Yes, it is basically confirmed that liberals are essentially soulless Morlocks.
Just as we already know that atheist are generally the result of mutagenic overload, meaning they are genetically defective, liberals are hateful ideologues that care more about inanimate objects than their own families.
And since they are the party of SCIENCE! they can hardly refute the evidence.
Godless, hateful, mentally ill freaks is how one might best define liberals.
Recently I have been too busy with life to cover some of the things that really matter. And mixed in between my busy life I had several different examples of young(er) men either believing in the despair of modern times, or having bought the black pill on women, or relationships, or life in general, that I tried to answer to them briefly individually, but it brought home once more, why I write.
And in this regard, although most people would never pair these two very different books this way, I think both Caveman Theory and BELIEVE! are possibly the most important I have put together. Caveman Theory is only available as a digital E-book because there is no way Amazon or the other big stores would carry it, as it exposes a bit too much truth for the various peddlers of lies, while BELIEVE! You can find as a paper book there too.
In a way they are the opposite ends of the spectrum. BELIEVE! Was written from the perspective I wish I had encountered when the very concept of Christianity in general, never mind Catholicism in particular, seemed not just absurd and stupid, but even actively evil. There is no denying the Pedophiles and Satanic nonsense and protection of the Pedos that goes on in Bergoglio’s false Church, and Ratzinger’s before him, all the way back to 1958. They ARE evil. Not just as individual fake Popes and priests and Bishops, which the Church has always had, but in their entirety, as an organisation, the entirety of the Novus Ordo fake Catholic Church IS materially and demonstrably evil. And while a LOT of good people remain in it, through ignorance mostly, the same excuse cannot be held for their fake clerics. So of course one would think Catholicism is evil. And I did too. Because they fooled the whole world and what they practice now is the destruction of Catholicism. No one who does not remember Pious XII, who died on the 9th October 1958, has even ever seen or heard a Valid Pope. You’d have to be at least 80 today to have been ten when he died. Every “Pope” after him, every one of them since that day, has been an impostor. But that is a topic I cover in far more detail in Reclaiming The Catholic Church. In BELIEVE! I just cover the very basics in a way I never encountered when I was not Christian.
When I was a man that believed primarily in the concept of having a word, that is a man who kept his word, and had the concepts of honour, truth and justice, but no sense of any god whatsoever, and trusted only in reality as I saw it, and my wit and reflexes to navigate life. I had therefore spent my life in martial arts and doing whatever interested me most. I had spent time with many different women and even got married and divorced twice and all the pain and trouble that goes with that, and I’d hand plenty of extreme experiences in every respect, including supernatural ones that would have made any normal person believe at least something rather deeply. But nothing had moved me from my engineer’s and real scientist’s perspective of requiring empirical and objective, factual proof. I had theories. I could explain any of the supernatural events with multiple possibilities and ignore any subjective internal preference or feeling.
Being a little on the spectrum but high IQ does allow you to do that, objectively and fairly, which is why to the outside world they can sometimes assume I am some kind of sociopath, which is absolutely not the case, since it is not that I do not empathise or do not have feelings. I do, and they are usually stronger than most people’s because with a greater imagination also comes a greater ability to imagine the pain of others, but the advantage I have is a wiring of brain that means I cannot help but see the logic. The numbers. The cold reality behind it all. A little bit like Neo in the Matrix I suppose, while others get stuck in the emotions of the apparent situation, I have always been able to see the code flowing behind it. And then I can use that to get back into the apparent reality better armed and ready to take it on, which can make those more embedded in it assume I am some unfeeling alien. Capable and efficient beyond the norm, but unpredictable and at times apparently unfeeling to a degree that gives normal people a level of fear and discomfort they would rather avoid. And I, for my part, would rather avoid their frightened eyes and small minds too. I know they can’t help it and that it is me that is the “freak” from a statistical perspective, so their reaction is predictable and to be expected. But it is no less tiring for me.
Had I come across someone that had written BELIEVE! As I have —that dealt face on with the reality I saw every day and didn’t dodge the questions I had— in short, that would have presented the arguments as I have, and as I saw them, from someone that had done and been in and had done to them, everything from violence to fear, to love, and lust, and betrayal, to both pain and pleasure unexpected and surprising, perhaps I would have gone on to study the truth about Christianity sooner, and maybe I would have saved myself decades of unknowing search.
Well, in that respect, I think that little book BELIEVE! has succeeded. Many men and several women have now converted to Catholicism (the real one, Sedevacantist as we now need to specify in these times) in part at least because of that little book. And then have gone on to find their wife and marry her and now are awaiting the birth of their first child. These are all couples under thirty where the men range from being far from innocent, to generally originally fairly honest men if not necessarily pious.
In that respect then, BELIEVE! is more a text written for those men who wild and unafraid though they are, still have that sense of truth inside them, that will keep them seeking. Like me I guess, if you never stop, eventually it is true that you will find it. But it may take you twenty years or more than it should.
I wanted to help shorten that time. As far as I can tell —and honestly, to my great surprise— BELIEVE! Succeeded in that beyond my wildest dreams.
But some men (including me as I used to be) are really not interested in reading how some fool found God, and a Catholic God at that?! What nonsense. What a scam. Why would I pay some tenner or more for it, never mind read the stupid thing? No. I knew better! And besides, there is pussy to chase and women to fuck! Training and fighting to be had, and missions to accomplish! Fuck that kneeling fag and his cross.
Yeah. I been there too buddy-boy. So pick up your shield and run and charge. Go crashing into all the dragons and enemies, made of the illusion before us all. Fight hard now, mind. Don’t you slack off and be a weak-kneed bleeding faggot yourself now, you hear? No whining and self-pity when you get hurt and bleed like a bitch and are hurt and alone. No god before you, no god behind you, right? So get up. Stand. Fight hard you little bitch. Stop whining. So you go ahead and you do that. I guarantee, hard as you are, if you really do that without ever relenting, you will, in time, find the truth. And I can tell you three things about it now you might remember when you do:
First, it will take you a long time and it will hurt. You will learn and see and live through many things most men never do. But it will hurt and hurt bad. And when it does, if you quit, if you finally lie down and just die, you lose. You don’t get to find out the truth. This is the reality for most such men. The vast majority. But if you do make it, you will look back and see how long and how much error and pain you suffered that was unnecessary, and much worse, how much of it you caused in your zeal. In your honest search. In your best way… how so very wrong you were.
Second, you will know, even against your wish, against all your long-held beliefs, even if it were against the deep story of your ancestors you learned to love, against your best arguments and feelings, these two things: Jesus Christ is the King of Kings, the only King, and you owe him your eternal allegiance, and secondly, the Catholic Church is the only one that has always stated very clearly all of what that entails, and even the rules you don’t like have a logic and a reason and a divine sense to them, and following them can only result in good. There is a third little corollary to this, and it is that the Catholic Church is much reduced and only a few priests and bishops remain, they are called sedevacantists and hold to the eternal truth of their predecessors faithfully. The actual Vatican does not contain a single Catholic in it and is infested with Satanists and probably vast arrays of demons.
Third: you’ll think me a bastard for not having been more insistent that you read BELIEVE! Or at least G.K. Chesterton. But like you, I only found Chesterton after I already had my road to Damascus event.
Anyway, the fact remains many would not even look at BELIEVE! Almost on “principle” thinking I’m just another idiot/grifter/liar spouting Jesus nonsense.
But some of those guys might be interested in what I certainly was all my life: women.
Pretty, sexy women. Especially the ones willing and able to get naked with you and do all sorts of sexual stuff with you. And how to convince the ones not willing, to become more willing. Not in a bad way, not to just use them and get rid of them to hit some magic number of conquests. At least for me that was never a thing. I enjoyed women and I wanted our time together, brief or long, to be good and happy and fun for us both. Most women couldn’t keep up with me intellectually and very often physically too, so the long term stuff tended to become a kind of myth. A Shangri-La of legend, but I never became bitter or angry at women. I just treated them at the level they treated me, and moved on when they irritated me beyond a certain point, which in my case has always been a fairly low threshold, so… there was a lot of moving on. Originally, as a young man my intent was not to bang around as many women as possible. I just wanted one good one. Life just seemed to make that impossible for me. Or maybe me for them. So I just carried on. I wasn’t finding The One but hey, whatever, I was finding numbers two through to whatever, and enjoying the journey. But ideally, sure, I would have liked to find The One. And when I thought I had maybe found her a few times, it turned out to be a mirage. An illusion of my own mind, really. It was only AFTER, the road to Damascus event, only after that, that I realised how badly my own perspective in all this, women, sex, relationships, was lacking truth.
Not because I was such a liar or deceiver to women in general or any of them in particular. In fact, as a general rule I was brutally honest with them, which meant I was called a bastard more than a few times. The lack of truth was in my not having understood, or perhaps it is better to say in having forgotten, what the truth of love is.
We are all born with it originally (excepting maybe a few serious neurological malformations in the brain or soul).
I remember as a two or three year old playing in the dirt with this little girl my age, I still remember her name, Susanna. And I have since forgotten many of the names and even faces, of the women I have been inside of. So much so that I took to writing their names down at one point, because I knew otherwise I would never recall anything about them. Maybe not even any of the intimate moments. But I still remember little Susanna. Playing with her and feeling so content for that brief moment in my grandmother’s garden. Expecting nothing of her or her of me, and just being at peace and serene with her presence there to keep me company as we played. Even as a child my life was far from settled, so maybe it’s that, though I doubt it as I never saw the moving and travelling and changing country and all the rest of it as bad. It was all just a giant adventure, and I liked exploring, always have. So I really believe, as I look back now, to one of the very few clear memories I have from that age, now more than half a century behind me, that the sensation stayed with me so clear and so long because it was maybe the first time I truly experienced the real sensation of peace, and calm and calm joy that comes from love, unimpeded by anything else. Innocent, as two or three year olds are.
And that aspect, is not there anymore when you have fucked and fucked and fucked yourself into dozens of women and them into you, your heart and theirs battered and scarred by all the violent emotions of a life lived in the world and of the world, where the subtle truths of real meaning float alone only inside yourself, unable to connect with those of others except very briefly into a moment of brutal force you exert on each other to feel something. Where even the tender caresses are brutal and painful because ephemeral and not joined to each other’s hearts even when we might see them. You are there and I am here, there is no One.
So now I saw that. And I saw how I had lived and believed, and not for being a bad guy or having any bad intent, but how even so, my vision was so wrong. So mistaken. Honest. Brave even; persevering for certain at least, but alone almost always, even if not lonely. And just… mistaken. And then I took up to trying to read the Bible. And I read Ephasians. And Corinthians. And then I saw.
Then I remembered Susanna. And I knew.
I was always fascinated by astronomy. I have always understood from a very young age the distance between the stars. I was about four and certainly no older than six when I first understood what a light year was. And how far galaxies are from one another. Well, in that moment, in my bedroom at night, alone, in London, in that apartment on the Thames, the second one, not the nicer first one, after reading Ephasians, I sat there and realised how far I was from the truth of love.
That one person I had sought since I was sixteen, consciously, and then just as she became a blur of faces and bodies and orgasms.
My way of being, who I was, was so far from a man that could experience that kind of love, the real one, the one we all want and seek deep down, that I felt the distance between galaxies was short and nearby. I felt as if I was at the outer reaches of the know Universe and moving in the wrong direction anyway, the inertia and momentum of the Big Bang, making it so, regardless of my desire or even intent.
I knew then that at 43 or 44 years of age, either 10 or 11 years ago now, I forget the year but I suspect it was 2013, that I would never know that love I had unknowingly been looking for all my adult life. It simply was not possible for me. I was too far. Too far gone, too much seen and felt and experienced. There weren’t even any other humans out there, much less a woman that could or would love me that way or that I could love her that way, and she be able to experience it. It just was not a thing that could exist. I wasn’t bitter or angry or even very sad about it. A little lonely maybe, but not desperate or torn. Like an animal in a field. A dog alone somewhere with no owner and no pack. Like any animal alone. They feel a kind of something akin to mild sadness, the knowledge they are alone, but there is no sense of self-pity or tragedy. Just like getting wet in the rain. It just is.
And so I knew.
And I had seen and felt God by then, as much as any human being can without bursting into flames anyway, I guess. So I knew it was real and just how it was. And I carried on. I still had to work, and eat, and live, and yes, to fuck too. I carried on seeing women, but far less frequently and there were almost no one night stands any more. Not intentionally anyway. And I tried to put up with their nonsense calmly, because I could see now, who was I to judge them and their ways, after all? Me the voyager at the edge of the Universe. How much closer in their idiotic and irritating ways were they anyway compared to me, to a semblance of truth?
And I could not feel too much, anyway. Which paradoxically meant I spent more time with those women who are most damaged and irreparable. Their own errors of perception and life making them also… voyagers. Not as far lost as me, for they at least were ignorant of their condition. They may have not been all that far from the truth of love as I was, but their blindness meant they could not see the distance anyway. Nor could I explain it to them or even open their eyes. I could, at most, stay near them as best I could, if I could. It was another kind of loneliness. One I felt more than being simply alone by myself. The one woman I ended up spending the most time with in that twilight zone of the senses I was in for some years, was so damaged and hurt and broken, that I think there is a genuine possibility that she was at least partially possessed. She certainly exhibited aspects of it anyway. And whatever it was, emotional instability, or partial demonic influence, despite it, on some level, I did connect with her. It was fractured and partial and unhealthy probably, but on some level I did care for her, or I tried to anyway. Then I had a year in Venice. She came to visit a couple of times, but mostly I was alone and working, and I knew Venice would heal me in the most painful way possible, because that city is so beautiful it hurts. And to be there alone, walk its calles late at night, be alone in that splendour in spring and summer, and the mystic fog of autumn and winter, Christmas and New year alone, and my birthday and the ones of friends and family all far from me… it purifies your heart with beauty and calm.
And I started talking, messaging really, with a girl I had met almost a decade earlier. And just writing to each other on telegram. Sharing our lives and some things that happened in them. And so on.
The story with that possibly possessed woman ended badly. As I knew it probably would. And my work with the people that had me transfer to Venice ended in a similar fashion when I exposed to the owner that his managers were taking kickbacks.
In the films the guy who does that is the hero and wins, right? Well. I knew better, because I’d been in that position before, just not at the money I was getting paid this time. But money is just money. I like to have a clean shaven face mostly, and that requires looking in a mirror in the morning. I could have kept quiet and file false reports and would have had at least 100k stashed away which sure would be helpful now, and I don’t and I didn’t. So I kept my personal sense of honour (which I stress is only mine and may not even look remotely good to anyone else, but it is mine, and it works for me) and lost the money and the job. I moved back to London and then, that girl I had been talking to… well… we talked some more. In person. We went for dinner. We kissed. And then, one day, she just moved in. And yes, now we have 5 children between us, and yes I am no longer alone on the outer reaches of the Universe, but the whole impossible journey does not make any sense if you try to look at it with normal, human eyes. But that is where we all start from.
So I wrote Caveman Theory, to take the journey in the other way. Not after a fall, that like with Saul, blinded him for four days and then showed him God and made him a zealot that wrote half the New Testament as Paul.
That book I already wrote, and that’s BELIEVE!, and then I followed it with my attempt at doing a Thomas Aquinas, and laying out the case for the Catholic Church, and how to reclaim it in detail. And it is no wonder that both my books are both much smaller than the works produced by people they aspired to emulate (unconsciously until this very moment, and only in the dimmest sense, to form an analogy). I am no Paul, nor a Thomas Aquinas, but nevertheless those are the equivalent products insofar as my mind is able to emulate them.
Caveman Theory is the journey of the man who lives in the world and is of it and cares not for religion or God. All he knows are his senses and his untamed heart. And women (or men, if you are a woman). And if you are still a little bit human inside, however deeply buried, then, the thing you want, on some level, is to find that One.
And you may be blind. You may remain blind. But even so, in some way, even the wrong paths can lead to Rome. Honesty at least with yourself is a must, but perhaps, through your pursuit of love, in all the wrong places, through, lust, and emotion, and pain, heartache and sex, if you at least stay honest with yourself, and read the concepts in Caveman Theory, you will gently begin to see more and maybe your eyes will open when you see that ultimately, even with no God at all, with zero preaching on my side, just with the practical and the factual human truth before you, when it is stripped of all the lies, you will see a Truth that is larger than the mere whole. At least, that is my hope. And if not, well, then at least you’re still more likely to find a lasting relationship with the concepts in it than not.
Good luck soldier, or madam, as the case may be.
I hope my efforts are a help to you, it is, truly, the only reason I write anything, other than a small amount also for personal amusement (my last book In the Shadow of Monte Castello was mostly all just fun for me, but even then, a little of it was done for others too, even if less so than in any other book I have yet written so far).
But regardless of whether you ever buy a single one of my books or not, I sincerely hope you find your true Way. Your path. And that means the right people to share it with. And as far as I can tell, God intended for us to not be alone, so that means also that you find the right wife or husband for you, and are able to recognise her or him when you meet them, and not waste time in between.
God be with you in your search.
Adam has recently posted a couple of somewhat interesting articles that consider the prospect of sex before marriage, fornication, and the PUA mindset in general.
The key message I personally see as most relevant in the first one is the partial quote that derives from the reading of Goldwin Smith (a 19th Century historian) by the author of the piece Adam links to, JM Smith, which he however presents only in part, and I think deserves a fuller version of it:
He [Goldwin Smith] was appalled by the prospect of women’s suffrage, correctly foreseeing that it would make democratic politics even more emotional, and that Anglo Saxon men would be to soft, silly and spineless to stop it. He explained this as the dolorous result of gynæmania, a “disease” of the Anglo Saxon male that was characterized by a morbidly excessive craving for the good opinion of women. The word gynæmania was first coined as a scientific name for satyriasis, or a morbidly excessive craving for carnal knowledge of women, but Smith saw that slavery to sex was becoming slavery to the female sex.
The emphasis on Anglo-Saxon is mine, and I maintain it remains the key point of the article, as it was indeed in the post by JM Smith, and indeed Golden Smith’s original work, even if Adam did not seem to focus on it particularly. So keep this point about the Anglos in mind for later, we shall return to it.
The second article can be summed up as a strong and unequivocal advice —almost an order, really— to men, to not indulge in sex before marriage; and he takes a post by Rollo Tommasi as his jumping off point. Tommasi is somewhat “revered” in PUA circles as being one of the grandfathers of the PUA movement. Personally, though I have weird hobbies, and looking at PUAs and their thirst for raping incels’ wallets was one of many such entertainments, I have never found Tommasi to be especially insightful of much of anything. And the article Adam links to is definitely of the stupidly degenerate category, although my take on things is considerably different from Adam’s in many respects.
Rollo’s post is a car-crash of bullshit and lies and simply illogical nonsense and deserves a point by point take-down even just on its own (non-existent) supposed merits. And… because… you know how I said I have weird hobbies? And typing doesn’t hurt me, I’m going to do just that right here below, between the fancy page breaks. If you don’t care (which is absolutely fine), or if you can’t hold a key point in your mind for more than 3 minutes, or are particularly pious and find vulgarity distatesful, then avert your eyes and skip the Rollo Tommasi take-down below, and scroll to the second fancy page break.
The key points by the way, so far are:
Rollo in fog-fart grey background your friendly host in standard text.
Rollo, do you think “Body Count” matters?
Absolutely. And the higher, the better. I need a girl who’s DTF (down to fuck) from the jump. For guys after 50, all that pretentious bullshit about long-term commitment should melt away to sexual expediency. It’s not about experience or some contrived want for a virgin bride. It all comes down to guys who fuck and guys who don’t. If we’re talking from the perspective of evolutionary effectiveness, women (and men) with higher body counts are effectively proven commodities in a sexual economy.
The sexually unfulfilled and deprived Rollo tells us several things right in the first paragraph:
UPDATE: I stand corrected! He’s been married since he was 28, which means I was completely correct about his being a fraud with regard to his “experience” with bedding women, it’s literally all made up theory. And since I did not “correct” any of the subsequent points after this point, you can verify immediately that I really did not know anything about this guy besides read maybe 10 lines of his stuff over the last decade and concluding he was irrelevant, and secondly, that my dissection of his nonsense post is spot on, despite this.
“Oh, oh! but you say he is sexually unfulfilled and deprived, when he clearly has (or had) sex with a lot of women, you’re just bitter!”
No, young Padawan, pay attention now:
Firstly: PUAs LIE. And Lie spectacularly about their “body count” trust me on this, I looked into the subspecies of “male” that labels themselves as PUAs in some depth. Feel free to use the Search Me button on the right there. (heh… in light of my not bothering to research Rollo at all and then it turns out he was married the whole time he pretended to be a “player” this is kind of hilarious.)
Secondly: Let’s in any case ass-u-me Rollo does indeed still have regular sex with random hotties every week. Even if that were the case, considering by his own supposed “reality” he has been doing that for 30 years or so, you have to wonder… what can he possibly still be chasing? As regular readers of this blog will know, I am no stranger to the female form myself, and went through a lot of women in a short period of time after I gave up essentially on long-term relationships. And after a few years of it, I tell you, I was essentially bored of it. And no, I am not a guy with low T or lack of energy or any difficulty in securing a regular flow of pretty, usually above average intelligence, women to my bed. I assure you, my pointing this out comes from having lived that way and not any kind of misplaced envy, lack of understanding, or inexperience at the “thrill” of a new woman under me. The fact is that only a man that has yet to fill the hole in his soul can continue to behave this way, in the erroneous belief that if he just beds enough women, somehow, at some point, he will feel fulfilled. Don’t get me wrong, there is some truth to the fact that if you become able to essentially pick up women for sex almost at will, it does give you a certain… I am not even sure what to call it, but I guess… level of general life confidence would be it. But in reality it has little to do with how many women you take to bed and more with your attitude when with a woman. There are men that have this sense of confidence innate to them and only marry and stay with one woman for their entire lives, and there are men that may go through some women to realise they have it already. It’s a little like martial arts. There are guys who never take a class but in a certain circumstance will not hesitate to fight back, and there are guys who need to go training for a while to feel strong in their sense of justice, or whatever. The reality is that a man who forever chases sex with an ever growing number of women, is simply a malformed man. He is not, I assure you a self-actualised man, to borrow a Maslowian term. He is like the perennial teenager, still trying to be “cool” at 70. Or if you prefer, he’s like the Boomers, who keep insisting 80 is the new 40, or whatever. And that is no way for a grown man to be.
Third: Remember that point about the Anglos being far more desperate in general for female approval than say, well, your average dago, spic, South American, Greek… oh look… it’s a divide between Protestant and Catholic or Orthodox religions… again. Things that make you go hmmmm, eh?
Are you starting to understand what I mean by deprived and unfulfilled yet? (It seems clear he wishes he was a “player” which he clearly is not, and never was so…)
Guys who don’t fuck spend lifetimes consoling themselves with moral high-ground narratives to explain why they don’t fuck. At least 80% of guys don’t fuck, so there’s a lot of narrative inbreeding and self-congratulatory bullshit passed around among them. This bullshit has been de rigueur for millennia, but in the social media age, it’s an obvious cope. We’re just more aware of it now.
Of course, the best narratives are the ones that make guys who don’t fuck feel good about not fucking while simultaneously making guys who do fuck feel bad about fucking. This disqualification tactic is one of the many forms of bloodless intrasexual competition tactics that 80%er men have consoled themselves with since the Middle Ages. If you can make your intrasexual rival feel guilty about fucking – because God hates fucking for any reason besides making babies – then you have a tactical advantage in the sexual economy. It works even better if you can gaslight a superior sexual rival to believe he (or she) is going to Hell if he pursues his biological imperative to his fullest potential.
Good God. Talk about gaslighting. If you take him at his word, Rollo is saying that fucking, just that, fucking, not procreating, not making children, just fucking, as many women as possible, is what makes life worthwhile. I have met men like this. Several PUAs are like this, and let me tell you, they are absolutely pathetic. They are a kind of Gollum about pussy in general. My Preciousssss they say, obsessed, salivating, masturbating furiously, whether alone or inside someone else, and that is all that their lives revolve around.
He also further blurts out obvious absolute lies, imputing 80% of men in the Middle Ages did this thing: which was about telling you that way to live (that he thinks is the epitome of existence) is a shallow, discivilisational, unfulfilling, unhealthy way to exist, and not live at all, and they did it to prevent other men from having sex with lots of women. This is complete nonsense, since most men in the middle ages got married, did not have lots of partners, and raised children with their wives, and in the Catholic world at least (which was the ONLY Christianity), most marriages lasted literally until death parted them.
According to him, the entire structure of the Catholic Church was set up so the celibate priests could get all the poonani. It’s ridiculous on its face, ahistorical, and frankly smacks of Gollum-like backward rationalisation that would make a crack whore trying to justify her habit blush with shame.
Generally, lesser men cannot openly challenge greater men (men who fuck) in physical prowess. So, more intelligent men who don’t fuck contrived forms of social gaslighting to improve their chances of reproducing. Smarter lesser men have always devised workarounds to solve their reproductive problems. It’s actually one of the strengths of our species. Nothing sparks innovation quite like a man solving his proximate need for sex and his ultimate need to reproduce. And nothing has been more expedient a tactic than convincing a greater man that he ought to disqualify himself from the sexual economy.
According to Rollo, the Gammas have been “successful” throughout the ages at getting Alpha men to not reproduce. Oh, no, sorry, to fuck, for the sake of fucking alone; reproduction be damned. Once again, anyone who has actually been successful with women over a period of some years, can tell you this is absolute bullshit, and it makes me suspect Rollo, like so many PUAs after him, is likely also full of shit about his supposed sexual prowess with women. It doesn’t matter what the Gammas do. Alphas and Sigmas (that are that way inclined, some Sigmas are not) will be with women sexually even if you imposed the death penalty for doing so. And they would still find ways to get away with it. Gammas have never been very successful at anything really, except being annoying, redundant, and getting women to avoid them like radioactive plague. And notice also that for Rollo the sole qualifier of what makes a man “great” is how high his body count is. Truly it is so pathetically ridiculous that it makes me laugh at both the stupidity of it, and Rollo’s own intrinsic amoeba-like existence. And while he wants very much to paint my view of this as some sort of “envy”, there really is absolutely zero of any such intent or reality in my perspective. It is genuinely the somewhat ironic mild amusement one gets from watching a complete fuckwit trying to be clever and spectacularly showing his ass to the world for the fuckwit he really is.
The problem is, guys who fuck are usually too preoccupied with the logistics of fucking to be bothered by the self-loathing moralism of guys who don’t fuck. At least, that’s how it’s been in a post-Sexual Revolution sexual economy. If it ain’t broke, fixing it isn’t even an afterthought. When you watched the now infamous AMOGing scene in The Wolf Of Wall Street where Leonardo Di Caprio swoops Margot Robbie from a trust fund yuppie, you’re really watching the intrasexual combat between a guy who fucks and a guy who doesn’t. It’s how human males lock horns over sexual access in rutting season. The only thing a guy who doesn’t fuck has in his arsenal is his cunning and nerve.
The emphasis is added by me to point out yet again another logical fallacy. The men who are successful with women do not preoccupy themselves with the logistics of fucking at all, beyond possibly getting their maid, sister, or slutty FWB, to change their semen-stained bedsheets from the night before, because they have a new girl coming over. Literally every man I have known that was… well… a “guy who fucks” like Rollo wants to put it, gave his interactions with women less consideration than he did his enjoyment of a film with a good friend, or his sport of choice, or reading a book he was into. The fact Rollo does not know this, again, makes me suspect he is not quite the lady-killer he presents himself as.
This is why body count only matters to guys who don’t fuck. Their moral crisis isn’t about their inability to find a virgin bride. Guys who don’t fuck couldn’t give two shits about whether a woman’s ability to pair bond with him is impaired by her body count. All they really want is the kind of sex women give to guys who do fuck but never need the ‘value added’ benefits he had to qualify for to get her to fuck him. You see, the gaslighting goes both ways – outwardly towards a sexual rival and inwardly to convince himself that his purpose is righteous. Moralizing over body count is as much about the guy wagging his finger at women as it is about their indiscriminate fucking. There’s actually nothing indiscriminate about it, but sour grapes and making your necessity a virtue are necessary to make Strategic Pluralism an unfalsifiable sexual strategy.
There is a hint of truth to this paragraph, but it is presented as the only absolute, which, as usual, is nonsense. Most men in general actually do care about body-count for any woman they would consider as a long term partner, and at times even for ones they would consider only for a temporary fling. The fact Rollo does not know this, is a clear indication that he is still at the teenager level of sexual immaturity.
Strategic Pluralism Theory
According to strategic pluralism theory (Gangestad & Simpson, 2000), men have evolved to pursue reproductive strategies that are contingent on their value in the mating market. More attractive men accrue reproductive benefits from spending more time seeking multiple mating partners and relatively less time investing in offspring (guys who fuck).
In contrast, the reproductive effort of less attractive men, who do not have the same mating opportunities (guys who don’t fuck), is better allocated to investing heavily in their mates and offspring and spending relatively less time seeking additional mates.
From a woman’s perspective, the ideal is to attract a partner who confers both long-term investment benefits and genetic benefits (true hypergamy). Not all women, however, will be able to attract long-term investing mates who also display heritable fitness cues (guys who fuck). Consequently, women face trade-offs in choosing mates because they may be forced to choose between males displaying fitness indicators or those who will assist in offspring care and be good long-term mates (Gangestad & Simpson, 2000).
The most straightforward prediction that follows is that women seeking short-term mates when the man’s only contribution to offspring is genetic should prefer muscularity more than women seeking long-term mates.
from Why Is Muscularity Sexy? Tests of the Fitness Indicator Hypothesis
Guys who fuck are usually typified by physique. Usually.
All that theory says is what has been known since the dawn of time. Women want the fittest and most successful male to breed with, and those types of men have unlimited options so tend to make use of them. Also, water is wet.
Much as I despise Destiny, the guy DOES fuck. Maybe not like Justin Waller, Jason Momoa, or Mike Sartain, but he certainly ruts like a feral animal compared to Ben Shapiro. Guys who fuck don’t sit around comparing dick sizes or bask in the glow of the imaginings of the third-party validation they get from filling a void in their souls/egos by fucking. These are tropes that guys who don’t fuck tell themselves to explain why guys who do fuck are fucking the women they’ll eventually fuck because those women ran out of options. The concept of fucking for some ephemeral form of validation is part of that gaslighting I mentioned above.
Here we see a rather convoluted bit of chaff-firing, self-delusion and gaslighting in order to justify and rationalise both to himself and the world, his ultimately meaningless way of existing.
He says guys who have his (supposed) lifestyle do not worry about their image which can be “true” to the extent that some men do not care how their womanising makes them look to other men (or in some cases to women too) or society in general, but they tend to be the exceptions, most Alpha types do care about the way they are perceived, and in any case, they all care at least about what women, or at least any given woman in particular, at a point in time, thinks of them, if only to get them in bed. It is also generally true that men who are successful with women do not tend to over-analyse themselves (unless they are PUAs) but the fact remains there is a deeply unfulfilled part of them, whether they realise it or not consciously, that has quite a lot to do with needing to feel loved, and paradoxically, their womanising tends to almost ensure they are ostracised from that very sensation they crave (consciously or not).
But ultimately he ends with yet another nihilist absolute. According to him, such men (as he presents himself to supposedly be) fuck for… just the orgasm I guess. They don’t do it for any self-validation, they don’t do it for love, they don’t do it for procreation, they don’t do it for long term companionship… right Rollo, nice of you to finally admit (if passively aggressively like a whiny bitch) that all people like you do, is really masturbate themselves to death, and it really makes little difference if you do it alone or with a human you empathise with about the same as you do with your no-doubt well-used fleshlight.
It’s intended to get your genetic superior to disqualify himself by contemplating his filling the void of existence with meaningless sex. Meaning plays another big role in the game of guys who don’t fuck. “Meaning” is a container word. It’s a term you can subjectively fill with anything you like. Even fucking if you’re clever about it. Meaning is intentionally ambiguous, and that’s what makes it so effective in being unfalsifiable. As a rule, gaslighting depends on unfalsifiable concepts, but meaning is one of the capstones. Any time you listen to some child on the Fresh & Fit podcast prattle on about how she’s living her truth, you’re listening to a variation of the meaningfulness horseshit.
And here Rollo doubles down on the idea that his life has no meaning. None whatsoever. All there is, is the fuck, for the sake of the fuck, the ultimately masturbationary orgasm for the sake of the orgasm itself, not any other reason. Not self-validation, not self-improvement, not marriage, not reproduction, nope, nope, nope, just the ever omnipresent “fuck”.
Do you see why I compared him, and people like him, to Gollum?
Guys who don’t fuck, like Ben Shapiro and Jordan Peterson, are actually the ones who need validation. Because soul-void fulfillment means confronting the reality that they’ll never enjoy the uninhibited feral lust their wives reserved for the men in their past who fucked. Men who never had to prove their value-added bona fides to fuck the women who would become their wives. Men who don’t fuck live lives of ceaselessly qualifying for a desire they know their wives were capable of with other men but can’t seem to provoke themselves. This is why validation is a thing for guys who don’t fuck – and women who need a Jungian term to explain why guys who do fuck won’t fuck them.
And now he takes the doubled down absolute idiocy to truly stupefying levels. According to him, the men who “fuck” are the be-all and end-all of life, the utter epitome of manly manness. Yes, there is some truth to the self-soothing half-truths and lies men and women tell themselves for not being as successful in the sexual marketplace, but what Rollo tries desperately to shove under the carpet with his tracer-firing barrage at what he considers “inferior” men is the question: What, exactly, are the men who “fuck” better for, or at, in life? And the ONLY thing Rollo keeps coming up with is the purpose of “the fuck” itself. Which is, of course, either ridiculous or nihilistic and pathetic to a suicidal degree. And we know more than one PUA has gone the suicide route too. (And as it happens, Rollo himself turns out to be one of the guys who “does not fuck”, in his own terminology, which according to him, makes him the same as Ben Shapiro. Well… I got nothing, the man is entirely a fraud whichever way you look at it.)
Guys who don’t fuck are the dutiful, loyal, supportive, and nameless husband who Rosehad children and grandchildren with, yet pined for Jack (a guy who fucks) and dropped a priceless diamond to the bottom of the sea in the final moments of her life at the end of Titanic. Hypergamy doesn’t care about the moral crises and ethical concerns of guys who don’t fuck. Validation and body count are just two heads of a conjoined twin. They haven’t gotten the memo that their 20th-century moralism-as-strategy is meaningless in a 21st-century sexual marketplace.
Ah yes. Using Titanic as the masterpiece of philosophy that it clearly was, and making the vapid, stupid, callous, utterly self-absorbed narcissist Rose, the “heroine” of the piece, because she throws away a fortune she could have given to her progeny, in quintessential, wicked, super-boomer format, is indeed, a bold strategy, Rollo! Not a good one, valid or sensible one, but certainly “bold”. As in the same kind of “bold” that would stick his dick in a bar-cutting industrial machinery to “prove his manliness”.
Body count only matters to nameless husbands who don’t fuck. It doesn’t matter to anywoman because they would rather fuck a lot of Jacks on a sinking ship than be bothered by the purity (paternity) concerns of guys who don’t fuck. Guys who fuck don’t care about body count because they know women hate guys who don’t fuck, and those guys care about body count.
Again, it is quite obvious that Rollo protesteth too much here, as he has throughout the entire vapid, ageing PUA post.
Rollo is the male equivalent of a post-wall woman who has ridden the cock-carousel so long she is now left on the shelf. And Rollo is the post-wall “bad-boy” (assuming he ever really actually was one at all) who is left with spent cigarettes, a ruggerised fleshlight, wrinkles, and increasingly creeping despair, at the beginning of the end of a life wasted on ephemera.
FINAL UPDATE: As I said right from the start, PUAs lie, and as it happens Rollo lied about pretty much everything concerning his supposed “ability” concerning women, and he advises men to do the exact opposite of what he himself has done, which is to stay married to one woman for 26 years. If he had been the ladykiller he presented himself as, the above vivisection would be absolutely correct, and as it happens, remains so, regarding the fictional would-be Rollo. And since he is an absolute fraud that advises others to go down a path he knows nothing about and leads to nothing good long term, one can hardly imagine anything he has to say is relevant or worthwhile. Even by his own (retarded) “measuring stick” Rollo himself is the exact guy who “does not fuck” that he so denigrates in his post. And yet he also advises against being married. So… what exactly is Rollo, what does he actually have to say that is relevant, or true, or valid?
Right, now after that vivisection, let us return to the original points, which are that:
And seeing what that says about men who chase after women for sex and so on in general terms and in spiritual terms.
First of all, I think the point about Anglos being afflicted by gynæmania is a real thing. The English speaking world of the Anglos is indeed, culturally, regardless of whether British (though these are the epicentre of it) Australian, New Zealand, Canadian, or even the more Anglecised parts of America, tends to be irrelevant, as a people, they tend to be grossly united by the Protestant Zeitgeist and a kind of fear/intimidation/shyness of women in general.
Certainly none of the Catholic countries suffer from this to anywhere near the extent the English people do. And it has been this way for centuries. The writings of Italian travellers to England recounts the same view of things that we Southern European tend to have even today of the English men and the English women.
I believe in part it is due to the nefarious influence of Protestantism, as it is an invariably mechanising of humanity and the minute you do that, the first errors will be with your understanding/handling/appreciation of women, because human females are in a way the very embodiment of the chaos of humanity at its best and its worst, and any reduction at binarium pensierum (binary thinking) will invariably produce vast errors in your model of reality with respect to women. And as such they will become only more mystifying, unpredictable and dangerous for you. The other part is due to the fact that as a rule, the Anglos tend to be a logical and shy people, neither of which quality lends itself particularly well to being easy-going in relation to women, who as a rule are not logical and only pretend to be shy in the company of men, if at all.
For such men, the eventual “ability” to bed a lot of women does in fact begin to become a form of validation for them. It remains essentially a false one, but one they believe in and buy into as much as the people they try to convince around them.
These are the men that despite having slept with a hundred or even a few hundred women or more, remain nevertheless prey to their own desire for women and susceptible to how they are perceived by the women they are attracted to. They invariably appear as what the Zoomers call “cringe” to men who have the self-assuredness internally that these Anglo types seek perennially, and hardly ever find. I have known men that only had two women as sexual partners, the first was their wife and the second also their wife, after the first one died, and yet these men would have zero problem genuinely attracting almost any woman they set their eyes on, and they would do so free of the anxiety and self-doubt that plagues the supposed ladies men with hundreds of notches on their belts.
For me, discovering I was able to get women to have sex with me successfully, was not self-actualising in any way. It was more like discovering I had a natural aptitude for fencing, or skiing. A kind of pleasant surprise about something I never really gave much thought to one way or the other. And a good part of why I was successful has very much to do with the fact that that is pretty much how I treated it, not because I wanted to pose as such a person, but because I am such a person. And I cannot with certainty say what makes a man that way or not. I think at least some of it is genetic, but life experiences probably formed in childhood also has something to do with it.
And if I had to give it my best guess, I would say it is probably mostly due to whether your relationship with your parents, and primarily your father, was honest and direct and loving or not. The English sense of “logical detachment” I think is ultimately damaging to children, which is why the entire Anglosphere is a fucking mess of feral youfs with no sense, no honour, no dignity, or discipline to speak of, and increasingly illiterate at that.
The more instinctual and visceral love of an Italian father, who may well kick your ass, literally, for some small or even wrong reason, but who would unquestioningly jump into a harvesting combine to save you, is a far healthier way to be raised than the cold logic of the Anglo-Saxons. And instills in you a profound sense of self-assuredness that I think nothing else does. And that sense comes through to women like a lighthouse in the dark, whether they are aware of it or not consciously (mostly not).
I hope this explains the reason why some men, regardless of how many women they have slept with, ultimately remain on some level… uncertain. Doubtful. Unfinished. And women can in fact sense that.
Now, let us get to the concept of fornication in general and so on, which in fairness, was the topic that Adam was trying to cover, and to which, my extremely long preamble above is merely introduction to give you my context.
First of all, let me state unambiguously that yes, in an ideal world, the way that the Catholic Church says we should behave, both as men and women is indeed, the best and ideal way. No question. I unreseveredly agree.
That said, being as I am Catholic, and being as I lived like a heathen for at least 43 years of my time on Earth, and given that I made no attempt to resist temptations of the flesh in that time, I think I can say with some authority that:
So, if unmitigated fornication is the equivalent of a blind and deaf man walking towards a cliff-face, how can I possibly begin to even make him aware of this truth? The temptations of the flesh after all are not a fairy tale. They are very much real, and they certainly never felt bad or sinful to me when I indulged deeply in them, nor, do I expect they feel that way to the average 20-something or even 30-something year old male that is “finally getting some!”
And while Adam and people like him, including Catholic Priests and Bishops are absolutely correct that it is a damaging thing, it’s not as if I had not heard that sort of preaching when I was indulging deeply in fornication and then some.
And my reaction to it all was usually, something like, Eh, poor bastard isn’t getting any and he either doesn’t know what he’s missing, or maybe would like, much as the feminists, everyone to be as miserable as him.
And I expect any young man that has got this far (if any have) in this long post, is probably thinking the same thing, and they also do not have a counter-example as a reference frame. Not one they have lived certainly, because that counter example you only get once you are married, and fully committed to one woman, and she is to you too.
It sort of feels like a lie. Oh, don’t you have any fun now, boy, you just wait and just take the ONE sweet, and only that one, for the rest of your life, and trust us, it’s better this way. With all the bullshit you have ingested by age 20, and your at least seeing some of it (if you are not completely retarded) one can hardly be blamed for thinking this too is a massive lie.
And because I am Catholic, and because I have also the example of my own life, and the awesomeness of a real priest that Baptised, Confirmed and presided over my Marriage, and had the benefit of his wisdom and kindness, I also understand that fallen as we are, erroneous as we are, mistaken as we are, we are not necessarily evil or shunning God. We are just wrong. Badly, desperately, tragically, sadly, wrong, but mostly just wrong, not intentionally evil. And we are sad, weak, feel unloved and uncared for by anyone and we try, like drowning rats, to scrabble some sense of worth and love and kindness, wherever there is any illusion we might find some. And so we make mistakes.
And most of you reading this who are unmarried will be in the midst of those mistakes, and I am not here to chastise you, or rain thunder and fire and brimstone and judgement from God on your weighted and desperate heads. Far from it.
I was one of you. I walked your path deeper and longer in the swamp of godless life than most. So, young man, if you will, after this very long set of words, take a seat near my camp-fire and let me tell you a story and may it help you navigate your own swamp, and may it be shallow and brief.
So you are fornicating. So you may even like a girl you are with and be boyfriend and girlfriend, and you may even be thinking how it would be nice if it will last. Or maybe you’re so infatuated with the sensations of sex that a new girl every week or every day or two, or whatever, is intoxicating and draining all your thoughts and actions, wallet and testicles. Whatever the case may be, listen to this and think it over:
What do you want for your life? What do you want to think about your life when you are 99 years old and on your rocking chair and you can see the grim reaper finally walking towards you? And you’re fine with it and smile at him even, recognising that this supposedly terrible and fearful boogeyman is nothing more than a tired and misunderstood boatman, taking you across the veil (or the river Styx if you prefer).
Do you think you will be pleased reminiscing over your 287 sexual conquests, aided by your printed out spreadsheet in large letter format, because your eyes are no longer what they used to be? Playing out the sex tapes on the projector of your study to remember better what you did or felt or what they did? Or who they even were? Do you think that will warm your heart as you face the final journey?
Or your sporting achievements?
Or your financial ones, absent children and grandchildren to leave it to?
Tell me, young man, what do you think will make you able to face the final boatman with serenity and peace?
I’ll tell you what it is for me now and what I hope it will be for me at 105, but I say only 105 because I started late, otherwise 99 would be perfectly acceptable to me too. And yes, I know I’d be lucky to get there.
It is the idea of my children grown up and married and with children of their own, and doing well, and if God grants me the energy and the fortune to do so, the idea of leaving them as much as I possibly can, to make their lives and those of their children good ones.
It is the idea of watching my grandchildren and possibly even my great-grandchildren (hence 105!) running around nearby, screaming and making noise and playing joyfully and laughing full belly-laughs and thinking my sons and daughters and their wives and husbands are good women and men who will be with them to the end of their days and help them raise the next lot of joyous Crusaders for God, Truth and Justice, as my family line has done since the literal original First Crusade.
Now you may have a different religion from me (because you’re still young and stupid, heh, heh, heh) but I don’t think it changes the equation. I don’t think it changes it at all.
And here is what else I think. I think if what I just told you is NOT what inspires you, is abhorrent to you in some way, then I hope very much it’s only because, as I said, you’re young, and really fucking stupid, and you have bought in to a lot of Boomer-era lies, And I sincerely hope you grow out of your mental retardation.
And if not, if that is who you really are, then fuck you. I hope you die young and rid the world of another noxious creature that only spoils the Earth and everything on it. And I’m not talking about climate change, you fuckwit.
Now, if you get the impression that I am a kind of bastard for an old man, I would say, fuck you at the “old man” I can probably still kick your ass at 54 if you are in your twenties, depending on some factors, but that aside, yeah, I am not the most pleasant human being. I don’t like humans much because mostly they are weak, and because they are weak they lie. And they lie a lot. They lie to themselves first and then to everyone else around them. And the lies cause the harm. They cause ALL the harm. Which is as the god of this world wants it. Because this Earth is under the dominion of Satan. And no, young man, I don’t give a shit if you think “The Devil” is a superstition. He is more real than the heart-attack all the poor imbeciles that took the genetic serum are probably facing in the not too distant future.
Oh, and this is just a side note, but listen up: The Earth is NOT Flat!
And if you think it is you are a stupid bastard and I really don’t care what happens to you and with a level of stupidity that high it is definitely a better thing if you do not pass on those retarded genes at all.
Back to my story, now.
So, if you agree with me so far, then you also must realise that you get that kind of old-age satisfaction only if you make children and raise them well. And this means finding and marrying a woman that will also want to be with you until one or both of you die and raise children together. No matter what difficulties you will both face. No matter if you are so fucking stupid one day to fuck your secretary, or hire a prostitute, or become a heavy drinker, or make a bad business decision and lose your shirt. And conversely, no matter if she is so fucking stupid to spread her legs for the sexy postman, or her co-worker, or the neighbour, or she becomes a heavy drinker, or more worried about what the neighbours think of you and her than looking after her husband and children, or she splashes out on stupid shit and drives you to the brink of bankruptcy.
So is it easy to find such a woman? No.
Is it easy to stay married to such a woman, delightful as she might be? No.
Will you come across things in life that will hurt you in ways you never imagined, and that would seem to make leaving her a better option? Yes.
More than once? In all likelihood, yes.
And will she come across such things? Yes, without shadow of a doubt, and probably even more often than you.
And if you are thinking right now, Well Old Man, this is a really rosy picture you’re painting for me, what the fuck do you want me to do, and is the light at then of the tunnel also an oncoming train?
I say this to you:
Firstly fuck you twice for the Old Man again, you wet behind the ears know-nothing. Secondly, it’s not rosy. It’s just how it is, so you know what you’re facing. Forewarned is forearmed as they say. What I want you to do is immaterial. It’s what you want to do, or not do, that matters. Realise whether you pick something, or pick nothing, you’re still picking something. So choose, and choose consciously, because at least then you got no one to blame but yourself.
Oh, and yeah, in the end, the light at the end of the tunnel is always an oncoming train. Sometimes it’s got a boatman riding up front. Smile and run at it, because fuck the train. Live like a man and die like one too if need be.
So now you might be thinking, Ok Old Man, so how do I find such a woman?
And I say to you, firstly, fuck you three times for the Old man. Secondly, unless you have uncommon good luck, unless God for some reason decides to send you an Angel in disguise as a human woman, most likely, you cannot find such a woman walking the Earth today.
Young man stares blankly at me.
You have to build her.
Young man says: What?
You have to build her, boy. You find one that is as close as you can find to a finished product, and I sincerely advise you to find one that is in your category of looks. If you are a 7 don’t try and stay with a 9. You’ll be so worried about keeping her that you will fuck up a myriad things and she will end up fucking your “best friend”, the neighbour, your boss, her boss, and if you did marry her, she will take the kids and your house too when she inevitably divorces you.
Take your time in your courtship. Learn who she is and pay attention to what she does and how she acts in various situations and feel free to almost totally ignore whatever she says she is like. You can really only go badly wrong if you believe her when she describes all her good qualities. Pay her words no mind. Observe her actions instead.
If you feel you have enough to work with (at least 51% good is a minimum) then begin to go about leading by example. Do NOT request of her efforts or sacrifices you are not willing to exceed. And yes, some things are not comparable on a like for like basis, because she is a woman and you are a man, you can no more give birth or breastfeed your child than she can write the alphabet in the snow when urinating, and don’t think the one is equivalent in value to the other, but realise that as a general rule, women can provide three things to a man:
And a man generally provides three things for a woman:
So do your part and gently show her the way, so she feels better about herself, as women invariably do when they begin to act in accordance with their God-given, biological imperatives, that have been subverted by lies for the last hundred plus years or so.
That’s about it, boy.
And if you are still wondering where this puts you in the fornication scale, well, to not put too fine a point on it, according to the Church, until you marry and commit, your fornication is going to send you to Hell. So I would hurry up and get to finding that woman as quick, yet also as careful, as you can. And try not to get hit by a bus until you get married to her and repent and foreswear your heathen and fornicating ways, you miserable sinner.
And if you have any brains at all, about now, young man, you might be having a little smile at the apparently hypocritical, arrogant, bastard, old man in front of you.
And fuck you four times for the Old Man.
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Is Reality Offensive?
It’s a serious question.
Are you offended by objective facts?
Indisputable reality?
The weather?
The sun rising in the East?
The Earth being a round giant ball that floats in space?
Because if and when the answer is yes, then, you really need to take on board one more, indisputable fact: You are an idiot.
Ponder this, if you can, until you realise two things:
1. Stop being an idiot, and
2. Realise how many people around you actually ARE idiots.
Here is a little fact that might upset some people. Use as required.
You might be interested in the following posts:
By G | 4 April 2024 | Posted in Actual Science, Brain-Mind Functionality, Social Commentary