Tuesday, 25 March 2014
So this post here be is just going to be a bit of an "on yous go" tirade, blather on about what bes going on with the blog and De Franco and all that related shite. Oh, and apologies on the comments, will get on that as soon as possible.
First, I've been completely bollocksed over when it comes to study. I've taken a pretty big risk in a lot of ways and quite frankly, I have no clue if I can pull it off or not. Assuming I do though, things look a bit more open, a bit more fresh, a bit more terrifying.
The academic environment is horrible, sick, twisted hoards of passive aggressive skinny fat bespectacled aspergery fucktards. Successful failures. Commenter Shenpen had an excellent comment on why this may be the case, chronicling the lack of community amidst cunts and cuntesses. Used tae be a man knew what he had to do, what was expected of him. Environments of pissy little milquetoasts is, above all else, exhausting, ugly, deep imbibed in a cunt's psyche. Equality week. Diversity day. Another LGBT rainbow week, as if those fucken bullys deserve one. Fucken hell like. Wimminz week. Bring your vibrator to university day. This is what this place has become. Some of the finest gents to walk, and this is how you repay them. That's why I brought the oil thing up. It seems to be one of the few environments where a cunt is given a map, a line a target, the cage is opened and yous are told "up to yous lad, get cracking!"
Which is why I'm getting out of it, once and for all.
So where is there to go? Ireland is quadrospazzed, built upon a shaky foundation of European credit and bond purchases, a lad needs to look for fresh grass, new adventures, a call to the wild, to act all cheesy an saccharine and shit. It seems to be something left over from Generation X, bequeathed to the Millenials, people forging masks of irony, playful cynicism, a race down to the meaningless bottom where every lad is as mopey as the last. There be no true atheist a cunt can say that.
So where is there to go? It will follow the same format. The carry on back with the couple of nicknacks I own, the jumping, nay immersing myself in another country altogether, watching every grain of sand pass through the hands of the lassie. Nine different Francos, nine different timelines, nine different countries, all geometrically decaying. The drinking and the other stuff, oh yeah, I need to stop that too. St Patricks Day was all crawling under tables and stealing drinks. Go figure.
The truth will set you free. It's like disentangling Christmas lights, there's still a mess of things in tangles there, but if yous don't accept the truth of things, that's going to be one hell of a bare looking Christmas tree ken. Because I think I get it now, the absolute truth, the great gig in the sky. This system works like this, that lad and his mates works like that, this person desires this in his life, that lassie is not into her boyfriend anymore, that man is on smack and so forth. You can literally see the little lines of code running through the streets as you make your way to the crack den with the dollar bill in yer nose. Used to be books like The Bible and Willie Shakespeare taught a cunt these things, mad hungry fiend Cicero and all of that and yes its terrifying, raw, tender, jump and let it all go. Reactionary is like the Ludovico technique, the more you understand and comprehend your surroundings. But it's something that at the end of the day, you wouldn't trade in for the world, right lads? Or is that steak too juicy for yous? Who wants to be a bread and butter cunt anyhoo?
So long story short, posting might be a bit spotty for the next little while. This project I have that might very definitely fail, other projects I want to do, looking at your inner demons, too much time spend online and all that comes with it. But start of May we might see something. A new hope, even though there be no country for the young lad or lassie.
Wish me luck.
Wednesday, 12 March 2014
I’m a right aul cunt when I bes langers like. Trashing around the streets of Dublin, a crepuscular fiend, bodies, girls with fatpacks, Skrillex haircuts, rundown lassies of the UHT milk variety, it culminates in a cacophonous mess where one can barely look at oneself straight in the mirror anymore. Fuck ken. I’m a horrible drinker. I turn into a pathological liar amongst people I don’t know, the most interesting man in the room that never was. I become increasingly depressed, feeling like a beaten piece of grain within the stifling confines of many of the finest drinking establishments in Dubbers town, be it Whelans, Coppers, Diceys, Twennie Ones (lol), The Academy, blah blah blah. But yeah, I’m a true shithead. Other classics of mine include Irish goodbyes; trolling lassies of the voluptuous kind, documenting the decline of the west in the club when every cunt comes from a place of fake elation, fake har di har har ness. and just wants to drag a cougar home with him. I'm not much better than these cunts that I talk about. I talk about them because I am the problem, or at least, to a certain extent. This all comes from a place of insecurity I believe, all this excessive drinking stuff and whatnot, but this post be not really in that vein, truth be told. Rather, it’s about this argument from a couple of the neoreactionaries about degenerate PUA types and using all these lassies. It’s a stupid argument, a dark argument and here’s why.But first, back to a few nights ago, and back to my post about how yous need to experience something to really feel it. When I discovered the sphere, I had no problem comprehending, believing and applying game to everyday life. But, I had quite an issue with some of the darker elements of it. You knows the ones I mean like, all of us do. Xsplat has talked about daughter/father incest (for the curious, highly popular female pornlit sit literotica’s most popular/most read topics are forced sex and this kind of incest, hooray for the vote!) fantasies to turn girls on before. Mark Zolo has talked about rape fantasies and “caveman game”. These a cunt knows, no doubt, but it is not until an experience, no matter how bizarre, even a really small one, like the one I had, makes this sink I to such a degree, that it changes a lad’s view on things. Game is peeling away the onion layers, revealing that raw female id for what it is.
I saw a bit of it that night.
Long story short, I got into a fight with another guy after he made a remark about my appearance. It could have been an awful lot worse, thanks be tae christ, but it cooled down pretty quickly all the same. The difference was I won. So skip forward an hour. Dublin’s a pretty small friend and I find her dancing with a friend. The guy’s girlfriend. This shite be awkward en aw, so I decide to try and slip out and try and avoid her gaze, but nay, the lass, she comes over to me and amidst all these people, white dress, not much toos look at, but still.
Pretend not to hear.
I turn to her.
“You scared him. You really shook him up. You shouldn’t have done that. No one has done that to him before”.
She’s giving all these mixed signals, saying no, and going on about how much of an arse I was, but her body language is going crazy.
I put down my drink, look her in the eyes and start kissing her. Not even good looking like, but the evil, devil part of me…shit ken. A few light pushes, a little, gentle, loving “no, no, my boyfriend...”. She’s eating the face off me in a second. This continues on for a bit longer. Nos between kisses. Hand on her ass. She’s shaken, pulls away from me then. Ass bit much face. Franco must die.
"I have to go…”
A light chuckle from her. I hand her my phone.I didn’t need to say anything. The boyfriend is on the bottom floor and is looking for her. What a lass. "I'm sorry" she mutters, and is eaten up by the crowd. The night ends, the degenerate rises.
Which brings me back to the whole PUA thing.
Some of the reactionary lads (small amount though) seem to have this sort of shadowy form of a woman on the pedestal thing going on. That the transition isn’t complete. Cause here’s the thing right. Men and women respond to many different stimuli. For the lads, it’s the lass with the hot ass in class. For lassies, it’s these built in heuristics that respond to flashes of violence, (my cousin in America swears by bringing women to a gun range as a first date) taboo, strength, and being lifted ahead with emotions, little girl lost, real Lucy in the Sky shit. Not a good or bad thing; just is en aw, but the point is with PUAs there’s this sort of weird “exploiting innocent women” thing going on. This isn’t the case at all. And to clarify, this isn’t an extension of the ego “all lassies are cunts” that comes from being a MGTOW. The heuristics have been hacked and laid bare for all to see. Lassies go after it like crack, and will try and find it somewhere else, anywhere in the right or wrong environment if they just can’t get it. We’ve just let the cat out of the bag with this one. By misunderstanding this, the neoreactionaries show their more aspergery fucktardie side. They’re just telling them lassies what they want to here. It doesn’t change what exactly the Female Imperative is though, and what The Manipulated Man is despite how much will go on. That’s fine, that’s biology, that’s being a man, but in a healthy, non-degenerate society. Cue arguments like “you’ll die alone” and valiant efforts to save civilization. But who would want to?
Robert Heinlein was right in that one ken.
Truth is, it doesn’t matter what yous do anymore, you valiant neocrusader with your Moldbug and your 105 IQ you, you so smrt ken! Sitting behind that computer won’t change the fact that this ship is pulling itself apart and you know what? You might as well join in in all the fun and games if that is the case! Have some fun lads, tap that ass, watch Rob Schneider films you demented old fuck! My mind is made up; there is absolutely nothing worth preserving here. Academia is hopelessly corrupt. The church is a wolf in sheep’s clothing for all sugar and spice shite. Work is frosty death. Yous have yourself and your friends and the future, that of course be a different story altogether. Irish Millenials care more about stuff like this. Ride the snake lad. He’s old, skin is fucken cold en aw. Men go where de pussy goes. Your woman, your rules, your the boss. End.
To conclude this series therefore, toxic nerds are a mix of pathological liars, victims/bullies who need the power of institutions to attack other people cause they're too spineless to do so themselves and crusader types (often outsiders) who like to imagine that they are making a difference by saying the word Brahmin over and over again cause that be making them all gooey inside like. Some mystical "chosen" enemy (the evil PUA) to go for, it's the same shit, different game. The more things change, the more they stay the same ken.
Things fall apart, as they do now. Nearly everything is fair game as far as I see it. If yous are not improving yourself in some shape or form, then you are a part of the problem. If you don’t have a great project, a great issue to disentangle, beyond just silly intellectual masturbation, you’re part of the problem. You just want to play out Fight Club in your fucken heads without realizing how dark and brutish human nature is (to suit yous down to a tee of course) and without putting any of the required work in. That’s the great thing about humans though, we can adapt. We can stay positive. Now is not the time to be the lad with the manbearpigcape. Nerds and assholes losing it all over again, in a plethora of messy ways.
Losing it. Nearly there with all this nerd/academia stuff lads. Next step, stop the fucking drinking en aw.