Friday, 28 February 2014


I have myself a theory and I be a proud lad of the lads ken. The theory itself, well ok, it’s ripped out of the Anonymous Conservative book of wonky amygdalas and r selected Bugs Bunny fuckos, and is a propellant of much of the silly cuckoo clock nonsense that a cunt sees around him today, but that be fine too. Great minds think alike, or Anonymous in his own neck of the woods and Franco stealing some stuff all for himself. The idea is as follows: The left singularity as we see it and as we know it, is exacerbated by psychological disorders such as narcissism, pathological liars, femcuntiness and protecting your ego from shattering into a million tippy shards. So, in order to weaken “The Cathedral”, the culture of narcissism must be…umm…critiqued, eviscerated, made the dirtiest filthiest thing imaginable.
I’m in one of them academic seminars again. For those of yous who don’t know the drill, I’ll sum stuff up quickly. It’s all under false pretences. The idea that people will “learn” and want to know more about a particular discipline. All bullshit ken, it be nothing more than a fucken pissing match. The whole grain (cause it be healthy y’all) sandwich stuffed with posh cunt fillings, the Styrofoam cups of filter coffee which many a pasty faced lad (and occasional lassie) helps themselves too, the rows of seats for the “intellectuals”, the freshly vacuumed carpet with the dodgy flickity flip lightbulb, shit man, a cunt thinks, the more they try and pass this thing off as lads trying to have a healthy productive discussion of ideas, the more depressed people get. So it begins. People gulp down their coffee and start fiddling around on their Iphones. The subject stands in front of the projecter, dishevelled, a hairy Russian doll with cigarette ash for eyes, going through the motions, findings on this and that, how this p value does that and this is this and blah blah.

So what happens is we get to the questions. This is where we get into bitter snarksville territory. Your brain is fried by this point. I’ve suggested before that for a lot of nerds, it’s about having your ego tied up in the subject, rather than having a healthy interest in it. This is infuriating. The questions are all masturbation. They suggest that you use this statistical method over this one, that this is wrong and why did you not consider this and all of that fun that a cunt can’t leave behind. Whats another common one? Oh, yeah, this topic that you have been doing is not supported by any peer review that I know of. And so some lad (there’s always some lad), keeps asking these questions over and over to reframe it so the whole room looks at him. Happy days.

I remember one speaker in particular had an awful lot to say, an interesting down to earth kind of lad. The next day, I was in a crowded coffee shop talking to him about his work in the field, and what it is like to give the same talk over and over again. The answers he gave would have Nassim Taleb nodding in agreement and would put many a cunt off doing anything mastersie.  How the speaking circuit works is as follows. You have your idea and thesis from your company or something. You proceed to present it to the room, where everyone is to have supposed to have read it. No one ever does its all but pissing in the wind. People, who want to help, will get in contact after the talk which rarely happens. But bizarrely enough, what happens is that people will ask questions when they don’t understand the paper at all. Then, when you try and talk to people about that said question, and this one is the fucking kicker, they will conveniently “forget” that they asked the question, and if you try and follow these people up on a criticism they made on your paper, asking for advice, they won’t respond to you. They won’t care.

Just like the male feminist who gets all “I’m telling human resources, nanana”, the academic is often a shit slinging farce that has no interest in science or study outside of an environment where he is supposed to be a paradigm of wisdom and knowledge in the field. In the cunt’s own words “those that end up in academia looking for intellectual vigor often die slow deaths”.

So what do 750 words of rabble rabble have to do with oil?

It’s kind of disturbing how a cunt like me, and many other cunts like me, have been groomed for living like this. The snark, the lack of honour and hierarchy, the use of a higher authority than yourself (hello gay community), to bring someone guilty of thoughtcrime down to their knees. But I am the same as these people though. I am spongy. I take a look at the internet. Oil. North Dakota. A wild area full of nutjobs, shitty work at terrible hours, whores, crack, biting numbing cold and adventure. Adventure ken, something that is not found in the blithering cesspit of academia. Something exciting, even though, fuck it man, I’m properly glamorizing the whole thing. Of course, I don’t have any hands on skills. I am probably too soft, institutionalized to do so. Perhaps I am too old as well for that matter. But the more I think about it, the more there might be something in this field of work. If I stay where I am, I’ll stay in this environment, the one where everyone goes along to get along and everyone exchanges bullshit stop and chats, “did you see the new episode of…” “oh yeah…” …”was so good in that movie…”…”bitch and whine ever since she left Greg…” “hello professor …CAN YOU HEAR ME?” and lose it. One of the worst things about it? Keeping face, being nice, everyone is so nice. I am not cut out for this environment that’s for sure.

I’m getting to that age where n>>>>0 and shit starts to stick, where you can look at facebook and see people’s lives playing out step by step, following a very tight algorithm. The accidental pregnancies with the fatarse. The office job. The masters in bullshit. The lassies that are still hot but now have a pot belly or a bit of a wrinkle there. The extended adolescence, kiddification of lads in their early twenties. What would a cunt need to do to get out of this? Would it be worth burning out like this?

I could write a fucken book on academia at this stage, but that be enough in aw, already written a shiteton of posts about it. North Dakota, Calgary, Oil and adventure? Looking more real and sharp by the day ken.

Saturday, 15 February 2014

Masters Degree in STEM: What To Expect (Part One)

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Let's just start by clearing the air here. This ain't a 2000 word harangue on why majoring in Transgender Turtle poetry is a fucken thick as shit idea, or why yous should do this and that and this en ut, but something more, something possibly relevant. This is not a post telling you whether yous should do a masters in a STEMMIE kind of field or not. Simply put, this is a post about what exactly is going to happen to yous if you choose to dive into some of the tough shit of the STEM, abstractions built upon abstractions, balloon headed moon eyed motherfuckers still living with their parents in house with no name, with the credentials nailed to the walls, have to grow up, when, who ha, how why ken? Hell has a name, thy name is modular functions.

Fucken hell lads.

So lets get down to business en aw. I guess the main, biggie, elephant in the room and all of that is to do with the psychological aspect of being trapped in such an environment. I guess the idea of this post is to prepare a cunt for the rough and tumble of one of society's strangest, oddest environments, the inside of an office with a supervisor and his stack of paperiedoos.

But prior to this, I want you to read this post from Bodi. Ignore the "pua" tagline on his blog. It's actually an incredibly profound piece of writing, and very important in terms of what kind of people you are going to come across during your adventures in academia. We'll start with the people first, cause yous can't have smoke without fire after all.

Simply put, the more and more you advance in academia, the more and more socially incompetent people that you will come across. And just toos clarify here, I'm not talking about the shy, nerdy motherfucker who just needs a bit of confidence and a couple of jars in him, or the guy who has an unusually strong interest in rain patterns in Scandanavian countries but who be a cool dude despite this. I'm talking about the gammas, the crusty cunty crabs in the bucket. To quote bodi:

The real problem with all the Betas and Gammas is not their repellence, but the endless myriad frame-controlling attacks they see fit to attempt on anyone they feel doesn’t play their bitch games. What we essentially have is a group of men behaving like women. There is no conduct of honour or integrity in their behaviour. In short: there is no masculinity: weasely, snidey men being weasely and snidey. The closet metaphor I can construct for how I feel at work is that of a proud, majestic bear, chained in a pit, de-clawed and being slowly dragged down by small, vicious dogs darting in and out to attack. Yes: I really said proud and majestic. More Iorek Byrnison than Bungle.

After a few weeks I suddenly realised what it is that makes chemical engineers good at chemical engineering:

a burning need to prove oneself through chemical engineering.

It was there shining out of most of my colleagues (and coincidentally the history of the entire western world)….. they actually gave a shit. They cared about this stuff and were desperate to learn that little nugget more of information to be able to get the feeling of self satisfaction from knowledge-mogging a co-worker. My problem was this:

I simply didn’t give a shit anymore.

Two years of inner-game work had moved my reference-frame to be soundly internal and I simply now don’t care what nearly all other people think. I am extremely content with myself as a person. This state of mind is in fact not condusive to doing a technical job for a living. What drives people like engineers, surgeons, pilots or computer programmers to spend years and years mastering their craft, to go home and then do more research at home on their ‘pet projects’ (as a lot do) is a deep connection between their ego and their trade. And of course a spectacular lack of pussy.
Bingo. We have a fucken winner. Pass go and collect $200.

If you do a masters in a STEM, the amount of well balanced, interesting men in your vicinity are going to start dropping out like flies. What you're left with when all is said and done, is the likeable but way into it nerds, and the sickly little gamma who has his ego tied up so much with the subject, with having that little bit of an edge over the other sickly little toad man tittied bitch, that his failures in life, with women, with health, even with money, is siphoned through the fact that they are able to understand this highly esoteric topic that no one gives a fuck and a half over better than you or the lad on the stret ever will. Be wary of these people. They are trying to present an image to the world that is not them, and if yous criticize that world view in any way, you're insulting them. That's when you have trouble.

Thankfully, there's not many of these people. But, they do rise in number and in proportion, until, at apex Cathedral, the show is run by a lot of these guys and these cunts will not take no for an answer. Why do you think global warming guys are so nutty despite the fact that evidence is piling up against them, and the forecasting models like ARCH and GARCH etc are fucken useless? Why do you think doctors wrinkle their noses when a cunt mentions Gary Taubes and Robert Lustig? Why do you think a feminist will chop off your head if yous dare criticize the patriarchy? Simple as shit ken, yous are not criticizing the idea. Yous are taking them cunts for a ride and they don't like it when yous do that to them.

Which leads into point two. You are not going to win against these guys. Forget it, don't waste your breath. You are not going to win against a guy who is passionate about the subject, or has his ego tied up so much with the subject so as far as being Freddy the fucking fantastic neurosurgeon . Do your best yes of course ken, take pride in what you're doing, the best job a cunt can do and all that shebang, all out or fuck off home. But tread lightly my brothers, yous are on a sinking ship and there's no fucken lifeboat. You're fucked boy. Fucked.

The pussy, well that's a problem too. Not only are the lassies (all that sexism, sigh) thin on the ground (and usually fat in de head, ho ho ho), letting one of these nerdy, witchly, quiet, introverted, mostly chinese lassies into a pit full of slobbering nerds means that all hell can break loose. That, my friends is where shit can get pretty damn ugly. Suddenly going drinking stops being fun because it turns into a gossip queen circle jerk where we try and put down the other lad. Then we try and seduce a lassie by taking to her about Fermat's last theorem and conjectures by two nutty Japanese lads. But they don't go home with her. THEY GO HOME WITH FUCKEN DAMO AND IT BLOWS THEIR FUCKEN SKULLS KEN!!!

Watch your drinking ken. Again, I fucked up here. Franco goes full blown manosphere after a few scoops. Results are interesting, but ultimately messy, something yous have to reel in on.

You're going to find it hard to get laid in a masters, due to the level of work required for the course, the poor quality of lassie and the lack of free time to say approach, the sleep deprivation (in my case full blown insomnia) or even expand a social circle. In short, the thing can turn into a weird cat and mouse game where you're trying to play yourself off as balanced, not to make a cunt jealous but not to be "weird". This is something I've failed to do. Hopefully yous won't make the same mistake that I did in that regard.

If there's pussy in your class, it's either nursing or you've found yourself in Comparative Literature. In which case, get the fuck out ken! Now like! So do nursing ken.

Part Two gets all Sartre on your arses.

Saturday, 8 February 2014

Nerds are Arseholes and Failures: Part 2

So originally, this series of posts about the moral turpitude of the gamma lad was going tos stop with a bit of a critique of the neoreactionary/certain type of manosphere lad who likes to live vicariously, him, the internet stooge, the brony bony, through Evola porn and Dungeons and Dragons playing cards, but hey, the topic is certainly an engaging one right now, even if wes are talking about sententious fucktards who hate themselves and tend to lash out in big ways. Think the nerd who can cook meth. Think Fat Fuck Futrelle. Think the lad who is coming apart at the seams in a way so spectacular and unprecedented, it would make Maccibeth throw up his hands and go "fuck this shit lads, I'm going home".

In the last post, this cunt argued that gammas and their self delusion comes from hating themselves to such a degree, that this toxic shame makes a cunt want to present themselves as someone that they are not. You have the objective you roysh, followed by the you you present to the world. If either of these are out of whack with each other, yous have a shaky inner core, right? But what about the other extreme?

Here in the manosphere, it's all jovial, fun and games, pin the tail on the donkey, to pick out the phlegmatic, pixie minged cuntess with a coupla extra kilos hanging off her stomach and take a couple of potshots, but a cunt has to ask why a lassie does this, why does she present herself to the world in this manner? Trapped in a living Malebolge, the lassie does the only thing that she can ever hope to do to get the attention of the lad. Sure, there's the whole thing with feminists taking economic resources out of the pockets of diligent, hardworking lads, but in a lot of ways, the game is played so that the feminist's objective reality and how the world sees them is out of whack.

Shit happens. The world is pathetic, ugly, sad, unfair, cruel, people scrawling through perpetual squalor, blind as bats, broke nobodies with lumpy 5s to comfort them after hours and of laborious effort tweaking with excel spreadsheets, but nay cunt is going to believe the feminist lassie who tries and passes herself off as a victim of the patriarchy any longer are they? People suffer, it's a part of life ken. People whine, whinge, complain, that be normal as well. But when your life is made up of creating an image of being the perpetual victim, that is when the fucken buzzers should be going in the cunts head and a person should tread very fucken carefully. Like the last part with the gamma who wants the world to see him as the cool, weathered, Casanova type, this kind of gamma, this person who hates himself, wants the world to see himself as a victim, all the time, everytime, lets all eat ice cream and watch Grey's Anatomy.

Leftism is built on this. Rather than confront your issues and your inner demons, it encourages one to plaster over it with victimization, crusaderism, and fragile egos, which are prone to snap at the smallest bit of pressure. That's why both types of gammas hates the sphere. The sphere encourages you to be that cool guy, through work and effort, while tearing down the tapestry of petty lies and ugly truths. So, we get a strange mix of people falling around the place, blind as a bat, as a result of all of this.

Both types tend to work off each other as well. Look at David Futrelle. A rotund, prematurely ageing co-dependent who hates, nay, loathes himself, trying to play both the victim (evil Matt Forney lol) card and trying to be the cool rebellious lad about town on his motorized scooter and his bag of shopping, acting like a crusader, protecting all of the poor wimminz, all dem single laddies out there, from the evil lads typing evil things and fucken hell, should have the aul head sliced off in a guillotine and their balls put in a vice and myriad of horrible, grotesque things. Shits ugly ken. He's got penniless drunk, being eaten by his cats written all over him alas, but what else can a lad do?

These people hate themselves, fucken unreal ken. I used to think that they were genuinely evil people, but in reality they're not. They're sad, sorry shadows, flickers, with nothing ever working for them, no matter how hard they try. But the ego is a strong thing, and like a pack of rabid dogs, get them together and chaos reigns, pandemonium, lights in the sky that rival the Northern Lights. Hating yourself is ok, self loathing is brilliant, if yous know what to do with it.

So, toos sum up quickly, be wary of people who play the victim card in this manner. Just like yous should get suspicious of the loquacious Jay from the Inbetweeners type who lists off all his bangs and his formula one driving mates, you should be aware of the victim playing tit.

See you cunts and cuntesses in part 3. 

Thursday, 6 February 2014

Nerds are Arseholes and Failures: Part 1

So in this humble lads view, neo-reactionaries and people floating around the manosphere are essentially nothing more than different sides of the same coin. Cliches are gay beyond all holy hell, a lad appreciates this, but cliches be cliches for a reason and it be important to note all the same. But of course, there be different courses, views, beliefs and egos zig-zagging their ways through the modern, postmodern, post fuck I'm a pandemiostosexist who identifies as a manbearbig, all of that nonsense. If you think in terms of economics say, micro economics would equal the manosphere, giving a cunt the tools to excel with women, social skills, in essence to becoming the most interesting man in the room. The Dark Enlightenment is the aggregate of these little decisions, markups to men, in terms of turning the table on populist democracy, and how and what can a cunt and cuntess do before the junkie hits rock bottom, shit's all a perfect day, hoping yous, for the love of god, don't fall asleep and never wake up.

I don't like the terminology, can be a bit nerdy and twatty sounding in parts, but I's am going to use it cause it makes sense. It be clear, not like I'm divulging a lassie's favorite sexual fetish en aw. Gamma male. It's more the concept of what a gamma male actually is, that is so interesting. He's the deluded fuckwit. He's the archtype for nearly every British comedy, be it The Office, Fawlty Towers, Peep Show. He is the loser at life, defeated again and again by his ego, failure upon failure crushing down on this lad till he shuffles off this mortal coil, oh fuck, look at that fiend, fucker there has The Bends does he not?

How do yous identify a so called "gamma" male quickly? I've mentioned self delusion before, but there's another pretty good heuristic that one can apply in advance. Then, yous stay away from these people. Remember, with a normal person with a healthy ego, a man can talk what he believes to an extent, but with a gamma, if you a disagree with a person, you are not only disagreeing with them on topic a or b or whatever, yous are also, calling them a giant, gaping salami cunt. How could you not bask in the light of their brilliance ken?

So here's the heuristic, and it comes from hours and hours a week in a masters program. Gammas tend to hate themselves, like a fucken lot. Real intrinsic, deep down, raw, prickly skin hate. So, when they present themselves to the world, to other people, they tend to create images of what they should be to that other person, especially lassies.

I'm going to use an example of a lad I know. He's a smart guy, (lets call him Harry) really smart motherfucker, but he's a loser in many different senses of the word. He's poor with the lassiebum. He's small, bulgy eyes, gaunt faced, all that comes with the trade. Recently I went drinking with him and a fat Galway moonpig he was trying to pull, not having met her before, real vapid lassie who liked toos talk about male empowerment. Sigh says the cunt. So as I sit down there, the two of us drinking away, we start talking about the show Breaking Bad, and the lassie, clearly into him, starts talking to me in the kind of way lassies like to do to show off the guy she wants.

"Haven't watched the show Breaking Bad that much, haven't had the time like. Looks cool though, be able to sit on your ass cooking meth no? Fucken better than what be going on now like!"

"We've got, like, our, MR Breaking Bad right here!"


"Yeah. Harry told me he can cook crystal meth. Can't you Harry?"

Oh...bollocks. What has this lad done?

"Really Harry? You can cook meth?"

"Nahhhhhhhhh mannnnnnnnn. I neverrrrrrrrr remmmmmmmmmmmverr saying thaaaaaaattttt"

"But you talk about how you were making compounds in your basement when you were thirteen."

This kid was once caught taking a poo in the school art cabinet. 

"I don't recallllllllllll thaaaaaaaaaaaaatttttttttttttt"

"Can you really cook meth?"

"I'm sorrryyyyy, whyyyyyyy wouulllllllllllddddddd I makkkeeeeee up a lieeeeeeee like thaaaaaaaa?"

That topic went dead after that. But the rest of the night was weird as well. These little lies. Here I had Harry in front of me, who had built up this false image of himself, the cool ultra intelligent guy who could cook fucken crystal meth, when in reality he was a video game addled bronie.

Shit man.

I like to think of it as this way. Think of it as a gamma compass.

There is an objective you, there is an objective truth.

There is a you that you present to the world, an ego, a persona.

The more out of line these "yous" are, the more likely yous get bitter delusion, the more likely yous are hurting, staying awake at 4 am, listening to bitter post punk, wondering where the bloody fuck it all went to shit.

The key is to look for psychological asymmetry. Is he talking about literature and books in a way for him to come across as more intelligent, rather than for the love of reading itself? Is he talking about how he could "approach a girl" if he wanted to, or how he's banging hotties when it reality it's a harem of Judith Butlers? Now every cunt does this from time to time, myself included, but getting this cleanness of soul, this symmetry is fucking key, when it comes to liking yourself, to becoming a better person.

Look out for this. Look out for the gamma. Look out for these signs. Be wary talking about your beliefs with him, because that's when trouble begins.This is the guy who would have sold you out in Soviet Russia ken to them fucken arseholed with giant truncheons.

Part Two will deal with neo-reactionaries and HBD lads.

Tuesday, 4 February 2014


Insomnia is a bit of a headwreck ken. It’s all fucken bangers and mash to the brain, sticky senses, your body is oh so very tired, but them thoughts in your brain are zipping along like drunken motorists on a high speed motorway. Shit ken. Yous can’t stop thinking, can’t stop breaking down every little minute detail like the little aspergery fucktard that you are. Leaves a cunt with not much in terms of options does it tae fuck, cadaverous eyes, sticky, flaky skin, and bags under the eyes that look like real fucken scumbo cut mahself and listen to pedo music eyeliner. Yous look like a right piece of work at the end of the day. Which means I got me watching the Super Bowl, just for the fun, a bit of de craic en aw. I mean, sure to hell it was dull like, but then that commercial came on. You know the one. The one with the lads selling yous sugar and water and having the American national anthem being sung in different languages, different voices en aw. This be interesting lads. Predictably enough, the aul twitter was swamped with lads blabbing on about multiculturalism and evil liberal fucktards and all of that nonsense.

Yous all took the bait, hook line and sinker en aw.

One of the things I’ve been seeing more and more in the media, particularly Irish television and newspapers, is to get some fiend and make him into a sort of mystical Goldstein kind of figure in order to grounge up some good ratings on the telly. A show, a debate banausic to the point of tedium, droll talkers parroting the other person, with some minor, epsilon sized point in difference. Everyone sits in a pool of wank and then switches over to the Bruce Willis film. So what do these lads do? They drag up a conservative to add “spice” to the tv debate. But of course, we don’t really like the idea of the well to do, sensible lad with his head screwed on properly, ooohhh no. We want the delinquent, the debased, and the fuckwit who believes the universe is fifty years old and that Grandad Joe was blown up by de Jews. As he tries and debates passionately, a narcissistic, eternally solipsistic group of boob tubers toss their popcorn back and congratulate themselves for a bloody good job well done, talking to others like them the next day. Politics is my hobby they say! And so the sad, sorry circle continues>>>>. So they say.
Here’s the thing right. There’s a frame, a marketing frame, a news based frame, The Cathedral, call it what you will. You are playing into their frame, yous are as I said, hook line and sinker going for it. You are the bogey man they talk about at dinner time. All this stuff recently with Return of Kings and articles on eating disorders and lassies that look like pixies with the short hair en aw, that’s all it is. Perpetuating the evil man, the fuck, the tool, the divider upper of society.  You will never win playing into their frame. That is what MRA’s do not understand. They are framing it and the MRAs, vivaciously, are diving into it, recklessly, careening into the abyss of useful idiots, as has been done in history so many times. Please pass this law so I can see my kid on Tuesdays! And so on and on and on it goes.

So what we do, is that we create the frame, we turn the game on its head, a full 360. We have to do it so that they are playing into our little sphere, playing up to us. Of course, it both helps that what we are saying and doing is antifragile, not to mention that when the idiot Baptist Church member or John Waters or whoever is just fun and games, a 30 year old man with game, money and a STEM job, or even worse, woman, minority etc, is in your ballpark, then the game gets serious. That’s going to be when the real emotional acrobats are going to begin, with the media, the writers, the data and the p values. So if they invite you for a debate, don’t fucken do it. Say something and let them slobber all over you. Don’t let them turn you into that bad guy who doesn’t know what the hell he’s talking about. Keep your cool lads, keep your cool.

This is why Tuthmosis’s articles have gone viral. They haven’t been done debating other people, and they haven’t been done in a way that you can write them off as mentally unbalanced, (men lyke rape LOL), you, the mangina, simply cannot write them off as the stream of consciousness coming out of a deranged man’s skull. Add to the fact that Return of Kings has been written in a language set to appeal to the Tl;DR lads (not that this is a bad thing by any means mind you, I mean, who the fuck reads Moldbug?) and bingo, yous are on the money. It’s so simple yet so obvious. Write like a celebrity magazine.
We don’t debate them on their grounds; we don’t fall into their frame. We write our own stuff and set it up on our lines. We keep away from the nerdy language, even if it is fun to use. We write like we’re designing a maths proof. Cold, calculated, aimed at the fragile egos of the male feminist. If they try and come after us with slander or hitpieces, we reply back rationally, coldly, and make them look like fools.

The second issue a lad has is to do with entertainment, but that, as they say, is another story.