I recently had yet the umpteenth comment from one of the MGTOW incels that thank God, are self-selecting for their DNA being removed from the gene pool, who, as usual, whined and bitched like the mewling excuse for a man that they invariably are, that you should “protect yourself” from women, divorce and children.
I mean, seriously, these guys make the most flamboyant homosexual look like a paragon of manliness. I also find it extremely funny and interesting that when I invariably thank them and encourage them to absolutely stick to their guns and never change their mind; that is, to make sure they NEVER reproduce and thankfully end their weak and irrelevant line of DNA, they tend to get irate and immediately begin both LOLing in text and trying to insult me, my children and wish death upon them. Truly, it demonstrates being a shadow of a doubt that they are simply absolute cowards, involuntary celibate and incapable of attracting a woman at all and are unlikely to ever do so. And like feminists try to convince other, better looking, sexier, more feminine women to become as miserable as they are, the MGTOW movement is essentially the same thing for men.
Imagine being so weak, so incompetent, so scared of life that you don’t even bother to TRY and find a good woman and make a family. Imagine being such a wuss that you whine and cry about “the gubment” not being on your side. When has it ever been on the side of actual men? Government, as Lysander Spooner pointed out a couple of centuries ago, is simply a coalition of the most violent thugs who take things by force. And they eventually get organised and call themselves government. They are composed of the laziest, most fraudulent, cowardly, vicious parasites humanity has ever created. And while in times long past sometimes these men were the result of courageous warriors taking leadership roles, and it meant from time to time their tyrannical exploits were at least mostly just, today, they are invariably toadies and worm-tongues. And have been for at least a couple of centuries for sure. So, which man, that still has his own set of testicles attached really sits there and whines about “…the government should make it easier for me to…(fill in the blank)”.
What a bunch of useless oxygen thieves they are.
Anyway, now that I have mentioned how I feel about these idiots, allow me to point out one of the infinite benefits of having children.
The littlest one, who has blue eyes like her mom, since my own mother also had blue eyes, has got a serious case of Daddy-itis. So much so that my wife has said if it wasn’t for the fact she breastfeeds, this little one would forget she exists.
The hugs and cuddles and laughter she exhibits just from simple things is amazing. As soon as she wakes up her first word is “daddy!” and then a rush to hug me and give me some kisses. Her first complete sentences are along the lines of asking her brother and mother “Where is daddy?”
She has the ability to interrupt practically anything I am doing by simply saying “Daddy…?” meaning she would like me to notice her and take time with her. The other day her eldest sister was playing a game with her, which consisted of her running towards her sister, then getting picked up and thrown in the air a little. She loved it and carried on doing it but required me watching each run. When I got distracted by missing one of the runs, she ran up to me and gently slapping my leg was like: “daddy, daddy… ook!”
She misses the L from look still.
Each one of them has their own way, the boy invariably asks me if he can help. I gave him the electric pruners the other day, standing over him and making sure he had both hands on them and instructing him all the way as he cut little branches of a bush I was clearing from near the fish pond. I didn’t let it go on too long because his mother was clearly having palpitations watching him snip branches that were several times the size of his fingers. Even so, I can see why farmer’s kids help around the farm by age five or six. A friend of mine was driving the tractor for his dad at age eight, and it was more difficult because he’s a little guy and he could barely reach the pedals. The point is that the natural way of doing things explains why people that were 13 or 14 years old even led armies a few centuries ago. We have been a few generations of molly-coddled, cotton-ball wrapped, bunch of weaklings for at least seven or eight decades now, but I am seeing how simply growing up in touch with nature helps our children return to a natural way of being that has been almost lost for Western men and women. I too was lucky in that I grew up with almost zero supervision outside the home and in as wild an Africa as you got back then, which is nowhere near what it is today. I often feel I was indeed born in the wrong century, either one from long, long, ago, or at least the 1800s might have been almost ideal for me, or then again, maybe a few centuries from now when exploring other star systems is a thing. Well, I think it might be a thing already, but I am just not privy to that aspect of it. Yet. Then again, it’s probably the case every man feels out of time when in reality they are exactly where they need to be.
I don’t want any MGTOW incels anywhere near me. I want men that understand what family is and who know what it feels like to have your little daughter have daddy-its, or your son. Or see one of your children have mommy-itis, like our second-youngest daughter has. And feeling genuine love. The love described in the Bible, that wants nothing for itself, but exists solely to give, and see the beauty in every little moment of the day.
I have never been a huge fan of Hemingway, mostly because I didn’t find his writing particularly great. I could approximate it even as a teenager. And a lot of his “manly stories” were the result of an almost obsessive need to be perceived that way. His life was a serial set of tragedy and drama and the final end of his life was frankly, pathetic. I do not say this to speak ill of the dead, I hope God had mercy on his soul and we all have our demons, but I think it was him that said that for someone to be a man he should plant a tree, write a book and have a child. Well I have done plenty of all of those things, and I have faced some dangerous situations and people, but above all, I think what makes a man is an absolutely unflinching ability to truly know yourself in the very depths.
And I have never met a man that qualifies under that definition that would not have his heart melt when at a two-foot tall little person runs at him every time she sees him, squealing “Daddy!” in delight, as if you had just returned from a six month trip to the Siberian outback, instead of just getting something from one of the garden sheds for five minutes, and who rams into your legs, hugging you then looks up at you full of joy and enthusiasm and stretches her little arms and hands up at you so you can pick her up and she can squeeze your neck into a hug that would be life-threatening if she was little bigger.
So, to those nihilists, boomers, black-pillars, incels, bitter losers at life, acidic feminists (there is no other kind, the PH of their vaginas is literally a threat to all life), and their insipid doom and gloom predictions, all I can say is: Carry on just as you are. Never change.
They are doing us the enormous favour of ensuring that genetic mishap that is them is never propagated further into the species. And that is good. All we want now are the kind of men and women that heard Urban II in the year of our Lord 1095, and listened to him, and acted accordingly with it.
Daddy-itis
I recently had yet the umpteenth comment from one of the MGTOW incels that thank God, are self-selecting for their DNA being removed from the gene pool, who, as usual, whined and bitched like the mewling excuse for a man that they invariably are, that you should “protect yourself” from women, divorce and children.
I mean, seriously, these guys make the most flamboyant homosexual look like a paragon of manliness. I also find it extremely funny and interesting that when I invariably thank them and encourage them to absolutely stick to their guns and never change their mind; that is, to make sure they NEVER reproduce and thankfully end their weak and irrelevant line of DNA, they tend to get irate and immediately begin both LOLing in text and trying to insult me, my children and wish death upon them. Truly, it demonstrates being a shadow of a doubt that they are simply absolute cowards, involuntary celibate and incapable of attracting a woman at all and are unlikely to ever do so. And like feminists try to convince other, better looking, sexier, more feminine women to become as miserable as they are, the MGTOW movement is essentially the same thing for men.
Imagine being so weak, so incompetent, so scared of life that you don’t even bother to TRY and find a good woman and make a family. Imagine being such a wuss that you whine and cry about “the gubment” not being on your side. When has it ever been on the side of actual men? Government, as Lysander Spooner pointed out a couple of centuries ago, is simply a coalition of the most violent thugs who take things by force. And they eventually get organised and call themselves government. They are composed of the laziest, most fraudulent, cowardly, vicious parasites humanity has ever created. And while in times long past sometimes these men were the result of courageous warriors taking leadership roles, and it meant from time to time their tyrannical exploits were at least mostly just, today, they are invariably toadies and worm-tongues. And have been for at least a couple of centuries for sure. So, which man, that still has his own set of testicles attached really sits there and whines about “…the government should make it easier for me to…(fill in the blank)”.
What a bunch of useless oxygen thieves they are.
Anyway, now that I have mentioned how I feel about these idiots, allow me to point out one of the infinite benefits of having children.
The littlest one, who has blue eyes like her mom, since my own mother also had blue eyes, has got a serious case of Daddy-itis. So much so that my wife has said if it wasn’t for the fact she breastfeeds, this little one would forget she exists.
The hugs and cuddles and laughter she exhibits just from simple things is amazing. As soon as she wakes up her first word is “daddy!” and then a rush to hug me and give me some kisses. Her first complete sentences are along the lines of asking her brother and mother “Where is daddy?”
She has the ability to interrupt practically anything I am doing by simply saying “Daddy…?” meaning she would like me to notice her and take time with her. The other day her eldest sister was playing a game with her, which consisted of her running towards her sister, then getting picked up and thrown in the air a little. She loved it and carried on doing it but required me watching each run. When I got distracted by missing one of the runs, she ran up to me and gently slapping my leg was like: “daddy, daddy… ook!”
She misses the L from look still.
Each one of them has their own way, the boy invariably asks me if he can help. I gave him the electric pruners the other day, standing over him and making sure he had both hands on them and instructing him all the way as he cut little branches of a bush I was clearing from near the fish pond. I didn’t let it go on too long because his mother was clearly having palpitations watching him snip branches that were several times the size of his fingers. Even so, I can see why farmer’s kids help around the farm by age five or six. A friend of mine was driving the tractor for his dad at age eight, and it was more difficult because he’s a little guy and he could barely reach the pedals. The point is that the natural way of doing things explains why people that were 13 or 14 years old even led armies a few centuries ago. We have been a few generations of molly-coddled, cotton-ball wrapped, bunch of weaklings for at least seven or eight decades now, but I am seeing how simply growing up in touch with nature helps our children return to a natural way of being that has been almost lost for Western men and women. I too was lucky in that I grew up with almost zero supervision outside the home and in as wild an Africa as you got back then, which is nowhere near what it is today. I often feel I was indeed born in the wrong century, either one from long, long, ago, or at least the 1800s might have been almost ideal for me, or then again, maybe a few centuries from now when exploring other star systems is a thing. Well, I think it might be a thing already, but I am just not privy to that aspect of it. Yet. Then again, it’s probably the case every man feels out of time when in reality they are exactly where they need to be.
I don’t want any MGTOW incels anywhere near me. I want men that understand what family is and who know what it feels like to have your little daughter have daddy-its, or your son. Or see one of your children have mommy-itis, like our second-youngest daughter has. And feeling genuine love. The love described in the Bible, that wants nothing for itself, but exists solely to give, and see the beauty in every little moment of the day.
I have never been a huge fan of Hemingway, mostly because I didn’t find his writing particularly great. I could approximate it even as a teenager. And a lot of his “manly stories” were the result of an almost obsessive need to be perceived that way. His life was a serial set of tragedy and drama and the final end of his life was frankly, pathetic. I do not say this to speak ill of the dead, I hope God had mercy on his soul and we all have our demons, but I think it was him that said that for someone to be a man he should plant a tree, write a book and have a child. Well I have done plenty of all of those things, and I have faced some dangerous situations and people, but above all, I think what makes a man is an absolutely unflinching ability to truly know yourself in the very depths.
And I have never met a man that qualifies under that definition that would not have his heart melt when at a two-foot tall little person runs at him every time she sees him, squealing “Daddy!” in delight, as if you had just returned from a six month trip to the Siberian outback, instead of just getting something from one of the garden sheds for five minutes, and who rams into your legs, hugging you then looks up at you full of joy and enthusiasm and stretches her little arms and hands up at you so you can pick her up and she can squeeze your neck into a hug that would be life-threatening if she was little bigger.
So, to those nihilists, boomers, black-pillars, incels, bitter losers at life, acidic feminists (there is no other kind, the PH of their vaginas is literally a threat to all life), and their insipid doom and gloom predictions, all I can say is: Carry on just as you are. Never change.
They are doing us the enormous favour of ensuring that genetic mishap that is them is never propagated further into the species. And that is good. All we want now are the kind of men and women that heard Urban II in the year of our Lord 1095, and listened to him, and acted accordingly with it.
It is no place for their kind or kin.
It is our time returning now.
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