There’s much fashion for the word “cope” lately. At one time it likely emerged outside the manosphere, though by this point use has become second nature to the fierce and reactionary male promoters. More and more lifestyle choices are labeled with such approbation, to where I suspect there is at least a horde of souls who have been trained to think along its guarded lines. They cannot escape the sensitivity, no matter how much stealthy avoidance is attempted. Destiny has clasped all moments for repressive study.
The fallout from this dynamic is brutal in descriptive shades. Everything that one does, especially as a man, must swiftly be called into question for not meeting the professed fantasy lived by Chadish specimens. Interested in art? Well, if it’s not leading to a six-plate harem and endless expansion of the sexual zone, then coping has come to roost. Not specifically focusing on workout regimens or diets that will make you large, and presumably more sexually desirable? Waste of time and an obvious coping mechanism. Better throw in some real estate investing and career-maxxing as well, because a basic life is not acceptable for anyone save the malingered souls of soyciety.
Absent careful consideration, we can easily fall prey to such twisted perceptions of truth. For example, when I moved to a larger city and had less of a robust social circle, I would at times feel pressured to seek out new avenues, hardly because I was full of energy after 40-plus hours of manual labor in wretched conditions; instead, it was the unceasing dictums of the internet pushing along. Best stay active and constantly move on to the next lay or night out, lest you slouch into the blasé inactivity of a NEET wannabe. You can’t yourself to just relax and enjoy the downtime, for losers sleep while winners go hard and fast on 4 hours a night.
Lately the influence has passed across my research efforts as well. Since 2019 I have issued at least 9 books, on a variety of subjects and demanding varied degrees of study to write. The present topic of Conservatism has proved especially frustrating, and at times I question the value. Pointedly, I wonder if I’m “coping” by dedicating time to a useful endeavor, albeit at the expense of more hours spent going out to interact with the opposite sex and merrily build the never-ending harem of gold. One of my next projects is a book that will likely require a year’s worth of reading and writing, with some sources not even available in an ideal translation. Am I frittering away time that could otherwise be spent “in the GAME” by following a dutiful passion on the digital page?
Them that follow the popular assumptions would no doubt concur readily. I’m not so ready to take that position. It seems like provision of energies to a cause, a personal myth perhaps, may not be so far from valid if one can stay halfway rational about the whole thing, while still dedicating some time to other offerings.
But then again, that could just be another cope.
In the heyday of the Red Pill community, it was common to hear the phrase “thousand pipe stare”, or perhaps its more graphic equivalent. The verbiage referred to the facial expression of a woman presumed to have contended with countless male partners, reaching a point where she now lacked any depth or passion for life. Mystery was far gone from her demeanor, along with any vague hopes of a genuinely seductive potentiality. She merely stood there, oblong and embittered, waiting for another round in the sheets, and hating any playful banter between.
I’ve certainly come across a few of these specimens, although the less popular admittance is that there are women capable of fully displaying the charm a man expects, albeit with the same record as those females who seem to be dead inside. In other words, the aura they give off does not encompass what truth lies behind the clockwork appearance.
But all that belongs in another post’s dominion. Here I wish to discuss a phenomenon less impressed on women by aggressive sexuality, and perhaps more so the mere lives they tend to lead: an utter devolution of personality. Any man who has bothered to “approach” as the PUAs say, can attest to this reality. On occasion you will venture across a lively woman capable of decent conversation and eye contact, though even rarer is her availability or interest in the male prospect. This platonic mumbling remains somewhat desirable at least, because in a frustrated mind it becomes an “almost” moment, inevitably destined to lead later attempts into the arms of victory.
On the other hand, we encounter those souls completely divorced from common social cause. They merely stare, deer in the headlights, hoping for a diversion which could allow retreat to the flickering rectangle in their palm. Anything to avoid interaction and speech. Even the briar patch would be better than awkward small talk, for the love of God.
I do not believe their attitudes are informed strictly by disinterest, or certainly not in the sense of attraction. In the realm of the Black Pill we rhapsodize about levels of desirability, though at the day’s end there are only so many men available at any given time. No, I suspect a relatively innocent culprit is afoot here: the systematic programming away of feminine charm.
By introducing women to the world of smartphones, tech daemons expertly dispatched the need to actually offer anything of value aside from perhaps a physically appealing frame. Women are not brought up understanding they must use manners and decorum when speaking with the opposite sex; they see such traits as remnants of an elderly time, cute and cuddly, but relegated to generalized disrepute. The lone tidbits of personality bound to heighten their interest is something streamed on the digital dreamscape, where everything is somehow real as compared to boring reflections of self off-camera.
The consequence is that most men in the average to below categories are simply ill-suited for going around in search of the proper “Game” to employ and ensnare women. They ought to build digital status or simply take money and search after superior pastures. Per chance there might rest higher forms of logic, and human character capable of matching the same. Just maybe.
Alternatively, one could continue practicing “Game” in the trenches, begging after the possibility of arriving at that glorious status of the Zoomer female whisperer.
In the process of finishing a long-delayed book on the merits of Conservatism, I came across a clarifying realization worth mentioning here: morality is a progressive liberal. This might strike the initial hearing as odd; after all, how precisely can a concept take on its own shape with ideology, almost like an ardent political actor would do? The answer relates more strongly to perception than any other aspect.
Contained between the force fields of our Western universe, those embodying the values of the Plural Left are necessarily accepted to be on the “right” side of the equation. By this I don’t suggest they feel an affinity towards conservative positions, but rather that their views are ultimately the tone-setters for our spirito-politico lives. We see this dynamic playing out on the regular with those frustrated souls who become tarred by a brusque Tweet or association with past rabble-rousing. Quickly they run to the Left, seeking with drooling lips the maternal warmth and protection from consequences brought on through right-wing conspiracy.
One of the earliest instances was David Brock, a dastardly viper of a person who ran attack programs against the Clintons in the 1990s, before letting his disillusionment and gayness transition to hyperactive leftist warfare at Media Matters. He would be followed by Jack Hunter, the “not a racist” Southern Avenger who got weak at the knees after realizing his past might complicate a safe gig with Senator Rand Paul, or writing dopey lolbertarian pieces at Rare.us. Notably though, he went to a establishment center-left publication to do his mea culpas, not Fox News. I suppose we could just attribute these shifts to money needs, and surely that seems to be at least part of the discussion. After all, in the land of limited welfare provisions, a man with no job is half-life.
Let’s not forget to include femme fatales in the mix either. Katie McHugh was for a time the prize-winning for Breitbart, cranking out venomous pieces to feed the relentless churn of comment section demand and apocalyptic Rightist gnawing. After being kicked to the curb for some anti-Muslim tweets in June 2017, her big blueberry eyes wandered around the conservative blogophere, unable to secure permanent work and forced to take up restaurant jobs simply to stay afloat. Her heart ached at the thought of never being able to find someone and start a family as a slowly-deprogrammed normie, hence she chose to vent these frustrations to BuzzFeed, content to cede moral responsibility to Ben Smith and Matt Stopera over even the more moderate expressions of conservative normalcy.
Some years later, McHugh would be joined by the dazzling face of Alyssa Farah. At one time the daughter of WND’s Joseph Farah and a doyenne of modern Conservatism, Farah charted a fairly stable path from Fox News staffer to communications specialist at the Freedom Caucus, and eventually the Trump White House itself. There she prevailed nearly to the end with serving the president, only to have a last-minute concern over legacy issues and turning against the orange legend with this vague hope of “saving” democracy.
In one of the most disgusting prodigal soy moves known to history, Farah went on The View in February 2022 and slagged off her parents in front of millions because they chose to not attend her wedding based on political disagreements. Here she was, one-time darling of the Plural Right, degrading and diminishing her own kin to the pleasure of cackling leftist hens with no agenda other than to confirm their varied degrees of self-loathing. Conservative platforms would not do, for the separation had to feel absolute and credible. Once motherly leftists place you in the clear, sins can slowly be washed away, even if the eventual outcome is a smarmy gig pushing robotic neo-conservatism on hapless bystanders. At least it’s good, genuine, and non-offensive. That necessary and proper road back to a bear hug from the broader human race.
Soy was lost, but now it has been found.
Growing up in the early 2000s, I was naturally privy to the tide of screeching concern over mass surveillance and the Bush-approved “police state.” Being at least nominally Republican, I felt predisposed to the apologetics typical of the time. We needed these tools to defeat the terrorists, even if those stopped were seldom ever showcased to the public. Opposition to them was suspect, indicating potential sympathies with the vile forces aligned against American democratic freedom, and “all that stuff.”
With age I outgrew those assumptions, perhaps sooner than others who were plugged into the happy ecstasy as Obama entered office, when liberals suddenly believed fighting terrorism was a glorious cause. Nevertheless, it has stuck in my mind to this day that we are in small ways encouraged to extend compliance towards such policies from a young age. If you came from a family like mine, there was precious little room for privacy, regardless of its desirous status. What you did, who you spoke with, where you went, every last bit would be relayed back to the head honchos, and only after an upward dissemination to each branch. The same was true regardless of how clearly something was designated as private. Journals or diaries were all fair game, because family.
That lack of genuine refuge can certainly lead a person to become insular, trying to preserve what limited autonomy they possess before it is grab-bagged away. On the flip side, it may merely create a conditioning where one feels almost obligated to report broad swaths of their life in order to stay within the bounds of “appropriate” behavior. Failing to do so feels almost criminal, and unless you’re a rap fan, probably not ideal.
Rather than being restricted to youth however, it begins to metastasize outwards into everyday life. Social media shifts from a silly hobby to a duty of sorts, reminding whatever handful of denizens are viewing the profile that you exist, and are acting accordingly. After all, one cannot fulfill his expected objectives as a human being by showing life to random strangers in the park, or whichever acquaintances he comes across on an average day. The internet must be informed, or else it’s somehow less legitimate.
The State is quite plainly the culmination of this youthful trend. If the family, the community, the church, coworkers, and social media sycophants are all definite targets for news delivery, then how can good behavior not also be transmitted to the government authorities? No doubt they will appreciate seeing proud citizens observing their gallant goober role in the open realm. A spirit doing it in private is likely anti-social, with secrets that are lies. Likely to be guilty of untoward attitudes regarding the democratic-mandating syndicate in Washington, D.C., London, or Beijing. Worthy of skepticism and close study.
But the programmed revealers? They aren’t worried, because they, “have nothing to hide.” Nothing. Not a scratch or second-guess. Only the sounding signal of an honest life.
Economic orthodoxy has a habit of permeating. Whether Left or Right, the political spectrum generally falls around some common first principles regarding how folks perceive public money and its relation to the taxpayer. As conventional wisdom holds it, we taxpayers fund the government, which then goes about its business in a variety of convoluted (and often reckless ways). Dissenters complain about how funds are spent, but they typically fall in line to avoid IRS sanction. The process continues from time immemorial until the state collapses, or otherwise changes shape.
Some would beg to differ, however. A strident example is Stephanie Kelton, author of the fascinating and eminently controversial Deficit Myth book. Kelton prevails as a stalwart promoter of Modern Monetary Theory (MMT), which manages to simultaneously irritate both conservative economists and their compatriots in the Keynesian column. At stake is MMT’s core implication that the state is not in fact reliant on our tax dollars, but rather independent of the stereotypical “family budget” analogy pushed by politicians. In reality, the government simply wills itself into existence by virtue of an inherent capacity to print money.
Now, some might pose an immediate counterpoint: will this not lead to runaway inflation? Well, MMT proponents have a rather clever way of squirreling out of the problem: they make a distinction between weaker economies deprived of reserve currency status and even Euro-utilizing nations tied to the European Central Bank, which prohibits them from deficit spending (borrowing and printing) their way out of the hole using former national currencies. The United States need not worry about this concern, or at least not to the same restrictive degree.
The purpose of citizen revenue is notably separate from the traditional view as well. According to Kelton, the reason why the Uncle Sam collects taxes involves three separate logical angles. First, it provides something of a check on inflation. Money taken out of circulation based upon paycheck confiscation or other state-mandated fees prevents an overabundance of cash in the system and limits the serenade hysteria of those on the Plural Right, or at least appears to do so. As to what level taxes must be, or what point spending may indeed be excessive, the MMT brigade is not terribly specific.
A following dynamic to taxation is its role in giving the dollar more value by creating a sense of scarcity among the citizenry. Consider the implications if people received their entire compensation without any current or future deductions; would there not be a potential motivation to work less, due to the availability of that additional dough? Over the course of a consumer-worker’s lifespan, it’s a lot of lost productivity on the overall market front. Many people would forgo second jobs, overtime hours, and bridging loans to simply enjoy the freedom of being off. True, there is the possibility of them becoming greater consumers with the extra funds, but whether it would make up the difference is questionable. Such conditions would also lend themselves to individuals having more time to educate themselves and question the state, hardly a positive aspect from the standpoint of the watchers.
This brings us to a third factor relating to legitimacy of the state. By collecting taxes under threat of serious penalties for failure to pay, the government puts up a credible stance versus the liberty-minded activist who conjures some idealistic claim that income tax is unconstitutional. Sure, you can hold that opinion, but the courts will see otherwise. This helps explain why even the most ardent libertarians are sure to file away by April 15th, conscious of their futility in resistance to a behemoth of entrenched administrative power.
Naturally following is the reality that tax protests would be unlikely to effect any major change on the government. The HHS and DHS will not cease to exist simply because a few hundred thousand refuse to pay into the IRS what they are expected to surrender. For one, monies are already deducted automatically from a paycheck if you are not self-employed, and even so, the government would just print or borrow more dollars. We already see this in the aftermath of major tax cuts like Trump’s TCJA; the federal state did indeed lose revenue and expand the deficit, but no crushing blow brought the Treasury to its knees. Business merely continued as usual, albeit with grimmer figures on the leader board.
Does this make us all conservative and libertarian coping clowns? Perhaps, unless the collapse becomes realer than your friendly neighborhood podcast suggests.
In the course of my routine stroll through literary fields, I typically stay within the bounds of a few genres, mainly history or political theory. On occasion however, I may allow myself the vague impulse snag and pick a subject far outside the traditional realm. This presents something of a danger for me, as books can range from short and tolerable to long and brutal, or even those curt varieties which seem to endure past the life of a thousand generations. Still, there are times when I stumble across a perplexing title that, in its bizarre fashion, turns out to be wildly endearing,
The latest iteration on this front is Punch Me Up To The Gods, a memoir by the author Brian Broome. Even compared to others, the text is an odd choice, in that the author is gay, black, and a recovering cocaine user. Not exactly my go-to content creator profile, but strangely enough, beyond all its lurid degeneracy, the story was relatable on a level completely unexpected. As it turns out, Broome’s perspective during his childhood reminded me of my own, particularly in regards to the way he viewed the idealized American family structure on television.
Whereas Broome’s own home was a warzone of violence, alcoholism, and hatred, the flickering box offered a different angle. He watched shows where husbands loved their wives, and wives adored their husbands. Children were the light and joy of their parents, who never seemed to lack an ability to express love towards their offspring. Grandma was there to make cookies and be sweet at all times, while money seemed to never be a matter of concern. In short, Broome associated goodness and love with white people, similar to the author of I Love Yous Are For White People.
If only they were right. Though I can’t lay claim to the same degree of instability and abuse experienced by Brian (apart from much shouting), the visage of television provided a suggestive model that I looked at with some curious longing at the same age. In my family, “I love you” was a rare, almost endangered, utterance. It was more often replaced by positive actions, themselves welcome, but still distant from the speech dropped so readily on screen. Those other families. The ones who seemed to get it, for whom fitting in was a matter of natural course.
And then there was the grandma persona. Kind, open, ready to bake up batches of gingerbread and provide a reassuring voice. Never harsh, always gentle. A stark contrast with what I knew. My grandmother, for the time she was around, maintained a stalwart crabbiness and judging personality that would cause you to walk on eggshells around her. What you ate or said (or the manner of speaking), or even the way you smiled. Everything was grounds for scrutiny and condemnation.
In fairness, such behavior came from her own difficult childhood, imbued with poverty and struggle. So it felt wrong to wholly judge her back, though I admit to at many times deliberately avoiding her presence out of a desire to not call down the wrath of the “good old rage days” upon my head. This defensive strategy worked for the most part, but of course you never saw it on T.V. Again, normal people didn’t do that, because they had normal grandmothers.
I suppose my experiences growing up have prevailed to some degree and influenced the present day. My usual inclination is to be relaxed about what others think or do with their own lives, yet I cannot deny that at times I look back to the serialized family or current Instagram-styled behavior and just wonder. Are they not living the right way, like a better version of the Truman Show, whilst my own reality is a pale substitution, just “looking in” on harmonious perfection?
Perspective, always perspective.
Over the last several years, as COVID lockdowns, mandates, and forced injections became the rage, there was an accompanying (and loud) blaring of voices calling out the “hypocrisy of the Left.” These banshees fixated on the tactic perhaps because they felt it would go a long way in de-legitimizing the standing of opponents as defenders of freedom, though in fact little more than randomized ranting ever occurred. Their failure can be ascribed to a fundamental understanding of liberalism itself, and what measures are sustained to preserve it.
For starters, the issue is not one of liberalism gone awry. It is common for Intellectual Dark Web types to present such narratives, lamenting the distraction from a genuine freedom order wherein differences might be hashed out using the court of public opinion or through elections. Truthfully, a system built almost entirely on enfranchising and uplifting the commoner’s aspirations without any serious application of responsibility is bound for swift degeneration. Even if certain values are upheld or safeguarded, they are unlikely to stand much chance against the churning and insatiable drive of each generation’s ego and inability to check personal impulses over the short run. This was ably described in The Conservative Mind as follows:
“There is no perversion of liberalism, but simply its natural progression. Liberalism (fortunately) has always been a secondary state, living on like a saprophyte on the tissue of the previous age, inheriting its monuments, feelings, and social hierarchy.”
The reference to subsisting on the grounds of predecessors helps explain the muscular liberalism of Macron, Trudeau, and Biden. As stewards of a schizophrenic and paranoid ideology, said public actors cannot afford to actually endorse a continuation or renewal of liberty and freedom for the masses; to do so might call out liberalism’s own internal contradictions and flaws, perhaps leading to another philosophy gaining appeal. The central belief and all associated indoctrination efforts must be kept outside the cold, and only forceful demands on the populace at-large will be acceptable. Of course the consequence might still be steering folks towards alternative ideas, but at least liberalism can die with dignity as that process unfolds.
Let us recognize that there can be no correction of the problem under existing terms. The Rand Pauls of our world frequently offer up amendments and speeches imploring for government officials to “give back” their power and “restore the Constitution.” To do these things would mean undermining the very essence of liberalism’s primacy, which dictates its moral justification in utilizing tyrannical means to protect legitimacy and the system as a whole vis-à-vis other tyrannical elements. Any significant lessening of effective state abilities is therefore counterproductive, and not credible suggestion to a liberal actor. All the dissident can do is sneer and outflank liberals verbally, while being thoroughly ignored when actual policy questions arise.
So, rather than indicting liberalism for the crime of useful hypocrisies, it may be time to go out and create your own.
The interwebs have been aflutter lately with murmurings of a potential comeback run by Hillary Clinton in 2024. At first glance the idea sounds rather nonsensical; after all, she is set to be 76 years old by that election, and still is not exactly the most popular person in the room. Surely the Democrats have someone better waiting in the cloakroom, or at least a state capitol eons away. There should be no need to stoop as low as a twice-rejected figure who represents genuine presidential corruption, right?
Not necessarily. Ms. Clinton carries with her a cavalcade of unmentionable factors, yet she could weirdly end up being one of the stronger prospects that Democrats possess as they seek to retain the White House in 2024. Let’s think about it for a moment. Biden has been in office for eleven months, and still cannot persuade the public he is mentally able to serve an additional three years, let alone four more. He weirdly seems to have settled into the ceremonial role I predicted earlier, and may not actually seek a second term. If this happens, a crisis vacuum will presently become obvious.
Under normal circumstances, Kamala Harris would dash to the rescue, using her position as vice president to easily capture the Democratic nomination. Our girl Kamala suffers however from the excesses of woke perfection. According to the expectations set by leftist narratives, right now she should be riding high on the swill of diversity wunderkind, inspiring no less admiration than her predecessor, Barack the Booty Obama. This is clearly not happening. Harris is embroiled in steady conflict with the White House and lacks any broad public support. Matters are in such a tailspin that rumors of her elevation to the Supreme Court have stirred in the political soup. Just get her out somehow, the whisper proceeds.
In one sense, the move could be beneficial. Kamala is forgotten, paving the way for Pettucini Barolo to ascend as second fiddler and have more national credibility than he currently does as mayor and transsec. Conversely, a 50-50 Senate is not the breeding ground for smooth confirmation of someone like Harris, and Republicans would certainly create a political circus. Even if she was successful, they would still be left with Buttigieg as the Democratic standard-bearer, which is a very sobering prospect indeed. Boy Wonder he may be, but a figure who has mediocre qualifications is going to look weak when the incumbent president made so much of his own experience. Here Biden messed up majorly by not appointing Pettucini to DoD or at least the UN; in those roles a Bush Senior rise might have been more possible.
With Harris toxic and Buttigieg still unremarkable, Clinton might see her sliver of a path to victory. She could potentially distance herself from direct responsibility for inflation and play up the outside insider who can take the fight to Santo Ronaldino and the Big Tanned Orange in a way few other Democrats can. Her Russiaphobia might actually be a boon, especially if Putin further advances in Ukraine against the “strong condemn” and “will not be tolerated” complaints of EU paper-pushers and their soy armies. Perhaps a joint run with Liz Cheney could be in the cards, sloganeered as “Unity Through Bombs.” So many possibilities await.
Of course she might elect to sit it out, but the call of life is strong. This is Hillary’s last realistic chance. Question is, CAN she turn it down?
Interesting talk here: