Wednesday, 30 January 2013

A Tale of Two Marriages

It is interesting sometimes to see the differences between women who marry young and marry for the right reasons, and women who become obsessed with finding "the one" and therefore plan compulsively for the wrong reasons.

Kate Owens,34, from Clifton Park, New York, had mapped out every last detail from her bridal gown to the venue - the only thing missing was the groom.
She even booked a band for the imaginary event after seeing them play at a bar in 2003.
'I went up to them and I said, ''I don't have a groom, but if you guys are still around, will you play my wedding?'
'I think some people probably thought I was nuts,' she explained to ABC News.
After enlisting the help of a wedding planner, speaking to friends and spending hours scouring the internet she had all aspects of her big day covered.
She recalled: 'I knew the style of wedding dress I wanted.
'I knew what style bridesmaids' dress I wanted. I knew the color scheme. I knew I wanted it to be outdoors.'
When Mrs Owens, a project manager for IBM, finally met her future husband, Shawn Owens, she kept her plans secret.

It was only when he proposed that she revealed how she had pre-planned their nuptials.
She whipped out a binder - labeled Life - which housed hundreds of ideas including dress designs, example menus, hairstyles and ring designs.
Now that, for Mr. Owens, must have been a truly scrotum-shriveling moment. He must, at some point, have realised that he was potentially marrying a complete nutbag. I suspect he thought to himself that this woman was truly off her rocker, trying to plan every last detail before she'd even found the right man to marry. And I would not be the least bit surprised if he started mentally cataloging the names of every good divorce lawyer he might have met over the course of his career.

Notice also that this woman is at best a 6- on a very very very good day and in the best possible light- and is marrying someone who, based on the pictures at least, is a minimum of one socio-sexual rank above her. Notice that this is exactly the sort of Beta-style marriage that the Dark Trinity (Roissy, Roosh, and Rollo, of course) all advise so strongly against. Miracles do happen- I would not have abandoned atheism myself if I did not recognise this- but I wager that it would be a miracle akin to bread from fishes if, in 20 years' time, this couple is still together and still happy.

And now, for Exhibit B:
She's been lucky enough to star in a number of Hollywood hits but Megan Fox says her great achievement is having her son.
The Transformers star, 26, has revealed that having a baby was her life's dream and now she has her baby boy being a film star doesn't have the same allure.
Speaking to Marie Claire she said: 'I recognise the blessings when they come – like, I recognise I’m so lucky to work with Judd – but the ultimate satisfaction for me is being with my son. All I wanted to do my whole, whole life was have a baby and, now, I’ve finally done it'
The actress spoke about why she thinks her marriage to the former 90120 star works.
She said: 'I just think we got lucky. I believe he’s my soulmate. But that doesn’t mean it doesn’t take work, because we are very, very different. But we are tolerant of each other and we try to be patient with each other, and I don’t try to turn him into me and he knows not to try to turn me into him.She added: '‘He really is amazing. I should never, ever even think about complaining.’
The contrast could not be greater. Here we have a woman who is right at the top of the socio-sexual ladder. Her husband is not, as far as I am aware, a particularly successful actor by the standards of the world he and his wife inhabit. Megan Fox's looks have made her one of the most desirable women on the planet- though her intelligence often leaves much to be desired. And the less said of her acting "skills", the better. Yet, this woman, who could in theory have any man she wants, chose to settle down with a man much older than her, with significant baggage from previous relationships, and eschewed the roles and responsibilities of a major Hollywood starlet. It says something for her husband's ability to channel Alpha-male qualities that he is able to keep that woman's hypergamy in check.

The career woman who obsesses over every little detail, who plans compulsively for eventualities that may never materialise, and whose sense of self-importance is warped by having a high-flying white-collar job, will never appeal to the primal and eternal instincts of a self-confident and independent man the way that a committed, nurturing and beautiful woman will. And I maintain this opinion even though I recall, from back in the days when I had the time, patience, and lack of wisdom to follow celebrity gossip, that Megan Fox wasn't exactly all that faithful.

On a related note, as far as I'm concerned, the "choice" that women face between work and career really isn't a choice at all. It's actually a choice between building civilisation or tearing it down. Extreme? Perhaps. True? Absolutely. Independent sons and well-bred daughters do not happen by accident- they happen because their fathers are there to teach them strength and intelligence, and their mothers are there to teach them temperance and grace.

I take two women in my own life as exemplars of this dichotomy. My mother sacrificed most of her career to take care of her children, and followed my father without complaint or protest around the world. It is only now that my father has retired and the children have left home that my mother's career has really taken off. I know for a fact that she has no regrets whatsoever about this- as she has told me repeatedly, at no point can I ever accuse her of not being there when I was growing up. And partly because of this, my parents have been very happily married for over 30 years. (She also thinks that I'm often a raging MCP, and she's not wrong, but she loves me even so. That's what mothers do.)

Contrast this with a friend of mine, who I personally trained from a clueless trainee to a highly skilled and competent young analyst who was routinely making people with five times her experience look stupid. She shows every sign of having an incredibly promising career. She is virtually the complete package- smart, competent, meticulous, personable, and very pretty- a minimum of a 7.5 on her worst day. Yet, I personally think that if she does not "marry a good man who will treat [her] well, bear him children, and live a good life", then she will have done herself a great disservice. Men will not respect her for her career choices- men will respect her for her combination of looks, intelligence, and nurturing ability. And in the industry in which we both work, those latter qualities become far less valuable over time. If she stays the course in this industry, she will inevitably become the striking 30-something spinster with the desperately spinning hamster, unable to reconcile her increasing career success with her decreasing fertility and desirability. And that would be a truly tragic outcome for a young woman with such promise. I have no doubt that if I ever have this conversation with her, she would be shocked and probably very angry- and eventually, as usual, she would realise that I am right.

This tale of two marriages is really the tale of the choice faced by all women- to help (re)build civilisation, or to continue to tear it down. Which side will you choose?

Monday, 28 January 2013

The Cost of the Red Pill

As bojangles found out, it can sometimes be severe:
The psyche here comes from Indian families and how they work. By the age of 23-24 your parents/uncles/aunts and practically everyone in the generation above you is on your ass about getting married and finding a girl, constantly hooking you up on pointless blind dates. Most Indian guys easily succumb to that pressure and fulfill the wishes of their parents.
Asian family hierarchy is traditionally set in stone. Once a man marries and has a child, he automatically ascends to alpha in his household, even above his own father, who still tries to remain top of the perch but inevitably falls. If you don’t follow this ‘natural course’ that being an Indian seems to dictate then inevitably that alpha male in your household will project his vision on you and do his best to make you do what he wants (get married and have bloody kids!). 
I am still a bachelor at the grand old age of 28. According to my old man and my old dear I am past due and will soon find no-one to spend my life with...
I got tired of my mother’s bitching, the woman whose siblings’ children were all getting married and having ‘fairytale’ Indian weddings. I knew that my mother wanted a wedding for herself in Indian culture, a status-showing occasion more for parents than an actual celebration of the marriage. She wanted to buy all the glamorous sarees, jewelry, and clothes. She wanted to pretty up a couple of banquet halls and show off my old man’s wealth...
Six months months later, my father phoned me. He offered a half-arsed apology and said he wanted to talk. I agreed but felt there was another motive behind it.  I made the journey back home a few weeks later to see what was going to happen. I walked into a warzone.
I come from a somewhat similar background to bojangles here. He and I are roughly the same age and at roughly the same point in our lives (though we do not, as far as I am aware, know each other personally). And I want to make this perfectly clear: the situation that bojangles describes is absolutely identical to the one faced by millions of young Asian men every day. Family ties are extremely strong in the part of the world that we come from. I've experienced pressures similar to the ones that his family brought to bear on him, though not nearly as bad- my parents married each other out of choice, not arrangement, and to their enormous credit have always insisted that their children do the same.

The Red Pill comes with a severe cost- see Bill Powell's post about solitude, Danger & Play's recent post about the cost of enlightenment, and my personal commentary on both. I know full well that there will come a day when I will have to tell my parents that marriage in this day and age is a horrible idea, given the amount of power that the corrupted and warped institution of modern marriage gives women. I know exactly what kind of reaction it will provoke. It will not be pretty. There are still certain things that an Asian man is expected to do by his parents, his family, and his society. To fail to do those things is considered virtually on par with the Islamic equivalent of apostasy. There are very good historical reasons for these expectations- for one thing, the safety net provided by government for the elderly is basically non-existent in third-world Asian societies (which is exactly how things should be), and Asian parents know full well that their only real safety net is their children. And while I absolutely believe in supporting my parents in their old age, because of everything they have given me, my views on marriage and children are radically different from theirs.

This is the inevitable outcome of accepting ancient and powerful truths. Once you take the Red Pill, and you realise that you have been ripped off and lied to by the world around you for much of your life, there is no going back. You cannot pretend to un-learn the concepts of female hypergamy and male dominance. You cannot pretend to support the idea of a wife that can truly have it all by putting her career ahead of your children and you. You cannot believe the idea that a wedding is about the people getting married, rather than an opportunity for the families of the same to show off. You cannot believe that the idea of setting aside two months' salary (or more) for a hunk of highly pressurised cut carbon is a sensible idea.

The cost is high. But believe me when I say that it is worth the price. Some things are worth fighting for. The truth is indeed one of them. Do not be afraid to fight for what you believe in, as bojangles did.

Sunday, 27 January 2013

Be a Man: Learn to Shoot

This one will demonstrate exactly why much of my immediate family thinks that I've gone off the deep end and am some kind of America-loving wannabe deep-fried redneck hillbilly. Can't say I care, I've wanted to do this for years.

As far as I'm concerned, every man who wants to think of himself as being good at being a man should know how to use a gun, if not own one outright. (It's not entirely practical in some parts of the Union, and it's damn near impossible in large parts of Europe and Asia.) It's not just a matter of manliness or ego, increasingly it will become a matter of outright survival as the Western world continues its slow-motion collapse into anarchy and eventual war. For most of my life, I lived in a very sheltered environment where such things really just weren't a concern. It wasn't until I came to the United States and began to truly understand the concept of natural rights that I realised the importance of the right and the ability to keep and bear arms. Unfortunately, for years I was in no position to do anything about it. I live in the hyper-liberal Northeast where the idea of private ownership of weapons is considered gauche beyond words, and it's not easy to find somewhere in the urban areas of this part of the country that allows you to fire guns in a safe and practical practice environment.

That all changed when I found this place. What they offer isn't cheap, but it is worth the price. Yesterday, on perhaps the coldest day I have ever experienced, I finally got an opportunity to learn how to fire handguns. I was able to try out various calibres and models of handguns, such as a Luger 9mm, a Glock .22, and a .38 Special revolver. As is to be expected for a beginner, I did all right shooting out to a range of 16 feet; but then when I tried hitting bulls-eyes at a range of 27 feet... yeah. Epic Fail.

Here's what I learned and/or reaffirmed:

  • The vast majority of people who want to use and own guns are NOT swivel-eyed loonies. I'm not sure where this ridiculous stereotype comes from- probably the idiots who insist on going into schools and shopping malls and blowing innocent people away because they can't fight back- but nothing could be farther from the truth. The people in my class were all just normal, law-abiding folks, and almost all over 30, with the exception of maybe three girls.
  • The NRA is made up of regular people like you and me, who also happen to believe ardently in private property rights and have no problem whatsoever with the concept of armed self-defence. Your average NRA instructor is likely to be much smarter than the average person, and will be interested first and foremost in your safety, not your accuracy. Listen to your instructor very, very carefully, don't cock about while at the range, and you'll have a great time.
  • A shooting range is not actually a bad place to meet cute women. There were three in my class last night- well... two, really, one looked to be a bit heavy on the clown makeup. I didn't say a word to any of them- missed opportunities, it's true. Going to a gun range does appear to get them quite excited, judging by the amount of verbiage coming from two of them afterwards. Knowing how to talk to them is another important life skill, which I clearly need to work on.
  • The demographic composition of my class was interesting. Most of them where white and close to middle-aged, and there were at least two married couples there. Most of them will probably never come back after the experience- they're weekend-warrior types looking for a new experience, not people who are serious about self-defence. Some might, though. There was one big black guy and two Indians out of a class of 15- and to be honest I was a little surprised to see other Asians there. Asians in this country tend to be politically liberal, which is not altogether odd given that they come from nations where filial piety and deference to the authority of the State is considered to be normal and acceptable.
  • You WILL look a bit of a tool during your first live-fire session, even if you have perfect eyesight in both eyes, like me. (I like carrots. A lot.) I completely missed the target with half my shots during the 10-round shooting competition at the end of the evening. This annoyed me, which is why I'm definitely going back for practice.
  • Personally, I found the lighter pistols to be easier to sight and use; the heavier guns tend to be hard to keep on target and are more about stopping power than accuracy. I personally prefer control and accuracy to speed and power- in most pursuits, not just this one. I particularly liked the feel of the 9mm. The goal, however, is eventually to get comfortable and accurate with the heavier calibres. Nothing says "Don't Tread on Me" like someone who can shoot accurately at range with either single or mixed grip using a .38 or .40 semi-automatic weapon.
  • Going down to the range and shooting rounds at targets is some of the most fun that you can legally have. Seriously. It's therapeutic, it takes your mind off whatever BS you might be dealing with on a given day, and it can become a social activity if you want.
The next step is to go back to the range again, possibly as soon as this Friday night, and get some real practice. There's also a Basic Pistol course that lasts for like half a day, which I'm definitely going to take- hell, I signed up as soon as the 3-hour session was over. I swore to myself that if I ever got a chance to learn how to use a gun, I would treat the endeavour seriously. That means getting some practice, becoming as proficient as I can as quickly as possible, and then taking up challenges, whether personal or competitive. I also fully intend to go in for some rifle shooting classes when the weather warms up; right now it's just to friggin' cold to countenance standing in a field upstate and taking potshots at targets from 100m away. And eventually, I do want to go hunting. I do believe that a man is defined by his ability to fend for himself.

For anyone out there looking to learn how to shoot- just do it. Don't sit around waiting for these bastards to tell you whether or not you might have the right under some bizarrely tortured reading of the plain English of the Bill of Rights to shoot guns safely for recreational purposes. That right is yours at birth, and no one can take it away unless you let him.

Plus, the cold hard fact is that you won't look like this much of a badass until you know the business end of your weapon:

Saturday, 26 January 2013

Solitude and pain

Apparently aliens are stealing my thoughts while I sleep. That is the only explanation that my cold-addled brain can come up with right now for the phenomenon I have just witnessed. First, Bill Powell wrote a truly excellent post on what happens when you take the Red Pill:
Taking the Red Pill has consequences beyond what anyone can anticipate when they start the journey for truth. Personally, it was something I had to do when I first encountered this section of the webz. Do I regret any of it? Not at all but I’ll admit it has made my life a hell of a lot harder than it would have if I had stayed in my blissful little bubble of working for the corporations, raising what I supposed would be a happy family, paying my taxes like a good little drone and believing the drivel that I was being fed on a regular basis. The thing is once you swallow the Red Pill, you can never go back.
But what happens is you become one of the very few who know how far down the rabbit hole goes. And as such, everything around you changes. Your interactions with your family and friends, the way you consume media and pretty much everything else that has to do with any social interaction.
And once you learn, everyone around you quickly becomes tiresome. People that you might have had a connection with after a while get to the point where you can’t stand the drivel pouring out of their mouths. And so you have to get away from all of that shit on a regular basis or you’ll go insane. Solitude becomes something to be desired rather than shunned. You’d rather withdraw than interact. Because every time you try to help them understand, you’re looked upon as a freak, someone who’s checked out of the narrative that bathes everyone every minute of the day they’re not asleep.
He's absolutely right. Every single word he wrote in that post is true. And everything he wrote mirrors the dialogue that goes on in my head, daily, as I observe the world around me. I've experienced this isolation firsthand, particularly when discussing politics, religion, natural rights, and gender roles with my family. They love me, and I love them, but there is no question that I do not see eye to eye with them. When I began taking regular Red Pill doses, it quickly became clear to me that much of what they had taught me about how to be a man was flatly wrong. And what's worse is, they didn't know any better. Trying to educate them about what I had learned didn't help- indeed, I've gotten into nearly violent disagreements with both of my parents regarding my seeming indifference to the suffering of others, and my hatred of the State. My absolutist position on gun rights appalls them. My refusal to bow to the pieties of political correctness on issues of race and religion threaten to make me an outcast at family gatherings. My "extremist" position on feminism makes my sister look at me like I'm from another planet. Yet none of them can come up with any kind of rational counterargument against what I'm telling them- they've largely stopped bothering to discuss these things with me by now, actually. I can literally see them retreat whenever I bring the subject up, just so that they can avoid the possibility of their comfortable little world being invaded by uncomfortable realities.

It's even more difficult with the average person on the street or in your life. Bill's not wrong when he says that solitude becomes desirable- because trying to talk with the sheeple becomes so onerous that the comfort of one's own mind becomes far more pleasing and valuable. I have very limited tolerance for stupidity and BS to begin with, and when I have to listen to my co-workers talking about what happened on this or that TV show, or the latest Apple product, or the newest celebrity gossip, I often have to physically restrain myself from getting up and slapping people upside the head for being small-minded morons. Solitude goes from being useful to being a physical need, a way of dealing with the endless stupidity and shallowness of the world around you. As an INTJ (i.e. an off-the-scale introvert), solitude is my coping mechanism, and without it, my mind begins to suffer.

And then along came Danger & Play with a very different, but equally brilliant, take on solitude:
Solitude is a requisite to enlightenment. In undoubtedly the best modern treatment on the need for solitude, William Deresiewicz explains how groupthink leads to poor management decisions and costs lives.
Perhaps in an effort to not arise fear in truth seekers, few have explained that enlightenment is painful. Man, a social animal that he is, is not designed for solitude. Yet the more you[seek] fellowship with truth, the harder it is to [seek] fellowship with your fellow man.
In ancient Greece, criminals were given the choice between banishment and death – many choose death. In prison the worst punishment a man can receive is to be forced into solitary confinement. Some studies have shown that solitary confinement is more damaging to a man’s psyche than torture.
Charles Bukowski, a misanthrope if ever there was one, had to venture out with his fellow man to the horse races before he could write. Writing is as solitary an activity as any, and yet many writers work from within a coffee shop.
Perhaps lacking self-awareness or a sense of irony, how many guys brag about being loners within the community of an Internet forum?
And he too is right. Solitude, though absolutely necessary and inevitable for those who take the Red Pill, will damage a man's psyche over time. Lord knows, my desire for solitude has damaged plenty of relationships with friends and family. Yet, I would not trade the enlightenment that I have now for anything that I have lost. To be self-aware is to be isolated, and there is nothing you can do about this except face the pain and the fear of being alone.

The knowledge that I have now has come at great cost. In just the last year alone, I had to learn the hard way that hard work will not be rewarded if you do not keep your mouth shut and refuse to toe the party line; that, with very few exceptions, women are largely useless in the workplace (it is a source of immense personal pride that I happened to train and mentor one of those exceptions); that the majority of people I interact with in person daily are just not worth knowing and are not useful to me or my mission; that most modern advice about how to be a worthy and good man is flat-out BS. These truths make it very difficult for any man to "fit in" with modern society, and the temptation to withdraw completely becomes overwhelming. I have given in to that temptation many, many times, and simply disengaged from others for very long stretches. Believe me when I say that this will cost you. It certainly has me.

Do not lose heart, though. Do not think that the truth is not worth the price. Through the crucible of pain and temptation, enlightenment can come. And when it comes, you will realise that the price that you paid for your knowledge was completely worth it, because you are a stronger man for enduring the pain. Take that knowledge, become a better man, and continue onwards and upwards with your mission.

Weekend Linkage


I must not fear.
Fear is the mind-killer.
Fear is the little-death that brings total obliteration.
I will face my fear.
I will allow fear to pass over me and through me.
And when it has gone past I will turn the inner-eye to see its path.
Where the fear has gone, there will be nothing.
Only I will remain.
-- The Litany Against Fear of the Bene Gesserit

Each and every one of us is afraid of something- many things, actually. We are afraid of rejection, of failure, of the unknown, and sometimes of our own power. I would even go so far as to argue that fear is what defines, drives, and ennobles us as men. When used properly, fear is an incredible motivator, a way to make ourselves do things that we would otherwise consider flatly impossible. The question we must ask ourselves as men is, do we conquer our fear, or do we let ourselves be conquered?

Every time I lift weights, I feel that fear in the back of my head. When doing squats, I fear the possibility that I'll get down into the hole and be unable to push the weight back up, potentially risking serious injury to my knees and hips, even though I know full well that I have bars setup at just below hip level to catch the weight in the event that I get stuck. When I bench press, I fear the possibility of being caught underneath the bar as it touches my chest, unable to push it back up because I am weak, even though I know full well that I can just roll the bar off my chest and then do a reverse rack pull down onto the floor. When I deadlift, I fear the possibility that I will round my lower back on my heaviest sets; having experienced the excruciating pain that comes from tearing muscles in the lower back, that is not an outcome I ever want to face again.

still have not overcome the crippling fear that comes from approaching cute women and opening them for conversations.

I fear failure. I fear rejection. I fear loss of control. I fear these things because I fear what I might become if I experience them too often- a mere shell of a man, warped, twisted, unable to control his own fate.

Fear is always there. It will always be there. There is no getting around this fact. All I can do- all any of us can do- is work with it and around it. And that only comes with practice.

Take powerlifting as an example. There are, as Jack Donovan pointed out, 4 masculine virtues- Strength, Courage, Mastery, and Honour. Powerlifting is one of the very few activities that give you the opportunity to demonstrate all four. Courage, in particular, is a defining characteristic of a serious, drug-free powerlifter. You have to have real courage to lift absurd amounts of weight without pharmaceutical assistance, in the face of your own fear and in the face of public disapproval of what you're doing. Let's face facts- most people don't understand powerlifting and think that those who lift correctly and with good technique are doing something "weird" or "unnatural". Courage is not the absence of fear; that is stupidity. Courage is the ability to face your fear, acknowledge its presence, and put it to one side because you know that your fear is only holding you back.

There is only one approach that I have found to be effective for confronting and conquering fear- any kind of fear, whether it be fear of failing an exam or fear of getting rejected when talking to a hot girl. You start slowly, building discipline and strength and confidence, moving one step at a time until you know exactly what it takes to succeed. Once you realise what you are truly capable of, that fear will begin to recede. All you need to begin is discipline and willpower- and not all that much of either, in fact. You face your fear, one little victory at a time, over a long period of training and discipline.

Make no mistake, though- there is no call for being stupid. Fear exists for a very good reason. It stops us from hurting ourselves. It's an instinctive  evolutionary reaction to the things that can harm us- the fear you feel when you try to deadlift 455lbs is the same fear that our Paleolithic forbears felt when confronting a sabre-toothed tiger or a short-faced bear, and for the same reason. If you go out every night just to bang easy girls, you are denying your mission in life, your purpose, your reason for being a man. (The one exception to this is if your mission is, in fact, to bang hot and loose women- in which case, by all means do carry on.) While I find speed limits on roads to be largely arbitrary and almost entirely stupid- especially so given that the police themselves flout those same rules with monotonous regularity- there is no good reason to drive recklessly and endanger both yourself and others. While I absolutely support the right to keep and bear arms, there is no call for being stupid by leaving those arms around for idiots and children to take and use.

I will be the first to admit that I'm not always great at practicing what I preach. The fact that I have been crazy busy at work for over a year now is not an excuse for the fact that I am still largely incapable of approaching women, in whatever capacity. I am a deep introvert by nature, and the already difficult task of overcoming fear is made even more difficult by this fact. But, unlike many men who simply accept this fate, I am determined to do something about it. That is why I started this blog- to help me achieve my goal of being the best man I can be. And that means confronting and overcoming fear, in all of its insidious forms.

When you confront your fear, you become a stronger and better man for it. Once again, I turn to powerlifting because that is the most effective analogy that I can find. Once you know how to lift heavy weights correctly, through constant drills, warm-ups, and heavy reps, you will have a very good idea of what your body can- and perhaps more importantly, cannot- do. And when you master good technique, you'll know that the only real penalty for failure is, well, a failed set. Big deal, so what. As long as you hit failure under safe and controlled circumstances, as long as you didn't injure yourself in your heaviest set because you took the right precautions and lifted with correct technique, there is always next time.

So the next time you find yourself facing a bar with so much weight on it that you begin to doubt yourself, remember that you were able to lift 5lbs less without hurting yourself. Next time you get blown out of 20 sets in a row when approaching women, remember that there is always the 21st to look forward to. Next time you fail to get promoted because some ball-busting bitch in HR has it out for you, remember that you are smarter and better than she is and look forward to the day when you can tell HR to perform an anatomically impossible act. Remember that the penalty for failure is not nearly as steep as your mind wants you think it is. Remember that if you do this right, your strength will increase, and you will achieve the goals and results you seek.

Remember, above all, that fear only has power over you if you let it have that power.

I leave you with two songs that have always helped me face and understand my own fear:

The Pedestal Shatters...

Provided you hit it hard enough, that is.

Ian Ironwood posted recently about a buddy of his who suddenly discovered his balls:
He’s got a sister, whom he’s somewhat close to, and his sister has a friend – let’s call her Candy – who he’s not particularly close to but who has been a part of his life because she’s his sister’s BFF.  As he explained, she’s flaky as hell and irresponsible about just about everything, can’t seem to keep a man or a job (she’s a dog groomer), and spends her life, well, like a 30 something flaky chick usually does.  She hasn’t hit the Wall yet, apparently, but it’s right around the corner, and she’s got no idea.

Anyway, Candy is about a 7 on a good day, a 6 normally, and is headed for Fiveland on the evening bus.  My friend – let’s call him Mike – is comparable, having recently completed a technical degree and started a new job, as well as working out a bit.  Mike was attracted to Candy once, years ago, but her personality and proximity soon made her a woman to tolerate, not to date.  Besides, as his sisters BFF, she was hands-off.

But Mike is a Nice Guy, and over the years he’s been forced to do all sorts of shit for her out of politeness and filial duty to his sister.  At this point, he can’t stand her much at all, but she’s still under the impression that he’s been harboring a secret crush for all these years.

Last month, Candy apparently broke up with her boyfriend – again – lost her job – again – and had to move out of her apartment – again.  Mike lives over an hour away, within driving distance, but his new job makes it hard for him to go visit his sister often.  He thinks it’s a comfortable distance for kin, but apparently not enough to make him Candy-proof.  She called him up one Saturday morning, and he’d just read something I’d written over coffee, and he was feeling . . . rebellious.
Read the whole thing, it's beautiful and I can't do the Rev. Ironwood's prose and narrative skills justice in a precis here. What I can do, however, is pick out a few excerpts to show just what a huge breakthrough this guy, "Mike", made:
8:13 text from Mike: I have plans sorry

8:15 text from Candy: cancel them I need u!!!!!!!

8:16 text from Mike: to help u move?  WTF?

8:18 text from Candy: YES!!!!!  Need to be out by tonight.  Thank you!

8:19 text from Mike: I didn’t say id do it

8:21 text from Candy: of course you’ll do it

8:22 text from Mike: no.  good luck.
As a man, your mission comes first. End of story. A woman who wants to divert you from that mission is a deadweight loss to you, no matter how hot she is, how great she is in bed, or how many of her friends she lets you sleep with.
“Remember just a moment ago, when I asked you what you had ever done for me?  Crickets.  If we had any kind of friendship, you should have been able to think of something.  Shit, why isn’t my sister helping?”

“She is!  She said she’d get you to help!”

“You were misinformed.”

“Mike, you’re being a dick!  Just come help me!  Please?”  (At this point, he said, he was tempted to waver.  He really was.  When a woman says ‘please’ like that, it’s hard for a Beta to say ‘no’.  I’m proud of Mike.  He persevered.)

“Why should I help you, Candy?”

“Because we’re friends!  And friends help each other out!” she pouted.

“So when was the last time you helped me out?” he repeated.
“Exactly.  And either I’m your boyfriend and I help you move, in which case you’re fucking me, or I’m your girlfriend.  And if I’m your girlfriend, then I’m going to weasel out of helping you move just like my sister.”

“What kind of fucked-up talk is that?”

“Look,” he said, only half-serious – he said he was joking.  “The only way I’d come and help you move today is if you paid for gas, paid for lunch, and then fucked me rotten afterwards.  Are you likely to do that?”

“HELL, no!”

“Then good luck in your future endeavors, Candy.  I’m going to grab a shower.”  Click.
 Yep. I had to learn this lesson the hard way with one girl that I knew from high school and then met again in college. I never got anywhere with her, and because I didn't know the first damn thing about women and the Red Pill back then, I had no idea when or how to escalate or figure out why she only considered me a "friend". At the time, I should have realised that the fact that she smoked like a chimney and was incredibly insecure (both massive dealbreakers for me) meant that she was simply not worth my time, and that by hanging around her as a Beta orbiter I was just getting unconsciously frustrated, diverting myself from my mission, and acting like her girlfriend instead of being a man.

I was young and stupid. I'm less young now and hopefully a little less stupid. Evidently "Mike" is learning the same lessons on his own. Good for him.
“I’m tired of being used,” he repeated.  “Hey, if she wants to trade sexual favors for moving help, I’d be open to that.  But I leave here around ten, so if she’s going to act on that, she’d better call soon.”

“You want to screw Candy?” she asked in disbelief.

“I’d consider it in return for services rendered.  Or cash.  But my time and energy are valuable, and you need to start realizing that.”

“Valuable?  What the hell are you doing today that’s so important.”

“I didn’t say it was valuable to you.  But I’m done doing favors for Candy.  And your other friends, too.  I’m either a boyfriend or a girlfriend, and I can only be a boyfriend to one woman at a time.”

“What the fuck happened to you?  You used to be such a nice guy!”

“I woke the fuck up.”  Click.
 This is like that scene in "Dodgeball" where Gordon finally gets angry. He finally realises where his balls (heh) are and uses them for a change. A Beta who nukes that damn pedestal from orbit because he's fed up of being denied what he wants is a beautiful and terrible thing to behold.
He got the blowback, too.  This happened just after Thanksgiving, before the holiday season.  By Christmas time a rumor had spread among his family that he was off his medications or he’d had a crisis or he’d otherwise gone crazy.  But when he showed up for Christmas dinner at his mother’s house – with a date, no less – he looked great.  New job, new place, new clothes, and even a date that didn’t eat with her fingers (I told you he had poor selection criteria . . .)

Mike tells me that his obstinate refusal came up at Christmas dinner, too.  His sister was nasty about it and wouldn’t leave it alone, basically trying to rally her other female relatives (and the men, but mostly the women) into a consensus condemning Mike’s behavior.  It didn’t quite go as planned.

I’m not going to do another cute dialogue here (although I’m sure it would be entertaining) but the long and short of it is that Mike’s mom, while initially siding with his sister, eventually decided that her son was within his rights for refusing to help, even if she’d “brought him up better than that”.  His aunts were ambivalent, but tended to side with his sister.

The men in his family, to a man, thought what Mike did was absolutely fine.  He didn’t even need to apologize.  That sparked a brief argument that led to his elderly widower uncle (didn’t catch the name) loudly proclaiming that “you don’t do crap for a woman anymore unless she’s sucking your dick!” at the Christmas dinner table (Mike’s mom makes some killer egg nog, I know for a fact).
Which is exactly what I expected. The guys would indeed side with "Mike", unless they're complete Betatised pussies. The girls would gasp in horrified amazement- but those who aren't related to this guy would also probably find him suddenly more attractive as a result. A guy who doesn't take crap from a woman, or anyone else for that matter, is a guy worth knowing and being around.

The Reverend Ironwood's post was an example of great writing, great storytelling, and great wisdom. I wish his buddy "Mike" the very best in his journey out of the Beta Badlands. Lord knows, I have a long way to go myself.

Friday, 25 January 2013

Women in combat- how can this possibly go wrong???

Now if this were ancient Sparta, and the Persians were at the gates of the city, this sort of thing might not be a bad idea. Then again, the difference is that Sparta's women actually had some idea which end of a spear to use in combat. This, on the other hand, cannot possibly end well:
U.S. military leaders on Thursday formally lifted the ban on women serving in combat positions, with Defense Secretary Leon Panetta saying women have become an "integral part" of the military and have already demonstrated their willingness to fight during the wars of the last decade. 
"It's clear to all of us that women are contributing in unprecedented ways to the military's mission of defending the nation," Panetta said. 
The change would open hundreds of thousands of front-line positions and potentially elite commando jobs to women. Panetta and Joint Chiefs of Staff Chairman Gen. Martin Dempsey both approved the change Thursday, and the White House separately said it endorsed the decision. 
The groundbreaking move recommended by the Joint Chiefs of Staff overturns a 1994 rule banning women from being assigned to smaller ground combat units. Panetta's decision gives the military services until January 2016 to seek special exceptions if they believe any positions must remain closed to women. 
He argued that women, who already make up 15 percent of the force, have increasingly found themselves in the "reality of combat" during Iraq and Afghanistan. He said not everyone can meet the qualifications to be a combat soldier but that everyone is entitled the opportunity.   
"They're serving in a growing number of critical roles on and off the battlefield," Panetta said of women. "They have become an integral part of our ability to perform our mission." 
Some front-line military roles may open to women as soon as this year. Assessments for others, such as special operations forces, including Navy SEALS and the Army's Delta Force, may take longer. 

I don't care how politically incorrect it is to state the obvious. Women have absolutely no place in front-line combat. And indeed, I would go farther and argue that they have no place in the military, full stop. This has been known for more than 20 years, ever since Operation Desert Storm:
President Bush in 1992 created the Presidential Commission on the Deployment of Women in the Military to determine the capability of women severing in direct combat positions. “The Commission showed that women were three times more nondeployable than men, primarily due to pregnancy, during Operations Desert Shield and Storm.” 
Moreover, fitness standards for military admissions have already been loosened to accommodate the growing weakness of the average American male. What happens when that standard is loosened even further to accommodate physically weaker women? And I'm sure the all-male Islamists of the Taliban are going to  surrender when they see that they're about to be engaged by a gaggle of women armed with assault rifles and clad in headscarves.

There really is no apparent limit to human stupidity. In the name of "progress", our Wise and Benevolent Overlords would seek to introduce women into a field which they have absolutely no business being in. As Vox pointed out in his riff on the subject:
To be honest, I'd like to see the Obama take it even farther and make it an all-female military.  Somewhere, there is a Chinese general reading his tablet and laughing.

Thursday, 24 January 2013

The Beta's Guide to the Friendzone

FailBlog is generally not a good place for what one might consider Red Pill truths, but yesterday I found a bit of an exception. That flow chart basically explains, from a frustrated BETA's point of view, how the Friendzone works. And having experienced this exact sequence of events, like most guys, I find myself asking yet again: "how the f*** did I not know about this stuff 10 years ago?!?!?"

The good thing about taking the Red Pill is that it allows you to confront the world as you always should have done- on your own terms, as a man. It's a long, and often painful, learning process. Lord knows, I've got a long way to go. The key thing is, though, that it lets you break out of the cycle noted above. It gives you the tools and the skills needed to remove yourself from the remorseless working of that diagram.

Note, however, why the Blue Pill dynamic works this way. The starting point is the lack of a strong frame; the reason nothing happens, and then the guy will "wallow in self-pity", is because he lacks any serious frame, any real way of demonstrating value or superiority. It gets worse when he starts complaining about the lack of the same, not realising that he is simply trapping himself within that same dynamic.

As I've discovered, rather the hard way, there are really only a handful of categories of women:

  1. Women you are related to
  2. Women you are having sex with
  3. Women you want to have sex with but haven't yet
  4. Women who you want to have sex with but are off limits for whatever reason- usually work- or family-related
  5. Women who you never, ever, ever want to nail (feminists and Cambridge graduates, for instance)
It is permissible to buy drinks and act like an old-fashioned gentleman around women in Categories 1 and 4. For instance, I have a sister, who I love dearly. She considers me a "woman-hating Male Chauvinist Pig", which is not entirely accurate- I am a feminist-hating MCP. She studies very liberal arts in a very liberal college town. Naturally, she and I don't see eye to eye on quite a few things- gun control, President Jackass, taxing the rich, the French, etc. That still doesn't stop me from spoiling her rotten whenever she comes to visit- and I don't do that because it makes her happy, I do it because it makes me happy. It also doesn't stop me from exercising my politically incorrect patriarchical authority and point of view whenever I think she's getting uppity. (This happens fairly frequently.)

Break out of the BETA cycle by accepting that most women do not want to sleep with you, and will reject you out of hand, unless you give them a very good reason to think otherwise. That reason involves demonstrating your masculine superiority in some fashion. So, work out and build muscles. Go to the gun range. Learn how to drive stick. Learn how to wear really good suits really well. Read books that the majority of ordinary people have neither the time nor the intelligence to read any more. Travel. Become someone worth knowing, someone with interesting life experiences, someone with a real point of view, who is willing to defend that point of view and can do it well.

Tuesday, 22 January 2013

Egalitarian stupidity knows no borders

Apparently Denmark needs a real lesson on the Laws of Supply and Demand:
Denmark, which like its Nordic neighbours prides itself on promoting equal treatment for men and women, has taken gender equality all the way to the beauty salon.
A ruling last month by Denmark's Board of Equal Treatment effectively stated that price differences between men's and women's haircuts were illegal.
It ordered a salon advertising women's haircuts for 528 crowns - £59 - and men's haircuts for 428 crowns - £48 - plus an extra fee for long hair, to pay 2,500 crowns - £281- to a woman who had filed a complaint.
Now, a trade organisation for hairdressers has called the decision absurd, saying it will become a nightmare to set prices for customers and warning of 'pricing chaos'.'It takes, quite simply, longer time with women,' said Connie Mikkelsen, chairwoman of the Danish organisation for independent hairdressers and cosmeticians.
The board's decision has been appealed and a court will determine whether hairdressers need to find a new way to charge for their services, in the length of time, or the standard of the cut.
It doesn't take a genius to understand why women's haircuts cost more than men's do. When a chap goes into a barber shop, unless he's an emo idiot or gay, it doesn't take more than 20 minutes to cut his hair reasonably professionally. When a sheila does the same, it takes far longer and requires far more products. Why, in the name of all that is holy, would someone be stupid enough to think that this is sexual discrimination? Oh, right, Denmark is one of the most liberal countries on Earth:
Denmark ranked seventh out of 135 countries in the World Economic Forum's global gender gap index which benchmarks national gender gaps on economic, political, education and health criteria

Yeah, good luck with that registration drive

Now I generally have very little faith in the ability of the average East Coast American to understand the concept of an inalienable right, but it appears that the people of New York (!!!), of all states, are intent on proving me wrong. And not just me, but one Governor Andrew Cuomo as well:
Officials estimate at least 1 million semiautomatic rifles are owned in the state, sources said.
And come April 15, 2014 — when Cuomo is expected to be running for re-election — they all have to be registered with the State Police.
But because the rifles have been legal but unregistered until now, authorities don’t know who has them or where they are located.
State officials will be nervously watching the registration figures to see how many gun owners comply, sources said.
“I believe you will have people stepping forward, saying, ‘Here I am. See? I have what you call an assault rifle. Now come and take it away,’ ’’ said a gun-rights activist and boycott organizer.
That’s exactly what state officials are worried about.
“Many of these assault-rifle owners aren’t going to register; we realize that,’’ said a Cuomo-administration source who added that officials expect “widespread violations’’ of the new law. Owners who refuse to register could face a class-A misdemeanor — punishable by up to a year in prison.
Come and get them, jackass. (h/t Vox Day)

Now, if only the average American could be so keen to uphold the rest of the Bill of Rights, we might actually get somewhere...

Monday, 21 January 2013

Book review: The Way of Men by Jack Donovan

There are many Manosphere bloggers and authors out there with books, and each one addresses different aspects of the question of what it means to be a man in the 21st Century:

  • Roosh's Bang addresses a practical application of game.
  • Mark Sisson's books address health and fitness in line with what our genetics always wanted us to do (though, to be clear, Mark Sisson probably does not consider himself a "Manosphere" blogger per se).
  • Captain Capitalism addresses the fundamental economic truths about the yawning abyss of the ongoing depression that we're staring into today.
  • Vox Day addresses the question of God and religion in The Irrational Atheist, which as far as I'm concerned is required reading for each and every man, whether he be a believer or not.
  • Frost's Freedom Twenty Five is the first, and so far only, book that I've seen that puts everything together, and offers a five-step plan towards making yourself the best possible man you can be.

Every one of these books is excellent. Every one is strongly recommended to any young man. Yet none of them address the one fundamental question that still has not been answered: what does it mean to BE a man?

Jack Donovan's latest book is one that I reference and cite quite frequently in my writing on masculinity and the Red Pill. This is because Donovan is the first man- hell, person- that I have seen who truly seems to get to the core of what defines us as men. Donovan's book starts with the basic premise that manliness, in essence, can be distilled down into 4 key virtues: Strength, Courage, Mastery, and Honour. He then goes into what exactly each one of these virtues means. Overarching his discussion of what it means to be a man are two basic concepts:

  • Being a good man and being good at being a man are two often very separate things
  • The Way of Men is the way of the Gang, and the four masculine virtues are needed in order for a gang to be effective
Donovan's book does not make for upbeat reading. It does not promise to make you healthier, stronger, more attractive to women, or more interesting. It is much more than any of these things. It is, simply put, an explanation in plain and simple English, and in less than 200 pages of rather large (and I thought  rather poor) font, of what it means to be good at being a man. If you are looking for self-validation, self-improvement, or self-realisation, this is NOT the book for you. If, however, you seek to know what it takes to be good at being a man, this book will show you. It will also shock you and profoundly depress you in the process, but given that you will come away understanding what it takes to be a man, I'd say that's a fair price.

Donovan's writing style is terse, his words are chosen carefully to deliver maximum impact. His skill as a wordsmith really shows up in passages like this one:
A man is not merely a man but a man among men, in a world of men. Being good at being a man has more to do with a man's ability to succeed with men and within groups of men than it does with a man's relationship to any woman or any group of women. When someone tells a man to be a man, [he is] telling him to be more like other men, more like the majority of men, and ideally more like the men whom other men hold in high regard.
Simple, meaty, truthful, and profound. It is difficult to carry on this kind of quality for long. That Donovan manages to create an entire book of this quality is quite an achievement. The only other author that I've seen who manages to combine that kind of logic, wit, and power in every sentence is Vox Day, and for similar reasons- like Vox, Donovan actually knows what he's talking about.

In my reading of his book, I found it split into three parts. The first part is simple enough: an explanation of the Way of the Gang, and a breakdown of that explanation into the four tactical virtues. His explanation of each tactical virtue contains much wisdom, all of it recognisable to the Red Pill crowd. Take, for instance, Jack's writing on the tactical virtue of Mastery:
Until you can function as a competent member of the group and carry your own weight, you are a supplicant and a drag on the collective. A child is a child, but an incompetent adult is a beggar. One of the problems with massive welfare states is that they make children or begars of us all, and as such are an affront and a barrier to adult masculinity. It has become cliched comedy for men and women to laugh at men who are concerned with being competent. The "men refuse to stop and ask for directions" joke never seems to get old for women, who are more comfortable with dependence, or socialist types, because reducing men to a childlike state of supplication and submission to state bureaucrats is required for big-government welfare states to function. Masculine loathing of dependence is a bulwark to the therapeutic mother state.
It just doesn't get much more truthful than that.

The second part is probably the most depressing bit of the book. It observes that while civilisation has undoubtedly been built through male efforts- much to the ongoing chagrin of revisionist feminist historians- civilisation is also in many ways a rejection of the masculine virtues, a way of keeping the most dangerous elements of manliness in check by feminising them, by seeking to curtail the excesses of the Way of the Gang. It observes that when men become too feminised, as they have by this point in the 21st Century, they begin to lose their own sense of self. They become lost in the fantasy worlds that they build for themselves, often out of sheer frustration at being unable to express their masculine identities, spending hours playing fantasy football and video games (yes, I'm guilty of this), and indulging in the latest sports craze at the gym, whether it be CrossFit of P90X or stone-lifting. One particularly trenchant observation:
It's only a mattter of time before someone comes up with a way to market a fitness craze where people run around spearing rubber mammoths.
Jack uses a very good comparison between chimpanzee and bonobo society to show where civilisation has taken us. Chimpanzee society is male-dominated, predicated on aggressive competition between men who struggle daily for the best food, the best sleeping spots, and the best females. Sounds rather a lot like our primal ancestors, actually. Bonobo society, however, is female-dominated, with males basically acting as afterthoughts. (Donovan's description of the way in which two tribes of bonobo apes meet and determine status is both hilarious and sad- and shows why matriarchy is never, ever going to work for humans.) Donovan makes the incontrovertible point that a female-led society will inevitably emasculate men to the point where they become completely ancillary to the functioning of society. His method of chaining empirical evidence regarding Great Ape behaviour with observations on modern society is quite impressive and highly effective.

The last two chapters make up the final third of the book, and it is here that Donovan makes his most startling point: the Way of the Gang is an inevitable intermediate period between civilisations, as the current female-dominated society breaks down completely and reverts to gang-style divisions between men. His argument is that men need the Way of the Gang, and therefore the Way of Men, in order to become men again. He's not wrong. We have lost so much masculinity in society by now that men are brought up without understanding the first thing about how to be male. Donovan closes the book by detailing the best ways to start your own Gang, the best ways to become good at being a man.

The Way of Men is not a happy book. It is not a self-help book. Though it is an easy book to read, it is not an easy book to digest. The arguments contained within are almost as depressing as they are profound, and no less important for that. This book will show you what we have lost as a civilisation- and what will be required to get it back.

Verdict: 5/5. Required reading for anyone in the Manosphere.

Never mock a superintelligence

Especially if you happen to be a midwit Gamma/Omega on the socio-sexual hierarchy. You will likely end up wearing your arse around your ears, like a hat:
Frightening and inexplicable stupidity.  That concept summarizes the midwitted limits of this particular warren of Rabbit People.  They literally cannot imagine that their worldview is incorrect or is not in line with observable reality.  Anything that is over their heads or beyond them has to be either stupid or crazy, or perhaps both.  And, of course, scary.  They also fail to realize how their responses and accusations betray their own psychologies. John Scalzi is obviously engaging in satire, but I could not possibly be doing anything of the sort.  I must be the insecure and upset one even though it is McRapey who refuses to link to or even identify the RSHD he is nominally addressing.  He even requests that his fellow rabbits follow his lead, whereas I am content to simply shine a light on his creepy, crawly gamma antics and don't concern myself with what anyone else does.  He deletes or "subverts" the comments of any of those favorable to me who comment on his blog while I both permit and respond to comments by those favorable to him.

 The Rabbit People think I am obsessed, and yet they rush to call his freaking phone simply because I mentioned him in a post.  And my failure to recoil in horror and flee in terror from the VERY BADDEST WORDS THEY CAN POSSIBLY IMAGINE leaves them not only bewildered, but scared.

"He didn't react to the H word.  And I already called him stupid.  And crazy. What now?"
"Did you try the S word?"
"Yeah, good idea... ZOMG, that didn't work either!"
"Very well, he leaves us no choice.  I don't like it, but he totally asked for it."
"You don't mean...."
"I do.  The R word."
"Wow.  I pity him.  I really do.  Here goes... OMFG, NOTHING HAPPENED!"
"What?  That can't be!  Try it again... TRY IT AGAIN!"
"R word!  S word! H word! Stupid!  Crazy!  R WORD!  S WORD!  R WORD!  DAMMIT, IT'S NOT WORKING!"

This sort of thing shows quite well just why I hold Vox in such high esteem. The guy's ability to use "appallingly creative verbal cruelty" is a bit like watching a master swordsman wielding a custom-built katana