Tuesday, 31 December 2013

New Years Eve: 2013

Time is a bitch ken. So is the fact that right on the eve of 2014, a cunt finds himself in one of the most madhattery, tumultuous times where taking one step forward can mean taking two steps back before christ on a bike, yous find yourself trapped, weighed down by debt, love, the memory of the past. 2013 was a bizarre year for the Franco, 2014 will probably even battier. About a year ago, I stuck up on the blog a manifesto, various rules and titbits and whatnot. That stuff can obviously be handy out en aw, but regardless, that kind of content means jack shite without underlying rules, being cognizant of your successes and weaknesses, rights and wrongs. Perhaps I's be wrong here, but this list is a culmination of perhaps the past year, stuff yous need to know, from experience and people in the sphere/people I know, or at least, fuck it, the stuff I think a lad needs to know in order to survive, possibly thrive in the world as it is today. So without further ado, a weird mix of aphorisms and paragraphs, a summary of stuff of the last year. 

Money: Earned by offering a good or service, creating wealth, the rarer/harder the better. Owning capital is where money is really made. Your book, your album, your sports careers are awesome and should be encouraged, but probability dictates that failure is very possible, don't throw your life away on this, on that "one break". Winner takes all in the arts spectrum. Do not go into debt. Debt is poison, avoid it as much as possible. Don't beg for handouts like Fat Fuck Futrelle.You will not be wealthy as your parents. There's so much red tape out there. You want to write a novel? Yous better be a whiny little faggot like Colm Toibin or Emma Donahoue with your Masters Degree in Transgender Horse Poetry writing about Wexford in the 1950s. Vox Day calls it Pink Sci Fi. Yeah, Pink Literature, that's what these stupid bastards want these days. Starting a business? Here's a big fucking plop of taxes on ye? That still doesn't mean you shouldn't try though, you really should, and plus we have the internet ken. Just be cognizant of the fact that a lot of stuff out there is not going to be your fault, so find alternative passageways.

Health: First port of call for wealth expenditure. Live well>>>long. Paleo diet, smoking/drinking in moderation, high intensity exercise, weightlifting, testosterone supps from early 30s. Brain is a muscle as well. Learning something difficult/reading a complex book/videogames which involve complex thinking (eg Starcraft), exercise your brain essentially to stop it slowing down.

Social skills/game: Sheer bloody practice/law of large numbers for lassies. Choose your friends carefully. Gammas/co-dependents in your company? Nah, shut the fuck up. Let them drag themselves into the dirt and make asses of themselves, yous are neutral, don't play into their games, no time for their bullshit. Politics, religion, Obama. You have no opinion. Uhh, no I don't have an interest. Pigs make friends with pigs, wolves make friends with wolves. Yous are reading this, you are probably an enemy of what the system is now. Keep it to your friends, the lassie yous want to have a good relationship with for an extended period (one thing I've noticed, call out feminism, say women should be women, done right it makes yous more attractive to lassies), not your workmates. Don't shit where you eat. Avoid pussy from workplace/immediate social circle. Try, if you can, to get a lassie outside your social circle. Read up on The Benjamin Franklin Effect/Forner effect. The Rawness. Ego/Enlightenment Driven Superiority. Try and be aware when you are doing this, correct yourself if yous are, and then channel it into a healthy avenue. Get them talking, investing in yous. This will get worse too. Drop of testosterone=more pussified males. Get ready lads. Shame fat chicks ruthlessly. Gonna be brutal ken.

Entertainment: Essentially an ersatz for the stuff that matters in your life. Used to be that entertainment bolstered your life (lads reading the works of Homer for example), but now bes a junkyard for all that yous can see and do ken. Cut down/completely avoid pornography as it fools your brain into thinking you're getting laid. Cut down on videogames/tv shows/films, fine in short amounts. Fools your brain into thinking you've achieved something/living vicariously through someone whose life is much better than yours.

Goals and achieving stuff: Don't tell people about your goals until they're finished/you need their help to finish them. Otherwise it is nothing more than show and tell shite, narcissistic supply combined with people who don't want yous getting off the cutting floor. Probably better to keep with one or two goals and do them well than a truckload of goals done poorly en aw.

The Future: Western Civilization. Ireland is fucked sideways. Its institutions are becoming more centralized and prone to shocks. It's culture has degenerated and decayed into a mass of leprechaun hats and ho di fucking hums, to appease cunty American Baby Boomer tourists who want to see the fucken Book of Kells, blowing their savings while their kids are 60 grand in student debt from wasting four years of their youth obtaining sociology degrees. Its politics, like the west in general, has been a giant bitch of the Left Singularity. People I know working in the ESRI will tell you about their, ahem, "duking" of statistics, or getting people on FAS courses to artificially lower the unemployment rate. All this stuff on the radio or people in the social circle about wasters on the dole. Nah. If this was a sensible, normal society, I would agree. But things are so fucked up, these guys are one hundred percent in the right. Enjoy it while you can. No loyalty to country. Just loyalty to friends and family. I don't want the thing to burn down, but for a lot of you degenerate fucks, I don't care. Enjoy the fire, your fast food, your high speed pornography, your call of duty games.

Meatspace: Been thinking about taking this into meatspace some little bit. Any lads here find themselves in Dublin area, lets me know en aw.

Things be heating up, see you lads over in 2014 and all it will bring. I wish yous way more than luck. Stay positive lads.

Friday, 27 December 2013


A question that everyone around these parts has asked in some shape or form ken, be the one of virility, of masculinity, of what makes a man a man? This can be a surprisingly hard question toos answer, especially in the light of egregious femcunts and happy go lucky fairies spouting marxist shite and living off of the fruits of other cunts and cuntesses, them unscrupulous fellows whose be so sick and twisted that they want yous to fail, both for the ego and for the outside world en aw. But that not be the only problem. Of course, one of the way the left has corrupted thinking is by making a cunt go all mumbo jumbo on critical theory, core 101 how toos function while turning yous into a vituperative little shit with low self esteem and co-dependency issues. But another way is the gadgets, the distractions, the tools, the entertainment that blunts the edges, like a couple of glasses of good fucken whiskey, and in a dead drizzle, a spiritual torper, men are lost, aliens on mars, man on the fucken moon en aw.

So what are these entertainments and superficial, spurious little playtoys?

First, a cunt has videogames. What is a man programmed to do? To conquer, to strive, to achieve, to make his way in the world, to grow, to prosper, to have that project, the vintage car, the maths proof, the novel, the album, the 500 lb deadlift, whatever it may be. Now, how do de videogames fuck yous right up in this regard? Well it be simple! Yous plonk yourself down, the comfy sofa, the collection of salty snack treats, and yous play all these games, and the brain gets all tickered out, fooled into thinking that it has achieved something of merit, something worthwhile. But yous haven't. Yous are still fat and pasty faced, a dumb, lackadaisical fuck, that spiritual defiance is all but gone, that lad that wants to believe, MGTOW, which itself is built on the miserable notion that  "Fuck this, I'm done, no, no matter what yous say, I'm out of the game, so long, goodbye, thanks for all the fish."

This sort of applies to movies as well. Got me the James Bond boxset for christmas (the change in Bond to a snivelling tit in the likes of Skyfall, from Connery Bond to Craig Bond is worth a post in itself) and been a blast watching some of this shit. But it be all escapism right? To get a mega fat cunt shot out of an airplane window, to blow up a helicopter, to take a tank around Russia, it's nothing than yous escaping from your ugly sad reality. All of this is of course, not to go all aspie on it. Some of the great movies have some great things to say on people and society. Metal Gear Solid 2 and Deus Ex are still bloody excellent looks at the digital age and all that has come with it. And all pretension aside, games are fucken fun! But this stuff be a drug that be hellbent on manipulating your brain intae stuff it hasn't actually achieved. I used to know a lad who had the weird hobby of making bulshitty Brian Enoesque "Music for Airports" kind of shite, where he would play five notes of ambiance for twenty fucken minutes straight, thinking that you are making progress in your life, when nay, yous are just fooling yourself into thinking you are, I'm a musician lol!That be thing yous should be careful with when it comes to some of the manosphere blogs, and I'm guilty of this as any cunt. "Oh I'll read this and then lassies will be wet for me!" Just this one extra bit of game stuff! Not only damaging, but ridiculous in its own way. Going to be a lot different for a small, fat, Comic Book type of lad or someone more charming and extroverted and all that sheband than myself, don't yous know?

Then yous have porn. Sexually frustrated men fooling their brains into thinking theys be getting it when they're actually not, all that dopamine and hitmeups getting them out of the sexual market more than they should.

So, this is perhaps my plan or idea to cover these two issues:

One: Brain is given the illusion of achieving goals, desires and ideas, because they are good in themselves. Broken down into two parts, we have the following:

One: Fooling your brain into "achieving" things like playing videogames, living vicariously through movies, or footballers, or videogames.

Two: Engaging in pointless activities that give off the illusion of progress when this actually isn't the case. Reading that extra Game post. Composing minimalist music, etc. 

Two: Using pornography, brain is tricked into having gotten off with the lass with the hot ass in class.

So my reasoning is perhaps this, maybe I's be wrong on it, but your brain is quite primitive in many ways and is prone to many a heuristic, so your job and mine is to get out of this heuristic and make real progress on goals, obtaining knowledge, experience and reading as much as possible and to dream as well, to not be lost among all that poor, ugly white noise en aw that plagues far too many cunts these days.

Thursday, 26 December 2013

Francis Begbie Ramblings: End of 2013 Edition

Experience often trumps theory. Let's take how exactly yous match up toos the average cunt in the street in terms of sexual attractiveness to the lassie. You don't realize how shite yous might be until you actually put yourself out there.

Having said that, what the fuck do the Baby Boomers know?

Some people that you might envy and respect can be some of the most fucked up, cowardly out there. Take English professors as an example. The pools of shite, garbage, postmodern verbose tirades on the sexism and the blackism and the horseism and the whopperburgerism and whatnot. These people are losers, cardboard cutout souls wallowing and whingeing, down in the doldrums of mediocrity. Many a shite author out there, but at least these lads actually sat down, wrote something and put a project together, put themselves out there for the world to tear to shreds.

What yous call happiness is a package, a product, a good meant to incite envy and fear in a cunt. Achieve xx and yy and zz and a cunt is happy! Nay! The goal of all this shite is to grow and prosper in that head of yours, to have a resilient inner core that is at its heart antifragile. Think stoicism. Think loving yourself and becoming someone worthy of a couple of jars with. But that wolf be at the door, there's a bad event somewhere along the line, probability dictates. You are the prize, you fucking cunt, and you can be better.

Having said that though, the above strongly correlates with achieving stuff, so dinnae be thinking I'm rooting for the YouPorn, fat tittied manboy living in the mother's basement en aw. 

Kinda sound like one of them fucken "white privilege" bozos here, but I think it be important to acknowledge that whatever (Reactionary and whatnot) about Black I.Q and whatever, Whites have fucked up tremendously and are guilty of some horrible things. So before yous get all White Supremacist and whatnot, think of the whole financial ponzi scheme, or all them dead lads and lassies in Russia from de Socialism. Wes all be fuckups in many a way.

Think a really important skill is learning the difference between what yous can control and what yous cannot control, but not only that, using the what yous cannot control as an excuse not to go after certain things in your life.

The only people who (may) love you unconditionally are your parents. Sides that, yous be on your own here fella and that be the honest, stone cold truth of the matter.  What be a cunt to do now?

Supermodels should be role models for women, sports athletes for men. Sure, you might not have the raw genetics toos get there, but hard no bullshit work will put an ugly cunt and a dumb cunt ahead of many a lad out there no?

Double standards don't exist. If your dog shites on the rug, how would you react? What about if your best friend took a lumpy steamer all over that fucken thing? Would that lad still be your best bud after all that? Men and women are held to different standards because theys are themselves different. Get over it lads and lassies.

A system of government/rule is especially good if it fulfills these three criteria: One: Allows for sensible trade and commerce to occur. Two: It is decentralized so that if a shock hits, it doesn't bring the whole system crumbling to bits as a result. Take democracy. Republicans and Democracts are 99 percent similar. Races and different social groups vote in chunks. See the problem here? Three: Encourages healthy behavior and derides degenerate behavior.

Gravity is a fucken shite movie.

That lass with the hot ass in class will have a droopy bum in ten years time. What about yous ken?

You're nothing special. Yous fit into a bell curve just like all them other heads and bodies. You think society will magically come apart if you drop out? Fuck off ye mad bastard. This is all heading for the garbage disposal unit and no one cares if you drop out.

One of the things I abhor most about this feminism liberalism nonsense is how disrespectful it is to your ancestors. These people worked in bollocks hard conditions, survived war, famines, pestilence, invasions to give yous a better life, and the best you can do to repay them is to fucken bitch about that one time your great granddaddy yelled out FAGGOT! Shut up, yous are embarrassing yourself. Go join pajama boy and study for your Gender Studies final and leave the rest of us cunts alone.

Looks are fucken unbelievably important when it comes to men, especially for nightclubs and shite like that. Be like fucken playing Call of Duty on the hardest difficulty level. Think as well, that an awful lot of looks for men is looking powerful and big, rather than being good looking per sae. Get soles that add a couple of inches to de fit, lift weights etc.

Wes be running out of time, lads. 

Monday, 16 December 2013

Megan's Monthly Meaty Treat

"So she was a ride yeah?"

"By jaesus man, yous wouldn't know the fucken half of it! Even though I was here, in the horrors afterwords, and feeling like there's a fucken bag of cats in my head, I was there, big smile on me, those puppies, when they come out, Hanukkah and Christmas rolled into one."

"Shit man!"

"Aye. But tells you what, it got pretty dark when I got up and started walking around, shes asleep in the bed, fucked her good, get my head cleared up like. She tells me like she's in fucking estate or something, so you know this fucking one has got it, wants it, begs for it."


"So as I was saying, I decide to get something to wake me up, head on down to the kitchen there..."


"And you know, steart rooting around in the fridge, says I'll just nick one of her cans of fizzy to get my brain working again and fuck, she's got de laptop on the table."

"So like, this lassie has fucking left the computer on?"


"Aww man, you didn't.."


"Had to man! All part of the game!"


"So I took a look around, to see if this beure was slinking round, shitting it, hit fucken knacker gold here, any chance I'd be caught and my heads hammers man...would be in deep shite."


"And uh, I sit down in front of the computer, in my jocks with de can of fizzy, and I start playing around with it. She's logged into facebook, and I go clicking round..."





"So I'm there, looking through her Facebook and looking at her tagged photos. And I bring up this photo album, Autumn 2013."


"Turns out this one, this fucking cunt, just got married two months ago."

"And she's riding you?"

"So, I'm there looking through all the pictures, her smiling with the wedding dress on, and this wimpy, Indian fucker is in all of them pictures, whats...what's that cunts name from the Big Bang Theory?"


"I forget"

"Well, yeah, anyway. So I'm looking through all these pictures, all these smiley things with the girls and the dresses and the family and turns out this guy is working in pharmaceutical stuff. Ah christ, yous will laugh at this."


"Fucken viagra."

"Jaesus. You're bullshitting."


"And yous know me Franco, I'm the worst cunt on the planet, so I have to know more and more, a quest for the women. So I start looking through the internet history, and there's all this fucken porn man. Like, fuck me, this one is Hugh Hefner levels of porn. And it's all the same kind of porn, fucking women being dominated by black men!"


"There's shit like "Megan's Monthly Meat Treat" and all of that."

"Hahahahahahaha, Afternoon DELIGHT"

"And it, fucken..."

"It gets better, cause I steart going through her private Facebook messages"

"Fucken stalker shit!"

"Eh, I never said I was a nice guy!"


"So I'm going through her emails right, and there's this one called Vanessa, fit as fuck looking English black hair, nice face, and she's sending messages back and forth with this girl. Enjoy your night! Hope you bring home a nice fella dear! Did you enjoy that lingerie I bought you?"


"I tell ya man, I'm 29 years old, and all my friend's girlfriends are cunts. I see this Facebook stuff and I just want to go, aaaahh, fuck this shit! Fucking Indian lad working in Pharmacy and she's dreaming of being pounded by black guys. Like your story with the wank in the car! Some of them lassies, yous have to have the head screwed on!"

"What did yous do then?"

"Went back upstairs, fucked her, gave her a fake phone number and went on my way."

"What else can you do ken?"

"Exactly. That's the question here. Who is the real monster here? There is one thing though!"


"So I found the Indian's facebook, and I was there, had typed up a response, "your woman is a slut, get out while you can, blah blah di fucking blah"

"Wow. Yous send it?"

"Nope. No fucking way man. This guy made his bed, and now he can lie in it. Fuck him, and fuck his viagra."

Saturday, 14 December 2013

Rival Dealer/Trannies/Privilege and Other Stuff

Any of them cunts and cuntesses out there fans of dubstep? Certainly have a bit of the interest in in en aw, so count me a happy cheery go lucky motherfucker when Burial's new ep Rival Dealer comes out. Be fucken mindblowing ken. From the twisted, bouncy, 80s synth pop from hell middle section of Hiders, to that cacophonic, spiralling down drum sample in the title track, the ep is chock stock full of great, memorable moments; haunting vocals, little flourishes in de background en aw, that make this a hell of a headie album and that this lad will be coming back to again and again.

One thing though.

The last track "Come Down to Us" is, yes, a pretty awesome track (dig me the sitar as well) that deserves all 14 minutes of length, apart from the last bit of the song. What happens is that the beats eventually peter out, the bass and melody drift out of focus and what be left be a sample from a tranny. A tranny that be talking about how he felt like the right old freak but then eventually came to accept the fact that he was transgender, that he was born in a woman's body.

Bullshit. Bullshit. What a fucking naff way to end an album.

I haven't a goddamn thing against trannies, and if theys be have decent people, then fuck it, good luck to these lads en aw. The problem with the whole shitshow is this, out of all the evils of liberalism, the emasculation of men and the uxorious gamma male and the "YOU GO GURRRL" shite that follows, egalitarianism, centralized power structures that lead to fragile shocks with concave payoffs, this concept of transgender people is one of the most sickeningly evil and frightening to emerge in recent times. Why be that the case?

A brief backdrop to feminism and the nature of language first. Sex used to be masculine of feminine, purely biological. Meanwhile, gender was used in language and to describe the nature, context and construction of sentences. So, who started the shitshow? Enter John Murray. He was the one who came up with the filthy idea of being able to "choose" your own gender. I'm a pigendered pansexual duck! The feminists, like de Franco, loved this idea because it freed them from the cold, horrible, austere trappings of human biology and allowed them to get into ego traps, feeding their shite delusions, all de way to to eleven. So, how can you "choose your gender?" By acting like a woman and getting a sex change. Shit, even the word sex change is bullshit. You can't change your sex. The word gender, outside describing the gender of nouns in say a language, is a terrible word. Stop using it ken, stop using it.

What cunt out there has ever dreamed of being a fat fish ken?

It gets better as well. It has been fairly well reported that transsexual people suffer more drug problems, depression, shorter life expectancies etc. But this is because of oppression! This is because society hates Ron the cocktail waitress with the Adams apple the size of a deformed coconut. Forget statistics! Forget causality! It's not that people become trannies because they are fucked up, they are fucked up because people hate trannies and that drives them off the Cliffs of Moher. The great evil, the white heterosexual cisgender male who tortures babies and is privileged now hates the trannies. Fucking privilege. It's one of the most bullshit concepts, is it not? Everyone wants to be born good looking, intelligent, wealthy etc, but reality be reality and the porous stink of feminist flatulence and egalitarianism inflames one's nostrils and sad, so sad, the best is what yous have, the best be all yous got, but the best of what you have is a sickly, gooey twist with no invertebrate, this one's optimistic, this one just crawled out of the swamp, cannot do better for yourself. Privilege? Lolcunts. Fuck your priv. 

These are highly vulnerable people who grew up in shitty environments/fucked up their own lives, and instead of getting genuine help to cope with the issue, they develop all sorts of complexes, borderline personalities, post traumatic stress disorder, depression, yous name it. It's amazing how our perception of reality works for the average cunt or cuntess, not necessarily in a Kantian categorical imperative sort of way, but in the way that say you have true reality.

Mathematically, you would like to think that the following condition holds:

E[Reality | Brain]=Actual reality

But, in the likes of the transsexual, that term is just flat out of whack ken. So they get really bad advice from cunts like Laddie Gaga just do it en aw, so them cunts can feel the fuzzies. Call it crusaderism, call it ego trap, call it whatever yous fucking want lads. The transexual is someone who has just got liquid shitty advice and is paying for it for the rest of his days. I mean consider how awful it is. Gay guys hate your ass. Bisexual lads will be so ashamed of dating you they will ditch yous just like that. Women might like yous for the emotional fuzzies, but they're still going to think yous are a freak. What happy fulfilling relationships yous are going to have! Like I said before, this stuff be evil of the worst kind. That's why I don't have any dislike or anything, I just feel really sorry for these people. I mean, the Manosphere is based on the idea that we all got really shitty advice, that we were lied to and we're very, very pissed of with that. Transsexuals got the worst, most foul advice, that it is better to become a shrill shell, that it is better to control than destroy.

When art says this stuff be ok, or that these people are depressed, this makes transsexuals more acceptable to do, not to be as a person. 

So William Bevan, love your music bro.

But seriously, fuck off ken.

Friday, 29 November 2013

Why Academia is Poisonous

When yous stare intae dat abyss, the abyss stares back ken.

Been reading The Rawness as of late ken, in particular some of his posts on ego superiority and making that plastic, doughy, false makeup, presenting yourself as being the smartest fucker in the room, rather than being the smartest fucker in the room. I talked about in other posts how I allowed this to fuck me up in terms of coming up with excuses for my failures, "oh, I'm not so bright" etc, which whether or that is true is beside the point, it is the fact that I thought like this that stopped me from trying. I accept it, and more importantly I feel it as well, but there is more going on here than meets the eye.

To sum up, I really fucked this bastard up.

So I used to be good at the field I'm in ken. Really good. Yet, since I got into this masters yokeamebob, I've turned into the shittiest, most useless student ever. Now, a part of me is cognizant of the fact that a lot of this was protecting my ego from damage, the material is more difficult so I don't want to say I'm dumb, thick as shit, I'd rather say I'm lazy cause that remains all sunshine and gravy en aw. This still remains true. But then, I realized what I've been doing with the course content all of this time.

I've been using it as an intellectual crutch.

When yous end up in academia, you tend to come across roughly three kinds of people and when I mean academia, I mean from masters level plus at a half decent university. The first two types are cool enough people, the third type is beyond toxic, and that third type is me, or at least it used to be. The third type of person is what makes The Cathedral so unbelievably dangerous as well and is the most problematic. So let's get to it. This is the type that populates academia the most alas, and the reason academia can be such twisty shark invested waters.

Type 1: The highly intelligent person who tends to be utterly indifferent/possibly hate with a passion the subject in question, but is just in there to make ends meet, get a slightly nicer job, nothing more and nothing less. This type is slightly depressing in that they feel yous could be doing better, but at least they are up front about it. Relatively harmless kind of person.

Type 2: The somewhat intelligent to highly intelligent person who is enthralled and in love with his field of study and wants as much knowledge on the subject as possible. These people tend often to be passionate, sometimes aspergery and nerdy, odd, but again, relatively harmless, more open kind of people when it comes to matters academia related.

Then we have type three.

Type 3: The somewhat intelligent to highly intelligent person who is indifferent towards the study, but who has co-dependency/narcissistic issues. So, that person uses the subject as a way to prop himself up, to look intelligent rather than be intelligent.

Type 1 doesn't give a shit. Type 2 loves it. Type 3 is a toxic little fuck.


So I realized, perhaps subconsciously, that I don't give a fuck about my subject. I have no passion for it, no love for it. I was, all this time, using it as an intellectual crutch, while pretending to love it. So while I was failing at the game of life miserably, I poured my time into all these maths equations, trying to outnerd all these other failed excuses of men, all these losers who had no pussy, no passion, no stories, just differential equations and resonance and the fucking course, yeah, whatever. That's all it was. Ego nourishment. I didn't realize because I was just playing a desperate game of passively aggressively outshine the other guy with no real substance to it. I never saw myself as being the pathetic fuck that I was. Type ones and twos escape this, but the type threes cluster together, and then yous think you have a friend, but whambam, that guy failed and a cunt feels all gooey inside. Not healthy ken. Yet, over the past year or so, I've been able to recognize more womanly, "gamma" tendencies in those around me, and quite frankly it is revolting to see. The passive aggressive behaviour. The putting on the pedestal of shoddy women with flatulence issues. All of it. The problem with this as well is that you can't escape this toxicity. It rubs off on you. That classic bit of advice, yous are the average of your best five friends, no truer words spoken ken.

So back to The Cathedral. Toxic people, study, building up their fragile little ego. Since their definition of "Billy" is "Billy is smart cause he knows quaternion calculus", or "Billy is smart because he read the whole of In Search of Lost Time", what happens when some cheeky cunt comes along and tears apart your world view?

You take it as an attack on you, cause you're so fucken golden amirite?

I love the following video:

This is exactly what I'm talking about here. Schwarz is highly respectful towards Paul Krugman, and at the same time carefully, cleanly, cleverly dismantles his argument. Ninja motherfucker them Spanish lads. But the fat bearded forgetting to wipe his balls, Foundation loving tit starts freaking out by the end of the video. Amygdala blaring and all that shit, fucken beautiful ken. Type ones would go "yeah whatever you say man, fuck them bitches". Type twos would debate passionately and conceit if they were incorrect or not. Type threes are whiny Paul Krugman bitches.

For STEM, this is not the worst thing. But the social sciences and economics?

This is what I think happens:

1: You have the three types. Type ones drop out. You're left with type twos and threes.

2: Type twos get bullied out by the type threes.

3: Type threes dominate academia. Their ideas are the ideas of the day. Only way to join them is to be one of them in the same shitstorm. Cue ridiculous bullshit like neoclassical economics or "cisgender" privilege. So, when their ideas come under attack, they see it as an attack on themselves, academia being the shit flinging fireworks show that it is, and grasp onto their beliefs even more than ever before.

Paul Krugman, little bitch, grasps his ideas with as tight a grasp as possible. He pollutes people with the nonsense in his article, and thus the cycle continues on and on.

Doing something because you enjoy it for the sake of it, or because of purely pragmatic reasons is all and dandy, but the second yous put on a fa├žade, the wall crumbles. I'm a type one now, but on the other hand I'm not going to give myself excuses as before. Get be on with it ken. Being able to identify one's weaknesses is the only way to properly move forward, with a smile, drink and hot lassie in tow.

Thursday, 28 November 2013


What terrifies, disturbs, sickens, haunts the deepest dankest darkest, dastardliness in full swing, crevices and ravines of the modern lad and lassie's minds, sin waves of fear, is not the exposure to some exogenous, blistering reign of terror, ashes, sulpher, impalement, Caesarism and shit, but it is a sense of horrible self realization, coming toos the conclusion that you are bored, that this job or occupation is boring, ok, but this is not just normal boredom, like waiting for a bus or whatnot, it is boredom of the most sickening, stomach churning, timorous kind that twists your stomach into itself. Boredom is killing you ticktock by ticktock stopclock stopwatch cunt. You are dying and there is nothing you can do about it.

That be the thing with the Office Space. Everyone is so nice. Everyone is so pleasant and kind and willing to help! But it is not the sort of chivalrous cunt coming in all bells and whistles on a big fuck off thing of a horse nice, rather it is a cautious kind of nice. Let's not beat around the bush here, yous are all kinds of fuck up. You'd have to be. Yous think if yous think in reactionary terms that yous are going to be all sunshine and lollipops? You see them movies, right? Dem Julia Roberts baboom lips getting it off with the bad boy and yet, when I slunk around in de Temple Bar after hours and see the silver faced cougar trying toos charm me into alleviating her loneliness, now I'm the pretty lad that stands there lol but of course, de feminism is awesome en aw!

Everyone is nice and everyone is frightened of each other. Everyone goes along to get along. The unattractive fattie won't shut up. There's all sorts of shitty petty gossip that you can't help but find yourself dragged into, ugly stinging gossip and if yous want to go full loner, then say goodbye and watch those sharks nip away at them ankles and toes. Yous are exhausted, drowned out, crying in the face as yous pile into your cluttered automobile. By the time yous get home, you pile another disgustingly delicious kebab into your mouth and plant yourself in front of de titbox, watching some fucken fictional chemistry teacher do what you never had the gall to do. Tomorrow is different you say. Yous pack a lunchbox full of veggies to stave off de hunger. The apocryphal hr lassie with de airbag tits goes "good your doing de right thing" en aw to you, while badmouthing yous to de coworkers about being a fruitful hippie. Analyst work sucks tits. Fat, jealous cunts who sign up and take a whip to the butt. Sitting in the fresh air during break time, only fourteen minutes left, shit, twelve, oh fuck, yous take a look over and them schoolgirl lassies wander all over, the beauty of them, all sixteen and seventeen and whatnot, perky tits, tight as shit, fucken hell like, one of them looking down and licking her lips and meanwhiles yous are back in that place with those people talking that shit because that is all yous have. All we have is now. The carpet has your footprints, but the room doesn't have any of your pictures.You'll approach tomorrow, right? Right????

That unfinished novel is still on your computer. Sure, only Cathedral cocksucking well off Oxford cunts get book deals nowadays, but it can't hurt right? Friday nights come and go and all the headless hairless chickens pile into a box of ugly incandescence, scoping out a fattie to titty fuck later on that night. Is this all there is, you ask yourself?

But then your dreams take off. You find a friend and then suddenly yous start talking to him. Your own fucking gang. A gang works best when yous and your gang feel like it is yous against de world. The job is killing you. Causality, the statistician's big million dollar vegas problem. Suddenly, yous see a job offer for Africa. Yous think of just money, money to get away, money so yous don't have to communicate with people anymore.

How do you survive Office Space? You can't. I'm sorry, you will not escape with yours brain in one bit. Yous will still dream of the sixteen year old or the witchy milfy type who gave yous a wink. Yous will still lose it. So what brings a cunt a spark, a zest, like a boisterous child, to his stagnant life, is trying to expand the cracks in the subtlest ways possible. Yous are causing all sorts of mischief and nay cunt can pin it on yous. Here's a fun game for yous, try and wind up an effeminate little gamma with your views of the world, all ugly and raw and swollen and red. This is my dream. My dream is toos be out there where the landscape is scathing and exciting, when a cunt well and truly realizes for the first time that society doesn't have your interests at heart and that you should not feel even remotely bad about sticking up the middle finger and uniting with your brothers when it is all said and done. Your job is your biggest problem ken. Everything sides that is just steel breezes blowing against a stone statue.

This is what be up your ally. Yous are shamed into doing what you are doing. You have been institutionalized by the corrupt entities around you. Whereas you outside this transparent sphere, yous dream of something that cannot be measured in gold coins. You dream of freedom.

Problem: Office Space is fucking you up bro.

Solution: Make your life as antifragile as possible.

Things have never been so swell. Cunts can share some of de endorphins if you really want.

There is nothing more terrifying in the modern age than boredom. Get out of that shit as soon as possible. Look for environments where you can grow in leaps in bounds.

Sunday, 24 November 2013

Blog Updates

Just a few things and then back to regular posting. First, I've been a right old lazy cunt with linking into other sites. There's a hell of a lot of great material out there by great bloggers and I haven't been linking them in. Of course, I'm not necessarily in agreement with them all of the time, but they should definitely be chucked in there, so that is what I'll do. Going to clean up the appearance of the blog some little bit. Second, I am engaging in two projects which might or might not come to fruition in the next while due to work related stuff. If I don't do them, then I've learned my fucken lesson, don't post something unless yous have finished it.

These are the two projects. The first one is a sort of a lightish piece of fiction, essentially an attempt to get me into the habit of writing and compiling stuff a bit better. I want it to be as good as possible, but I appreciate that at my age and my experience, it will probably be poor enough. Still, you have to start somewhere and you must fail to succeed.

The second one might be more interesting, and I'll need your help for it. Even though my statistics skills possibly aren't as tight as I'd like them to be, I am interested in using empirical data to at least show there is a relationship between various variables, basically variables that have to do with beliefs in the manosphere. For example, I want to run regressions showing the impact of sexual partners of women on divorce rates. Now, a regression of this nature will be subject to flaws such as causality and measurement error and whatnot, but if people can point me to datasets like this, that would be enormously useful. Essentially, project two is going to be quite technical, but the point of it is that, hopefully, if I get around to doing it, we can prove feminism is evil quantitatively, and that we're not pulling these theories solely out of our asses. If you can send me links to good data, then I owe yous a pint.

So that be it lads, let's see how this all works out. Good luck with the hustle ken.

Tuesday, 19 November 2013

Nothing to Lose

If there was no manosphere it would be necessary to invent it.

It seems a sort of fuzzy dream to some, a spiritual torpor, when a cunt, fresh off the plate and balking in that pure, brilliant light of idealism, faces the world with smiles, light sighs, giggles and the arm around the lass with the hot ass in class, fevering, the music gets louder and louder, as he dreams, that soon his time might come, calling the field to rest and going away, to part the glory of this happy day.

Didn’t work out like that though, did it? Boomer cuntflaps for sho.

The manosphere is antifragile. There is no doubt about that. An odd conglomeration of PUAs, MRAs, MG wheredefuckever and normalish lads trying to get their shit together in this dark perplexing time, it is what it is and it was always going to come about in some manner, Fight Club without all of the silliness. This decentralization is one of its key strengths though. If everyone found out that Roosh was a massive pedo in the morning for example, then the manosphere would be hurt, but not hurt in a big way, because the information is the information of the reality, right wing is of course reality, and bloggers, new and old, will continue at their own pace, the way things always were, comparing notes, realising that theys be the normal ones. Someone attacks the manosphere, we get free publicity. Some cunt gets booted out of the job, well the flames of hatred burn stronger, higher, faster, and brighter. But that’s not free speech they say lol! Who looks like the arsehole then?

But of course, what makes the manosphere even more antifragile is when yous break it down into its individual people, the percentile, the average lad or lassie.  Typically the individual may be fragile but the collective is antifragile. Nature, evolution psychology, the fittest of the fit, the race against the red queen, restaurants and entrepreneurs, suddenly it makes much more sense, does it not? But it is becoming increasingly clear; the manosphere is antifragile, both at the individual level and at the collective level.

Let me use myself as an example. I have very little to no intention to work hard on my career per sae.  I don’t want to work in some tedious as cubicle drone bullshit, gaunt faced cunt and de Excel spreadsheet, watching my mind and body decay at an exponential rate, sharing the same carpet with people I don’t like, rooms of heads and bodies under environmentally efficient fluorescent lightbulbs, wrought hands, smiles with daggers, sloppy lunches in plastic bags, staring out the window, chitter chatter as background music and watching the idiot with the Polish 8, tapping her ass and dragging her to a park. So that’s gone out of the window. Real wages are dropping precipitously, which is not that fun to be honest. Therefore, if I am to have a family, it is to be done properly. I don’t have to be rich, but the kid needs money to get by. My wife, the mother of my children, does not have to be a perfect woman by any stretch of the imagination, but between women having babies later (which increases the chance of a Forrest Gump kid), sluttiness, obesity, and just the general decline and drop of rudimentary, how to mother a kid 101 without it going all Chris Brown on your ass, I accept that might never ever happen. Plus, with divorce laws the way they are, and using the law of large numbers and basic statistical facts, I have to make sure this lassie is up to scratch.

So. You fucked up the chances of my career, by taxing me up the wazoo and making work as horrifically boring and dehumanizing as possible.  You fucked up my chance to have a wife and family due to the drop in real wages, divorce, probability etc. Moreso, because I am in good physical shape, tall, am cognizant of the fact that at 22, I’m only going to become more and more sexually attractive to women for the next ten years or so, as are most men who are on some sort of a path, this beggars the question for the cunt and countess?

What exactly do I have to lose?

What do you have to lose?

Nothing, right?

Sweet fuck all, I bet yous donut to dollar.

What can they do to you?

Call you sexist?

Call you small dicked Franco?

Call you homophobic?

Make you see a psychiatrist?

It’s remarkable in retrospect, quite remarkable actually; how I’ve become more “Francoish” over the past year or so, especially after starting this blog all that time ago. I don’t go all aspergery fucktardy on a simpering, timorous effeminate herby twat of a thing; I state my opinions as bluntly, but as tersely and try and be friendly as possible, open to the other person, or at least I try to be. Actually, here's a good trick. If you're arguing with someone, say "I agree with you, but..." even if you one hundred percent disagree with him. Makes the cunt feel more gooey and are, digression aside. Again, be careful in aw, all of it comes with obvious disclaimers en aw for the aspergery fucktard, but yous would be very surprised, especially if the lassie is into you even in the smallest way. None of this is epic or interesting or profound in anyway, but it makes you realize that the world won’t cave in on itself with your dick in a goat. I’ll give you an example. My friend and I were talking about masculine chicks and I was talking about how I prefer girly, friendly lassies. This lad’s friend, a lassie who is taller than me in heels, real butch as shit, (nickname Mr T) more testosterone than a fucking Man-of-war song, overhears me and butts in.  

“So you don’t like masculine women?”

Challenge accepted Mr T.
“Nah like. I like feminine, good looking women, ones who like baking me cakes and washing my clothes. Don’t want to exactly wake up next to someone who looks like a Scottish sailor. Like this bar. Most of the girls here look like Tony Soprano in drag, for fucks sake. ”

“That’s really offensive! Take that back!” (even though I wasn’t talking about her, but said lassie, says it in a half amused sort of manner)
Smile and silence.

“You can be thrown out for talking like that!”
“Relax, who said that I was talking about you?”

“Well, were you?”
I laugh, tap her on the shoulder and as I turn I reply:

“I’m off to get another drink!”
See bee. Of course, I’m not being one of these too cool for school motherfuckers. I’m in a university which recently celebrated equality week for fucks sake! These fuckos would have me killed and have my bones made into a screaming chair if they found out I was such a heretic speaking all this shit. Hold your tongue bitch, you intolerant fuck you. How was your day? DO YOU KNOW WHAT R/K THEORY IS? But in essence, I’m starting to give less of a fuck. Not in a demotivated way: on the contrary I’ve become more and more motivated because I know these fuckos and their ability to hurt me is becoming less and less each day. Thus, the cunt is antifragile. What doesn’t kill you makes you the most interesting man in the room, right? Surely I’m not the only one, experiencing this? When you stop giving a shit in the right way, certain things start cropping up again and again. All shits and giggles and the earth is not such a cold dark place anymore. If you want a movie equivalent, think Office Space. Suddenly Peter stops giving a shit and he finds himself promoted and missing the job cut.

Tolstoy wrote about how big events occur. They are comprised of the aggregate, the daily drudgery of the modern cunt’s life, calculus, differentiating the cunt with respect to a change in values , convivial, building a world and a solar system from the bottom up with a strong motivation. Somewhere out there, more and more men are speaking, having their thoughts felt, whether it is in private to a best friend, or in person to a lassie with questionable body odour. A man saying he’s had enough, or calling a horizontally challenged lassie Flabbalicious, these are the dreams that Martin Luther King had ken. I’m not sure if Taleb has talked about this, but antifragile system where the individuals themselves are antifragile has got to be a pretty fucking mental thing right? The ball is in our court lads. It really is ours tae lose.

I mean it’s too little too late and the economy is fucked and Is would still recommend buying a shotgun just in case but whatever like.

Sunday, 17 November 2013

The Weird Wonderful and Frightening World of the Ego

Ack, the lad goes as he reads yet another post of de beguiling Well Hung Franco on probability and variance and armchair psychology, and all that be gravy en aw, as he wants to see a post aboot some "Minecraft pin dicked cunty" lad masquerading as some head honcho alpha bollocks, riding some lassie in a nightclub toilet in a shitty pub on Dublin's north side. Well, no, this post is not purely to do with probability and variance, it has a bit of content that relates to the ego and how a cunt moves through de life en aw while knowing where to step and not get the legs blown off by big fuck off landmines.

In a previous post, I've talked about how a lad can build up a Russian doll of an ego, wrapped up in something toxic, something deleterious, as in my case, it was trying to come across as looking intelligent, rather than trying to be the best person I can be, to not build that house on sand. Take a look out for this elsewhere as well.

I fail at life because I'm living in a racist society and people hate blacks, not because I'm failing as a person and am just an unlikeable cunt.

The patriarchy is keeping me down, white men are privileged and they are so shallow! It's not my fault I got so fat!

I fail with women over and over, but these poor lassies are troubled and don't know what they're doing! I'm so nice and I will get the soulmate I deserve!

Those engineers who are earning good money are miserable cause they did maths whereas I know about life and people cause of my English degree! Isn't working in Starbucks great?

This goes on and on and on and on.

In my opinion, this mindset is arguably the most damaging for the cunt or cuntess. It gets in the way of true personal development, being the best man or the best woman you can be, and the worst thing about it is that this toxic form of thinking permeates all aspects of culture and society! Recently, I was watching Glee with a few beers in me, and get this roysh, this fucken lassie who looks like MC Flashhammer is fucken rejecting this guy, this guy who is like underwear man on billboards level in terms of looks, because she has the fucken options! You go fatty fatty munch munch lassie! Everywhere a cunt looks, we are all victims! We are all losers and are meant to just sit down and take it, laugh smile, make excuses and continue on. You may think you are impervious, but when the volatility of everyday life fucks you over, when excuses pile up and up until your soul looks like a game of Jenga, that be when shite hits the fan and yous are out on your backside, kicking, screaming, gucci little fake eye.

I think there are three stages to properly getting out of this emotional rut, and this applies to something like, yeah, fucken approaching lassies as well.

1: Read The Rawness. I cannot stress this guy's blog enough. Along with pre 2009 Roissy, Moldbug, Nassim Taleb and Nietzsche, the guy has really changed the way de Franco thinks about things, tenacious cunt that he is. Try and realize what is going on with your inner makeup.

2: If you can identify what is going on, that is quite simply not good enough. You have to experience it as well. For example, you can be the fattest, smelliest, pig faced cunt in all of the world, and you might be cognizant of your sexual market value, the only lassie that wants in your pants be the ones of the pyknic, less than aesthetically pleasing variety, and you might not necessarily have any ego delusions about yourself, but you don't feel it. When you go to a nightclub, get shot down by a lassie in the most horrible way, then you feel it. Then the darkness sets in. Then you realize you might be a lot closer to the left of the bell curve than at first glance.

3: This is the most interesting stage and the one I am really, well and truly struggling with, but it is the stage of what makes a man out of a monkey, as the world plays the smallest kit imaginable.

Think about it this way.

Where did your greatest successes come from? When the sausage suit cunt lifts weights in the gym, how many hours of eating well, injuries and discipline did he give up? When the player walks in with the hot Russian bird, how many rejections has he had to put up with? When the mathematician is going all A Beautiful Mind on your ass, how many hours of pure tedium did he put up with trying to learn what difference equations were, while all his friends were out drinking?

Suffering is winning and winning is suffering.

That is why stage three is quite painful, and it is hard to get out of. Not only have you realized you have failed in such a way and all your delusions are gone, you will have to suffer even more to achieve your goals. It's all too easy to fall back into your ego trap of "they are all smarter than me!" or "well, he's good looking!" but that means you take things as they come, you drift along, you temporize, every station in life you move through without making any movement and then yous be on your ass, withered and shit, dreaming of Lily Long Legs and the fact that you never even gave her a smile, no?

It is what it is. All the stages are important. You need to recognize the problem. You need to feel the problem by removing all forms of blinkers. You then need to realize that there is a harsh, austere landscape to traverse and you need will and strength to make it across. For example, even though I've talked about the ego in terms of intelligence before, I fucked up big time in the past two months or so. I accepted a place on a masters university program and ended up making all these excuses for myself to make up for the difficulty in the material. So, upon engaging with the course material, I kept saying to myself "I was the dumbest and worst prepared in the class" (which is somewhat true but still no excuse for being a lackadaisical titbird)  and "I'm not going to work because if I fail, at least I can say it was due to lack of work!". The result is that I'm in danger of flunking the whole course, because I've been scared of putting work in, of plowing through the work, of challenging my ego and quite possibly come to the conclusion I might not be bright enough, pure and simple for the course.

At least if I wasn't intelligent enough for it, yet I worked hard, as unpleasant as it is and failed, I would know my limits in a certain area of life, and try and make it up, bounce back elsewhere, which in the long run would be far more emotionally healthy for a cunt. This is what I mean by feeling it, and as a result, I've been approaching the last while in a whole new different mindset, the next few weeks will be furious ken. It's simultaneously frightening and exhilarating, to realize that this is all on you and there be no safety net behind it all to catch the floundering cunt. The question is, how antifragile can one's ego possibly be?

Here's the thing with losers in this lad's opinion. A loser is not someone who fucks up in life per sae. A loser is someone who fucks up, and then refuses to look at the reason why he fucked up. This is why yous should take pity on de feminist lassie. A giant list of excuses, a tick de box lists of excuses, to hide the monster inside, to ultimately realize that achieving is suffering and suffering is achieving and that be that and yous be on your owns there.