and he would stir you a bit before he put her on. If ethnic he would just hang up. You would talk to the girl for about five minutes and then get to the point of nervously asking her to a movie or party. She would accept or decline. Then you’d go ask if you could borrow the car. You’d pick her up after making polite conversation with her parents. Her mum would ask what you’re studying and her dad would want to know Read More
Late in the quiet of the gecko-roaming hours, a mosquito drones around a motivational poster that says, ‘You miss 100% of the shots you don’t take.’ A picture of a basketball hoop. The mosquito doesn’t know what motivation is. It doesn’t know what basketball is, or what a game is. It doesn’t even know what an image is, or a poster, or a word. Furthermore, it is utterly incapable of ever grasping these concepts or ever coming close to understanding them. It is a very simple creature. It is a mosquito. It bites, it lays, it dies. That is all. It can perhaps see the poster just as well as I can but it can not imagine what meaning it possesses. It can not even wonder.
Outside the air is rich with poor-country foliage and exhaust fumes. The thin moon makes way for several reluctant stars that peer through the darkened haze. I peer back. Those are the stars closest to us, the Solar Neighbourhood. If you shrank the universe down to a scale where the sun had a diameter of 1cm (394 thou), the nearest stars would be a good day’s drive away.
The Solar Neighbourhood is in the Orion Arm of the Milky Way galaxy. Our galaxy is part of the local group of galaxies. Let’s pause here and reflect: scientists have speculated about the means to travel or send probes to nearby stars. A whole galaxy might perhaps be colonized over millennia. Sending any object to another galaxy, let alone sending a person, would require scarcely imagined technologies. Exceedingly advanced civilizations may have risen, flourished, and perished in those nearby galaxies without us ever knowing. So anyway, those galaxies make up the galaxy cluster, which is part of a supercluster. The visible universe is a Read More
An irregular collection of problematic news and opinion.
I know, I know, my dearies. The world is harsh and bleak. Uncle Vlad is here to share with you good tidings from around the world that will soothe your mourning heart and bring succor to your contracted sphincter. And if you can’t trust me, who can you trust? Your Nona? Haw haw. She’s slagging you off to her bingo mates and spending your inheritance on buff Kenyan gigolos. Ol’ Nik here’s the only friend you’ve got. So let’s have a look.
Old ladies like your Gran who stay with their partners secretly hate them and wake up every morning wondering why they don’t leave. No such thing as husband goggles, it seems. A lifetime of provisioning and devotion? Hypergamy doesn’t care about that or anything else.
In hot Asian sex trafficking news, most migrant sex workers in Australia are Read More
In case you hadn’t noticed, the nature of our sexual marketplace has recently changed. Gone are the days when any man with job and a lower jaw could marry his high school beau. Today’s men are searching harder for love and lusty encounters, with poorer results.
There are various reasons for this: reduced social controls on sexuality, decreased female dependence on a male protector and breadwinner, and the obesity epidemic.
But not all men are doing it tough.. Some gentlemen are doing better than was previously considered imaginable for anyone other than a movie star. This is because of Read More
I watched public reactions the recent spate of terrorist attacks with sociopathic curiousity. I wondered, how will the Cultural Marxists spin it? In their taxonomy of the world, Muslims are a victim class, and so are gays. So how is it that a Muslim can attack a gay nightclub? SJWs looked on, shocked, like a zoologist in the field observing a zebra stalking and devouring a wildebeest. It’s not supposed to happen.
At first the Left put forward an unconvincing narrative about how Muslims are discriminated against in the West and this lack of engagement makes them go all choppy-choppy. The first problem with this view is that it paints all Muslims as oversensitive maniacs who will blow us up unless we refrain from mocking their religion and ensure they all enjoy excellent careers. The Left fails to explain why Asian immigrants do not require such mollycoddling. The second problem is that there’s a shirtload of terrorists over there in the sandlands who were never discriminated against. In fact, they are in the mainstream, Sunni majority and they are gradually eliminating everybody else. Clearly a more logically acrobatic narrative was required.
Some commenters on Australian radio had the answer. All the terrorists belong to the same, privileged group when you stop and think about it: they are Read More
An irregular collection of problematic news and opinion.
Dalrock points out how researchers and society minimize the sacrifices of married men – their extra earnings = extra work, and the ‘benefits’ of marriage to divorced men = they have to keep working.
The New Modern Man explains why he quit relationships.
Pictures of a pretty Thai girl.
Modern slavery in America.
A crazy cat lady argues against sex segregation in sport. I’m all for it. I’m joining the Brazilian ladies volleyball team! Oi Nikolai, they’ll yell, keep your eyes on the ball. I shall reply, no. But don’t worry, I identify as someone who is good at sport.
You gotta admit, this one is original. Jim argues that Read More
Back when the ‘sphere was young, writers would publish a post explaining their ‘red pill moment’ – the instant they realized that everything they’d been told about women was wrong. It’s fallen into disuse but I’m bringing it back.
In 2011 I was a blue pill beta who still believed 90% of the things that I was supposed to believe, and I dismissed hate facts with all the fervor of a furiously bespectacled lesbian social worker.
After yet another hair-raising breakup – I feared the crazy bitch might stab me – I decided to avoid dumping girls for while by avoiding real relationships. I would just play the field as I had heard other men managed to do.
I met a new girl and we shagged within hours. She later pressed for relationship clarification and told her openly that I didn’t want anything serious and that I would not be exclusive. I expected her to slap me on the spot, or at least to storm out at such a degrading suggestion.
She Read More
Book Review: Thus Spoke Zarathustra: A Book for Everyone and No One (Penguin Classics) by Friedrich Nietzsche.
Have you ever met one of those blokes? You know the type. You’re in a quiet pub – maybe you’re waiting for the trains to be less crowded, or perhaps you’re an alcoholic. There’s only one drinker there and he says hello. You start talking.
This fellow, there’s usually something silly about his hair. Maybe it’s long and he’s way too old for it. Perhaps a giant beard. But you get talking to him and you find that you’ve discovered a soul mate. One of those very rare people who actually thinks how you think, even those unpopular things that are verboten on both left and right. Indeed, he says those things before you do. There’s no one eavesdropping. It’s just the two of you. You both chuckle conspiratorially and say, ‘No one else can see it, can they? Normal people don’t want to accept the truth. We’re not normal though, are we? We’re the effing Illuminati, we are. But keep it under your hat, of course. Most people aren’t ready for this stuff and they never will be.’
Actually, I’ve never had an experience like that. I could imagine it happening though. That’s what reading Nietzsche is like. On almost every page I inwardly scream, ‘Of course! That’s right! It’s so bloody obvious but no one dares admit it!’ And yet Read More
Last week I exposed my carefully calculated plan to free myself from full time work and to pursue my ambitions. However:
Will Lady Fate . . . cooperate?
* * * * *
She said, my period hasn’t come. Maybe I am pregnant. Ha ha.
I thought little of it.
Later that week I saw her again. It still hadn’t come. I asked her, is it usually regular? Yes, she replied. Always right on time! Ha ha. I don’t know why she chuckled as she said it.
That night I awoke with a sensation of intense nausea. What’s wrong? Oh, yeah. All my hopes and plans for the future. All gone. Bye bye. No more dusky Third World beauties for me. No more writing and reading and pondering the sunset from my modest balcony. Never again will I traipse the world like some kind of law-abiding gypsy. My future will be one of losing sleep, changing nappies, working overtime to pay for cram school and university fees and a mortgage. If we have a son he’ll be a sullen, autistic dork who’ll end up going on an incel shooting rampage. If we have a daughter she’ll be Read More
Some time ago I posted a highly trafficked article entitled How to be Free. Its tone was crude, nihilistic and bombastic, getting me (rightly) blacklisted from several AltRight sites. My rudeness to commenters probably didn’t help.
This is not an apology.
In short, the article described my plan to save enough money so that if I ever lost my job and was rendered unemployable (quite possible in my field) I would be able to escape to the Third World and live out my days in frugal comfort.
Well, I had made some mathematical errors in currency conversions and was actually a little short of my goal but now, yep, I can do it. Just. Seven hundred US dollars a month for the rest of my life, all things being equal. If it comes to that and I suffer an expensive medical condition in old age, my plan would be to swim far out into the foaming brine and take it from there. We must accept the consequences of our decisions.
Anyway, I didn’t intend to quit my job. The freedom plan was to ensure I was never trapped anywhere I didn’t want to be, and never beholden to anyone.
Lately I’ve been considering my future more seriously and here are some salient conclusions I have reached: Read More
An irregular collection of problematic news and opinion.
First, here’s a new link site with a whole lot of interesting content I’d never heard of before.
Why Single Dude Travel refuses to return to the US. It’s an interesting and detailed account of the event that changed his life.
On Age of Shitlords, a story about a young South African man who sympathizes with the women who falsely accused him of rape. There’s an entertaining back story about Read More
Book review of Khrushchev: The Man and His Era, by William Taubman
An event in 1962 was probably the most important in world history but it is rarely discussed today. Perhaps this is because the occurrence concluded without nuclear war – had it turned out differently, any surviving children in any remaining schools would most certainly be studying it with rigour.
The strengths and foibles of the American protagonist, John F. Kennedy, are well known, but what of his Soviet counterpart? Most Westerners who have any image of Nikita Khrushchev remember the fat little man who banged his shoe on the table at the UN. In his definitive biography, Taubman guides the reader through the career of this complex individual in such thorough detail that one feels one has vicariously lived the man’s life and, unlike Khrushchev himself, deeply learned from the experience.
It is frightening to think that a man of Khrushchev’s boorishness and impetuousness controlled nuclear weapons. His reaction to Read More